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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 1 month

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Mr Confident - OP81

Summary: Oscar is a quietly confident man. But don't make the mistake of letting that quiet part mean he won't pursue someone he's interested in.

RB rookie driver!reader (Yuki is her teammate)

No part 2 request please

The RB seat was changed so last minute. The grid had hardly got a chance to meet y/n. They had so many last minute things she needed to do. The only person who really got to know y/n before Bahrain's race weekend was Yuki as her teammate. Other than that she'd been pushed and pulled in every direction having to get photos and videos for the graphics done, seat fittings and media figured out.

She was somewhat of a mystery going into Thursdays media day and actually she'd somewhat clung onto to Yuki as a safety net.

Oscar couldn't help but notice her. Somehow they kept catching each other's gaze whenever in slightly close proximity to one another.

There's a time and a place to shoot his shot with y/n, which he figures there's no harm in doing.

He finally gets the opportunity after qualifying. She made it to Q2 and she is sort of just waiting for an interviewer to step up for her turn. Exactly like Oscar.

"Hey, finally get to talk to you." Oscar smiles making y/n look at him for a second before turning clearly confused that he's talking to her but the RB PR team member with her seems to pick up Oscar's intentions far before y/n does, nudges the young woman to speak.

"Oh-Oh-Ow, Caitlin." Y/n mumbles rubbing her ribs before smiling at Oscar. "Sorry, hi. I didn't realise you wanted to talk to me."

"Well, you're new. We had to meet at some point."

Actually Oscar has been in F1 for a year now and he's not sure he's even talked to everyone on the grid. He's certainly not gone out of his way to talk to people. This behaviour is not the norm for him.

"How are you feeling after your first quali?" Oscar asks making her laugh nervously.

"It could've been worse. I don't want to be cocky and get ahead of myself though." Y/n admits making Oscar smile.

"If it makes you feel any better, you can't possibly have a worse start than I did." Oscar assures her earning a small nod. "Q2 is already better than me."

"Now you're setting me up for failure...You were the best rookie in years." Y/n laughs before Oscar's comms girl catches his attention to move and he's forced to leave the conversation.

"We'll talk later."

Y/n smiles and nods before he steps away and she turns to Caitlin with wide eyes.

"What just happened?" Y/n whispers while Caitlin shrugs and pulls a face of excitement but equal confusion.

Oscar ends up not catching y/n before the end of the day, though he's a bit behind her and Yuki leaving the paddock and he sees her talking to Yuki waving her hands around as she speaks. Clearly another yapper has joined the paddock.

But he never catches them so he ends up relying on the driver's parade to catch her.

"How you feeling?" Oscar smiles walking up to her and catching his teammate's attention since aside from if he's by Lando's side or it's Logan, Oscar doesn't approach others. He gets approached by others.

"Yeah, first race." Lando states crashing the conversation since he's always happy to talk to someone new. "You excited?"

"A bit. Not sure what I can do from P14." Y/n laughs then sighing. "Maybe if you guys pit before me I'll get a good look at your rear wing."

Both the McLaren drivers laugh but Lando is suddenly dragged away by Carlos into a different conversation.

"Just have fun. No one really cares if you do well in your first race, all the team wants is to see that you can make it past the first corner."

"So if I don't then actually I'll not see the next race?" Y/n jokes then biting her the inside of her cheek. "So a clean and tidy race even outside of points is the goal."

"That's the goal." Oscar nods smiling at her. "If you do get the opportunity to give Max a puncture or force him wide and into the gravel. No one will be mad at you. I think he'd forgive you for it."

"You realise Helmut Marko would have my throat for that." Y/n laughs shaking her head. "Plus I have to keep it clean and tidy."

"True." Oscar smiles, the two just looking at each other for a couple beats before y/n hears her name and is called over by Laura.

As soon as she's gone, Lando returns smirking with Logan and Alex appearing.

"You and y/n are looking close." Lando comments then looking over Oscar's shoulder. "Should Yuki and I feel threatened the two of you are plotting to be future teammates?"

"They're the future of Red Bull." Alex comments jokingly then turning to look over at y/n. "I've not actually spoken to her. What's she like?"

"She's cool. Funny. I think she's making a lot of jokes to cover up some nerves about the race." Oscar shrugs making Alex and Lando exchange a look while Logan smiles.

Y/n ends up caught with Yuki, Pierre and Charles after her interview and Oscar can't help but feel like he had 2 steps forwards but 1 step back.

"What are we looking at?" Max asks appearing just as they're about to all get off as the parade comes to an end.

"Nothing." Oscar states briskly moving with Logan actually following him.

"You got some confidence with her bro." Logan comments making Oscar look at him for a moment. "It's a good thing."

Oscar chooses not to comment as he notices y/n yapping to Yuki yet again. He can just catch her words and what they're laughing about, it's apparently something that her engineer said about her qualifying. He didn't pick up what.

It's annoying not because he's jealous, but he wants to hear that stuff from her too. He wants to make her laugh more, she sounds nice when she was laughing during the parade.

"Oh bro, you're down bad already." Logan laughs patting the Aussie's back. "You should just ask her on a date."

Another no comment moment.

Since neither of them got on the podium, after the weigh bridge they're whisked off to media duties.

But Oscar is surprised to find a sweaty y/n rushing from the media pen towards him as he stands with Karun and Naomi. Though y/n is too lit up to even notice he's mid-interview with a mic in his hand. Not that her comms girl can rush to stop her interrupting fast enough to actually beat her to reaching Oscar.

"I didn't crash!" Y/n exclaims with his mic managing to just pick up her voice while he hugs her back with a laugh.

"No, you didn't." Oscar smiles before placing her down as Caitlin hisses at her.

"He's in an interview."

"Oh-Oh my gosh! Sorry." Y/n gasps nearly yanking herself away from Oscar's hold.

"No, no. Join us. I'm sure Oscar wouldn't mind." Karun smiles since they always want to hear from rookies and y/n is of special interest to the whole world.

Especially after she's just ran at the notorious introvert of the grid.

"How are you feeling after your first race?" Naomi asks while Oscar just watches y/n glow, she's flushed from the heat of the cockpit. Her eyes are bright with excitement and she's just beaming her happiness onto everyone.

"Amazing. Oh my gosh just...the best day of my life. Oh fuck, gonna-oh I'm not supposed to swear. I'm so sorry!" Y/n gasps slapping her hand over her mouth as Caitlin covers her face at the fact they're both going to be told off for it. "Sorry. Anyway, sorry. I was about to cry but I'm fine. Happy tears."

"It's great to see you so happy. I mean the world was definitely watching you, excited to see how you'd do. You did great. P11. That's just outside the points. In an RB on your first race. That's amazing." Naomi states while she grins nodding.

"Yeah, it was...honestly just the best day of my life." Y/n smiles then tilting her head lightly. "I loved every single second...but I do feel like someone used me as a bit of a punch bag."

Everyone is so focused on y/n that they don't actually notice Oscar just stood smiling listening to her as she talks. Caitlin does but she also has to intervene since y/n was never meant to be in the Sky interview.

"Oh, I think y/n's being asked to leave." Karun states making y/n look at him for a moment.

"Thanks for having me guys, I gotta go." Y/n smiles placing the mic down before hugging Oscar again then rushing off with Caitlin guiding her away.

Y/n wasn't actually meant to do any media outside the media pen. They want her in for the debrief, though even on her way=

"What do you think Oscar? An impressive show from the rookie?" Naomi asks making Oscar nod instantly.

"Definitely. I mean significantly better than my debut." Oscar confirms making them both laugh before he's given the gesture by his comms girl to move. "Thanks for having me guys."

After his own debrief Oscar manages to get to RB's unit and catch a team member to ask if they know if y/n has left or not. When they say no. He decides to...wait. Obviously to continue her celebration that was accidentally caught in his interview post-race.

"Hey, what you doing over here?" Lando questions having spotted his teammate in the emptying paddock.

"Just...y/n came over earlier while I was in an interview and I didn't get to properly congratulate her. Someone said she's still here and I'm not in a rush." Oscar shrugs earning a hum but whatever Lando is wanting to say, he keeps himself restrained and instead.

"Alright, I'll see you later mate." Lando nods then heading off.

Of course he also gets past by Logan but the American only glances at the unit he's outside of and just shouts a goodnight to his friend as he passes by.

When y/n appears, she looks pretty exhausted and no surprise. The first full race can be wearing and it's a night race anyway. He's also a little relieved to see Yuki isn't with her.

"Hey, what you doing out here?" Y/n smiles as her trainer drops back.

"I figured I didn't get to properly congratulate you earlier. So I wanted to make sure I made up for it." Oscar states earning a small smile from the young woman. "What?"

"Nothing...it's just very sweet of you." Y/n shrugs as they walk alongside each other. "So straight to bed for you?"

"Yeah, but I was...going to ask, do you have plans tomorrow?"

"Plans? Flying to Jeddah." Y/n laughs making him laugh and nod.

"Yeah, that makes sense. What about when you land in?"

"Um. No plans other than probably be...forced to workout." Y/n laughs lightly then hugging herself. "Are you offering to change that?"

"I was going to...yes."

"Ok. Well, maybe you should have my number."

Y/n smiles as she sits on the floor in the hotel gym, looking at Oscar enter since he'd asked to join her in working out in Jeddah.

"You wake up so early." Oscar comments jokingly while she smiles.

"Tell me about it. It's Dakota who tries to kill me off with this stuff." Y/n laughs looking back at her trainer who just gives her the finger earning a grin.

"You'd be calling me a bad trainer if I let your neck get weak." Dakota states which she only hums at. "I do need to grab a couple things for you. Are you alright to start with Oscar and I'll not be long?"

Y/n doesn't even get a word out before he trainer has practically fled the room thinking he's being subtle about trying to be a wingman.

"What does he think I'm going to do now we're alone?" Oscar jokes making her smile and continue to stretch.

"Tell me McLaren gossip probably. The man is a fiend for a juicy piece of gossip." Y/n smiles then facing him and laughing likely. "Oh you look so tired...I feel bad. Did you even eat breakfast?"

"No."

"Hold on." Y/n smiles standing up and moving to her phone then quickly typing something. "What do you usually eat? Dakota can grab you something. He'll love any excuse to leave us unsupervised for longer."

Dakota does practically scream through the text message back that he'll absolutely grab Oscar some breakfast along with actually giving her instructions of what to do for her workout.

By the time Dakota is back, both Oscar and y/n have been goofing off and laughing about trying to help each other with their workouts.

"What have you two been doing?" Dakota questions but y/n is already laughing to hard to answer wiping at tears that have fallen from her laughter.

"She tried to do the neck excises for me and she broke it." Oscar laughs as Dakota sigh pinching the bridge of his nose in a grimace.

Edits had already started to appear on social media of Oscar seemingly constantly trying to be around y/n and the interview moment in Bahrain where he was very visibly look at her in completely adoration. Not to mention that she literally threw herself on him.

Going into Jeddah, the whole world sees the growing impossibly closer. Though there's not so much confirmation of a relationship in any physical way that the public or media see. It doesn't stop them from assuming and fans at the track do try to ask both of them but they both pretend they just don't hear it.

Of course behind doors and out of prying eyes. They're not quite so hidden.

Right now after the end of Friday, y/n is in Oscar's hotel room while he watches her patter around. She's in a pair of pretty short shorts and a Hugo t-shirt since her and Yuki now get free clothes from Hugo.

"You know, if I ever get the opportunity to snatch yours or Lando's seat in McLaren, I'm so taking it. You guys get the nicest rooms." Y/n giggles as she puts her phone down with some music filling the room before she rushes and jumps onto the bed where he's been lying just watching her with a lazy smile. "Probably need to prove myself a little more."

"You've came into F1 just as qualified as I was." Oscar smiles as she crawls over to straddle him and he wastes no time sitting up to close the space between them, kissing her and slowly pulling her down over him, feeling her smile into the kiss leaves a warmth of satisfaction in Oscar's chest.

"Imagine the fans saw us now." Y/n whispers earning a light laugh.

"Mmm scandal." Oscar jokes while she moves to kiss his neck. "I think they might've figured it out."

"Yeah...But we don't feed the masses." Y/n smiles making hum grin at her.

"No we don't." Oscar laughs then sighing as he looks at her for a moment. "I'm ok keeping you to myself."

"I'm ok with that too."

Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos @llando4norris @partyinpitlane @lpab @xoscar03 @harrysdimple05 @mellowarcadefun @cixrosie @scopeiguess

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martiniluvr · 2 months

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18+ minors dni

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

it’s an unusually quiet night in blüdhaven, meaning dick grayson has some time to kill. he doesn’t think that stopping by your apartment during his patrol will lead to much more than a brief conversation and a be safe, see you tonight kiss, which is how his pit stops usually go. that being said, tonight is the first time he’s shown up to see you in the full nightwing getup—escrima sticks and mask included.

it takes you one glance at his muscular body clad in the tight black and blue material to send a surge of heat between your legs, and before either of you can think clearly, you’re on top of him on your sofa, entangled in a sloppy kiss with your hands running through his hair. his fingers dig into your hips as you rock against his hard length, grinding your core against the textured material of his suit.

his hand reaches between you to pull your panties to the side so your bare cunt can rub against him freely, before he nestles his palms under your ass. he helps you roll against him as your wetness spreads over his lower abdomen, relishing in your needy whines. the feeling of his rigid muscles against you and his hot lips pressed to yours sends you into overdrive; you feel your thighs tightening around dick as you make a mess of his suit, an orgasm creeping its way down your belly.

“fuck, baby,” he pants, throwing his head back at the sensation of your warmth stroking him over his suit. “I should’ve worn this thing ages ago.” he squeezes your ass as you continue rubbing yourself on him. your movements begin to get sloppy, and heat starts pooling in your belly. you know you’re being greedy and dick deserves some attention too, but right now you’re too caught up in the way he feels against you to care.

“god…dick—nightwing—I’m gonna cum!” you gasp, clutching onto his shoulders for stability. he can’t contain the moan he emits at hearing you call him by his alias; it sets off a ringing in his ears, and he digs his fingers into your soft flesh, coaxing your climax out of you. behind his blue mask, his eyes are trained on your face, watching your expression as you whimper.

“that’s right, pretty girl,” he groans, meeting your movements with his own rocking. “fuck…cum for me, c’mon.” you bury your head in the crook of his neck as your body starts to tremble, your release ripping through you and dripping thickly down dick’s suit. you moan as he ruts into you through your orgasm, his pace slowing as your body stills.

he gently pulls your panties back into position, and looks down at the glossy mess you’ve left on his suit, a satisfied grin on his face. his masked eyes meet yours as he rubs small circles onto your hips, taking in your breathless form. “I think I’m gonna have to suit up around you more often.”

#dick grayson the man that you are #dick grayson #dick grayson smut #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #nightwing #nightwing smut #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #batman #dc comics

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bunicate · 1 month

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omg congrats on pulling bladie!!! big brother blade lives on my mind ngl ik he loves to spoil his lil sister’s pussy the second his parents r outta the houseee ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི ₊˚ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 . blade x fem reader

warnings ꒱ྀི incest. brief anal. creampie. a litl bit of possessive bladie. he says some dubious things. just a smidge of jealousy. “little girl” usage. breeding mention. unedited ofkurs ﾉ wc ꒱ 1.4k ﾉ 18+ ﾉ if uncomfy pls scroll or block ^_^

muhehe tysm ! ! still trying to build him ! he’s far from perfect but at least he’s at home with me. yk I had 2 pull through nd write smthn icky for him but I did go in a tad bit different direction :<<

you feel it, regret pooling in the pit of your stomach like rocks settling at the bottom of a shallow lake. the beating of your heart stutters out of tandem with the batter of blades hips.

his firm hands anchor themselves on the softness of your lower back, dull nails digging into your skin like thorns.

he fucks you with such depravity, and your obnoxiously noisy cunt salivated in response to the familiar bump of his cock.

it was far too late for regrets, you knew it well, even as he’s buried himself to the hilt. your parents were a thing of the past, but there’s always the potential of subjecting an innocent passerby to the sight of your brother rubbing your tender insides with his cock.

despite your roused state, you're still capable of reason, though your brother seemed to have a complete disregard for it.

“b-bladie.”

it’s soft on his ears, polite, although honeyed with a subtle warning accompanied by the slow pulse of your cunt.

his cock twitches from your quiet plea. he’s close, and at this point, he knows better than to cross the line any further, but you were elusive to your own charms. how could he bury his urges when your round and soft butt continued to smack against his pelvis ? your cunt drooled each time he pulled out.

its such a sight for sore eyes, and somehow his gaze kept wandering to the tight rim above, making his breathing ragged— almost animalistic.

he’s seen all of you, sights no older brother should witness, but it didn’t stop him from wanting more.

it should terrify you, the lengths he goes to stake his claim over you. coming as close as threatening to breed you and keep you bound to him like a pet. predators would be wise to never cross the hunter, even they could sense the extent of his prowess.

blade purposefully keeps you out of his affairs, but you know he’s a fearsome warrior. he’s tall and slender and with each movement, his hulk of muscle flexes. he’s strong enough to drag your body up and down his member, serving as a stark reminder of the gap in strength.

blade's palms, rough from wielding his ancient sword, settled on both sides of your waist, steels its grip. his thumb presses against your back, and the tips of his fingers meet at your belly button.

he bounces you on his cock, using you like a doll factored for fucking. he lifted you repeatedly like you weighed nothing and all you could do was submit to his brutal pace.

blade bites his lip to prevent curses from escaping.

he feels . . . good, better than usual. your swollen pussy tugs on his length, drawing out the remnants of his willpower. the desire to cum and bury it in your womb causes blood to rush.

like you can sense the danger, you peer over your shoulder cautiously.

“you h-have to pull out . . y’can’t just cum inside, okay ?”

such a redundant conversation, and he pays it no mind.

what good would it be to do something so risky—so wrong, but for blade, it would be worth the peril.

he doesn’t acknowledge your admonition, instead pressing you further into the sheets, elongating the arch in your back.

“stay still.”

his hand collides with your backside and a startled gasp echoes. the apple of your ass cheek stings, while the damp release between your thighs becomes stickier.

the weight on the bed dips when your big brother lowers himself. his chest presses to your back when he fucks you again.

roaring slaps of moist flesh lie thick in the air. you’re soft, so fragile in his embrace that he could crush you like a dainty flower trampled from being hidden between shards of grass.

when blade feels that familiar tender pulse of your cunt signaling your finish, he painfully pulls out as per your whiny request. he utterly despised having to separate himself from you, but nonetheless, he obeys your wishes. sort of.

his cock stands tall and thick, cream dripping from the edge of his tip. your pussy is agape in front of him, but his eyes linger on the tight coil of your ass.

rough palms enclose in a tight fist around his shaft. he pumps his cock, staring daggers at the rim until his balls hang heavier.

he wanted to empty them, he wanted nothing more than to milk his cock using your sweet cunt, but the hunger that normally consumed him wanted something else for a change.

he slaps his tip against your puckered hole, humping the pretty flesh. his leaking head increasingly swells as the seconds pass by, turning bright pink. the hunter groans, and heaves, his sickening thoughts running rampant while he envisions himself filling up his little sister.

he’s no longer computing, his body moves on autopilot, and he’s wiping his glossy tip over your ass.

“hnn-! n-no more. not there bladie !”

you squeal. the sensation is new and foreign, and you find yourself torn between begging for more or scrambling away.

a growing smirk settles on his face, and you see a slither of his sharp teeth.

“you're mouthy today. maybe i should put my cock somewhere else instead.”

you tense when his tip probes your tight muscle again, rubbing it in circles. he was stimulating your ass, forcing your pussy to twitch out of neglect.

he mumbles to himself.

“such a brainless girl. i thought i made it clear that i take what i want.”

his orbital pools mimicking the color of blood narrow. he’s almost there, sloppily fucking the skin of your ass until the slippery head of his member breaches the tight ring. and then he snaps.

with a single, calculated thrust, relief rains down in waves. he buries his cock in all the way as streams of his cum spurt out, dressing your walls in milky webs.

it’s warm as it fills your insides and your mind becomes a foggy maze. instead of your big brother cumming inside your cunt, he emptied his load in your ass, and nothing but burgeoning heat swallows you up.

“thats it . . take what i give you.”

it’s hard to retain anything when his breath tickles the sides of your cheek and his pulsing sack mushes against your clit.

“no part of you is off limits, little girl.”

by now, you're writhing, and you can’t think about how full you felt. not when his words had you mewling out of shame and excitement.

blade makes sure to deliver a few more thrusts, just to be certain that he’s been thoroughly drained. his heart thrums against his chest, reminding him that he's real—you’re real, and that his cock is stretching his little sister’s ass.

his breathing becomes uneven, the exhales of air caressing the plains of your damp skin.

he lowers his head, his lips settling by the shell of your ear.

“soon . .”

long strands of his hair fall into place , resting on your own skin.

“i'll cum inside this tiny cunt and there's nothing you'll be able to do about it.”

a shiver runs down your spine. equal parts of fear and eagerness for that fateful day of promise.

when he pulls out, his seed drips from your opening down the length of your slit. both of his hands grab your ass cheeks to watch the cum nestle between your lower lips and spill on the already soiled sheets.

carefully he watches your cunt push out the remnants, watching it cascade in thick dollops.

