#How To Drive Women Wild

[lazycranberrydoodles]

BEEF EEF!!!!!

follow to put more gods into cute outfits 🌸

[clawsextended]

in my perfect world everyone makes so many lesbian muses the men then have to deal with the exact same behavior when every single post ever written isn’t about dick.

[therealbeachfox]

Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

00000

There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

00000

It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

00000

When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

[catdia]

Sevika with a Chubby S/o

Sevika loves bigger women, something about round tummies and thick thighs makes her go wild

calls you her peach because your nice and juicy

runs her fingers along your stretch marks, grabbing fistfuls of your flesh

chronic ass slapper and biter

uses your belly as leverage to fuck into you with her strap

constantly tells you that she wants to get you pregnant if she could

that you’ll make a great mama for her children

Sevika is much leaner and muscular, so whenever you get the chance you trace her abs with your finger tips

amazed by her raw powerful body you get an excuse to make her move furniture or heavy boxes

Silco adores you, so does Jinx. he asks Sevika how are you doing and genuinely cares about you (especially when you brought cookies for his daughter). because he has seen first hand what your relationship does to Sevika

got into a pretty nasty fight? Sevika punches his goons half to death. and looks even scarier than ever before

you patched up Sevika’s poncho after it got snagged on a broken window? he could almost see a sliver of a blush on her cheeks

his right hand woman has no idea the effect you have on her does she?

Sevika even toned down drinking and smoking

“my lady chews my ear off if I smell too much like a drive bar.”

you call her beautiful as you kiss her countless scars and rub the shoulder of her mechanical arm

“i’m everything but beautiful, doll.”

something primal takes over her as she sees how different your bodies are. you so soft and plush, her’s hard and brutal.

treats you like an absolute princess. buys you what ever you want. gives you what ever you want.

you are the one that cuts and styles her hair. she even asked you to shave her bald once and you had a heart attack.

Sevika plays dirty in card games. for every round she wins you take off a piece of clothing. one time she left you completely bare and you were pissed because you saw her cheat more than once.

ate your fat pussy out as a form of sorry

when she tells you to sit on her face, you SIT on her face

no “I’m too heavy” bullshit. if she couldn’t handle a little weight on her then she wouldn’t have the privilege of calling you her woman

and have you seen her?! Sevika is a tank. she can certainly handle herself (and you) more than anything

sleeps nude, with her chest pressed against your back and always a hand on your lower tummy

walks around the apartment shirtless all the time. flexes her arm when she catches you staring

uses your arm fat as a stress ball. It “makes her think better”. her words not mine

you patch her up after rough deals, crying and yelling at her for being too reckless. so selfish

Sevika kisses you. nose running down your neck, smelling your sweetness. she hates seeing you in pain. especially if it was caused by her

“i don’t like it when you cry.”

[beloveds-embrace]

OK IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR A WHILE

so I keep seeing these ads for “pheromone perfume” pop up. the women in who advertise it say that it makes men go crazy, it smells amazing, they can’t get their bfs off of them whenever they put it on (and usually they put it on and then set up the camera and wait for their significant other to walk in the room and react to it)

and every time I see one of those ads, I think of designationless reader.

idk if that’s something they’d ever do, but I feel like it would be interesting for them to dab some of it on their wrists and behind their ears, as well as where their scent glands are and see how the guys react to it 🤭🤭

Anon i love you and I am smooching your brain so hard rn

The idea had been simmering in your mind for weeks, born from the endless pheromone perfume ads that flooded your late-night scrolling. People with bright smiles swore their perfumes were magic, capable of driving their partners wild with desire. But you weren’t like those people. You had no designation, no scent, no pheromones to speak of-

The ads made you feel like an outsider all over again. But they also left you wondering- what if there was a way to bridge that gap, just a little?

That’s how you found yourself at a specialized lab, the kind that catered to people willing to spend a small fortune for something deeply personal. It wasn’t easy. The process was invasive, awkward, and expensive. The technicians had taken a lot of samples of your body- skin oils, sweat, saliva- examining them under microscopes, running them through machines you didn’t understand, distilling your very essence into a single vial of concentrated potential.