“such greedy holes.”

you puff out your cheeks and move the stringy hairs from your face.

“stop it . . it’s so embarrassing when you say that .”

you attempt to kick him off, and of course it’s thwarted by his iron hold on you.

he presses a sloppy kiss on your asshole, uncaring of the mess coating your sensitive parts.

“eeeeeeeek -! you’re sooooooo gross, bladie ! get away from me !”

he spanks your ass to hush your outburst.

“shut up.”

he kisses you to silence more of your complaints. the faint taste of cum on his soft lips mingling against your spit - slicked ones.

he pulls away audibly, taking a calm breath.

“you're seeing jing yuan tomorrow.”

you raise an eyebrow at the sudden mention of the general.

your brother is nothing less of a maverick, only keeping you close and others at a less than reasonable distance.

jing yuan however complicated things. while they weren't as close, anymore you still made an effort to see him despite their soured relationship.

in his scarce free time when he wasn't resting, he taught you all sorts of things. he helped time escape you when boredom struck in blade's absence.

you nod stiffly, still skeptical at the hunter before you. you're wary of his intentions, but too stimulated to care.

blade's face betrays no emotion and so, you’re suddenly startled.

you gasp when his teeth nicks at your neck.

he sucks the skin for a few seconds and then kisses the spot he bruised. proud of his handiwork he pulls away to speak up once more. you can nearly hear his smugness.

“. . . send my regards to the general.”

#૮꒰ ๑´ତ `๑ ꒱ྀིა #blade x reader smut #blade x reader #blade x female reader #blade x you #blade x y/n #blade smut #hsr blade #yingxing x reader #yingxing x you #honkai smut #honaki star rail #hsr x reader #hsr smut #female reader #tw:incest

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astonmartingf · 1 month

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CHASE ; MV1

max verstappen x streamer!reader

. . . you find yourself in a predicament between max's request and your conscience, so you ask charles for help in your game of chase with max verstappen

amgf mention of dnf and written portion in at the end. i am capitalizing on the ausgp, which is the same for wyh hahaha

previous: what if we met?

next: call me max verstappen

This was the first race you watched live in a long time. Charles tried to invite you multiple times, the last time you watched was during his debut back in 2018.

You could barely remember the difference then and now, sitting in the Ferrari garage with other members of the team you situate yourself in the corner, not really knowing what to do.

It was more chaotic than you remember, seeing Max especially going to the pit lane, his wheel burning, leaving a trail of smoke for every garage to see. It alarmed you a little bit, but hearing his voice through the radio, calmed you down.

You meet his gaze as he walks by the Ferrari garage, probably on the way back to their motorhome, or the media pen. Charles gave you a tour of the track at the start of the weekend, but you still find yourself getting lost in the middle of Albert Park.

You flash him a small smile, followed by a wave which he returned. He must be not in the mood to talk, knowing the situation that happened, it caused them the gap to tighten between drivers.

As Charles' friend it definitely filled you with hope knowing that he might have a chance to pull some points to get ahead of the championship ranks.

But as someone who recently knew more about Max, it was definitely an unfortunate moment for him. You watch the screen as they interview Max regarding what happened with his car.

You stare at the screen, fully realizing then that this is the first time you two met outside the shared video games you played together.

As much as you tried to keep your cool alongside Charles' insistent teasing, you admit that you're nervous forming a conversation with him.

Just like after the second practice session, they planned to eat dinner together. Obviously you came with Charles, but what you didn't expect was for Max to be there as well. And safe to say it wasn't the same as your conversations online.

You remember Charles recalling your conversation with him word for word the whole night, teasing your awkwardness.

And in his words, he thinks, "it's cute that you're both awkward together, like two little nerds catching feelings for each other"

How appalling. And the day before the race when you bumped into Max, who happily helped you on your way back to the Ferrari motorhome. Which led to even more incessant teasing from Charles, you don't understand how Max keeps his cool whenever Charles keeps making fun not just of you but of him as well.

Maybe he's more used to Charles, they did race each other for a long time. But that's a story for another time, it's the first time you saw both of them and it seems like the fans are right when they say they sense chemistry between those two.

Your phone pings, receiving a message from Max.

Max the Builder: You want to go out on a little walk for a while?

YN: Where are you?

Max the Builder: I'll meet you at the back of the Ferrari garage.

You look around, everyone's eyes are glued to the screen watching Carlos and Charles closely. Glancing back and forth to the screens on the garage and your phone, you make your way behind the exit, where Max stood waiting for you.

"Have you been waiting for a while?" You watch Max jump, catching him off guard as he whips his head in your direction.

"I just got out of interviews, I'm free for the rest of the race. Want to spend it with me?" There he goes again asking you those questions, you know he speaks out of malice, but his genuine expression makes it hard to say no to him.

Before you could reply, you feel that Max has sensed your hesitance, thinking where he got things wrong again, immediately cutting off your reply. "But if you want to watch Charles we can do that as well. Or you just don't want to hang out with me?"

A soft gasp left your lips, quickly shaking your head left and right, "Max, you know that's not true. But I guess you could say I was avoiding you for the last day..."

Max tilts his head before nodding slowly, trying to hide the evident disappointment in his face, "So that wasn't me just overthinking it... You were purposefully avoiding me?"

"Not like that Max, I guess I was just overthinking as well. We've only talked online until now. I guess I got intimidated seeing you in real life, because we're not on Minecraft? Maybe I just got used to that, hence I kept avoiding you."

Max thinks in silence before raising his finger, "If you're uncomfortable talking at the moment we can play Minecraft and talk there?"

His suggestion catches you off guard, "What? No, we don't have to play Minecraft just to talk silly. That is a good idea Max, but I think we just need more conversations outside discord. My name is YN LN, nice to meet you." Extending your hand in front of him, which he happily shook back.

"Hello YN, I am Max Verstappen. I guess now I won't have to chase after you yeah?"

You laugh, shaking your head disagreeing, "You can't just tease me immediately Max, then I'll have to run away again."

Max shrugs putting his hands in his pocket, feeling more comfortable and finding the flow in your conversations, just like you did back on Discord.

"Well, run all you want, I'll have to let you know— I'm known for being fast."

You nod your head playing along, it's seems like the grooves have connected, like gears shifting in connection. "Well, your engine seems to disagree."

You watch Max' face freeze, "Too early?" your thoughts buzz around, thinking how you messed up the conversation in less than a minute.

A record breaking time.

But your worries halt hearing the sound of Max' laughing at your statement. "That's a good one YN, you're catching up quick."

This time it was your turn to shrug your shoulders, "What can I say, I learned from the best." bumping your shoulders into him.

You walk with Max as the race comes to a close, feeling confident and content as your friendship with him grows.

amgf i think there's one final chapter, the twitch stream hahahaha max is getting desperate but i would too

amgf ★ superstars: @namgification @lpab @the-untamed-soul @xjval

#f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #max verstappen smau #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fluff

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anakincentric · 6 months

Text

mdni. minors & ageless blogs will be blocked. warnings: prompt, sexual content, implied smut, established relationship, dom!anakin, brat!reader, size kink, breeding kink.

"ani," you cry and sniffle, draping over anakin as he catches you around the waist to keep you upright.

"what, princess? what is it?" he's mildly concerned, used to your dramatics as he reaches up to retrieve bottles from the spice cabinet. because of his perceived indifference, your bloated confidence deflates, clutching onto the material of his top as you bury your nose in his chest. he notes your reticence, arranging the spices by the lids between his fingers to set down multiple onto the counter at a time while his other hand keeps you on him. "i'm cooking right now, can it wait?" you lull your head to the side, letting your hair hang as your teeth seek out and bite onto his bicep. he sighs, stooping to wrap his other arm around your torso and jostles you when he readjusts you to look at him. "i'm getting annoyed, tell me what you want." he's got a sneaking suspicion, but you've gotta say it.

you look up at him with those wide glossy eyes, retreating more and more into yourself because of his surly attitude regardless if you're used to his temper by now. something about ovulating makes you wanna lose yourself, but you're so afraid to cross that threshold to get to that place.

he raises his brows expectantly. "well?" you can feel those warm sensations bubble in the pit of your belly, your hole loose and slick because of it. that intense gaze of his is so irresistible, and yet it gets you choked up knowing you're on the receiving end. you bite down onto your lower lip to calm your nerves, mustering up the courage to say the bare minimum.

"it... it hurts."

he blinks at you, expression etched with an amused frown as he deducts what you could mean. "what does, bunny?"

your lips pout, downturning in discontent to be forced into telling him what you need from him. as if to give him more of a clue, you wiggle your hips, sashaying against his thigh as you look up at him. there's a significant difference in the way his countenance has shifted, softer now, more entertained. "it hurts." you emphasize the word with a glance to where your bodies meet. "can you... make it feel better?" you arch your back when he inclines in your direction, curling his large body around you with a growing stretch of his plump lips. tongue darts out to wet them and you swallow as you imagine what that talented tongue could get up to right now.

"you gotta say it if you want something from me." he taunts.

you huff through your nose. "i'm shy."

"you wanna act like a little freak? fucking back it up, c'mon." he takes great pleasure in taking advantage of you and your bashfulness, especially because he's the one that usually initiates intimacy. now he's got some sort of superiority that he hangs over your head for personal satisfaction.

"don't be mean."

"i'm not being mean, i'm helping you. gotta learn to tell people what you want."

"ugh!" you huff, throwing your head back. he waits for you to have your little tantrum, knowing you're trying to get him to just decide for you. when you're done, your finger toys with a stray string coming off his top, and you can't look at him as you find the words. "i want to... i want you to... make me feel better."

"how?" he's really pressing, nuzzling your nose with his as if to encourage you to meet his eyes. when you take too long to answer, big hands slide down your frail frame to cup your ass, making you peep as he raises you just by his grip on the flesh. "you're acting like you need to get fucked."

"i do!" desperate to end this agonizing debacle, you jump on the chance for him to answer it all for you. "anakin," you whine. "please, i've been so... worked up! i..." you search for the words, getting in your own head.

he can recognize those signs, knowing you're floundering. "stay with me." a guiding phrase that leads you back to the conversation before you lose your train of thought.

"i just need you. i need you! please? my... my womb needs you—" you realize your own words, taken aback by them as your lips part in surprise, finally meeting his gaze.

there's a dark glint in his eyes. he straightens to his full height, and turns off the burner on the stove. engulfing your hand in his, he tows you with him. "let's go put a baby in you then."

·˚ ₊˚ˑ taglist - add yourself here. @sleepycreativewriter @aerangi @xstarkillerx @loveliestgeek

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eraenaa · 1 month

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But Daddy, I love Him

Aemond Targaryen x Niece Reader AU

Synopsis: When the favored daughter of Daemon Targaryen falls for the favored son of Alicent Hightower, the Rogue Prince does everything he can to ensure that a union between the two of you will never happen.

Warnings: Not Proofread, ¿Softer Aemond and Daemon?, No Smut

Word Count: 5,019

It could no longer be denied nor be overlooked. It was growing painfully obvious to the court that the only daughter of Princess Rhaenyra has had her head turned by the second son of Queen Alicent. Everyone believed that the only thing the second-borns of the Princess and the Queen would share was animosity. Still, the return of Princess Rhaenyra and her kin to the capitol brought something different— something entirely unexpected. It started with stolen glances around the tilt yard and the halls of the red keep. Stolen glances lingered throughout dinner and the trial. Meeting in the library by chance turned into secret rendezvous. Banter and teases blended into meaningful conversations. Animosity turned to affection. Loathing bloomed into love. A love that cannot be.

“You look lovely, today, niece,” Aemond complimented as he caught you in the gardens. The prince relished the sweet blush that spread through your cheeks. “Shh, you might be heard,” You whispered in concern as your brothers were only seated a few leagues away. He hummed and dared to twirl your silky, curly hair into his fingers. “Shall you join me for a ride today, uncle?” You asked and took a flower into your delicate hands. You turned to the silver prince, who had a small, rare smile as he peered down at you. You boldly placed the plucked flower into the upper pocket of his tunic. “If you wish,” He answered, making you bite your lip as he stepped closer. “To the dragon pits then?” You asked, and Aemond offered his arm for you to take, and you gladly did.

Prince Daemon stood above the gardens and watched the scene with a sneer. He had been stewing in rage, fear, and uncertainty for the past few weeks. You could no longer be reasoned with. In his eyes, you could never do no wrong. You had never done anything wrong— his favorite daughter was perfect. But apparently, your return to the capitol had caused you to make a lapse in judgment. Trusting a Hightower spawn was a great mistake on your part. You, his smart and sweet daughter, have been corrupted and manipulated by the one-eyed bastard of a son of the bitch that had the title queen. It pained the Rogue prince, but he had to take extreme measures to ensure that you would never be bound and be played by a Hightower spawn.

You rode the skies next to your uncle. A wide smile on your lips and laughs, leaving your tongue as he playfully chased you through the clouds. His Vhagar may be the largest dragon there is, but she is also the oldest. Whilst your dragon had the quickness and agility of youth. “You’ll have to try harder than that, uncle!” You yelled in glee as you heard his frustrated groan when he lost you through a cloud. “I will catch you, little niece— and you shall give me my prize when I do,” He answered back, and you laughed in glee as your dragon rode through a cloud, making your stomach flip. “That is if you shall succeed!” You yelled before urging your dragon to fly faster and further from the prince.

The afternoon sun started to fade, bathing the two of you in the orange hue of the setting sun, and it was then that Aemond finally caught up to you. When you landed by the pits, you were quickly grabbed by the waist. Entrapped in the arms of an uncle you used to loathe. “I demand my prize, little niece,” He murmured by your ear. You feel your heart stutter, and at the same time, you feel conscious as the two of you may be caught. “I demand my kiss, princess,” he said, and you feel your breathing shallowed by his words and the sound of footsteps approaching. You two were luckily hidden behind the body of your beloved dragon. “Tonight, meet me in the library and you shall have my kiss, my prince,” You said and reluctantly urged him to let go of his hold of you.

When the two of you turned to the reason for the footsteps, your brows furrowed as you were both met with a gold cloak. “Can we help you, Ser?” you asked as Aemond cautiously assessed the trusted man of your father; stepping in front of you as if the knight would harm you. “Princess, I was sent by your father to escort you back into the keep.” He bowed and answered, but that did not aid your confusion. “It’s fine; I shall ride back to the keep with my uncle,” You answered, but the knight insisted that he had a direct order from the Rogue Prince that you shall return to the Red Keep under his supervision. “Just go; I shall ride behind you,” Aemond finally spoke after a moment, guiding you to the wheelhouse and glaring at the knight who interrupted the supposed private moment between the two of you.

When inside the castle walls, you were greeted by your father and eldest brother as you disembarked the wheelhouse. “I see you have met Ser Adam,” Your father remarked at the knight who helped you step out of the carriage. “He shall be your sworn protector,” Prince Daemon added, his gaze turning to a prince who greatly reminded him of himself during his youth riding, following closely behind you. “Sworn protector? I— I do not believe there is a need fo—“ Your father cut you off, taking your arm and stirring you further from the one-eyed prince who dared to step closer to you after he had disembarked his horse. “You are the only daughter of the heir to the throne— of course, you need protecting. Ser Adam shall be constantly by your side, and he shall report back to me and your mother for any potential threat that arises.” You looked back, confused, locking eyes with Aemond, who had his jaw clenched as he conversed with your brother.

“So I take it that my sister and brothers have their own sworn protectors as well?” You asked, feeling that you were singled out by your father’s sudden paranoia about your safety. “They too shall have one… in time,” He mumbled the last part, making your head snap up at him. “But in the meantime, Ser Adam shall oversee your ventures and activities. No more venturing out in the halls in the dead of the night alone. He shall be there by your side if any danger arises while you are in the dim walls of the library,” Your lips part as you realize that the knight was placed as a buffer, a wall between you and Aemond. You bit your tongue and made no further comment about the matter for now.

When dinner came, you were excited because it meant that you would be in the presence of Aemond once more, enveloped in quiet conversation with the prince who sat by your left. But a frown adorned your pretty face once more as your seat beside Aemond was removed and instead placed cramped between Aegon and your elder brother. You hear Aemond’s familiar footsteps approaching; you turn to him as your brother guides you to your new place. Aemond knew exactly what they were doing. His jaw tightened as they had been keeping you from him. He knew he should have been cautious with his affection when out in public, knowing it would not be received well. But how could he restrain himself? How could he control himself when you are near?

Throughout dinner, the two of you were silent, missing, and already longing to be by each other’s side once again. The prince’s face was filled with annoyance, his lips in a thin line. You held a look of solemnity, and a pout adorned your plush pink lips. Daemon turned to Jacaerys, the two of them satisfied with their tactics in keeping you and Aemond out of each other’s company.

After dinner, you hear your newly assigned knight trail behind you as you walk the path toward the library. You sighed as you heard the clank of his armor. “You can stay by the door, Ser Adam,” You say as you approach the silent room, Aemond already waiting for you in your favorite spot. “I am afraid that I cannot abide by your orders, princess,” He said, and you bit your tongue; you could not let out your frustrations upon him as he was only ordered by your father. You took your seat across from Aemond; the prince eyed the knight who stood behind your chair.

“What is he doing here?” Aemond asked in ancient tongue, annoyance seeping through his tone. “My father has instructed him to follow me wherever I go… instructed him to report back all of my ventures,” You answered and played with the embroidery of your fine dress as your pals for the night with Aemond were now ruined. “They are keeping you from me,” Aemond gritted, his hand clenching in anger. “And why should they do that?” You asked with a tilt of your head, moving to take hold of his hand, but the knight behind you cleared his throat as if a warning. You sighed and licked your lips and clamped your hands in front of you. “Because they are scared— threatened that…” Aemond caught himself before he uttered the deep truth he had realized just a week after you had returned. “That what?” You asked in common tongue. Aemond sighed and shook his head, but there was a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “That I would burn for you, little light. That we are dragons that need to be bound by blood.”

You, being the watchful eyes of your sworn protector, did not last long. Aemond had commissioned some of the guards to pick a fight with your knight, and it left him bloody, bruised, and bedridden. Buying the two of you a small amount of freedom in each other’s presence before your father could find a replacement.

The two of you were in the godswood, hidden behind the white, ashy trunk of the Weirwood tree, away from anyone’s view. Aemond laid his head on your lap as you read a book written in the language of your house, him listening intently to your honey voice as it read fluent Valyrian. “You still have not given me my prize,” The prince suddenly said as you paused from reading. You turned to him, gazing down at the serenity on his handsome face as he lay on your lap. One of your hands intertwined with his and resting atop his chest. “What?” You asked, feeling your stomach flip at the intensity in his eye. “You still have not given me my kiss,” Aemond said, voice growing deeper and more serious.

You tried to laugh it off, moving your intertwined hands to your lips and kissing the back of his hand. “There,” you say, but Aemond sat up from his position. “That is not the kiss we discussed, princess,” He whispered, face inching forward to yours. You feel his cold hand on the apex of your neck and shoulder, pulling you in and sending gooseflesh to rise all over your skin. “Just one kiss,” You whispered as his lips were so close to yours, his scent of cedar wood, mint, and leather so intoxicating. “We’ll see,” he said and smashed your lips. Your heart stuttered for a moment, feeling his warm, soft, wine-tasting lips upon yours. It was supposed to be only a chaste kiss, you knew you should pull away, but as Aemond placed his hand on your waist and pulled you close, you knew you did not have the strength nor want to do so.

Unbeknownst to you, your secret actions with your uncle were caught by your eldest brother, who did not hesitate to run to your mother’s husband to report the scene. On how yours and Aemond’s lips danced, on how you grinned at each other as you acted to catch your breath, gazing at each other love-struck. On how your kiss under the scarlet leaves of the ancient tree had only solidified your emotions and deepened your desires for each other.

You were soon called to your mother’s chambers later that afternoon. “No, please! Please, you cannot do this to me— why… why would you marry me to him?” You cried to your mother as they announced that you were to be sent to the North as a bride for its warden. It was the extreme measure your father had to take to keep you away from Aemond. Sequestering you into the frigid wasteland just so a one-eyed dragon would not lay more of its claim on you. “You had promised me I was free to choose whom I shall marry!” You cried in front of them, knowing your tears had always been your trusted weapon to bend them to your will. “I’m sorry, my love… but, the crown needs allies… a union with Lord Stark is vital.” You shook your head, “The North is already sworn to you! You need not promise me to their lord,” You countered. “It was a decision your father believed had to be made, and it is to—“

Your mother’s words faded out, and you could only focus on how it was your father’s orders to offer you to a lord you had not even met. His cruel way of keeping you from Aemond. “My father is dead,” You suddenly gritted out, silencing your mother in shock as you said the bitter words. Though you were a product of Ser Harwin Strong, and the kingdom was made to believe that your paternity came from the line of Ser Laenor— neither of those men were fathers to you. Not like Daemon was. It stung you to say such words, but you were overly hurt that he had made such a decision just to keep you from the prince you loved.

“My father is dead; how could he have made such a decision?” You asked and dug your fingernails into your palms. Your mother sighed as you and Daemon stared each other down. “Daemon made the decision,” She clarified. “You are heir to the throne, but you would let a prince consort dictate the future of your only daughter?” You asked, menacingly. Watching the way your step-father’s jaw ticks at your impertinence. He did not know how to handle you in such a state; you were never one to rebel, but what was there to rebel against when everything you had ever wanted was quickly given to you?

“That is beside the point, my love; you still need to marry.” Your mother said, and you shifted your gaze to her. “I know! And I am happy to do so just as long as—“ Daemon cut you off. “Just as long as what?” He asked, “Just as long as it will be Aemond.” You proclaimed. “I wish to marry him, and he wishes to marry me as well! You are the only one against this!” You all but screamed with a stomp of your foot. Making your father roll his eyes and disapprovingly shake his head as they had filed you up with their lies. “You see, Nyra… look at how they had manipulated our daughter… they filled up her head with falsities— this had been their plan all along.” Daemon reasoned to your other, who looked in between the two of you with concern and cluelessness on how to proceed.

“Look at how they corrupted her… arguing, yelling, insulting us just to defend their disfigured son. They are playing her!” he spat bitterly. “Do not call him that,” you gritted to Daemon as he uttered offense toward Aemond. There was a silence that enveloped the room before you finally spoke once more. “Father, please… I love him,” you pleaded, ready to beg on your knees just for you not to be sent as a bride for a wolf. Daemon looked at your eyes, sincerity in your orbs, gut-wrenching sadness as pearl tears ran through your cheeks; that still did not sway his mind. “The decision is made. You shall be Cregan Stark’s bride.” He stated and walked off, leaving you to cry and wail in your mother’s arms.

Aemond eyed you with concern as you sat dejectedly in your place next to your brother and his. Your head hung low, and not once had you cast your enchanting eyes upon him— or anyone else for that matter. His hold on his knife is tighter as he realizes you have not a bite of your supper. His gaze went murderous as he finally saw your bloodshot eyes and trembling lips. They had made you cry. He turned to your father, a harsh look on his face, whilst your mother looked at you wistfully. Aemond then turned to Jacaerys, a smug look on his plain face.

As supper ended, Aemond was the first to leave the table. He made fast steps and entered your chambers to hide there, needing to speak with you, and he was certain that would not be possible whilst you were in the presence of your kin. He hid behind the pillar as he heard the door creek and your somber voice bidding Lucerys ‘good night.’ When he heard the door shut and bared, he made his presence announced.

It was then that he saw a clear view of your state: eyes swollen and red, lips trembling, nose sniffling, soft cheeks flush with sadness. “My light… what has happened?” he asked. You said no word, only ran to his arms and let you hold him as the tears came like rivers once more. “They’re… they’re marrying me to Cregan Stark,” You said in between sobs. Aemond felt the air knocked out of him, his form turn rigged and was immediately filled with dread. “What?” He asked, hoping what he heard was a misunderstanding. “They offered me as a bride to Cregan Stark. He shall arrive in a few days to be presented to grandfather, and we shall leave for the North in a fortnight.”

Aemond sat you down on your plush bed, wiping away your hot tears with his cold fingers. “You will never be his,” he swore, looking deeply into your eyes as your tears did not cease. I shall speak with your parents,” he said and tried to soothe you by running his hand through your hair and caressing your cheek. “Aemond, they wouldn’t even listen to me… their minds are made,” You said sadly. Your prince only shook his head and kissed the top of your brow. “You are a dragon. Wolves do not deserve dragons,” was all he said before kissing your lips again, hoping the action would distract you from your sadness because he could no longer stomach seeing you cry.

“They would never approve of us,” You whispered to Aemond as he held you to his chest. He tried to lull you to sleep, but your mind was distraught. “I do not care for their approval,” he uttered atop your head, inhaling deeply the scent of you. “But—“ You hear Aemond sigh and pull you closer to his leather-clad chest. “You will be mine, my light, just as it ought to be. Forget their qualms and objections— my uncle and his disapproval is a challenge I’ll happily welcome, just as long as you will forever be mine.” He stated as his fingers twirled your hair, “Let us just rest, ñuha ōños,” he murmured, and you did as told. Savoring the first and probably the last time in his hold.

“What are you planning?” Ser Criston asked as Aemond spent more hours in the tiltyard. The arrival of his betrothed had only spurred him to fight harder, train more, and let out his rage at the knights. “Pick your weapon,” was all the prince said as he wiped away the sweat off his forehead. “Tell me the reason for your more frequent sessions first,” the knight stated. Lilac eye flickered above the tiltyard, Aemond's jaw clenching and nostrils flared as he saw you walking around with the warden of the north, chaperoned by your brother. Ser Criston’s eyes followed the prince’s gaze, realization shining through his brown orbs. “My prince, you—“ He was cut off.

“I shall be challenging the warden to a duel for the hand of my niece,” he proclaimed and urged the knight to pick up his weapon. “But she is a bastard,” Ser Criston muttered lowly. Aemond's eye widened, and he had to greatly retrain himself from maiming the knight who stood as his father figure. “She will be my wife.” He proclaimed and returned to his training.

When all were gathered in the throne room to announce their betrothal to Lord Stark, Aemond stepped away from his sibling and drew out his sword, bravely challenging the warden in front of the eyes of the court and his father, the king. You felt your stomach pit in fear, for you did not know that this was the plan Aemond had devised. You had half the mind that he would have the two of you escape to YiTi and live freely there. You hear your father and brother’s disapproval of the duel, but you hear your grandfather’s agreement to it. Lord Stark had little choice but to accept the challenge. You turn to your mother, her lips in a thin line and hands fiddling with her rings, her expression unreadable as he watched men argue before the throne, dictating her only daughter’s fate. She felt your eyes upon her, and she took your hand into hers as fear was evident in your gaze. “It will be fine, my love,” She muttered lowly, but you had trouble believing her words.

When night came, the supposed family supper was discarded as both sides were furious and confused at what had transpired in the throne room. “She will not marry him— I would rather feed myself to Caraxes than watch our daughter marry a spawn of those cunts.” Daemon muttered to his wife and downed a whole chalice of wine, quickly moving to refill it once more. “She loves him,” was all your mother could mutter as she plainly saw the affection in your eyes. “And he loves her,” she added as he saw the tenderness and warmth in her half-brother’s usually cold, lone eye. Daemon scoffed and turned to his wife.

“Not you too— Rhaenyra, you cannot buy into their deceit! You cannot let your daughter be bound to that—“ The princess cut her husband off. “Why? Why are you so against this? Put your pride and animosity towards Otto and Alicent aside… our daughter has made it clear that she wants Aemond— and he, too, made it clear that he wants our daughter. There is no underlying deceit from his intentions… what will they even gain? The crown passes to Jacaerys; Aemond wants our daughter, not for power or whatever reason you had sold yourself to greatly disagree to this match!” Daemon shook his head at his wife’s words. “We need allies. We need the North.” He said, but Rhaenyra shook her head. “You are preparing for a war that may not come— already sacrificing our daughter on the way! And she is right. The North is already sworn to me. A Stark never forgets their oath. And if they need further convincing, my daughter and her happiness is too great a price to pay for them to keep their word.” Your mother defended. She watched as her husband’s jaw clenched and his hold on the chalice grew tighter.

“Daemon, you and I had both been subjected to marriages, not of our choosing, a marriage devised for peace and power but ultimately led to death and devastation… you cannot be so cruel to subject her to such a fate.” Rhaenyra said softly and walked towards her husband, urging him to change his mind. The prince breathed out heavily, “We shall see in the duel if he truly deserves her,”

You nervously traced the embroidery of your dress as you watched your prince battle with the Warden of the North. Both men still yet to tire as they galloped towards each other with their jousting sticks. You feel your mother reach for your hand as your leg bounces up and down in anticipation and fear. You took in a sharp breath as the Warden was thrown off his horse, and Aemond was quick to disembark his and draw out his sword. You chewed on your lip as you shielded your gaze from the men, your bloodstream filled with fear as you heard the clang of swords and their exhausted grunts. You hear the cheers of the audience grow louder, and you feel bile rising to your throat. You shut your eyes tightly and prayed to the gods and fates for it to end soon— for it to end and for Aemond to emerge victorious.

Your prayers were quick to be answered as you snapped your eyes open at the enraged screams of your brother and father— the prince having the warden on his knees and a sword upon his throat. “Surrender, my lord,” The prince breathed, his eye scanning upwards, in search of you. “Surrender, and you will keep your life!” The prince yelled, and you fisted your dress with each moment the warden did not concede. But when he finally raised his arms up and dropped his sword, lowly saying his surrender, you were finally able to breathe freely. “Our champion, Prince Aemond Targaryen!” Someone yelled, and cheers hollered around you, but they were quick to fade as your eyes locked with the man you can now call your soon-to-be husband.

The wedding was quick to come, no matter the reluctance of your father and older brother. You were marrying Aemond. Other members of your kin were finally accepting the union, seeing how you both were truly enthralled and in love with one another. They no longer held disapproval as they realized how bright and intense you burned for each other.

You were in your chambers, the final preparations made to you as you were about to be bound to the one-eyed prince in the eyes of men and the gods. “You look… you look exquisite, my sweet,” Your mother sighed and cupped your cheeks, her eyes and voice filled with heavy emotion. You tightly embraced your mother as she was the only one who was truly on your side when it came to your union with Aemond. Your heart throbbed melancholically as you were to be married without the support or blessing of the man who had become your father. You walked out of the chambers with your mother by your side, her being the only one to escort you towards the grand doors that would lead you to the great hall where Aemond waited by the end of it. She gave you one last kiss on your cheek before stepping aside and walking towards a side entrance and waiting along with the other guests; absent was the presence of Daemon.

As the banquet went on and your hand was freely clasped around your husband, you tried not to let your sadness be shown as the man who stepped in, as your father was not anywhere in sight. Aemond could feel your sadness no matter how hard you tried to hide it; he brought the back of your hand to his cool lips and hoped it brought you comfort. You flashed him a small smile and leaned in closer, “A dance, my wife?” He asked, his heart stuttering as a genuine smile spread to your lips.

He led you to the floor and placed his hand on your waist. No more secret touches, no more possibility of scandal, for in the eyes of the gods and men, you were Aemond’s, and Aemond was yours. As your husband spun you around and kept his steady hold upon you, your mind was finally distracted by the sadness it felt as Daemon was absent on your most joyous day. The thought of your father did not occur to you as you danced until you and your husband saw him approaching. Aemond was attentive to your reaction as he approached, ready to challenge his uncle for the distress and sadness he bestowed upon you. “I wish to dance with my daughter,” He announced, and you felt Aemond’s hold on your waist tighten; he was about to speak, but you nodded and reassured him it was fine. Aemond reluctantly stepped away, and you were left in the presence of your father.

There was silence at first as you were once again spun for the dance, but you soon broke it. “You did not attend our ceremonies.” You said, voice a tad bitter and resenting. You hear your father’s aggravated sigh. “I know you think he is playing me… I know you believe this whole ordeal is a farce, but it’s not. He loves me, father. And I love him greatly,” You say and urge him to understand. “You— your marriage is something I do not approve of.” You hear him utter, making your stomach pit, “But it is clear that you truly love him…” he trailed, his eye turning to your husband, who had his watchful gaze upon you, ready to come to your aid, the moment he sensed distress. “… And I suppose his intentions are genuine,” he relents. You turn your now hopeful gaze upon him, “I do not believe he deserves you, but if he truly makes you happy, who am I to stand in your way? I will not hinder you anymore.” You processed her father’s words. “Do you truly mean it?” You asked, voice thick with emotion, “I do,” he sighed and kissed the top of your head. You smiled widely as heaviness in your heart faded with the blessing of your father was finally bestowed upon you and your husband.

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sunrizef1 · 27 days

Text

Switch Up

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x fem!driver!reader

Warnings: cursing???

Authors note: a written fic??? Ewwww if it’s bad don’t read it pls guys. Guys pls. Not proofread cuz I didn’t feel like it. It is 2 am.

Summary: You had just grabbed a random shirt off the floor of Logan’s room, you didn’t know it was his

———————————————————

“Excuse me,” Your hand comes up to push lightly against the Williams drivers back as you try your best to slide past him in the tight hallway and also not interrupt the conversation he's having with his engineer.

You actually weren't supposed to be in the Williams garage at all, your own team several rooms down and probably looking for you by now, hence the need to not make a scene in the middle of Logan Sargeants garage.

Because of your haste, you don't notice the blondes eyes following you as you dart out into the pit lane, Ferrari red racesuit hanging off your hips. You don’t notice the way his eyes trail across your skin and skim over your hair, landing on the white shirt clutched in your hand.

He knew the shirt well, it having been thrown onto the floor of his room just a few hours earlier. Confusion spreads across his face as he wonders what you could possibly need with one of his Williams t-shirts.

You, on the other hand, had no idea you had grabbed his shirt. The two of you had both coincidentally worn white shirts to the paddock that day and in your haste to exit the Williams garage after retrieving your shirt, you must’ve grabbed Logan’s instead. But you’re still none the wiser to the switch-up as you toss the shirt into your room before navigating your way back into the Ferrari garage as smoothly as possible.

Several engineers glance curiously at you, face red and breathe slightly heavier than usual. All you do is grin as someone places your helmet in your hands. The grin only increases when your teammate walks into view.

“Where have you been?” Charles rushes out, tone hushed and eyes darting around to see if anyone was eavesdropping.

You try and hold back your laugh at the stressed look on Charles’ face, “What do you mean?”

He narrows his eyes at your amusement before rolling them and crossing his arms across the black fireproof he was wearing, “Everyone’s been looking for you, didn’t know your pre-race ritual was to scare the shit out of everyone by disappearing.”

“I didn’t disappear, you knew where i was,” you point out, moving to go and zip up the race suit from its place on your hips.

Charles sighs and rolls his eyes again, annoyance clear in his stance, “Yeah, which also means I had to cover for you for the better part of an hour. The worst part is that I don’t even get any good gossip from it since you won’t tell me who it is you’re seeing.”

You laugh and start to move to where your engineers who are stood waiting for you to stop talking and actually lock in, “Where’s the fun in that?”

Charles just rolls his eyes but a smile does break out on his face as he slides out of your side of the garage to go back to his own, sliding his race suit up as he does.

You hadn’t told Charles about your non-relationship with Logan. He had accidentally found out after you had tried to sneak back into your drivers room before a race and he had found you, tousled hair and hickeys galore. But it’s not as if there was much to tell, you and Logan weren’t actually dating. You were moreso friends with benefits. If friends and benefits actually acted like a couple behind closed doors and spent most of their time together without acting on any “benefits”.

You had just told Charles you were meeting someone to which he replied “no shit” and that’s all he got to know. But he did tell you that you looked happier and he was fine not knowing who it was as long as he knew they made you happy.

Before you know it, you’re out on the track, six cars lined up in front of you. P7, not bad for only being your second season but you knew you should be higher up. Especially in a Ferrari. Your hands tense as the red lights start to tick and your foot’s on the gas the moment they flick green.

Lights out and away we go.

“Let’s go!” Your shouts echo through the radio as you cross the finish line to the checkered flag. P3, a podium finish. Just behind the familiar red of your teammates Ferarri and an expected amount behind the navy blue of Max’s Red Bull.

You park your car and weigh in before running to your team, all lined up at the barrier to great you and Charles after the double podium.

You had had podiums before but this one felt extra special since Qatar had always been such a difficult race for not only you, but everyone on the grid. One of the reasons Qatar was so hard was the best and as you embraced your team, you definitely felt it. You step back as a wave of nausea overcomes you and you unzip the racesuit, pulling your helmet off as quickly as possible right after.

As Charles finally comes up to you with a grin on his face, it falters slightly as he sees the state you're in, “You alright?”

You nod quickly, you truly were fine. Its just that any more time in the suit and long sleeves might make you not fine pretty quickly, “Yeah, I'm cool. I need to change shirts at least before interviews or I might pass out.”

Charles nods at your statement, turning to tell the team, who all have curious looks on their face, your words as you jog lightly back to your room, grabbing the first shirt you see and sliding off your fireproofs. You hold the shirt tightly as you jog back out, taking a second to let the air hit your hot skin.

As you reach your team, someone ushers you toward an interviewer and you pull the shirt over your head, placing a hat on your head that you don't remember being handed. The interviewer chuckles as you look up, microphone now in hand. You don't question it as your probably look a little strange in your random Ferarri shirt and hat, suit hanging low once again.

“Hi y/n, i have to say that was a wonderful drive today, p7 to p3. You managed to stick through the heat and overtake into third past the mclarens and a red bull. Now, ill ask you about the race in a second but first, I do have to ask about the shirt,” the interviewer seems to be hiding her laugh as she gesture towards your chest and you glance down at it.

Instead of the usual red and yellow colour scheme you'd see on your shirts, you're instead met with the blues of the Williams logo. You gape wordlessly as you stare at the shirt, a blush coming up to blend with your already heat-flushed cheeks.

“Some support for the double Williams points today?” the interviewer seems to sense your disbelief as she cuts in to help your find your words.

You nod slightly before double-taking to think about her words, “Double points? Where'd they finish.”

You don't think about about how you've one hundred percent blown the explanation she was trying to give for the shirt but you don't care, only worried about where Logan and Alex finished.

“Albon P6 and Sargeant P9,” the interviewer states after turning to check with someone behind her.

You light up at her words, “Before any penalties?”

The interviewer nods and you grin, “Let’s fucking go, Captain America representing the 305.”

The interviewer just nods, probably having no clue in the world what any part of your sentence meant. Eventually, you get back on track and start to talk about your race but, by now, that’s not the part of the interview that anyone will be talking about.

“Yeah I think it was a good race overall, really the only weakness of that Red Bull is the heat so we tried our best to take advantage of that. It did work for one of the drivers but, I mean, nothing we could do about max haha.”

“Thank you so much y/n and great race,” the interviewer smiles as you hand the microphone back to her, stepping back slightly to start to go back out to your team, “I’ll see you back here next time.”

You laugh, “hopefully! Have a great weekend.”

You walk away from the interviewer, thoughts on the podium ceremony ahead of you. As you exit the media pen and someone starts to usher you away for the ceremony, your eyes catch on a certain blond man in a white shirt and a Williams race suit. You pull away from the man guiding you who protests but you walk quickly to where Logan’s standing, patting him on the back as you walk up to his interview.

Maybe the Qatar heat had melted your brain but you truly didn’t put together how quickly people would connect you and Logan if you walked up to him with a shirt from his team on it and inserted yourself into his personal bubble.

As Logan turns toward you, you realize that that part didn’t matter since Logan was practically advertising your little relationship to the world himself. The heat must’ve gotten to him as well since he was also missing his fireproofs. Instead, he was wearing a white t-shirt that would’ve been pretty oversized on you but fit him fine. In the middle of the shirt was a giant Ferrari logo emblazoned across the chest.

You stare blankly at the shirt for a second, blinking absently before turning your gaze to the camera and then glancing back to Logan.

“Nice shirt,” you mutter, a slight smirk gracing your lips as you glance between him and the shirt.

“Thanks, you too,” he tries his best to hide his laugh, “In my defense, I only put this on after I saw you wear yours.”

You hum, unamused, as he wraps an arm around your shoulder, your eyes locked forward onto the camera and arms crossed over your chest.

You can’t help the blush that forms over your cheeks though, having cooled off from the heat but now the red was back in full force, displaying your embarrassment for all to see.

Logan has zero embarrassment about the situation though, a proud grin adorning his face. This combined with the points finish might’ve made for his favorite race of all two seasons he’d been on the grid.

You glance over and see someone gesturing for you to leave the interview and go up for the podium celebration. You lean away from the microphone in Logan’s hand as you slide out of his grasp.

“See you later, yeah?” You ask the man in front of you, walking backwards out of the frame of the camera.

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan replies, pulling the microphone away from his mouth to respond, “I’ll see you after, congrats.”

You’d already turned around when the congratulations had left his mouth but you grin widely after he says it, turning your head to throw a quick peace sign in his general direction. You hear him laugh slightly as you quickly rush to follow the impatient employee that had been waiting for you.

The podium is exactly how you expected it to be. The only downside being that you’ve not gotten champagne all over Logan’s shirt and more than a couple Ferrari employees weren’t thrilled about you wearing another team’s merch on a podium. You couldn’t have cared less.

Once you’ve gotten down from the podium, bottle of champagne in hand, you’re met with a certain Miami native waiting for you. You laugh and skip over to where he’s standing, a grin on his face as he watches you approach.

“Here,” you raise the champagne bottle as you reach toward his face, “open your mouth.”

Logan laughs but bends his knees slightly to be below the bottle and closes his eyes while you pour the liquid in his open mouth. You laugh as he shoots straight up to swallow the alcohol, wiping a hand over his mouth.

“Mmm, good,” Logan hums slightly, taking another swig of the bottle before handing it back to you, you taking a swig right after him.

“Yeah?” You ask, licking the leftover champagne off your lips.

Logan just nods in response, a grin settled on his features. After a few seconds he pulls you in for a hug, “Congrats by the way, amazing drive.”

You pull back from him and your eyes close slightly from the strength of your smile, “And you! P9! I’m so proud of you!”

Logan’s cheeks go slightly red but he takes another sip from the bottle, “p7 actually, Pierre and Daniel got penalties.”