When you walked out with the tiny glass bottle, your wallet was lighter, and your chest was tight with nerves.

What if this didn’t work?

What if it did?

Being scentless had always set you apart, a quiet absence in a world built on pheromones and instinct. You didn’t have the alluring pull of an omega’s sweetness or the steady, grounding weight of a beta’s calm. And you certainly didn’t have the commanding presence of an alpha’s dominance.

You were… nothing.

Not that your pack ever made you feel that way. Price, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz treated you like you hung the moon, their affection constant and overwhelming. But sometimes, in the quiet moments, you wondered what it would be like if you could scent them. If you could mark them the way they marked you. If you could pull them closer without relying on their instincts to protect what was theirs.

You’d dabbed the finished product on experimentally: just behind your ears, at the base of your throat, and along the faint line of your collarbone. You added drops to your wrists and even a little over your faulty scent glands, though you weren’t sure why. It had no scent for you, and you were almost worried that they might have scammed you.

But their reactions convinced you otherwise.

The moment he walked into the common area, his steps faltered. His broad shoulders stiffened, and his blue eyes sharpened, narrowing as if sensing something just out of reach. He sniffed once, subtly at first, but then again, deeper, his nostrils flaring, and his hands flexed at his sides.

“Something’s… different.” He muttered, almost to himself, but his voice was low enough to send a shiver through you.

“Something wrong, Cap?” You asked innocently, feigning ignorance as Soap entered behind him.

Soap stopped in his tracks, bright demeanor dimming as his eyes zeroed in on you. His head tilted, his mouth parting slightly as he breathed in deeply. “Lass,” he murmured, soft and careful. “What are you wearin’?”

“Clothes? What else would I be wearing, Soap?” You replied, voice dry just enough to be convincing. You raised an eyebrow, then, and crossed your arms. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

Gaz appeared next, his movements slower than usual as he approached. Dark eyes narrowed, his focus razor-sharp as his body tensed. He didn’t speak immediately; instead, he circled you slightly, his hands twitching like he wanted to reach out but didn’t know where to start.

Ghost entered last, his imposing frame cutting through the room’s tension like a blade. He didn’t say a word, didn’t ask, didn’t even hesitate. He simply stopped in front of you, his chest rising and falling steadily as his head dipped slightly, his masked face inches from yours. His gloved hands found your waist, and a low growl rumbled in his chest as he inhaled deeply.

“What?” you asked again, blinking at them with wide eyes, your voice lilting with carefully curated confusion. “What’s wrong?”

Price stepped closer as well, his boots heavy against the floor as he studied you. “You smell… different, love.” He said, voice like the distant rumble of thunder.

“Different how?” you asked, biting back a smile.

Johnny couldn’t hold himself back from you any longer, his hands sliding over your hips as he leaned in, his nose brushing against the curve of your neck. He let out a low hum, his warm breath skimming your skin. “Christ,” he murmured, his lips barely grazing your throat, “you smell good. Like somethin’ I can’t quite place.”

Gaz knelt at your side, his hands wrapping around your wrists. He brought one up to his face, his eyes fluttering shut as he pressed a kiss to the soft skin. “Sweet,” he murmured softly. “Warm, like you’ve been wrapped in sunlight.”

Ghost growled again, deeper this time, the sound vibrating through his chest as his gloved fingers tightened on your waist. He pulled you closer, pressing his masked face against the other side of your neck, and the rumble in his throat sent a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, your voice trembling just enough to sell the performance. “I didn’t do anything.”

But the pack wasn’t buying it.

Price’s hand cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he tilted your face up. Piercing blue eyes searched yours. “You sure about that, love?” he asked, a low grumble that sent heat pooling in your stomach.

Soap pressed a kiss to your collarbone, his teeth grazing the skin lightly as his hands slid beneath your shirt. “Disnnae matter,” he murmured, voice thick with affection and something more primal, more hungry. “Whatever it is, it suits you.”

Gaz hummed in agreement, his lips trailing up the inside of your wrist to the sensitive skin of your palm. “Feels like it’s everywhere,” he said, his voice almost reverent. “Can’t get enough of it. Can’t get enough of you, dove.”