“P7! Even better! Gonna be challenging me for podiums soon,” you exclaim and Logan laughs, glancing away from you as he does.

You notice a slight shift in Logan’s demeanor but you don’t have a chance to say anything before Logan’s piping up, “Do you wanna go to dinner with me? As a celebration?”

“Like a date?” You blushed, eyes locked on Logan’s wandering ones, currently looking at anything but you.

Logan fumbles over his words for a moment, hand coming up to run through his hair, “Y-yeah I mean, if you don’t want to, we can just get dinner as friends I don’t really mind.”

The only response you have is to pull the driver down by his neck, your lips meeting in a slow kiss. The taste of champagne spreads between you and the Qatar heat simply aids to the blush covering both of your cheeks. You only pull away at the sound of a yell and you glance away to see Charles stood, champagne in hand, cheering loudly.

You laugh and look back toward Logan, ignoring your teammate for a moment, “I would love to go on a date with you, Logan.”

Logan smiles softly at your response, reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, “Great, I’ll text you.”

———————————

Taglist: @casperlikej @evie-119

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 smau #f1 x you #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargent x reader #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant x fem!reader #f1 x fem!reader #formula 1 x reader

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k9wa · 5 months

Text

𑣲 RENEWAL. ft. DAN (F)HENG

⠀ — it is not he that is familiar to you, nor you to him.

⠀ OR

⠀ — time and reincarnation aren’t enough to ever make you truly forget each other.

⚠︎ angst if you squint, fluff, mild hsr spoilers? thank u to the high cloud quintet for having the most heart breaking lore, i listened to memory by toby fox on repeat while writing this.

dan heng wasn’t sure what to feel when his eyes met yours.

familiarity? no, that’s not possible. he’s never met you.

nostalgia? no, that too was not possible. he cannot name one person who your eyes could possibly remind him of.

…what was it? what was it that had left dan heng unable to will his gaze to move somewhere else? surely the intense eye contact was leaving you uncomfortable, even he was beginning to feel squirmy in his own skin as you stared back at him with an equal intensity.

dan heng can feel something in the deepest pit of his mind, leaking down and adding to the tense knot in his gut.

yet, the feeling isn’t…unwelcome.

it’s warm. it’s akin to a comforting hand on his shoulder, or a small squeeze to his fingers. he could not, no matter how hard he tried, recall a time such a sensation had left him so utterly speechless.

“dan heng?”

it’s welt’s voice that finally pulled him out of his trance, his eyes blinking rapidly a few times before he turned his head to look at the older man.

“sorry. what was that?”

dan heng shook his head as if to rid himself of the thoughts of you. what was your name again? yukong had just informed him. not that he was really listening, anyway.

the conversation between his crew and the sky-faring commissions helm master continued on, talk of stellarons and something about the cloud knight’s general. dan heng couldn’t seem to focus despite his efforts.

another voice calls out to him just before he can depart alongside caelus and march, however this time it is not the deep and rough voice of his companion, but one that is much sweeter, and seems to strike a chord somewhere within him.

“dan heng?”

he turns around and is once more met with your eyes. dan heng willed himself to blink and nod before he could be entranced by them once more.

“i apologize, but…”

you trailed off before you were able to get the words out of your mouth, and there you found yourself back in the odd silence the two of you had just broken out of.

“…have we met before?”

you asked, and it finally clicked with dan heng where he had seen only snippets and flashes of you before.

my dreams, he thought. the dreams that haunted him night in and night out, but would occasionally grant him just a glance of a peaceful memory.

“no. we haven’t.”

you’re an amicassador of the sky-fairing commission, one brought on board long after he was banned from the ship that you called home. your meeting at any point before now would have been impossible.

yet, his mind drifts to the occasional memory he has only when deep in slumber.

“yingxing gifted me this.”

he looks down at you, head in his lap as you pull a small jade coin out of your pocket, a fine “永” carefully carved into the surface.

“he has too much time on his hands now that jing yuan is growing.”

your chuckle is soothing to his ears, the sound like a balm applied directly to his soul.

your face is unclear, almost as if his eyes are unfocused. yet your voice is unmistakable.

“i don’t disagree.”

is all he responds, fingers idly pushing a few stray hairs behind your ear as he looks down at you. although he can’t see it, he can feel the grass he and you reside on, smell the pollen off the fresh flowers the breeze blows towards him, can feel the sun on his skin.

“you’re sure?” you question again, voice just as calming as he was sure he’d imagined until now.

“you just—“ you chuckle a bit, almost awkwardly. “—seem so familiar, is all.”

you try to approach the topic subtly, but you truly did know him. from your own dreams, the ones you had that woke you in a cold sweat from just how real and jarring they felt, regardless of whether they were mild or sweet in nature. they conjured such emotion in you.

“baiheng was telling me of reincarnation.”

you muse to him, sitting with one hand on the ground just over his crossed legs, leaving you leaning across him.

“do you believe in such a thing?”

“of course.”

he nods, hand naturally finding it’s place on your waist.

“don’t you?”

“i don’t think so.”

you reach your free hand out to play mindlessly with the silver trim of his robes.

“it’s a nice thought, though.”

dan feng can only hum quietly.

“some day,” he began, drawing your attention back up to his face. “after i reach my end, i’ll come back to find you.”

the small tug of his lips could only be described as a smirk, but it felt softer than that.

“to prove it to you.”

you tilt your head teasingly, brow cocked.

“how will you recognize me?” “I would know you blind.”

he can feel his chest warm as you smile at him.

“i’ll hold you to that.”

“sorry.” dan heng bowed his head lightly.

“but we haven’t met before.”

he was being truthful, you hadn’t. it was your past lives that you two had been acquainted, had formed a bond so strong that it appeared to have transcended death itself.

dan heng did not wish to have dan feng’s deeds or past haunt him any more than they already do. the urge he felt to sit and talk with you, to perhaps hold your hand or touch your face would surely only lead him down a path he’d apparently gone down centuries ago.

“right.”

you nod at him, bowing yourself.

“sorry to keep you, it was nice to meet you.”

dan heng was released and regrouped with his crew, march and caelus bickering about something or the other and walking ahead of him. he decided to stay a bit further behind with welt.

his decision quickly regretted when welt gave him a knowing look, the lines on the older man’s forehead deepening as his eyebrows pushed together.

“you know them.”

“i know who they used to be. that’s all.”

welt can read the room well enough to know to end the topic there. dan heng had never enjoyed or been keen on talking of dan feng, and being back on the xianzhou alone had already left him with an unusual tension in his shoulders.

even as he walked away, moving up to engage in conversation with the sillier two of the quadrant, dan heng couldn’t shake you from his head. your smile, the way you held yourself as yukong introduced you, the small laugh that he had not expected would weave itself so deeply in his chest.

he kept walking on anyway. dan heng was not him.

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

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bloompompom · 2 months

Text

Vengeful Hearts Club

♡ content: ~2.7k word count. eren jaeger x fem!reader, infidelity (reader's ex-boyfriend cheated), grinding, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected piv sex, consensual recording, rough sex, dirty talk, revenge, alcohol, explicit sexual content, explicit language. reader discretion advised. 18+ ♡ a/n: just a quick lil something-something for valentine's day

What were you supposed to do when you found out your (ex-)boyfriend was cheating on you days before Valentine’s Day?

Easy: you fuck his friend.

Admittedly, the stunt wasn’t that calculated. And if you were to debate semantics, the real answer to that question was to cancel your dinner reservation, which you did between sobs.

But once you pulled yourself together, you decided it was time to rip the bandage off, move on, and fuck someone else—because he certainly had. Twice, actually. The first time was a drunken accident, he told you, then the second was on purpose, but only because they ‘just so happened’ to bump into each other again.

Yeah, right.

If your ex could move on—while he was still in a relationship with you, nonetheless—then you could, too. On a whim, you redownloaded a couple of dating apps and dusted off your old profiles. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, just swiping and swiping and swiping. You were giving into meaningless conversations in hopes they would lead to even more meaningless sex. But that never happened. No one held your attention for a day. No one’s witty one-liners were all that witty. No one remotely excited you until…

Eren Jaeger.

You were about to swipe his profile away on impulse, but something in you gave you pause. You moved your thumb aside to look at his face, only in the first photo, but that led to the second, then the one after that.

You couldn’t say your ex’s friend was the first person you had in mind, but now that you had no ties left to him, you could finally confess you found Eren attractive. Up until now, it was merely a forbidden thought, one you had stowed away since you were first introduced. You wouldn’t dare finish the sentence, even in the sanctity of your mind, because that would make you a bad girlfriend. Eren was strictly off-limits.

Now, you could argue it was more of a grey area, which only made him all the more interesting to you. Maybe it was karma, how the universe ‘just so happened’ to drop Eren into your lap.

No, it had to be karma because why else would it have been an instant match between you? Eren had already made his choice. Dug his own grave, so to speak. But it was you who decided you would make this mess together.

Didn’t think I’d see you on here.

You wondered if Eren even knew about the breakup, let alone the details of it. You made it crystal clear for him.

I didn’t think I’d have to dump your friend for cheating on me, but here we are :)

His reply: Fuck, you serious? I’m sorry.

It arrived in two separate messages, and strangely enough, it disarmed you. Not because of his sentiment but because of the familiarity, the specific sense of comfort he evoked. For once, it wasn’t a grueling performance where each of you would spend no less than fifteen minutes crafting every message.

You knew Eren well enough—about as well as anyone knew their boyfriend’s friends, as deep as conversations shared in loud sports bars. When you thought about meeting up with him, your stomach didn’t pit the way it did when you imagined a stranger.

So I figured I deserved to have a little fun now that I’m single.

You weren’t forthright with it, but the intent was obvious enough. And God, it sent him absolutely reeling. From Eren’s perspective, you were entirely off-limits. Like blaring horns and flashing-red-lights level of off-limits. He couldn’t just go and fuck his friend’s ex-girlfriend!

But he was going to.

Which brought you to tonight; not just any old Friday night, but Valentine’s Day. You could have complained about it, but getting drinks with Eren consoled your ego more than spending the day alone. Though you could do without the incidental comments mistaking you and Eren as a lovestruck couple.

“Happy Valentine’s Day. You make a stunning couple, by the way,” the bartender said. Earnestly, too, in the way you could tell she wasn’t just doing her job.

“That’s all her,” Eren replied, tossing you a cheeky grin.

Okay, maybe the night wasn’t all that bad.

Halfway through your second drink, you drummed up the courage to ask the question you weren’t sure you wanted to hear the answer to.

Stirring your drink, you asked, “You didn’t know about it, did you?”

You didn’t need to specify what ‘it’ was before Eren answered, “Of course not.”

You found relief knowing you weren’t the only clueless one, the person ambling around with the ‘kick me!’ note taped to your back for everyone’s entertainment.

“Of course not,” you repeated. A confident answer if you’d ever heard one. You sat higher in your seat, interested. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, I would’ve told him to come clean about it. Any of us would’ve,” Eren said, listing a few of your mutual friends. Well, they were just your ex’s friends now; you had nothing in common with them anymore.

“And,” his gaze lifted from the drink swirling in his hand to you, “maybe I was waiting for you to break up.”

Your eyes narrowed, but your smile widened. “Why?”

“You’re full of questions tonight,” he said with a slight laugh. He took a long sip. “Isn’t the answer kinda obvious?”

Between the lines, you read: Because I wanted tonight to happen. Because I wanted to get with you. Because I want to fuck you.

You tossed back the rest of your drink, slammed it back onto the bartop with, “Your place then?”

And that was exactly how you wound up back at his apartment, in his bed. With limbs strewn amongst tousled sheets. With legs pulled apart and his hand between, fingers buried inside you, working in tandem with his thumb against your clit.

You could hardly hold your eyes open, only catching glimpses of him fucking you with his fingers through fluttering eyes. He’d found a rhythm you could only describe as mind-numbing, leaving you desperate and twitchy in his arms.

It didn’t take long for him to get you nearly there; for either of you to get each other half-naked, with him stripped to his boxers, and you with panties still circling your ankle, shirt shoved over your tits; for him to have you slick with hot desire after a few chaste kisses placed thoughtfully against your neck.

It had been over a year, nearly two, since you’d last been with anyone other than your ex-boyfriend. You’d forgotten the dizzying rush that came along with it. The exhilaration of someone new’s hands exploring your body for the first time, discovering the parts they like best. Every touch came as a surprise, keeping you teetering the edge in the best way possible, with your mouth slack and gasping, and your skin prickling in delight.

You puffed an exhale when Eren slipped his fingers from you. It was a much-needed moment of respite, allowing you to steady your shallow breaths, but you ached for release just as much, squeezing your thighs together like you could replicate the loss.

Eren indulged himself with a taste, bringing his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean. Before you could register it, he used the same fingers to grasp your jaw, angling you for a kiss. Heat radiated through your stomach as you tasted yourself, the muscles clenching hotly as his tongue rolled against yours.

You lightly pushed him down onto his back and crawled atop. You straddled him, perched on your knees as you worked his boxers down until they were out of your way. His cock bounced to tap his lower stomach, only for you to ignore it.

You made yourself comfortable, palms flattened to his chest, with your cunt settled against his ungiving abdominals. You rocked your hips, teasing not only him but yourself as you showed him just how wet, how warm, you were.

You made a mess of him, your arousal coating his front and the pretty trail of hair leading to his insistent cock. Swollen and begging for your attention, you felt it resting against the curve of your ass, jolting with every one of your little movements, and your little moans to match.

Sitting a bit higher this time, you took him in your hand and slipped him between you. You glided your soft cunt over the length of him, back and forth, your head lolling to one side as you enjoyed the steady pressure of the head of his cock nudging your clit.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Eren groaned. His voice lowered, grew breathier, encouraging you with every word.

He placed his hands on the tops of your thighs, squeezing and smoothing over them, guiding you from a languid pace to something less torturous. Your hips spasmed then, your mouth dropping to a small O for him to pop his thumb into, wetting it before circling your clit.

You were caught in the headrush, in the frissons pulsing through your being before overtaking you like a power surge. Something came over you, you didn’t know what, but when you decided you needed him inside you right then and there, you told him, “I have an idea.”

Despite his better judgment, Eren would probably do just about anything you asked if it meant he could fuck you. Even if it entailed him recording the act just to send to his friend in some sort of revenge scheme.

He couldn’t tell if you were serious at first, but your eyes were full of purpose when you asked for his help a second time, throwing in a ‘pretty please’ and all.

Eren knew he wasn’t thinking straight, but frankly, he didn’t care. Seeing you, like this, he found his friend an even bigger idiot than before. How could he possibly give this up?

So that was how he would justify sending his friend a video of him fucking his ex-girlfriend raw.

Eren angled his phone so the camera only captured you from the waist down. The video would remain entirely anonymous to just about anyone—except you, Eren, and your ex. He wouldn’t need to see your face to recognize you; he would be able to tell even as you sat reverse cowgirl on Eren’s lap. He would recognize your giggle of a moan as Eren pinned your wrists against the dip in back with a single hand, and recognize your frantic whines as he began to fuck up into you.

While the video was intended for your ex, that didn’t mean Eren couldn’t film it for himself just as much. It was hedonistic, the way he spread the fat of your ass for a better view, filming how your pussy gripped him so fucking perfectly. He thumbed over your tight hole, letting the camera catch the cute way you flexed in response. Eren touched you wherever he pleased, every place your ex no longer could.

He yanked you down on him, stealing your breath as you cried, “Oh, fuck, Eren. I’m gonna come.”

Eren watched you on the screen of his phone, watched how your body slacked with disappointment when he pulled out just shy of your orgasm. You thought it was an accident until he stopped you from putting it back in. You let out a pathetic whine of his name as your greedy cunt clenched around nothing.

“So impatient,” Eren tutted, his voice teeming with self-satisfaction as he stroked himself at the sight.

He locked his phone and tossed it to the other side of the bed. It was becoming a needless distraction from what he really wanted. He sat upright, pushing you down onto all fours.

If he was going to make you come, he wanted it to be on his face.

You expected to feel his cock bullying at your entrance, but he met you with something much gentler: his tongue lapping a broad stripe through you. Your toes curled like he had licked a spark up your spine as he continued flicking and focusing on your clit.

He was methodic with it, dedicated to your undoing. He found the pressure you liked, the right speed, then he stuck to it.

Your head dropped between your shoulders as you panted, “Ah, hah—that feels so fucking good. Don’t—don’t stop.”

He wouldn’t dream of it, licking and licking you until you came crashing down, quite literally. Your orgasm stole whatever strength remained in your wobbly elbows, and your chest collapsed to the bed. It put such a pretty arch in your back, your ass high in the air for Eren to push back inside your fluttering, now sopping cunt.

Your mouth fell open with a silent yelp, smothered by your cheek smushed in the sheets. You were so sensitive, whimpering with every maddening ram of his hips, but all you could think about was how you wanted a recording of this, the obscene sight in the mirror opposite you.

Eren’s eyes were trained on your reflection, dedicated and concentrated as if you would disappear if he dared to look away. He was mesmerized by you, your body, every bounce of it as he tugged you back by your hips.

You caught his eye in the reflection, his sharpened gaze meeting your dreamy—or as he’d call it, fucked-out—one. You reached a hand back to try and touch him, fingertips barely grazing his thigh.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl. I’m not going anywhere,” Eren shushed softly, contrasting the harsh, deep, thrust that had your vision spotting white.

You didn’t notice when his movements turned sloppy or how shameless he became in getting himself off the more it closed in on him.

He curved a hand around your neck, just beneath your jaw. He tilted your head back to look at him, not with a choking force but with a caress of your face. It was tender despite the filthy way he asked you, “He never fucked you like this, did he? Never made you feel this good, like you deserved.”

You could only moan incoherently, but Eren felt his word’s effect on you. Your walls throbbed around him, like you were sucking him in for more. You wanted more.

He pinched your cheeks together. “Tell me what you deserve.”

Your voice was a moony babble, barely-there whispers of, “To make you come. Please, Eren. Come for me.”

He moaned—practically whined—at your unexpected pleas, quite possibly the hottest thing he’d ever heard. He didn’t last another second before pulling out just in time, pumping his come across your back.

You finally let your heavy limbs drop to the bed, shooting Eren a lazy smile over your shoulder. He breathlessly returned it, running a hand through his hair. He plucked a few tissues from his nightstand and wiped you off before you rolled onto your back.

You watched the rise and fall of your chest, the valley between your breasts sporting a thin layer of sweat as you sweltered in the heady bedroom. You stayed like that for what felt like too long, leading Eren to worry he was too rough.

He propped himself on his elbow, pushing some of your hair from your face to get a good look at you. When he asked if you were okay, you assured him you were. You were only a bit dazy, basking in the comedown of it all.

Eren remembered the recording and searched for his phone. He flipped through it, ready to ask if you seriously wanted him to send it to your ex-boyfriend (and secretly crossing his fingers you wouldn't ask him to delete it), when he interrupted himself with, “Fuck.”

“What?” you asked, unbothered and lying there with your eyes closed.

“I didn’t press record,” he groaned.

You shot upright. “Seriously?”

“Sorry, I was a little occupied,” he deflected. You pulled a face. “Listen, I’m just as disappointed as you. Trust me.”

You flopped back to the bed with a sigh. You supposed it didn’t matter much; who knew if you even had the courage to send it anyway?

Eren thought it over as another silent minute passed between you. He had already crossed the point of no return, so surely, there was no harm in innocently asking, "We could try again, you know?"

thank you for reading xo

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #divider by @/cafekitsune

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malemusktf · 1 month

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Manipulative Musk

Taylor and Lennox were best friends since childhood, growing up in a small town and facing the typical struggles of adolescence together. As they grew into young men, their paths diverged - Taylor became a muscular, confident man with piercing blue eyes and a defined face, while Lennox remained tall and lean, with curly hair and piercing blue eyes. Despite their differences, their bond remained strong, until a recent argument threatened to tear them apart.

It was a typical Saturday night at their favorite pub, where they would meet to catch up and unwind after a long week. Taylor and Lennox were sitting at the bar, nursing their drinks, when Taylor brought up the argument that had been weighing on his mind.

'Hey man, can we talk about what happened the other day?' Taylor said, his voice serious.

Lennox looked up, taking a deep breath before responding. 'Yeah, of course. I've been thinking about it too.'

Their heated argument had stemmed from a misunderstanding, but it had left a rift between them. As they began to discuss it, Taylor's words became more and more manipulative. He twisted the events to make himself look like the victim and Lennox the one at fault.

As they talked, Lennox began to feel confused and disoriented. He couldn't believe that he could have been in the wrong, but Taylor's words were so convincing. As they finished their drinks, Taylor suggested they go to his house to continue the conversation in a more private setting.

Feeling on edge and unsure of himself, Lennox agreed. As they walked to Taylor's house, Lennox couldn't shake the strange feeling that something was off. But before he could voice his concerns, Taylor pushed him into the basement, the musty smell of old furniture and sweat hitting his senses.

'What's going on Taylor?' Lennox asked, his voice shaky.

Taylor didn't respond, instead he began to undress, revealing his muscled, hairy body. Lennox's eyes widened in shock and confusion. He had never seen this side of Taylor before. As Taylor got closer, the smell of raw man stink, musk, and sweat became overwhelming. Lennox's mind and body were being taken over by the potent scent, as if it was a form of mind control.

Taylor's body was emitting a strange green smoke from his pits, crotch, and breath. Lennox couldn't resist the intoxicating scent, and before he knew it, he was fully under Taylor's control.

'You want to be like me, Lennox. Strong and powerful. You want to serve me and worship my body,' Taylor said, his voice deep and commanding.

Lennox's mind was clouded with the manipulative thoughts planted by Taylor. He couldn't think straight or remember why they were arguing in the first place. All he knew was that he wanted to be like Taylor, to please him and be his only friend.

As Taylor's green smoke continued to wrap around Lennox's body, he could feel himself changing. His muscles began to grow, his chest and abs becoming defined. Thick chest hair sprouted from his pecs, and a huge forest of armpit hair also appeared. He could feel the power and confidence of Taylor overtake him.

'Now you are like me, Lennox. We are bonded together in musk and strength. We will be the only ones for each other,' Taylor said triumphantly.

Lennox looked at himself in amazement, feeling a new sense of power and purpose. He and Taylor would forever be joined in their love for musk and each other's bodies.

From that day on, Taylor and Lennox were inseparable. They ruled over their small town with their strength and confidence, always side by side. They were known as the most powerful and feared men in the town, with their musk and bond keeping them united.

And so, with the manipulation and influence of Taylor, Lennox's life took an unexpected turn. But for the two men, it was the beginning of a powerful and unbreakable friendship, bonded by their love for the manly scent that brought them together.

#male tf #male pits #musk #sweat #manipulative

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 5 months

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Soft Boi - Max Verstappen

Summary: Max found his reason to smile no matter what and to her nothing else matters when Max smiles.

"Hey mate, y/n has arrived. She's asked me to pass on her apology for being late." GP states into Max's radio as he sits in the car for FP1, looking at the data.

Max looks up, pushing his visor up properly before he spots his girlfriend moving back over to the garage from the pit wall where she presumably asked GP to pass on the message.

Usually girlfriends wouldn't be allowed to do anything like that, but honestly Max is yet to find a person who gives less of a fuck about any rules. He'd love to watch someone challenge her about her actions. When fans or the media say Max doesn't care enough, he is always internally laughing because they don't know much about his girlfriend due to him choosing to keep his relationship as something that is private to him, but if they knew how little she cares about other's opinions or thoughts, they'd have a field day trying too rip into them.

Although it would make no difference, because if she doesn't love you or at least consider you a friend then your opinion means so little she'd probably ignore it if it came up in conversation.

"Y/n!" Max calls out making her stop before smiling and moving to the car. Her smile trigging his own.

"Hi, baby. Sorry, I'm late. The fucking flight got delayed." Y/n sighs as she leans as much as she can through the gap of the halo. "How's the practice going?"

"It's alright. Better now you're here." Max smiles while she laughs watching him unstrap his helmet and pull it up just enough for her to close the space between them, placing a kiss on his lips before moving back.

"I'll see you in a bit." Y/n states then moving when she gets a look from Christian which just screams that she's holding things up. She shoots him a thumbs up before rushing off to the back of the garage.

That's where she stays till Max appears having a brief moment between the practice ending where he moves to y/n.

"Hi, baby." Y/n smiles while Max sighs knowing he can't stay with her for long since FP1 is always an important practice for set up and data. "What's that look for? Is something wrong with the car?"

"No, I have missed you and now I have to wait even longer to spend time with you." Max sighs gently taking her hand. "I love you."

"I love you too, you dope. We've got plenty of time to spend together, don't worry."

He kisses her softly then moves to get dressed while y/n sits waiting for him. She's a big personality, but actually Max brings out a softer more quiet side that doesn't require so much volume. The same way she brings out Max's softer side in terms of him being less serious and angry.

She's not's always there for the races but the whole team sees a difference in the world champion when she is present and it's nothing they are complaining about.

"Does anyone know where y/n is?" Max asks after finishing up for the day and finding that y/n is nowhere to be found in the Red Bull unit.

"She's already waiting in your car, said something about you wanting to leave as soon as possible. So she figured she'd grab your stuff and meet you there. Thought she might've mentioned it." Helmut states making Max smile. "You ought to just go ahead and marry her if she makes you smile like that without even being in the same room."

"I'll see you tomorrow." Max smiles heading out and brightening when he gets past the security gate for the paddock, spotting y/n in his car. Clearly having grabbed some food before she left as she holds a bowl with chips in it. Instead of going to the driver's side, Max smiles opening the passenger side and crouching down behind the door while y/n looks at him. "Are you having a good time?"

"Yeah, actually." Y/n giggles then holding out a chip for him which he takes opening his mouth. "Are we not leaving?"

"No, we are, I just figured I'd just check you didn't secretly leave for some other reason." Max shrugs before standing up and leaning in to kiss her before moving back and closing the door. Hyperaware of the fact there was almost definitely cameras which captured the moment.

He doesn't necessarily mind people recording them, even if he likes that there's little known about y/n. It makes him feel more like this relationship really is just something for him and her. It's not a display of evidence that he has a heart.

"You know how much I love your smile." Y/n states making Max sigh and look at her for a moment.

This is not the first time Max has had to hear from his girlfriend about how much his smile means to her. She's spent hours telling him that he has the best smile and she can't imagine a life without his smiles after being so privileged to see them every time she sees him.

"You know how much I love you." Max replies making her sigh softly getting up in her seat and climbing into his lap earning a laugh before she cups his face kissing him several times. "I thought we were leaving."

"Maybe I just wanted to do this away from the team. Plus all the onlookers have left." Y/n smiles before she sighs. "I missed you while you've been gone."

"I've missed you too. I wish I could bring you with me all the time. But you won't let me."

"I think everyone would agree, I distract you too much when I'm around." Y/n sighs softly before she rests her head on his shoulder. "Let's just enjoy the peace and each other for a bit."

"Ok, that's fine with me." Max nods shifting the seat back so she has a bit more space without being squished.

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borathae · 9 months

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"Now that Jungkook can finally stay the night, you and he take advantage of it as many times as possible. Cuddles, snuggles and sweet kisses lull you to sleep. His hard cock filling up your pussy and his needy moans wake you again. "Don't tease please", he begs, knowing very well that begging is fruitless."

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x Witch!Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Magic!AU, established relationship!AU, polyamory!AU, Camping Trip!AU, Smut

Warnings: Yoongi & Tae get mentioned, sex in a camper van, sub!Jungkook, Dom!Reader, he calls her Mistress, needy!Jungkook, masochist!Jungkook, consensual free use kink (free use in this story = you can do whatever you want to me, whenever you want), consensual somnophilia, he fucks her pussy while she sleeps, use of lube, Koo has sensitive nipples, nipple play, he's got a big vampire dick, gentle choking, needy begging, dirty talk, praise (good babyboy!googie nation rise), degradation (he gets called slut), dumbification (m.receiving), he cries cause it's so good & he's so needy, she uses her magic to control his orgasms, edging for him, multiple orgasms for both, creampies, unnatural amounts of cum ;), she grinds her pussy against his cock, thigh riding until she cums, a little bit of anal fingering for her, cock slapping, she rides him, he can’t stop hugging her and touching her and kissing her :(, he needs so much aftercare, please protect this bean, they are in love and very kinky

Wordcount: 7.4k

a/n: This is Sanguis!Kookie & follows this smut. I am literally going to combust on the spot. I fucking need him so much. Enjoy besties, this is unhinged 💗

The sun is shining into the camper van. The blinds are still drawn closed, which results in the light to enter the room in small golden streaks. The ocean sings its daily songs. Last night when Jungkook woke you with his lips wrapped around your nipple, it was silent as it slept. It is awake again, now filling the nice silence with the rushing of waves and the occasional call of a seagull. The chatter of people ebbs and flows as, outside, fellow campers pass your van on their way to the beach. Their conversations are unintelligible to you.

Jungkook is moaning above you. It is gentle and quiet and equals little whimpers more than anything else.

You need a few seconds to conceptualise what is happening to you, but once you do, you feel charged in pleasure instantly. Jungkook is rocking himself into you, filling you up with his warm, hard cock. He actually made good on the promise he made last night and is now using your pussy to masturbate his sensitive dick. From how sensitive you feel yourself and by how raggedy he breathes, he must have been going at it for quite a while. The sheets under your butt are soaked and in the deepest pit of your stomach, you feel a constant warm pressure threatening to burst.

You open your eyes, expecting to meet his gaze but being surprised by what you find. He has his eyes closed. His curly hair is sticking to his damp face, his brows are furrowed and his pouty lips are parted. The golden sunlight falsifies his skin tone, turning his naturally pale vampire skin a healthy human colour. He is glowing, not only as if sunlight kissed him, but also his cheeks are flushed. Pinker than the rest of his face. Cute. So immensely pretty.

You stay silent as you enjoy the view. You don’t want to soil this moment by making yourself known. Jungkook should continue to exist in the blissful embrace of thinking that you are still asleep.

He is propped up on his hands. They rest a little above your head and dimple the pillow. His muscles are tensed, the veins in his lower arms are swollen. You fight every urge inside of you not to feel him up, to trace his veins and touch his hardened muscles. Not yet. He needs to be blissfully unaware longer. He feels so good when he is, rocking into you slowly and deeply. Being deep is honestly rather easy with his impressive length. You really can’t get enough of how he feels, how he fills you up and how he never hurts because he fits you as if he was made for you.

His nipples call your attention next. He has the daintiest, little nipples. Darker in colour and incredibly pretty. They aren’t swollen right now, but they could be with just one touch. Truly, he is so pretty. And to think how sensitive they are.

You knew what you were doing last night. You knew that sucking on them would get him needy. You don’t know why you did it because you were this close to falling asleep again, but you really wanted to do it. Maybe you enjoy scrambling the thoughts of your lovers. It feels so good to know that you can turn them from intelligent, well put together men to stuttering, begging messes within seconds if only you touch them right. They are all the same. Taehyung with his sensitive thighs, Yoongi with his sensitive neck and Jungkook with his sensitive nipples. It’s so easy to turn them into messes.

Maybe that is why you did it last night. Because you love to drive them so mad in lust that they stop thinking rationally and instead act instinctively. The sex always feels especially good when they do.

You don’t touch his nipples even if you want to. Not yet. Jungkook shouldn’t be aware of you yet.

You shift your head a little. Just a little in order not to call his attention. Jungkook doesn’t notice it, he is too lost in you.

You can’t see a lot from the position, but you try to look at his tummy next. Only glimpses of it meet your eyes. His hard-earned abs tense and relax with the smooth movements of his hips. On any other day, you would have reached down there and felt him up. Not yet.

Your eyes flit up again. He still isn’t looking, but scrunches his nose up. His head is tilted back the slightest bit, revealing his throat to your eyes. Glistening in a slight layer of sweat and skin vast of any sorts of marks. Not that marks stay on their bodies for long, but it’s still a tragedy that his throat looks so empty.

Not yet.

Jungkook moans and shudders above you. His cock fills you up deeper and forces you to almost make a sound. You widen your eyes, biting down the moan threatening to escape as your toes curl in bliss. Jungkook repeats the motion. The same feeling courses through your body as before. Hot and addicting. He does it again and by now, you realised that he picked up a new tempo. Deeper than before and needier. Judging by how hard he tries not to be loud, he is getting closer, making it harder and harder for you to stay silent as well. All you want to do is moan.

Perhaps you have to make yourself known. It’s too good to handle.

You lift your hands to his nipples and rub them.

“Holy fuck, ah”, Jungkook gasps and collapses to his elbows. His face falls against the crook of your neck, his cock covers your walls in spurts of his hot pleasure, “holy fuck.”

“Good morning”, you rasp, pinching and rolling his nipples between your fingers.

“You’re making me cum”, he whimpers. It’s been too long since he started. This was his last straw, “holy fuck, honey”, he moans and shakes.

“Oh?” you let out and giggle, hugging him against you as he empties his heavy balls inside you, “what a way to start the day. Does that feel nice, baby? Mhm?”

“Yeaah”, Jungkook keens, shaking in your arms.

“That’s it baby. I’m sorry. I surprised you quite a bit, didn’t I? But that’s okay, baby. Enjoy yourself, just enjoy yourself my honey”, you talk him through it, helping him ride out the surprise high by rolling your hips up against him. Your heart is racing like crazy. This is the cutest, yet hottest thing he ever did.

It feels heavenly to you to be filled like that. His cum is so warm and his cock so hard. It feels nice to be filled with him.

Jungkook comes down with a shudder of his limbs, dropping atop of you with a loud squeak. He shivers, squeaking out little noises. His cock is still rockhard, throbbing inside you as he recovers. You soothe him with back scratches and a slow scalp massage, enjoying the warm scent he radiates.

“Good morning indeed, mhm?” you whisper.

“I’m sorry”, he croaks, breathing heavily.

“For what?”

“I didn’t mean to cum already. That was so embarrassing.”

“It wasn’t. You were perfect”, you say and giggle, “although I gotta admit, it’s a little funny to think that the second I wake up you have to nut.”

Jungkook lets out a breathy laugh, “yeah uh”, he lifts his head, blushing like crazy, “fuck”, he laughs.

“You’re cute, Kookie”, you say, cupping his face.

He closes his eyes, leaning into your embrace. He smiles prettily.

“I do gotta say though. You’re bold as fuck. You really just used my pussy to jerk off huh?”

“Mhm?”

“I woke up to you jerking off with my pussy as if you’re a dumb, needy animal. What kind of imagine does that make Kookie, hm?”

He opens eyes, pouting at you, “I needy one?” he asks cutely.

“Exactly. So needy.”

Jungkook widens his eyes cutely “I, I only did it because you told me last night that I can fuck your pussy.”

You smile, tracing his cupids bows, “mhhm, did I?”

“Y-yes.”

“Interesting. I can’t remember that I did”, you coo and pinch his cheeks.

“Ah aha, don’t”, Jungkook giggles, bucking his hips into you in a needy reaction. It feels so good, but teasing him feels even better. You stop his hips, speaking in a soft yet demanding voice.

“Get off of me, Kook.”

“What?”

“Get off of me. Now.”

Jungkook follows your orders instantly.

“I’m, I’m sorry”, he stutters, tearing up because he thinks that he messed up. That he did something you didn’t want to do.

You sit up and take him by his shoulders to guide him. He falls against the headboard, looking at you with glassy eyes.

“I’m so sorry”, he chokes out.

“Don’t apologise baby, you did nothing wrong”, you assure him, smoothing over his cheeks, “well”, you smirk darkly, “you did. You’re such a needy, little boy, aren’t you? Look at the mess you made”, you say, running your fingers through your creampied pussy, “so messy.”

Jungkook gulps, widening his eyes cutely. He finally understands what is happening. You aren’t mad at him, you are just being your perfect self. This is all an act. A part of the sex he started. You are so into this right now. He pouts, tears roll down his cheeks.

“I didn’t think that you would take my offer and yet you did. You are such a needy slut, Kookie. Do you really only think with your cock, hm?”

Jungkook sobs and nods his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I’m such a dumb slut”, he chokes out and sobs, “I’m sorry Mistress, all I do is think with my cock.”

“Of course you do. That’s all you do, you cute, pretty slut”, you say, sitting down on his lap right under his cock. You smear his cum everywhere, using it to grind your clit against his muscular thigh. The sensation makes your body burn up.

Jungkook opens his eyes and whimpers, grabbing your hips.

“Please”, he begs, trying to tug you onto his cock.

“No touching”, you say, taking his wrists to guide them behind his back.

Like this, your faces are so close that with only one tilt of your head, you would kiss him. He is gazing at you, eyes racing between yours and sparkling like crazy.

“I want you to keep your hands behind your back. Can you do that for me or are you dumb enough to fail?”

“I wanna try”, he whispers, “please?”

“You’re such a good boy, so good for me”, you praise, “clean.”

You press your cum slickened fingers against his lips. Jungkook opens up and takes you inside, sucking on your digits as his good boy eyes gaze up at you.

“There we go. Are you yummy mhm? Do you like how you taste?”

He nods his head, moaning needily and tensing his thighs.

“Kook”, you sigh, eyelids fluttering, “Koo, I’m…my pussy’s sensitive. Keep…yeah, keep doing that.”

He moans, sucks and tenses his thigh. It flinches and shakes under your pussy. You glide over his smooth skin, electricity shoots through your veins.

“Fuck”, you sigh, dropping against Jungkook’s strong chest. Like this, you forget all about your fingers in his mouth which results in your hand slipping down and your fingers tugging his jaw down with them.

Jungkook shakes his head free, resulting in your hand falling around his throat gently.

Your forehead is resting against his shoulder, your back is bent so you are more comfortable and your pussy is dripping down his sculpted thighs.

Although he promised to be your good boy, Jungkook puts his arms to the front. He needs to touch you. That’s all he wants to do. Touch you, hug you, feel you as you moan in his arms. He wanted to do those things for years and now that he finally can, he doesn’t want to stop doing them.

“Holy fuck, that’s good. Fuck, that’s so good”, you moan, scratching his scalp as you continue to twist and relax your fingers in his hair.

Jungkook cuddles closer, kissing your neck as best as possible.

“That’s so good, oh god Kook”, you shudder, circling your clit against him quickly, “holy fuck.”

“I’m here”, he whispers, slipping his right hand to your butt while his left arm still hugs you close. His fingers dip between your buttocks, picking up the remnants of his cum so he can spread it on your hole.

“Baby”, you groan, tensing up for just one second before you shudder and moan shakily. Your hips speed up afterwards, your fingers squeeze around his throat, “don’t stop baby, please don’t stop.”

Jungkook moans, enjoying you with his eyes closed. This is paradise to him. He continues to move his pointer and middle finger against your hole, massaging it with just enough pressure that you feel it deep inside you. He doesn’t even have to slip in and yet you feel stuffed with him.

“So good…”

Your clit is burning. That’s how it feels to hump his sculpted thigh. Hot. So incredibly hot. You can’t take much more.

“I’m gonna cum like this”, you choke out, resorting to moaning afterwards.

“Don’t hold back, please”, he begs, hugging you closer. He presses down on your hole and slips inside to his first knuckle.

“Ah”, you wail and orgasm instantly. If there is one thing that will always break you it’s when they introduce something new to the sex. Just like Jungkook with his nipples, all it took for you right now, was for Jungkook to breach your hole.

You shake and tremble, covering his thigh in your orgasm as you feel in goddamn paradise.

“Holy f-fuck, holy shit, Kook”, you moan, hugging him tightly.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop”, Jungkook begs, holding you through your high as his cock aches for your warmth again.

You shake two more times and then drop. A little grumble of utter ruin leaves you, your fingers slip from his throat.

Jungkook slips his fingers out and caresses your buttocks instead. Your pussy throbs on his thigh rhythmically. Like a heartbeat. He knows that these are the aftermaths of your intense high. You are panting like crazy too.

“A good morning, huh?” he jokes.

“Yeah hah”, you laugh breathily, lifting your head, “fuck.”

Your face is glowing from sweat and the golden light, your eyes are sparkling. Jungkook feels short of breath at the view. This is you. This right here is you. The truest you and he can look at you without wanting to rip you apart. Holy fuck.

He cups your cheeks, running his thumbs over your skin. His tummy flutters when your first reaction to his touch is to lean into him and give him a droopy smile.

“You are so beautiful”, he says.

“You are beautiful too, Kookie.”

“I want more”, he confesses and tries to tug you closer to his cock, “please don’t let this end yet.”

“I don’t want this to end either”, you say, chasing him. You lift yourself, pressing your warm pussy against his cock as you go in for a kiss.

Jungkook whimpers, closing his strong arms around your lower waist and pressing you against him that way. He has to crane his neck to reach you, but he doesn’t mind. There is nothing better than to look up at you, to lift his head for you. You deserve that. You are his beautiful goddess and all you deserve is to be gazed upon. To be kissed and held and cherished.

You move your hips slowly, grinding your clit against his cock without slipping in. Just warmth, pressure and connection. It’s enough to make Jungkook moan into the kiss. Slow and gently you kiss him, sucking on his tongue because he tastes so good and moans so sweetly.

You are still incredibly sensitive from your first high. His cock feels like the sweetest torture against your clit. A torture you can’t get enough of and which has you chasing him with eager, needy movements.

Jungkook breaks the kiss, “okay, fuck. You gotta slow down”, he sounds out of breath, his thighs are shaking beneath you.

“Why?” you ask, rutting against him with your arms hooked behind his head and your fingers deep in his hair.

“I’m gonna cum”, he mewls and moans, tilting his head back and parting his lips. He squeezes your waist, throbbing against your clit.

“Already?”

“I love you.”

“Yeah?” you giggle, “that’s why you’re close?”

“Yeah”, his eyes tear up, he pulls you closer.

“You’re cute”, you sigh, running your fingers through his hair “so cute”, you whisper, circling your clit right on his frenulum.

“Oh mhmgng”, he presses out, widening his eyes at you.

“So cute baby, so cute and so dumb.”

You can watch how his thoughts leave his brain, how utter emptiness fills his mind and how he becomes nothing but yours. You have to giggle and caress his cheeks. You press your pussy closer, resulting in his cock digging into his tummy and for your clit to feel charged in pleasure.