Ghost was silent, but his actions spoke louder than words. He lifted you effortlessly, setting you on the edge of the table with a deliberate slowness that made your heart race. His hands found your thighs, his grip firm but gentle as he leaned in, his masked face pressing against your stomach. The low growl in his chest deepened, a possessive sound that sent a thrill through you.

They were relentless after that.

John claimed your lips, firm and demanding, his hands cupping the back of your neck as he tilted your head back. Soap followed, his kisses trailing along your jaw and down your throat, his hands exploring your body with a reverence that made you shiver.

Gaz and Simon kissed the inside of your thighs, their teeth grazing the sensitive skin there as theirs hands held you steady and open, all theirs.

“Perfect girl,” Simon groaned against the back of your thighs, thick fingers digging into your skin. “Ours. Whatever you’d done- you don’t need it. You’ll always be ours.”

Hours passed in a haze of touch and heat, their attention unyielding as they marked every inch of you as their own. They murmured about your scent between kisses, their words a mix of worship and devotion. You played your part perfectly, letting soft, breathless sounds escape your lips as you clung to them, your innocence a carefully crafted mask.

By the time they were done with you, your were very sure they had rubbed off all the perfume off your body, and covered you with their own scents.

When they finally pulled back, in the nest, their bodies heavy with satisfaction, Price cupped your cheek with gaze still burning with intensity. “You don’t need anything to make us want you,” he said, low but steady. He stared straight at you, so that you would not have any reasons to doubt his words. “You’re already perfect.”

You smiled, letting the words wash over you, but said nothing. Your secret was safe, for now.

[snoopyracing]

it'll pass — mv33

pairing: max verstappen x reader word count: 18.5k warnings: swearing and alcohol use includes: right person wrong time, childhood friends, hidden relationship, friends to lovers, and heavy angst. summary: when you think you've finally gotten everything you want in life... it goes and shows you just how unfair it can be.

masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Not many children are certain on what they want to be when they grow up, especially at age nine, but you were an exception. Sure – millions of children say they are going to be a veterinarian or a doctor when they grow up, but how many of them actually end up being that? Life happens, plans change, and reality sets in for the majority of Earth’s population. Although you never planned on any of that happening to you. There was never a doubt in your mind that you were going to be anything other than a race car driver, but even the most determined and strong willed people get dealt a shit hand at some point in their life.  

You’d been surrounded by racing your whole life – a perk of your Dad being a successful rally car driver. The sound of the engines and the smell of the exhaust were ingrained into your brain by age five. You were a wild child, a thrill seeker and definitely your Father’s child according to your Mother, but you knew even if your Dad wasn’t a racer that you would have still found yourself drawn to racing one way or another. For a good chunk of your early childhood you claimed to want to be a rally driver like your Dad, much to your Mom’s dismay, but that all changed when you attended your first Formula 1 race.

F1 wasn’t a foreign concept to you, your family watched and attended lots of different kinds of racing, but you’d never been to an actual Formula 1 race before. The atmosphere was completely different to anything you’d ever experienced and watching it on TV was nothing compared to seeing it in real life. You were enthralled by the sounds and hustle and bustle of everything. Not to mention how fast the cars actually were. The little adrenaline junkie in you was on cloud nine and by the time the checkered flag was waved and the car crossed the finish line you knew you wanted to be the one driving it. 

Luckily being brought up in a motosports family meant you somewhat had an upper hand. You were blessed to have the finances to start karting and not to mention a very long list of connections. And sure having all these things help you, but you’ve still got to have the talent. Which in your case was never an issue. You were a menace on the track, a force not to be reckoned with, and your Dad taught you not to take any shit from any of the insecure little boys. Trophies and medals lined your walls and there was never a doubt in your mind that you couldn’t make it to the top, that was until you got older. 

As your brain developed more so did your understanding that a lot of people and your competitors didn’t think women belonged in racing. Sure when you were younger some of the boys teased you, but it was never anything that bothered you much. It wasn’t until you were around fifteen and looking to move over to single seater racing that you faced your first real case of self doubt. Even with you being one of the best drivers in your division you still had to work ten times harder than the worst male driver to prove to everyone that you were worthy to be there. It was exhausting to constantly be ridiculed, to hear people say you only had gotten this far because of who your Dad was. It amazed you how you had won all these championships and races and people still didn’t think you had the raw talent that you so clearly possessed. 

Even with spells of self doubt and days where it felt like the world was against you, you’d somehow made it to Formula 2. That Formula 1 seat that you’d dreamt about since a child was almost in your grasp and you were more determined now than ever to prove that you were one of the 20 best drivers in the world. You knew that this season was your make or break, if you didn’t put in 110% then what were you even doing here? You needed to make a statement, but even the most astronomical statement couldn’t help the fact that your fate was decided when you were born a female. 

It didn’t matter that you had won basically every championship in the previous feeder series or that you were clearly on your way to win the F2 championship. It didn’t matter if people claimed that you were the future of Formula 1 or if Susie Wolff was your mentor. It didn’t matter that you had meetings with just about every F1 team about the possibility of a seat next year or that you had a well known last name. None of it mattered because at the end of the day no one was actually ready to sign a woman as a driver. Sure, they’d string you along and give you the false hope of somewhat talking about a contract and then go and sign a driver who you could lap with your eyes closed. Sometimes you just thought they liked the publicity that the team got from the news of you being in talks with them and couldn’t care less about actually giving you the time of day.

Finally accepting that you weren’t going to get a seat in Formula 1 was a devastating out of body experience. You were sat in an uncomfortable chair in between Susie and your Dad as they tried to bargain you a seat at Williams. Although it wasn’t your first choice, you had thought and prayed that with a female CEO and Susie having ties there that Williams would be your saving grace. It was your last option at this point and as you sat there their voices became background noise and the longer you studied Claire’s body language you knew this was the end. You had zoned out, your fingers bloody from subconsciously picking at the skin around your nails as your mind wandered to a place that wasn’t this meeting. 

Ever so often you’d hear a statement from one of them and it only made you more catatonic. 

“She’s in a league of her own, Claire. I mean she’s a million times better than I ever was as a driver.” 

“Her stats alone should tell you everything you need to know. She’s more qualified than the drivers you’ve got right now. I can tell you that.” 

It’s what comes out of Claire’s mouth next that brings you back to reality and what also seals your fate. “We could offer you being a development driver like Susie was or possibly a reserve.” 

Your eyes focus on her as you sit up in your chair. “I don’t want to be a development driver or a reserve driver. I want to be in the car every race weekend. I want to be an actual driver and I know I’m more than qualified to be one.” 

You can feel your Dad and Susie’s eyes on you, surprised at your sudden brashness, yet they didn’t reprimand you. Both of them knew you deserved better than what you were getting dealt. You watch as Claire clasps her hands together and a tight lipped expression forms across her face. “I hate to say this, but we just can’t afford to take the risk.” 

“The risk?” You question, fully knowing what that risk is. 

She clears her throat, her eyes darting from Susie to your Dad and then finally landing back on you. “Yes you have talent, but we can’t take the risk as a team right now to sign a female driver. We are barely holding on the way it is and signing a female– it just– we can’t be the team to experiment with that right now, no matter how good you are. I’m sorry.” 

“So a woman can run a racing team, but just can’t drive for one? Got it.” You’re trying to be professional, but you’d already heard that sorry excuse so many times before and your dreams were literally getting crushed right in front of you, so who can blame you for being a little shitty.

“It’s not just me making this decision Y/N. There’s a million other factors and people that go into this decision. If it could be different I promise it would be.” The strained look on Claire’s face does nothing to ease the ache in your chest, if anything it makes it worse

There’s an awkward silence that fills the room and you want nothing more than to be out of this suffocating room. Your emotions are starting to bubble over and the last thing you want is for someone to spot you looking less than thrilled. In society a man is allowed to react and a woman can only overreact. There’s been countless times where your quote on quote emotions after a difficult race are used against you in an attempt to prove you shouldn’t be racing. 

The wooden legs of your chair screech across the floor as you get up and even though you don’t want to, you reach your hand out towards Claire. “Thank you for your time, it was nice talking with you.” 

“My offer still stands. I think it would be wise to think it over.” Her grip on your hand is firm as she speaks, but it does nothing to change your mind. 