“So dumb and cute, my little slut”, you coo.

“Please slow”, he begs, spilling tears, “I’m gonna cum, please.”

“Mhm, what a shame”, you say, lifting yourself and dropping back onto his lap. You continue rutting against him, using his thigh instead of his cock.

“Please”, Jungkook mewls, now whining about being edged. He tries to sit up and chase you, but you take him by his shoulders and position him back against the headboard. He lets it happen with a moan, dropping his head against the window right above it as he is unable to open his eyes. He is so dizzy. You made him your dumb, pretty slut and however hard he tries, he won’t be able to escape until you free him again.

“Comfy?” you ask him again.

“No”, he croaks.

“No?”

“Want your pussy.”

“My pussy, hah”, you chuckle, “didn’t you whine about being too close?”

“I lied.”

“Sure you did”, you chuckle, “you’re being a greedy slut right now, aren’t you?”

Jungkook whimpers, “yeah”, he squeaks, arching into your touch.

“Of course you are. Just fucking look at your cock”, you say, placing your hands on his tummy right next to his cock. The touch is so heavy, leaving him to gasp for air.

“Please”, he begs for your hands, but you ignore him.

“You’re so wet, look at you. All sticky and messy”, you rasp, running your thumbs through his dark pubes. They are soaked in his own cum and your wetness. They feel so soft against your skin, “did you use lube when you fucked me?”

“Yeah. I, I didn’t want you to hurt so, so I used lube.”

“You did, wow”, you click your tongue, “even if you knew that you needed to use lube you didn’t stop, mhm? Is your cock really all that controls you, huh?”

He throbs, leaking new slick. The pretty little pearl runs down along his swollen vein and gathers on the base.

“Of course it is. Look at how wet you get when I talk about it”, you tease and grab him by his base. You slap his cock.

Jungkook cries out and arches off the headboard. His thighs squirm under your pussy, rubbing right against your clit. The sensation feels like fucking paradise.

“So dumb, you’re so dumb”, you taunt, spanking his cock again.

Jungkook bucks his hips up, almost throwing you off his lap because of it. He wails so sweetly, gripping your thighs because all he wants to do is hold you. He expected anything but this.

He fucked your pussy for quite a while before you woke. It started with him waking up to you being his little spoon and your naked butt pressing right against his bared cock. The mess of last night was still sticking to your bodies, enabling Jungkook to rub his cock against you without any kind of struggle. It wasn’t long until he was hard and just as needy as he was last night. Maybe he was even needier because your words of last night kept repeating in his head.

“I can’t wait to wake up to your cock stuffed in me tomorrow”, you told him last night and ever since then, it has haunted him.

So Jungkook began humping you, trying to get you to wake up, but you were slumbering too deeply. So he tried something else. He tried to suck your nipples again, burying three of his long fingers in your warm pussy and massaging your clit. All it did was make you wetter and sigh in your sleep. So he tried to get rid of his desperation by humping your thigh, but this only made it worse. He tried to grind his cock against your clit next, but that didn’t wake you and made him so horny that he felt like crying. Nothing helped and the ache between Jungkook’s legs became unbearable. So he grabbed some lube, rubbed it all over his fully grown cock and then filled your pussy with his length. You felt like heaven around him and Jungkook began rocking himself into you in the slowest movements he ever made. If he hadn’t, he probably would have lost himself within seconds. The slow movements were nice, Jungkook never felt as close to you as he did when he fucked you this morning. They were nice, but they also kept him on the constant border to climax.

The one he had before didn’t help. It just made it worse. The ache for you is unbearable. Which meant his cock was this close to bursting right now and your spanks were the last sparks needed to ignite the flame.

“I’m cumming”, he chokes out, fucking the air aggressively.

“No”, you say, squeezing around his base. It tingles where you touch him. Jungkook knows you are preventing his cock from cumming with a little bit of help from your magic.

“No”, he keens, writhing painfully, “please don’t do this to me, please.” It hurts so much. He wants to cum, but he can’t. Oh god, it hurts so much.

“Why not? It’s the least I can do to you for being such a slut”, you taunt him. The pressure around his base stops, instead you press his cock against his tummy and connect your pussy with it. In smooth rolls of your hips, you grind against him, sending his body down a spiral of unbearable pleasure.

“Please slow, please slow, please slow”, he begs.

“I am slow”, you tell him, holding onto his shoulders as you grind against his heavy cock, “I’m barely even moving.”

“It’s too much”, Jungkook mewls and sobs, “I wanna cum.”

“Stop whining.”

“Don’t tease, please”, he begs, bucking his hips up, “oh fuck, that was too much”, he begins whining, pouting as he does. He writhes as he talks, “please don’t go so fast, please Mistress please.”

“Do I have to force you to stop being such a slut, mhm?” you spit and grab his chin, “look at me.”

Jungkook peels his eyes open. The sweetest tears roll down his face and soil your fingers. Your hips still move against him, grinding your swollen clit against his burning cockhead. You are dripping all over him, your pulse is racing in your pussy. Jungkook can feel everything and it makes him want to pass out from how good it feels.

“Do I actually have to use magic on you to get you to stop being so sensitive, huh?”

“Can you do t-that?”

“I can do unspeakable things to you if I wanted to, Kookie.”

“Oh god”, he mewls, presenting his throat to you, “please do whatever you want to me, I-I’m free use.”

“Mhm, so needy”, you taunt, “fine, if you’re asking for it like such a slut”, you say and lean down to kiss his forehead. Jungkook knows that the kiss was magic. Not only because it really comforted him, but also because he felt unbearable pressure building in his stomach once your lips touched his skin.

He mewls and writhes, fighting the feeling with minimal effort. He wants to cum and yet can’t. The pressure in his tummy is too much and yet he can’t let go.

“Please”, he begs, “please, oh god please.”

“There we go”, you say, lifting your head. You smooth over his forehead, caressing his cheeks afterwards, “how is that feeling, mhm?”

“A, a lot. There, there is so much pressure in my tummy and, and my legs feel so, so weak”, he stutters.

“Yeah? That’s the magic, babyboy”, you explain, “is it too much?”

“I don’t know yet”, he says, spilling tears, “please don’t let go.”

“I won’t, baby. Now that I can use your pretty, little cock to get off, I won’t hold back”, you say, moving your hips against his cock.

Jungkook can feel everything. The magic doesn’t reduce the pleasure you give him, it simply prevents his body from falling over the edge. Your wet pussy grinds right against his swollen cockhead and all he can do is take it and spill tears.

“How’s that? Is the magic too much?”

“I don’t know, I don’t fucking know”, he sobs, “please don’t ask me that, I don’t know”, he wails, pressing his eyes closed.

“I’m just asking to make sure you’re not pushing yourself too much. Yeah? You’re such a dumb little slut that sometimes you go too far, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes”, he moans, “it’s not too much. I can’t cum, I don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t have to do anything. You just gotta be a good boy and let me use your cock like you used my pussy. It’s only fair, wouldn’t you say?”

He nods his head vigorously.

“Good. Now relax”, you say, pushing his head back and speeding up your hips.

Jungkook returns to his most natural state, moaning and sobbing just for you as his body writhes underneath you. His eyes are squeezed shut, his cheeks flushed and his pretty lips pouted in bliss. He looks so content with the situation. Content, but also utterly ruined. His arms keep tensing, clearly fighting the urge to squeeze you strongly.

You run your hands to his biceps and squeeze them softly. Tense just how you thought. Your clit throbs against his cock.

“Fuck, I want you so bad”, you moan, giving in to your urges and lifting yourself just so you can sink down on his cock.

“Ah”, Jungkook gets out, chasing you by sitting up straight. He was so lost in the feeling of your wet clit grinding against his cock that he didn’t even realise that you were taking him back in.

“Relax”, you whisper, pushing him back down gently. His head does a thun as it hits the window again.

“Holy fuck”, he croaks, “holy fuck please let me cum, please.”

“Not yet”, you say and begin bouncing on him.

“Ah!” Jungkook moans, arching his back, “ah! ah! ah!”

He can’t do much more than make noises. There are only a few better things than having you ride him. Jungkook loves fucking you. He loves to control the tempo and movement and how you writhe and moan in reaction. He fucking loves it. But there is something especially heavenly about having you bounce on him.

To be at your mercy, to take what you give him and to be reduced to a pretty cock to bounce on. Jungkook lives for the feeling of it, begging you to continue in a shaky voice.

“That’s it, holy fuck that’s it”, you moan, pressing yourself closer with one single goal in mind. Cum on his cock. Your naked tits press against his sculpted chest. His body heat mixes with yours, forcing layers of sweat to cover your skins. It’s an addicting sensation. To be so close and warm and sweaty with him as your bodies connect in harsh bounces. It’s addicting.

“I wanna cum”, Jungkook sobs, fighting the spell, “this is torture, it hurts so much.”

“Say the word and I’ll stop, you know you can stop this baby”, you pant, hugging him tighter against you. You need his stomach to grind against your clit. His cock is so deep inside you. You possibly couldn’t take all of him and yet he still feels as if he is going to rearrange your insides. You’re so goddamn addicted to that feeling.

“Don’t stop”, Jungkook doesn’t say the word. He begs for more. Burying his face in the crook of your neck and going hazy at your scent, he begs for more. He wraps his arms around you, squeezing you desperately.

“I won’t, baby I won’t. You feel so good, you have no idea”, you choke out and moan loudly. You bury your fingers in his damp curls, pulling him closer this way. You need him so bad. Nobody knows just how bad you need him. You weren’t able to be like this with him for years. He would have ripped you apart before that, hurt you, even killed you. You had to hold back, he had to be restrained and muffled, people had to step in between whenever you grew too close. Two lovers forbidden from connecting in the most addicting of ways because otherwise you would have ended up dead. Two lovers now finally alone and able to find each other without the fear of being separated again. Nobody truly understands how much you want him. How much this morning means to you.

“You feel so good”, you moan, “Kookie, you feel so good.”

“Please don’t stop”, he begs.

You knew that this trip wouldn’t be very productive. That you would spend most of it in your camper van while outside the weather was nice. It would have been a shocking surprise if you didn’t use the newfound freedom exploring each other every waking second. Perhaps this is even why you went on this trip in the first place. To fuck without restraints. Living with the others in your big, spacious castle was nice, but sometimes it feels better to know that you have true privacy. That everyone who can hear your blissful moans was a stranger, who will never get to know you.

It’s just you and him in a sea of strangers and that shit makes you want to ride him even harder.

“I love you”, you pant, “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too. Ah please”, Jungkook mewls, drooling all over your shoulder. His toes curl, his thighs tremble. He can’t let go even if he needs to. Jungkook feels this close to passing out.

“I’m fucking cumming”, you moan, convulsing on top of him without stopping your movements, “holy fuck, holy fucking fuck Kook. Oh god.”

This is what happens when you get your hands on him. You get so goddamn greedy that you keep fucking yourself stupid while your body shakes uncontrollably. Your clit throbs against his tummy and your pussy convulses around his huge cock and yet you can’t stop. You don’t want to stop.

“Please”, Jungkook sobs, “please, please I wanna cum, please.”

“Not yet, I’m not done”, you croak, lifting your head to stare at him. His hair is just as messy and wet as yours is. You are fucking so hard that it’s hard not to sweat. It’s hot. He looks so good when his skin glistens. He thinks the same about you, looking up at you with teary eyes and his cock throbbing deep inside you. The connection burns him alive. To share such a messy, private state with you in this golden lit, warm room feels like a dream to him. He tugs on your hips.

“Please I wanna cum in you”, he begs.

“And get all sensitive? You’re better off like this.”

“No, I’m not”, he whimpers, giving you puppy eyes.

“Say the word, Kookie. One word and I’ll lift the spell.”

Jungkook sobs, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Kiss me. Please”, he pleads.

“Fuck, Kook. I want you so bad”, you say, squishing his face as you pull him into a kiss. Sloppy tongues and deep moans. You kiss each other as if this was the last moment on earth.

You sink down on him more. He stretched you well enough that it feels possible now. One more inch. Two more inches. The last inch and your ass connects with his meaty thighs. The impact is audible. Skin slaps against skin, your pussy squelches now that your mixed pleasure gets spread all over his lap.

Jungkook moans into the kiss. You swallow his sounds and press yourself closer. All he should do is kiss you and give you his big cock. You bounce on him, circling your hips to make sure that not even an inch of you misses out on the ecstatic feeling of being stuffed by him. Jungkook whimpers into the kiss and tugs on your hips again. He wants to both hug you as he loves you like crazy, but he also wants to grip your hips and force them to slow down. He signed a devil’s contract when he allowed you to use magic on him. The pressure in his tummy has become so huge that his legs feel numb. He swears his balls grew twice their size by now, he can’t even comfortably close his legs anymore because it would crush his balls. He begs his body to be stronger than your spell. To cum. To please release him of this pressure. But he can’t. He is at your mercy and it hurts so goddamn wonderfully.

He breaks the kiss just as you break it. He wanted to beg for mercy, but you interrupted him with a high-pitched moan.

“Kookie, this is making me cum”, you confess, rubbing yourself against his abs while his veiny cock was grinding against your g-spot.

“Don’t stop”, he begs, wanting nothing more than your high, “please don’t stop”, he begs even if his cock feels like bursting. The pressure spreads to his upper tummy as well. Jungkook never tensed his abs as much as he has to right now. But he has to stay strong. You are going to cum and this is more important than finding his own release.

“Oh god, Kookie, oh god”, you drop your face into the crook of his neck, “oh god baby, holy fuck I’m so filled up with you, oh god now.”

Your body grows limp and starts shaking. You whimper into his neck, flinching and trembling and convulsing on top of him. You wanted to keep fucking him, but you can’t. This is so much more intense than your first high. Now stuffed with all of his cock and being so close to him, your body is breaking apart under the pleasure.

“This is so good, please baby please”, Jungkook sobs, chasing your high with harsh thrusts. It shakes you on top of him and makes holding on hard, but it’s a goddamn perfect fucking thing. You are so weak that you can’t move anymore, so having Jungkook take over feels like sweet relief, “it hurts so much, I wanna cum”, Jungkook wails, fangs tickling your skin because of how lost he is. He won’t bite you, but it’s hard to hide his natural state if you fuck him that hard.

“Please cum for me”, you order, lifting the spell with a kiss to his neck.

Jungkook screams up and breaks. The pressure bursts the second the spell is lifted. Your name is the only thing which he manages to choke out and then all he can do is scream and shake.

“Yes Kookie! Yes! That’s it! Yes!” you encourage him, riding him in sloppy rolls of your hips. Now he is the one who can’t move, while you take over for him.

He cums so hard that your pussy gets too wet and his cock flops out. His creamy seed bursts out of you and covers your ass and his thighs messily. And as you leak uncontrollably, Jungkook keeps cumming, spreading his white pleasure everywhere.

“I can’t stop”, he sobs, “I can’t stop, I can’t stop.”

“That’s my boy, that’s it. Such a good boy”, you praise him, reaching behind yourself to push him back inside.

“___!” Jungkook screams and feels how much harder he cums. It scares him how good it feels. So this is what happens when your magic prevents his body from functioning normally. This is what happens when you finally give him back control. He can’t stop cumming. Jungkook fights the feeling and sobs, burying his face in your shoulder “please make it stop, please.”

“Almost there, baby. Almost there, don’t give up on me”, you talk him through it, bouncing on his throbbing cock to help him ride it out.

“Please make it stop, I can’t stop. Please don’t make me cum- no- again!” he wails, throwing his head back as he cries the hottest tears, “make it s-stop please.”

“Almost there baby, I’m so proud of you. You’re doing so well. I know it’s a lot, but if we stop now you’ll end up with way too much cum still inside you. We have to milk you, yeah?”

“It won’t stop, please I’m s-scared.”

“I’m right here. Almost done, baby. Almost there”, you soothe him, caressing his cheeks as he does the best job of emptying his heavy balls inside you.

"Mistress please make it stop”, he begs.

“I know baby, I know”, you soothe him, pulling his head to you so you can smother his cheeks in kisses, “don’t give up, almost there baby. You’re such a good boy, so good.”

Jungkook wails up one last time. One last time he empties his balls inside you. One last time he dances between the world of the living and the world of the dead. One last time he fights for air and then it finally stops.

His body finally stops spasming, his cock finally stops throbbing and his balls finally feel empty. Every inch of his body gives up. He slacks against the headboard, head rolling to the side and almost slipping off if you hadn’t caught it. You place it on the edge gently, running your fingers through his soaked hair. He is barely breathing, dripping sweat from his face as behind his closed lids, his eyes don’t seem to stop racing.

“Good job, my babyboy”, you praise him, drying the tears from his face.

Jungkook doesn’t respond, he merely lets his head slack into your hand and then gravity drags his torso down resulting in his head getting bent into an uncomfortable position.

“Careful, hey my honey”, you giggle, placing your arms around him so you can pull him against your chest.

Jungkook falls into you like a limp ragdoll, his head bounces against your shoulder, knocking a barely there sound out of him.

“Kookie, are you okay?” you ask him, caressing his back.

He doesn’t move. He can’t move. Almost as if he was paralysed. Oh. Everything falls into place. This is the result of a Ripper high. You actually made him cum so hard that it equaled the intensity of a Ripper high. Jungkook is actually paralysed because you made him cum too fucking hard.

“You’re doing so well, my babyboy”, you praise him, slipping off of his cock to make it easier for him to come back to you.

He whimpers softly.

“Sorry, I know that was a lot”, you say, ignoring the feeling of you leaking his cum. It’s so much and doesn’t want to stop, “but you’re safe with me. I’m right here, babyboy.”

You run your fingers over his back.

“Take your time, Kookie. I’m not going anywhere”, you whisper, hugging him against your chest and running your fingers through his soaked hair. It’s covered in sweat. You feel as hot as he does. You came so goddamn hard right now. You rest your chin on his shoulder and let your head fall against his’, “I’m so done. This was the most intense orgasm ever”, you say and close your eyes, falling into the blissful feeling of recovering with him together. You keep leaking as you do, but you try to ignore it for now.

The first thing Jungkook manages to move are his arms. They fall around your waist and keep you close.

“Hey there”, you whisper.

“Hey”, he croaks.

“That was something, wasn’t it?”

He nods his head, giving you a soft squeeze.

“I’m still leaking”, you say and giggle.

When Jungkook doesn’t laugh with you, you lift your head in worry. He raises his head, looking at you with teary eyes.

“Hey Kookie, are you okay?” you gasp, cupping his cheeks.

“Thank you”, he chokes out, cradling your face between his weak hands, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my honey”, you say, closing the distance between you and him until your foreheads touch.

“Thank you”, he whispers, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You chuckle, kissing the slope of his nose.

“You’re so polite.”

“I’m in your debt.”

You snicker, “no you’re not. You deserved this.”

“I was so scared.”

“I know, but I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you.”

“I know, I was so scared but it felt so good. I, I don’t feel horny anymore.”

“Hah”, you laugh softly, “good to know that this is what it takes for you to stop being needy.”

“Yeah”, he chuckles, “I’m still gonna give you lots of orgasms on this trip.”

“Oh really? Well, that’s good to know”, you tease, ruffling his wet hair, “how about we take a shower first and get something to eat? And then spend more time at the beach? It’s a nice day, we should do something other than just fuck.”

“Why? We haven’t been able to do this for so long. Just you and I. It’s new to us.”

“Yeah, it’s so nice.”

“It’s paradise.”

“It really is.”

“I want to pinch myself, because I keep thinking that it’s not real.”

“It’s real, my sweetie.”

“I can’t believe it. This is real. You're with me and I actually know how to control myself.”

“After just three years of training that is.”

Jungkook smiles, “I can’t believe that this is real.”

“Me neither, but it is. And I’m so proud of you. So fucking proud.”

Jungkook lifts his head and flashes you a bright smile.

“Oh ___”, he says, swooping you off his lap so he could roll in the sheets with you, “I love you so much.”

“Careful Kookie, I’m leaking”, you laugh, trying your hardest to close your legs.

“Sorry, god”, he laughs, pressing his knee against your pussy “I don’t know what happened. It was so much cum.”

“Yeah it was. That’s so hot”, you say and give him a fond grin.

Jungkook retorts it, caressing your butt.

“You even tensed up at the end, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I honestly felt like I wouldn’t come back. How the fuck did you give me a Ripper high without blood?”

You snicker, “witchy talent.”

“You’re seriously so hot. Thank fuck you discovered your powers.”

“Yeah, seriously”, you agree and snicker, “you think that Yoongi would be down to get this done to him?”

Jungkook’s eyes light up.

“He’ll pretend that he isn’t but yeah a hundred percent. I think he’d marry you on the spot if you gave him a Ripper high without the blood.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, hell yeah. Fuck, I wanna marry you on the spot for doing that to me. Like oh my god, be my wife please”, Jungkook says, making you laugh.

“Mhm, fine”, you giggle, “we can all be married”, you joke, snickering happily.

Jungkook laughs with you, running his hand up and down your leg.

“Deal.”

“Mhm, best deal.”

“Yeah”, he smiles, “hey, do you want to wash each other?” he suggests, “I promise I won’t get horny again, I just want to be close to you.”

��Do you think that the shower is going fit us both?”