You give her one last thank you before swiftly exiting the room and making your way out of the building. It’s not until you’re in the safety of the blacked out SUV that you finally let yourself fully feel your emotions. And once the first tear falls there’s no stopping the ones that come after. You’re angry that even with the talent you so clearly possess, no one will give you a chance. That you’d worked this hard, gave up your childhood and the possibility of having a normal one to do this. Spent hours, days, months training and being away from home just to get to this spot in your life. Your one dream in life was almost in your grasp, your fingertips could brush against it, that’s how close it was. Yet on a sunny afternoon on a random Monday it was ripped away from you.   

Sobs echo through the empty car and you’d never felt more hopeless than you do right now. You spot your Dad talking with Susie outside the building and a short minute later he’s walking towards the car. You try to pull yourself together, you don’t want your Dad to see you like this, but when he gets into the driver's seat you lose it all over again. You somehow feel like you’ve let your Dad down, he’s been your biggest supporter during this whole journey and you not getting a seat felt like the equivalent of you being the worst child ever.

Your Dad couldn’t be more proud of you though, he’d never seen someone work so hard to accomplish their dreams and he was always going to be in your corner no matter what happened. His heart breaks when he gets into the car and sees you so upset and defeated, he’s half tempted to march back in there and demand that they sign you. But right now he knows you need him more than anything. He reaches over the center console and pulls you into him the best he can. His little girl deserved so much better than what you had been dealt and he only wished he could take that hurt you were feeling right now away from you. 

“Darling I know this hurts right now. If I could, I’d make a whole racing team from scratch just so you could fulfill your dreams, but this isn’t the end for you. Maybe you could try different kinds of racing? Indycar? Endurance? Maybe follow in your old man's footsteps?” His hand gently rubs against your arm as you sniffle into his chest. “You never know, maybe if you take the reserve spot you could get a seat the following year.” 

You lift your head up, your eyes bloodshot as you make eye contact with him. “Dad, we both know that's not true. They’d just string me along.” You lean back into the leather seat as you close your eyes, already feeling a headache coming on. “I know life isn’t fair, but this is some cruel level of unfairness. I wish I had been born a boy because I know I would not be in this situation right now if I was.”

“You’re correct, if you were a boy you wouldn’t be in this situation right now. But that is only because you wouldn’t be half the racer you are as a guy. You’ve gotten this far and you’ve got the talent you do because of who you are and that includes being a woman. I like to take credit for your skills, but honey all your will power and strength and smarts and hell just about everything else you get from your Mother. The guts to be in love with dangerous racing I will take credit for though.“ He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear before resting his hand on the side of your face, gently wiping away your tears. “Listen, people may be blind and ignorant now, but when they finally realize just how good women can be in motorsports and stop being pussies and take that risk, they are going to regret waiting so long.” 

His words do nothing to calm the raging storm in your mind. “I know, but I wanted to be that person. I wanted that realization to happen now. I worked so hard and what did I get in return? To be passed over by someone who’s absolute shit? It hurts so bad.” 

His hands reach back over to yours, enveloping your much smaller ones in his as he tries to comfort you in any way he can. “That feeling will pass. It hurts now, but it’ll pass. I promise you.” 

The feeling never truly passes. 

You learn to deal with it, trying to find the positives in life, but the ache is still there. It's like a bad knee that hurts when it’s cold outside. It’s not there all the time, but certain moments take you back to that awful day. It hurts when you win the F2 championship and still don’t have a seat in F1. It hurts when interviewers ask you about what your future holds. It hurts when you see people you raced with as a kid be that one of twenty that you want to be so bad. 

Once the F2 season ends you honestly have no idea what you are planning on doing with your life. You really don’t want to dabble in other forms of racing, but you know if you take a year off your chances of getting that golden seat become even more slim. 