“I don’t know, we could try.”

“We could. I would love to take a shower with you, sweets”, you tell him, “and if it won’t fit, we could run down to the beach and jump into the water.”

“Yeah totally”, he giggles.

You will share a lovely day with him. It will be filled with yummy food, intimate conversations, sweet kisses and way too much fun at the beach. And later that night he makes good on his promises and you share yet another blissful moment with each other.

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spacedace · 1 month

Text

“Hey, I need to get married for bullshit Infinite Realms reasons, you two in?”

“Tt, of course.”

“Sure thing! Do we need to get going for that like, right now? Or later?”

“Eh, like in a couple of hours? The Observants are demanding some Royal Ball or something and they pulled out some stupid old laws out of their collective asses that if I’m not married by the time it starts they can assign me spouses of their choosing, can you fucking believe that shit?”

“Woah, what the hell? Can they even do that?”

“I was under the impression they were only permitted to observe.”

“Right? It’s total crap, but apparently there’s like this super old law on the books and they didn’t bring it up until now when there’s like no time left to try and force me to marry someone they pick.”

“They are training to gain influence over you?”

“Eh, more like they’re trying to get control of my Dad by way of me. But still fucked as hell.”

“So why do you need to marry both of us? Or do you just need to marry one of us and we should play rock paper scissor for it?”

“Technically I only need to marry one of you, but I don’t want them pulling out any loopholes or something. So, it’d be great if one of you could be my consort for my role as Queen of Mirrors, and one could be my consort for my role as Crown Princess. You two can figure who’s who on that all that, I’m good with whatever.”

“Oooh, can I be consort for the Mirror Court? I can annoy Kon more that way.”

“I am amenable to that. Grandfather will have a fit when he learns that I can cut his access to the Pits off at my discretion and there’s nothing he can do about it.”

“Awesome, okay are you two good for meeting up at like, three? We can pop over to my Lair and get everything sorted out there.”

“Works for me, my only class til this afternoon is at one and the professor already said we’re cutting out early because she has to go out of town this weekend.”

“Four would be more agreeable if possible, I have to take Titus to the vet for his checkup.”

“Okay let’s aim for four then. It’s just signing some paperwork, making some quick blood-slash-ectoplasm pacts and swearing a couple binding oaths… Should only take like five or ten minutes?”

“They’re not gonna make you have a huge royal wedding or anything?”

“Nah. Dad keeps things pretty chill so as long as the paperwork is all in order we’ll be good. Though once Auntie Dorathea finds out she’s absolutely gonna make us have one. She loves planning weddings. Swear its what she makes her hoard out of somehow.”

“So long as we have a say in some of the proceedings I have no issue with that eventuality.”

“Same, it sounds like it’d be a fun way to annoy the Observants even more.”

“Don’t for get all the weirdos trying to be my suitors and all that bullshit.”

“We have an accord then. We can reconvene at the usual place.”

“Awesome, you two are the best! I gotta jet and let everyone know and get the ball rolling on the paperwork stuff. See you guys at four!”

With that, Nomad - Stella Phantom, Crown Princess of the Infinite Realms, Queen of Mirrors, Core of the Speedforce and ghostly hero of the Titans and the Justice League - tore a rip in the fabric of space and time and darted out of the room the same way she came. Through the mind-bending tear in reality the eerie, eye-searing green of the Infinite Realms glowed in all its unsettling glory, Phantom Keep a glittering expanse of night sky made solid in the distance.

Jon waved at her cheerfully as Damian gave a nod of farewell before both silently turned their attention back to their respective tablets as the portal closed behind their friend and teammate and the glimpse of the Ghost Zone disappeared again. Completely unbothered by the conversation just held or the life changing implications that came with them.

Jon was humming as he tapped away at something on the screen before him, Damian propping his head up on his fist in vague boredom as he frowned down at the information he was reading.

The rest of the room Nomad had left behind was caught in a frozen, stunned silence in the wake of the baffling conversation they’d all just been witness to. All eyes in the room darted between Flamebird and Pheonix seated calmly at the end of the table, then to the space where Nomad had disappeared to, back to the young men, and then towards the head of the table where Superman and Batman sat looking bewildered and a bit on the verge of heart attacks.

The short status update meeting was about to become much, much longer it seemed.

Though a lot more entertaining.

#dpxdc #dani phantom #danielle phantom #elle phantom #jon kent #jon el kent #damian wayne #justice league #super serious chaos #possible platonic super serious chaos it's up to yall #clones are called mirrorborn in the infinite realms #elle is the ancient of the speedforce #Dani Phantom is the Ancient of the Speedforce #I will make this happen if it kills me please someone else write something for this I'm going feral #impulsively marrying your friends to fuck with some of the most powerful entities in existence is a fun pass time everyone should try #their friends and family are exactly as unhinged as these three - sometimes even *More* unhinged - and can't say shit about it #so many justice league members are torn between sobbing because 'This was going to be a short meeting for once!' 😭#and being SO EXCITED because the chaos that is about to break out in this meeting room is going to be SO GOOD #There is so much tea that is going to be spilled at the cafeteria after this

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pucksandpower · 9 months

Note

hi love!! i’m not sure if you’re talking requests so completely ignore this if you’re not but, i’m in love with your grid kids series and i was wondering if you could do something with the grid kids that goes more into readers line of work?🫶🏼

Grid Kids: She Means Business

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: your career as a renowned sports psychologist means you often work with your husband and grid kids

Series Masterlist

Sebastian Vettel: Meet Cute

Red Bull Racing’s pit wall is a hive of activity during the practice session for the Monaco Grand Prix. Engineers, strategists, and everyone in between are glued to their screens, analyzing data and communicating with the drivers.

You’re there in an official capacity, hired by Red Bull Racing to conduct a series of workshops to help the team, particularly the drivers, cope with the mental pressures of racing. With a headset on, you’re mostly observing, making notes on communication dynamics, when suddenly a voice interrupts your thoughts.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

You look up, slightly startled, to see none other than Sebastian Vettel, the team’s star driver, smiling down at you. His mop of hair sweaty and slightly tousled from the helmet he just took off after finishing up with FP2, the impish twinkle in his eyes making you feel … something.

“Oh, no. Not at all. I was just ...” you stammer, suddenly feeling a bit out of your element.

Sebastian sits down next to you, leaning in conspiratorially. “Between you and me, I think I’m here to see what the mysterious new hire is up to.”

You chuckle, “Well, if you must know, I’m observing team dynamics, communication patterns ... very thrilling stuff.”

He feigns a gasp, “So you’re spying on us?”

“In the most professional way possible,” you reply with a smirk.

Sebastian laughs, the sound genuine and contagious. “Well, I hope we’re giving you some good material.”

You lean in this time, matching his playful tone, “You? Always.”

There’s a brief pause, a moment of charged silence, before Sebastian grins, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You smile back, “You should.”

The two of you chat easily, talking about the intricacies of the sport and the importance of mental preparedness.

As the session winds down and Mark Webber also makes his way back into the garage, Sebastian looks over at you, “You know, for someone who’s here to observe, you’re quite the distraction.”

Your cheeks warm, “Is that so?”

He nods, mock serious, “Absolutely. It’s a problem. I think we might need a one-on-one session to discuss it further.”

You laugh, “I’ll have to check my schedule but I’m sure we can arrange something.”

Sebastian winks, “Looking forward to it,” and with that he’s off to debrief with his engineers.

As you remove your headset, you can’t help but smile to yourself. This job assignment just got a lot more interesting.

Max Verstappen: Unloading the Past

Ten years later, the Red Bull Racing hospitality suite is buzzing with activity: the clink of glasses, murmurs of conversation, and the distant roar of engines echoing from the track. But in a quiet corner, there’s a space that feels a world apart.

Soft, ambient lighting casts a serene glow, a few comfortable chairs are arranged in a circle, and on the coffee table lies an assortment of fidget tools, from stress balls to sensory mats. This is your corner, specially designed for individual sessions.

Max Verstappen hesitates at the entrance. His eyes dart around, taking in the unfamiliar setting. It’s clear that beneath that façade of unshakable confidence lies vulnerability.

You rise, offering a comforting smile. “Hey, Max. Ready?”

He gives a tentative nod, following you in. “I’m not ... I’m not sure how to do this,” he admits, voice barely audible.

“That’s okay,” you assure him, guiding him to a chair. “There’s no right or wrong way. Just start wherever you feel comfortable.”

Taking a deep breath, Max begins, his words tumbling out, “It’s just ... sometimes, when I’m out there on the track, I feel like that kid again.” His voice cracks and he pauses, searching for the right words. “The kid who always felt he wasn’t good enough no matter how hard I tried.”

You nod, encouraging him to continue, “Tell me about that kid.”

As Max delves into memories of his childhood, stories of relentless training sessions, the weight of expectations, and the struggle to fit in, you listen. Every word, every pause, every shift in his tone paints a picture of a boy who was thrust into the world of racing at a young age, grappling with the colossal pressure to prove himself.

You gently prod, asking him to revisit specific incidents, encouraging him to express his feelings, and offering insights when necessary.

As the session progresses, Max’s demeanor changes. His initial hesitation gives way to openness, vulnerability transforms into strength, and slowly, the pieces start falling into place.

“You know,” you say softly, “It’s natural to carry the scars of our past with us but it’s important to remember they don’t define us.”

Max looks up, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, “But how do I move past it?”

You want so badly to reach out and hug him — this young man who you consider a son in all but blood — but hold yourself back. You’re both here for work and, right now, Max needs you as a professional and not a mom.

“By acknowledging it, understanding it, and then channeling it. Every time you get in the car, it’s an opportunity to rewrite that narrative. Not for anyone else but for yourself.”

Max takes a moment, absorbing your words. “Thank you,” he murmurs, a weight visibly lifted off his shoulders.

You give him a reassuring smile. “Anytime, Max. Remember, you’re not alone in this journey. Oh, and remember, we’re all meeting at that little Italian place Charles recommended for dinner.”

There’s a lightness in Max’s voice that wasn’t there before, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Charles Leclerc: Bittersweet Memories

The setting sun casts a somber glow across the paddock at Suzuka Circuit. It’s a track rich with history, triumphs, and heartbreaks. For Charles Leclerc, it’s where he lost Jules Bianchi, his godfather, mentor, and friend.

You find Charles seated alone in a quiet part of the Ferrari motorhome, gazing out the window. The overflowing sadness in his eyes nearly makes you stop in your tracks.

“Hey,” you greet gently, not wanting to startle him. “Mind if I join you?”

He offers a small nod, his gaze still distant.

Sitting down next to him, you allow a comfortable silence to settle, giving him the space to open up when he’s ready. Moments pass before Charles finally speaks, his voice tinged with melancholy.

“Every time I come here,” he starts, “it feels like I’m reliving that day. The memories, the pain, it all just floods back.”

You nod, understandingly, “Grief has a way of doing that, especially when tied to such a tangible reminder.”

Charles looks down, fiddling with his bracelet. “It’s hard, you know? Racing on the same track where I lost him. Every corner, every turn, it’s like he’s there with me.”

Taking a deep breath, you offer, “Maybe that’s a way for you to connect with Jules. To honor his memory, to carry his spirit with you every lap you drive.”

Charles’ eyes shimmer with tears. “I want to make him proud, to show that everything he taught me wasn’t in vain. But sometimes, the weight of it all just becomes too much.”

You reach out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. Grief isn’t linear. There will be days when it hits harder, especially in places like this. You just have to remember it’s not about racing against the pain but learning that it’s okay to race with it.”

He meets your gaze, searching for strength, “How do I do that?”

“By allowing yourself to feel, by acknowledging the pain, and by channeling it into your drive. Jules might not be here physically but he’s with you in spirit. And every time you get behind that wheel is another opportunity to show that.”

Charles takes a deep breath, absorbing your words. “Thank you,” he murmurs, a glimmer of determination returning to his eyes.

You give him a comforting smile. “I’m glad I could help, even if it’s just a little. We’re all here for you every step of the way.”

Lance Stroll: Nepo Babies Have Feelings Too

Inside the Aston Martin team lounge, screens show replays of the latest race, commentators discussing various drivers’ performance. One topic that often comes up is Lance Stroll. The chatter revolves around his father’s ownership of the team and whether Lance truly earned his seat or if he’s just a product of nepotism.

You notice Lance sitting a bit apart from the rest, headphones on but his face is a giveaway. The furrowed brows, the downward curve of his lips —he’s clearly overheard the unsubtle whispers.

You make your way over, gesturing to ask if he’d like some company. He nods, removing his headphones.

“Those comments,” you begin gently, “they don’t define you.”

Lance sighs, his frustration palpable. “It’s just ... no matter what I do, how hard I work, how much I improve, it always comes back to the same thing. That I’m only here because of my father.”

You nod, understanding the weight of such judgments. “It’s tough, Lance. But remember, others’ opinions of you are just that — opinions. They aren’t the truth and they most definitely are not your truth.”

He looks up, eyes searching. “But how do I prove them wrong? How do I show that I deserve to be here?”

“It starts with belief,” you say, leaning forward for emphasis, “belief in yourself. You’ve trained, you’ve raced, you’ve faced challenges head-on, and you’ve earned your spot. Your journey in F1 isn’t just about your last name. It’s about every late-night on the simulator, every risk taken on the track, every lap you’ve driven.”

Lance nods slowly, taking in your words. “But the chatter, it’s just so deafening sometimes.”

You offer a comforting smile. “You can’t control what others say but you can control how you react. Every time you’re on that track, you have the power to redefine the narrative, to let your skills speak louder than any spiteful words.”

Motivation straightens his hunched shoulders, the weight of doubt lifting slightly. “So focus on the drive, not the noise?”

“Exactly,” you affirm. “Your talent, your dedication, that’s what matters. Let the world see Lance Stroll, the driver, not just Lance Stroll, the son.”

He chuckles, “Easier said than done.”

You wink, “That’s why you have a stellar support system. Lean on us whenever the noise gets too loud.”

George Russell: Comparing Comparisons

It’s a cool afternoon at the Silverstone Circuit and the entire paddock is buzzing with excitement. There’s an added layer of intrigue to the British Grand Prix this season. Lewis Hamilton, the seven-time world champion, will be racing alongside his much younger compatriot, George Russell, as teammates for the first time.

In the Mercedes team garage, George is meticulously going over his race data, replaying certain turns and maneuvers in his head. But an undertone of tension cuts through his concentration.

You walk over, picking up on his restlessness. “Nervous about tomorrow?”

He glances up, forcing a smile. “That obvious, huh? It’s just racing alongside Lewis … it’s a dream come true but also incredibly daunting.”

You nod, understanding the pressure of standing next to a giant in the sport. “It’s natural to feel that way. Lewis has carved a legacy in F1 and now you’re right beside him, sharing the same tracks in the same car.”

George sighs, “That’s the thing. Everywhere I turn, there’s a comparison. It’s not just about my performance anymore, it’s about how I measure up to him.”

You lean against the worktable, choosing your words carefully. “Here’s the thing, George. You can’t control comparisons or expectations but you can control your race. Every driver brings something unique to the track. Lewis has his legacy, yes, but you have your own journey and story still to build.”

George nods slowly, pondering over your words. “I want to be able to block all of that out. I’ve tried every single weekend so far. But it’s hard. How do I focus on my race and not the looming shadow beside me?”

“There’s no one right answer,” you sympathize. “Look, Lewis is an icon and racing alongside him is an opportunity to learn, to grow. But remember, you’ve earned your spot here. This is as much your race as it is his.”

He chuckles, “You always know exactly what to say.”

You smile, “Just a little wisdom from the sidelines. Trust your training, trust your instincts, and let George Russell shine.”

Lando Norris: Never Grow Up

It’s a warm and bright morning but the mood inside the McLaren motorhome doesn’t quite reflect the sunny atmosphere outside. Lando Norris sits in a corner, earbuds in, lost deep in thought. The usual playful energy that surrounds him is missing today.

You approach, sensing the shift in his demeanor. “Room for one more?”

He looks up, offering a half-hearted smile. “Sure.”

You settle beside him, waiting for him to speak. After a brief pause, Lando finally breaks the silence. “Do you think I’m too childish?”

You’re slightly taken aback. “What makes you say that?”

Lando sighs, “I overheard some comments from a few crew members from another team. They said that no one takes me seriously because I’m always joking around, always laughing. They think that I’m not mature enough for this sport.”

You consider his words, understanding where he’s coming from. "Formula 1 is intense. It’s demanding and requires immense focus and dedication. But it’s also about personality, about bringing your unique touch to the grid.”

He nods but still seems unsure. “But what if they’re right? What if I’m not taken seriously because of how I act?”

You lean in, ensuring he listens to every word. “Lando, your driving speaks volumes. Every time you get behind the wheel, you showcase your skill and your tenacity. The playful side of you, the side that loves to laugh and bring joy, that’s a part of who you are. It doesn’t diminish your talent or your dedication.”

Lando seems to ponder your words, “But it’s hard, you know? Feeling like I have to constantly prove myself. Like there’s something wrong with being myself.”

You take his hand into both of yours, “Every driver feels that way at some point. But remember, the beauty of this sport is that it’s as much about character as it is about speed. Your playful nature, your genuine laughter, it brings a freshness to the paddock. Embrace it.”

He chuckles, the familiar sparkle returning to his eyes. “So be me and let my racing do the talking?”

“Without a doubt,” you confirm. “Stay true to yourself. The world needs more genuine smiles and more authentic laughter. Then, on the track, just keep doing what you do best.”

Lando grins, “Thanks. I really needed to hear that.”

Mick Schumacher: What’s In a Name?

The aftermath of a race is evident inside the Haas garage. Engineers are engaged in post-race analysis, the car undergoing routine checks. A desolate Mick Schumacher sits among the organized chaos, his helmet still on, concealing his face.

Walking over, you notice the subtle tremors in his frame, the weight of something heavy weighing on his young shoulders. Gently, you tap on his helmet, signaling for him to lift it. When he does, the anguish in his eyes is palpable.

“You okay, Mick?” you ask softly.

He tries to answer but his voice breaks. Swallowing hard, he confesses, “I just ... I can’t do it. I can’t ever live up to the name.”

You know the gravity of his sentiment. Being Michael Schumacher’s son in Formula 1 is no easy feat. The legacy, the expectations, the constant comparisons that follow Mick everywhere — it’s overwhelming.

You sit down beside him, “I won’t pretend to understand the pressure you feel but remember this: You are not just your last name. You are Mick Schumacher, your own person with your own journey, your own challenges, and your own victories.”

“But everywhere I go, it’s always about him,” Mick interjects, frustration evident. “The great Michael Schumacher’s son. Can he do it? Will he be even a fraction as good? It’s suffocating.”

You nod, acknowledging his feelings. “Your father is a legend and it’s natural for people to draw parallels. But racing isn’t just about legacy, it's about passion, determination, and personal growth. The shape your path takes in this sport is yours alone.”

Mick wipes away a tear, his gaze distant. “But what if I never truly make it? What if I never even score a point much less a podium or a win? What if I’m always just the son of the legend, never a making a name for myself in my own right?”

You squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. “Then you make peace with that and find joy in what you managed to achieve regardless. You are among twenty of the best drivers on the planet right now. Getting here is no easy feat. Not every path has to lead to the same destination. Maybe you’ll carve a different legacy, one that is uniquely yours.”

Mick seems to ponder over your words, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I just ... I want to make him proud.”

You smile gently, “By being yourself, by giving every race your best shot, you already are. It’s not the titles or the championships that define us. It’s our heart and the impact we make on those around us. And trust me, your heart is in the right place. Your father would only ever want you to be happy, whatever that entails.”

With a deep breath, Mick nods, a content smile crossing his lips. “Thank you. I needed that.”

You give him an encouraging pat, “I’m always in your corner. Remember that it’s not the shadow that defines us but how we emerge from it.”

Mick stands up, ready to face another day, another race. The legacy of his last name will always be there but he’s slowly learning that his own identity holds value and strength too.

Toto Wolff & Christian Horner: Couples Therapy

The sun filters through the sheer curtains of the sophisticated office, casting dancing patterns on the wooden floor. A blend of vanilla and sandalwood wafts through the air, lending to an ambiance of calm. But this illusion is quickly shattered by two animated voices engaged in heated debate, echoing from the hallway. The door flings open to reveal Toto Wolff and Christian Horner, each determined to prove their point even before the session officially starts, and the cameras and sound equipment stationed around the room quickly zero in on them.

You sit in your chair, a hint of amusement in your eyes, as you address them. “Gentlemen, welcome! How about we start by taking our seats?”

Toto and Christian hesitantly sit on the couch, keeping as much distance from each other as possible.

“So,” you begin, trying to contain your laughter, “Drive to Survive mentioned you two might need some ... couples therapy?” You add air quotes for emphasis.

Christian immediately rolls his eyes. “It’s ridiculous! We’re competitors, not some bickering married couple.”

Toto chimes in, “Although he does nag like my grandmother.”

Christian retorts, “Oh please, Toto! The way you carry on, anyone would think you’re auditioning for a soap opera.”

You hold up a hand, “Alright, let’s take a deep breath. We’re here to find common ground.”

The two team principals continue their banter, airing their grievances, from stolen engineers to wind tunnels to secret agreements. You listen, scribbling notes, occasionally nodding or offering a “hmm” of understanding.

After what seems like an eternity, you interrupt their tirade. “Okay, I’ve come to a conclusion. You both are quite the pair. But instead of directing this ... energy at each other, how about a united front? Surely there’s something, or someone, you both dislike equally?”

Christian and Toto exchange glances, a mischievous glint appearing simultaneously. “The producers,” they chorus.

You swear that you can hear the men standing out of camera range behind you — the producers in question — audibly swallow.

You lean in, intrigued. “Go on.”

Toto grins, “They’ve been poking and prodding, trying to get a reaction out of us. It’s why they set this whole thing up in the first place. And while we do love the drama,” he eyes Christian, “maybe it’s time they get a taste of their own medicine.”

Christian nods in agreement, “A united front to give the producers a season they won’t forget.”

You clap your hands together, “Perfect! So what’s the plan?”

As the session concludes, Toto and Christian leave, arms around each other’s shoulders, laughter echoing down the hall.

You lean back in your chair, chuckling. “Well, that was certainly one for the books.”

You turn around to face the Drive to Survive crew already packing their equipment and producers looking shell shocked . You’ve never seen grown men look quite so pale. But they only have themselves to blame — the session was their idea in the first place.

Sometimes you really love your job.

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ma1dita · 3 months

Text

buddy system

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 4.2k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he comes with you to rescue your twin brothers, Pollux and Castor. A weekend 'quest' teaches you a lot about Luke, and about yourself too. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: um i cant apologize for this word count and ive been looking at this for too long so fuck. Anyways do yall think Luke felt bad when he found out Castor died in battle because of his army in this universe? just me?? okay :) also trouble gets a cool magic item that makes an appearance here, kinda works like polyjuice but with smoke

(posted 2/7/24 betad by lovely ellie @lixzey might edit again when i get some sleep)

—

“No. You might be my father, but you’re crazy, man!”

You’re standing in D’s office at the Big House, and what was supposed to be a short talk before the counselors’ meeting has turned into a full-blown argument. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the words leaving your godrent’s mouth.

You’re going to pick up your little brothers.

“Those two statements are both true, kid. You’re old enough to understand that!”

They need your help.

“You’re really letting your 16-year-old daughter drive down to Florida by herself to pick up some kids she’s never met? Won’t even send me with any quest companions, or like, Grover?” you say exasperatedly, before slumping down into a seat.

“Think of it as family bonding! They’re great from what I remember. You all need to get along anyway.”

Whether it was jealousy or the sudden urge to be petty, you impulsively grab your dad’s Diet Coke and chug it, crushing the can with your fist as a tiny act of rebellion.

Another one appears on the desk and you chuck it over your shoulder. Mr. D sighs as he conjures another one, to which you do the same thing.

“I can do this all day, kid.”

“So can I, and you know if I do, we’ll be sitting here until I’m 40,” you say expectantly, tapping your fingers on the hardwood surface of his desk.

“What do you want?”

The keys to his car are a start, as well as extra pocket money—but there was something, or rather, someone missing to make sure this weekend goes as smoothly as possible.

Your smirk widens at your father, and he wonders when you’ve gotten good at playing his own game.

It’s like looking into a mirror but his worst nightmare manifested as a teenage girl.

—

There are only two things Luke can think about when he hears the sound of your laughter.

The first is that, unlike your angelic singing that could rival the Muses, your laughter takes after the sound of a maniac, an incredulous crescendo that only something curated by Hades in the deepest pits of Tartarus could produce. It was almost madness-inducing, and it went off in his brain like you were a siren (although he means the kind used for weather advisory, he too gets lured in by your laughter each time he hears it like he’s lost at sea).

Second, as he watches you storm down the lawn of the Big House, your anger brewing something comparable to a Category 5, he raises an eyebrow and thinks, well this ought to be good. Or entertaining at the very least.

“You,” you growl at him, guttural and sharp like the finger you jab into his chest, “we’re going on a quest!”

“Me?” Luke blurts, eyebrows furrowing at you.

A loud groan echoes through the grassy space between the house and the counselors as everyone looks up to see Mr. D dragging his hands down his face at the sheer thought of his daughter causing him more gray hairs.

“That’s not what we agreed on, kid!” “If you want any of your children to come back to this hellhole in one piece I need backup!” “There’s more of you?”

Both you and your dad glare at Luke now, like he’s interrupting a private conversation.

“Since when do you like asking for help, princess?”

Mr. D’s arms are crossed over his chest as he speaks to you. Though your height severely differs due to the wooden steps of the Big House, the air is palpable with fear only an Olympian could invoke, reminding the counselors that the man wearing the ugliest Hawaiian shirt known to humankind, is in fact inhuman. You, however, are standing tall in the freshly-cut grass in your combat boots with wrath that could rival Ares’ as you stare your father down like the rest of them wouldn’t get struck into the next lifetime due to your impertinence, as Annabeth loves to call it. She looks up at Luke, with her eyes conveying that she thinks you must be clinically insane, but he knows that already so he shrugs.

“I’m not asking for it, I’m demanding it. Besides, he’s like my ESA,” you say, then taking Luke by surprise as you grab him by the wrist and drag him off the front lawn. You think you can hear Beckendorf and Clarisse bite back chuckles.

“Someone tell Rodriguez he’s in charge of 11!” you yell into the air, and words of affirmation and good luck are muttered in response.

“Don’t I get a say in this, trouble?” Luke says playfully, tugging at your arm lightly but unresisting as you sigh and pull him along. Who in their right mind says no to a long weekend away from this place? Monsters and demigods be damned.

“No. Besides, they’re gonna need more luck than we do.”

“Liam, I don’t know why she trusts you, but if my daughter dies, I’ll make sure you’re next!” Mr. D yells out to your retreating figures, and all of the counselors turn to face him realizing that without you, well… that means he actually has to be in charge.

“So what’s the meeting supposed to be about, Annabelle?” Mr. D says, looking at Annabeth only knowing that she’s supposed to be the smart one—and the small girl sighs.

This is gonna be the longest weekend yet.

—

You’re speeding down I-95 with the windows down and the wind brushing through both of your hair. While Luke watches you from the passenger seat with the road signs blurring past his periphery, he also notices that it’s the first time in a while that he’s seen you this carefree. With both of you taking up counselor positions a few months ago, and your dad appointing you to be in charge of all of them (because why have a counselor for a population of one), there’s a lot about you that’s grown up in the two years you two have known each other. But what type of demigod gets to enjoy their childhood anyway, right? Luke can only remember bits and pieces of his.

“How do you even know where we’re going? I can barely read the signs,” he asks.

“Cool blessing from my stepmom. Ariadne’s chill. We talk sometimes and she likes that I keep D in check, so now I can never get lost,” you grin toothily, violet eyes flickering to meet his.

“Was it true what your dad said? That you trust me?”

His voice is a bit louder than it should be over the wind tunnel that blocks out the sound of the radio as the air whips in and out of the car.

“Well, I wouldn't say trust,” you drag out, leaning back against your seat with your eyes still on the road, “More like if I got abducted by a harpy, I think you could cut its wings off and give me a fighting chance at living.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t invite Mason to come,” he mumbles, and you smirk.

“Who?”

His hands are clenched in his lap as a blush brushes his cheeks, windswept in the rays of the late summer sun.

“Your boyfriend. Wouldn’t he be a better companion?”

Something about the older son of Apollo always ground his gears. It was even worse that you both would sing Broadway musicals together during his sparring sessions. Your harmonious voices echoing from the amphitheater aside, the repetitive grating feeling in his stomach reminds him not to go see Hamilton if he ever makes it out to the city.

“He’s not…” you huff, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel as you think hard on what to say next, “He’s nothing serious.” You pull the sun visor down as you squint, tilting your head in case he says something else, but you hear nothing. Luke’s staring at your side profile, unable to hide his grin at the new information, biting his cheek.

“Besides, he’s a fucking terrible shot. And you’re supposed to be the best, so I’ve heard. Who else would I want on this trip with me?”

He chuckles at this lightly, your words bolstering his ego.

“So you’ve heard.”

And for a second, the sight of his smile distracts you enough that the car swerves a tiny bit closer to the median. You both ignore it and keep driving.

—-

Hypnos increases his hold on your senses as you finally take a break somewhere in North Carolina, taking refuge in a dimly lit corner of a gas station parking lot. The old car reeks of greasy fast food and all the sugar Luke could get his hands on at rest stops (it was really cute to see him indulge in more normal things like sweets instead of swordsmanship), and both of your seats are leaned back, but it’s hard to get comfortable after having your butt in the same seat for several hours.

You readjust yourself again, making the car shake a bit as you turn over to face Luke.

“What’s wrong?” he mumbles through closed eyes. His head’s banged against the window one too many times, and it was starting to get annoying.

“Sorry. Just can’t sleep. Thinking too hard.”

He sighs, reaching over to toss your pillow into the backseat, and as you sit up, he rips your blanket off of you too.

“Hey!”

You go silent when you watch him make a makeshift bed for you, turning back with tired eyes as he gestures, “Go ahead. I don’t mind.”

“I feel bad, Luke. You’re taller than me and your knees almost hit the dashboard.”

He rubs at his eyes, looking at you impatiently, and you know his body is calling for comfort too.

“I’ve slept in worse conditions, you gotta remember that, trouble.” The stories Annie used to tell you about the both of them sleeping on the streets pull at your heart, and as you crawl towards the back, you move before you think rationally–tugging on his arm.

“Come on over here.”

“You sure?” “Before I change my mind, yeah.”

You both move around trying to find a place both of you can be comfortable in, first starting with your heads at opposite windows, legs tangling in the middle before he laughs a little too hard at your fumbling and you launch your pillow at his face. Awkwardly, you climb over his legs into his outstretched arms, slotting yourself against his side as he pulls your hair up from getting trapped between his shoulder and your back.

It’s deadly quiet, and Luke thinks if you could move any closer to him, you might hear his heart thundering in his chest.

“You smell like french fries,” you grumble into his sweater, and his laughter shakes you like an earthquake, uprooting the faint traces of sleep in your mind.

“At least the monsters won’t find us. Gonna be harder when the twins get here. A lot of demigod smell to ward off.”

You don’t answer, and he thinks you may have fallen asleep until he notices your hand playing with the frays of his sweater.

“Trouble?”

“They’re really little,” you mumble, so low that he barely hears the hesitance in your voice.

“The monsters? Yeah, I fucking ho–” “Pollux and Castor. My…half-siblings, with really Greek names, and a mom that depends on me getting them to camp safely…” you trail off before your head jerks up to meet his eyes. It’s colder at night now, your bodies and the tiny throw blanket from your trunk providing ample heat even if his socked feet fight their way out from underneath.

“How old are they, nine?” He feels you nod against his chest before he continues, “I was nine when I left home.”

Your eyes get glassy at the thought of a smaller version of Luke, one who’s not all gangly legs and lean muscle—one much softer and innocent than the boy you lean your weight upon, running away from home to find a place he can belong.

“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs, the arm propped against the headrest wrapping around you and resting on your hip, tapping you to continue your previous thought.

“I don’t know how to do this, I guess. I’m ripping them from their home and I—” “You’re not some kind of monster y’know? You put yourself down too much sometimes,” he sighs, and he watches the windows slowly start to fog up, “What don’t you know how to do?”

Ignoring his question, you change the subject hoping to talk about something lighter, and far less revealing to the thoughts inside your head.

“Do you remember all of that? Going to school and chalking up the sidewalks on the way home, hopscotch and ice cream trucks… I don’t want to take them away from that.”

Luke ponders, digging through his brain for anything happy from his childhood, but through the years his memories started to collect dust in the back of his mind.

“I don’t remember much.”

“Gods, I’m sorry…”

Mason had told you of your habit of putting your foot in your mouth. You dealt in extremes, giving too much or too little, always saying the wrong thing—and it was the reason why things didn’t go further with the son of Apollo. As well as with the daughter of Aphrodite you saw briefly that told you you didn’t know how to love, not if you didn’t know how to share yourself with others (yeah that one hurt a lot).

Sharing.

That’s what you’re hesitant about.

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago now,” Luke mumbles, a beat of silence passing before he redirects the conversation like you did, “What don’t you know how to do, trouble?”

“How to share. Be a sibling. Someone likeable.”

Luke doesn’t mean to laugh at your expense, but he does, and you punch his stomach hard enough he gasps for air.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Everyone likes you.”

“Everyone’s usually scared of me because of D, or hates me because I take dessert privileges and write them up,” you say matter-of-factly, staring out the window above his head at the gentle shine of the moon on his features. It’s a crime for him to look so soft under the low light, and you realize you’re staring when he calls your name.

“No, you don’t get it—you’re the most selfless person I know. You give up sleep to sing to kids before bed, conjure juice boxes so they don’t pass out during training—I’ve seen you carry a kid almost as tall as you across camp because they broke their ankle. You’ve got a lot of love in that twisted heart of yours. I’d know… I mean—I have to share a lot… I’m basically an expert.”

You blink at him as if seeing him in a new light, and you realize then why you picked him to go on this weekend quest with you. Your heartbeat slows despite the show of vulnerability in front of him, and you understand now that Luke makes you feel safe. Biting your lip to hold back a sigh, you decide to just unload the rest of your thoughts, knowing that you’re in the hands of someone who wants to hold the weight. “I’m just used to being alone, I think. I mean who knows what we're like when we're alone but us, right? What a terrifying thought,” you deflect, and Luke closely watches the slope of your nose, down to the smoothness of your lips, unable to put the right words to how he’s feeling.

I know you, he thinks, and it's not as all bad as you make it seem.

“We’re never truly alone, y’know. Besides, even if you are, you still have me,” he says nonchalantly, and the warmth on your cheeks could generate enough heat to run the car for miles. Chuckling lightly as your eyes flutter closed, you know you need to rest before morning comes since you’re the only one between the two of you that can drive. You reckon you’ll teach Luke by the end of the year if he wants to.

“We’re getting pretty terrible at this enemies thing, Castellan,” you jest with nothing hard to back it, and a smile falls onto both of your lips.

“We were never really enemies, trouble. I just like getting on your nerves.”

Your laughs fall silent, settling into a comfortable silence, until his next words send you off into slumber as you listen.

“I remember my mom singing in the kitchen as she put peanut butter on my sandwiches. She'd act like she left the dishes out for me to wash, but let me lick the knife clean every time and I’d put too much soap and the sink would be filled with bubbles. I don't remember much else but that. Her kitchen. She smelled like…chamomile.”

A wandering hand pulls his free one into yours, holding it until sunrise.

—-

You push Pollux and Castor out the door before the sun rises after a short stay at their mother’s house, and as the engine heats up, you and Luke watch them say goodbye to her with the both of you thinking of last words with your own. The both of you ward off the hellhounds biting off at your heels for a few hours like how you deceived the police the day previous, a purple Zippo lighter in hand whose smoke grants temporary illusions wafting through the car, and it smells like grapes (thanks D!). The kids sleep most of the way, none the wiser and heavy with sleep and their emotions of leaving everything they’ve ever known. Your eyes flicker to their sleeping heads in the rearview mirror, ready to take them home.

Hours later, Luke decides to make you stop at a diner to get you a bit of rest, get actual food, and let the twins pee, and your head is bobbing slightly in front of your plate of food once he brings them back from the bathroom.

“You wash your hands?” you say tiredly, both Pollux and Castor shaking wet hands in your face in response, making you giggle before sipping at your coffee. Luke cut you off from Redbull yesterday, saying he was scared for your liver and saying you needed to drink something else for a bit. He bristles at the sight of you drinking more caffeine, and you smile as the mug touches your lips.

“You’re gonna kill yourself one day. At least your dad drinks Diet Coke.”

“Not by choice, though what a way to go!” you joke, and the twins giggle as the both of them gulp down root beer like it’s essential to their being. Luke sighs at the idea of you having two minions under your belt, who you’ll most definitely train to raise hell on Camp Half-Blood now that you’ve taken more of the administrative side of things.

“Is he your boyfriend, sissy?” Pollux, or maybe it’s Castor pipes up, swinging his legs under the table and you smile at the sound of the nickname, noticing the dimple in his cheek. Luke chokes on his burger, coughing until you elbow him.

“He’s more of my ESA,” you remark, and he still doesn’t know what that is, so he raises an eyebrow like your brothers do as they peer up at you from across the table.

“What’s an ESA?” Castor, you realize, who has no dimples, spits out behind munches of a pickle.

“Luke’s my emotional support animal.”

He eats the rest of your fries despite your confidence in that response, grumbling exactly how a resistant dog would.

As you’re paying the bill, a large shadow looms over the sunny disposition of everyone at your table—and then Luke shouts for everyone to cover their eyes. Glass shatters over you, revealing a hellhound the size of a minivan, and it pounces toward the twins, large teeth bared at their throats. Before Luke can pull his sword out, you whistle sharply and the sound whizzes through the air like a bullet as you toss the Zippo lighter at him as he’s pushing the kids to the car. Though he’s reluctant to lose sight of you, he wards them with an illusion, locking the doors despite their cries and he runs headfirst back into battle, you with your thyrsus and him with his sword, back to back.

“They okay?” you heave, jabbing at the red-eyed canine between the eyes as Luke pulls around to slash it across the neck, coming out of the tussle unscathed as you both watch it keel over at your feet into golden dust minutes later.

“Yeah. Are you?”

Though you originally found it funny, Luke does perform his job well, getting you to calm down as he holds you to his chest until you can breathe normally again.

“Mhm. Just scared me.”

The two of you run out of the destroyed diner and into the warded-off car before the police show up hand in hand as you escape without detection. As he falls asleep, Castor dreams that you two are Bonnie and Clyde like in an old Western movie he was definitely not old enough to watch.

—-

You’re finally back on the Island now, only an hour away from Montauk and Luke is getting restless in the passenger seat. He pulls apples out of his backpack, wiping them off with his shirt as you sing along to a Taylor Swift song playing on the radio.

And maybe someday when we’re older, this is something we’ll laugh about…. Foolish one… you hum, tapping the wheel to fight off your exhaustion.

Pollux and Castor are using their fingers to pretend to hop over obstacles in the smudged windows, babbling about something they did in class last week. The son of Hermes pulls out a pocketknife he nicked from a gas station this morning as he starts to cut the apples into pieces, putting some into a ziploc bag for the boys to share, and you smile at him, wistful at your trip nearing its finish line. If you weren’t enemies before this like he said, it’s crazy to consider him your closest friend. But he is, isn’t he?

His knuckles nudge yours over the console, pressing an apple slice into your palm.

“You know, Castellan, you’re sweet when you want to be. Shame you and that sister of Annie’s didn’t work out.”

Luke scoffs at the reminder of his ex, slicing another piece off for you to eat. She did say he had wandering eyes…always looking for you. He’s not going to admit that though.

“I just know you like your apples cut. Saw you battling it out with a butter knife last week. Couldn’t help but notice,” he says lowly like it’s normal for people to be that considerate about others, normal for him to care about you like that, a constant push and pull between you two.

“Hurts my teeth,” you mutter, and Luke chortles like you’ve told him something life-changing. Your hand bumps into his again, feeling nothing but his calloused fingers, and when you look up his cheek protrudes with the last slice.

“Tax,” he winks, and you’re delirious with this feeling that only he can bring you, almost comparable to being high.

The popstar’s voice continues to trill in the background, with my head in my hands, saying “How could I not see the signs?”

You both don’t realize you’ve stopped singing until Pollux pipes up asking for you to play Fireball by Mr. 305 himself.

—-

The car finally pulls into the driveway of the forest path and you’re all greeted by the campers holding blazing lanterns. Chiron, your father, and the nymphs are waving as the twins marvel at the fairy lights strung up along the way for a warm welcome.

“You’re alive,” your dad remarks, and this time he doesn’t say it in jest, sounding more relieved.

“I was in good hands,” you affirm, looking up at Luke amongst the noise of your cheering friends and the feeling that comes with calling this place home.

The boys are tucked in at your side, shyly looking at the crowd, Pollux holding your hand while Castor holds onto Luke’s, and Chiron calls your attention.

“I know you didn’t get your official announcement,” he starts, and you laugh at that, remembering the bubbles in the lake.

“Because I pulled a fast one on D.”

“Nonetheless, I would love for you to get recognized for your efforts. Dionysus. Storyteller, Herald of Chaos,” he continues by announcing your name, and then,” Pollux, and Castor– children of the grapevine, the God of Wine!”

The campers are kneeling and you look at Luke, who’s smiling from the ground beside you.

“Take a picture, trouble, it’ll last longer.”

“My children are home safe. And thank you, Castellan, for being a formidable companion. My deepest appreciation.” Mr. D sounds serious for once, pulling Luke up as he nods in respect.

It’s a crazy feeling to finally feel at home though you’ve been here for two years now. But you remind yourself quickly of why that is when you see Luke carrying Pollux on his shoulders as Castor latches onto his legs.

“You know, your family is a nightmare. You two hellions will fit right in,” he grins.

You can’t help but agree.

—

“I hadn’t told them about you, but they saw you bathing in my eyes. I hadn’t told them about you, but they saw you in my written words. The perfume of love cannot be concealed.” -Nizar Qabbani

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