It’s not until the FIA Gala that you come to the conclusion that maybe you should take up the offer of being a reserve driver. You know you’re going against every word you’ve previously said and every stubborn bone in your body doesn’t want you to do this, but there’s nothing you want more than to be a Formula 1 driver. And if there is even a .1% chance that you could get that seat by doing a year as a reserve first, then you’d be dumb to not try. You know all the odds are against you and maybe you’re betting on a losing dog, but you needed to at least believe in yourself if no one else was. It’s a choice that you’ve mulled over for what seems like an eternity, but it’s a certain Dutch driver that makes you take the final leap off the edge. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You’ve known Max since you were kids in karting. The two of you were pretty close friends as kids, often seen attached at the hip around the track during race weekends. He’d found solace with you and your family, something that looking back now, you were glad to have been able to give him. He was the only other person who you truly considered competition back in those days. It was always a fun time when you raced against Max, mainly because he treated you like an equal, but also never downplayed your talent. He knew you were good and he expressed that many times– something that meant a lot to you back then and still does today.

As you two got older your friendship started to fade for no reason other than taking different paths. When he skipped F2 and went straight into F1 you were pissed, but he had the talent, you couldn’t deny that. You’d sometimes see him on weekends when F1 and F2 raced together, a few short words spoken in passing, but it was never like the old days. Your lives didn’t necessarily coincide anymore, he was making waves as the youngest F1 driver to exist and you were stuck in F2. So when he approached you at the Gala you were surprised. 

You’d been playing good racing driver and making small talk all night, talking to sponsors and random rich men who loved to hear  themselves talk. You’d finally escaped the tortuous sea of networking and found yourself at a somewhat secluded table with a flute of champagne in front of you. You hadn’t been at the table for very long  before you heard a familiar Dutch accent coming from behind you. 

“Is this seat taken?” 

You turned to see the one and only Max Verstappen standing there with his hand on the back of the seat next to you. Your eyes scanned across the white linen tablecloth to the several empty chairs surrounding the table and then back to Max. “I think they all might be spoken for, but I’m sure they can find another table to sit at.” He lets out a little chuckle as he sits down and you notice him fidgeting with his tie, clearly trying to loosen it. “It’s weird seeing you in anything other than your race suit or team kit.” 

His movements halt as his eyes comb over you and it makes you squirm slightly in your seat. “Could say the same about you.” 

He’s not wrong though, the dress you’ve picked out for tonight is nothing shy of stunning, but it’s not you. You always felt like these events were a form of torture more than anything and having to get all dressed up was just the cherry on top. 

“I saw that you had a good season.” You state before taking a sip of your champagne. 

Max’s eyebrows raise in surprise towards you, like you’ve just said the craziest thing. “I don’t think we should be talking about my season when you’ve just won a championship.” 

You lean back in your seat, crossing your legs as you adjust your dress. “It’s only an F2 championship Max.” There’s still a part of you that’s slightly bitter about him leaving you behind and you wonder what this night would be like if you were an F1 driver like him. 

“It still means something.” His baby blue eyes narrowed at you as he spoke. 

The remaining champagne in your glass is gone in seconds, this isn’t where you wanted this conversation to end up, but somehow you knew it was inevitable. “It doesn’t mean much if it can’t even grant me that seat I want. I won that championship basically halfway through the season, but can’t get anyone to offer me anything higher than a reserve driver. How does that mean anything?” 

Max shifts in his seat, he knows this is a sensitive subject to you and he knows what he’s about ready to tell you will probably get him slapped, but he has to at least try. 

“It could mean something and I came over here to talk to you about it.” Your eyebrows furrow at his words, confused as to what he could possibly mean. “I want you as my teammate.” 

You can’t help but laugh slightly at him, the Dutchman had clearly had one too many glasses of champagne tonight. “Did you think to express that to Red Bull before I had that world shortest meeting with them months ago? We all have dreams Max and yours is nice, but it’s a pipe dream.”

He shakes his head and scoots his chair closer to you. “It’s not a dream. It can happen. The team wanted to see how the rest of your season played out, but they for sure want you now.” 

“Where is Daniel going then?” A waiter comes past and you snatch another flute of champagne off of their tray. “And why is this not being discussed in a formal meeting setting?” 

“The team thought you might be more willing if you heard about this from someone you knew pretty well first. You know I’ve always been in your corner.” Max knows this is where the conversation will either go south or you’ll hear him out and he fears the latter isn’t the most likely scenario. “ And Daniel isn’t going anywhere” 

It takes you a moment to understand what Max’s words mean, your glass of champagne hovers near your lips as you slowly realize what he’s insinuating. And this time you actually do laugh at him because how could he think that after your disgruntled conversation just moments ago that you would want the one thing you were dissatisfied with? 

“Max, you've got to be kidding me.” You feel like this is one big prank and your tone is more defeated than upset at this point. 

Max on the other hand is trying to figure out how to convince you that this is your best option without making you throw that glass of champagne in his face. “Just hear me out ok? I know being a reserve is the last thing you want, but I also know that you’re one of the best drivers out there right now. And yes– you should have that seat already and it sucks that they are making you jump through so many hoops, but I’m trying to help you out in any way I can. So please just take Red Bull’s offer. You’d be a reserve for a year and then when Daniel’s contract is up at the end of the season you’d be the number one contender for his spot.” The only thing you can find yourself to do is blankly stare at him. It’s not a guarantee that you would be getting Daniel’s spot, you’d just be a contender and to you that means you would be just used for headlines and never actually considered. 

“You really think this is the best thing for me?” 

A sigh escapes past his lips, he should have known this wouldn’t be as easy as he hoped. “What are you really going to do if you don’t take this offer? You can’t do another season in F2. I mean, you’re driving laps around these guys for fun. You’re wasting your talent here and you’re also wasting it by being so determined to not take this opportunity.” 

Your arms defensively cross over your chest and you want what he’s saying to not make sense, but it is and it’s making you even more irritated. “I could seek out other forms of racing.” 

Max can’t help but roll his eyes at how stubborn you’re being. “You won’t though. You love rallying and yes it’s in your blood, but you lack the experience that you need. Endurance just isn’t you. Indycar is the closest thing to F1, but at the end of the day it’s not Formula 1, so I know you won’t actually seek it out. F1 is what you want Y/N and I’m trying to help you get there.” 

You know what he’s saying is true and it’s a tough pill to swallow, but you still can’t bring yourself to actually accept that this is your best and to be frank your only option at this point. Max can see the gears turning in your head, your teeth chewing on your bottom lip. “Y/N.” He’s trying to get you out of your head and bring you back to him. His hand reaches out and gently lands on your knee and that simple action has your eyes focusing back on his blue ones. 

“How do you know for sure? How do you know that I’ll actually be considered for Daniel’s seat?”  

A heavy sigh comes from Max and you know he’s not going to say what you want to hear. “I don’t. You know the racing world –  just because something is said doesn’t mean it’s true, but there’s a high probability. And I think if there’s even a slim chance and you don’t take it then you’d be dumb. You know I’ll always be in your corner and I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted you as my teammate.” 

You still don’t know what to say to him, you’re torn between staying true to your values and not taking anything less than what you deserve and realizing that you may have to accept that this is the only way to even get close to your dream. “Stop making the guys in F2 cry and come join Red Bull, please.” 

A small smile finds its way onto your face when you realize Max is recalling all the boys you used to make cry when you beat them when you were kids. 

“Think you’re the only one I haven’t made cry yet, Verstappen.” 

Max mirrors your smile, the memories of old karting days also replaying in his mind. “Don’t see it happening anytime soon either.” A small chuckle escapes past his lips as he speaks. 

The atmosphere between you two had lightened and as you stare at the smiling Dutchman in front of you there’s really only one thing you can say to him. 

“I’ll think about it.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

After much deliberation, a handful of meetings, and finally accepting that this was unfortunately your best option, you found yourself dressed in a Red Bull team kit three months later in Australia. 

Being a reserve driver was not where you expected to be right now, but you were trying to be more positive about the situation. If it wasn’t for Max you’d probably be sitting at home wallowing in self pity. At least with being a reserve you get to still be around the one thing you love. It was tough though, to be a part of the race weekend, but not actually be able to race. You’re in the team meetings, you occasionally do media, you train like a driver– you do everything that a driver would do on a race weekend except actually drive the car. You sometimes feel like you’re just being taunted, like an animal with a treat just out of its reach. It's hard mentally sometimes, but you push through with the help of a therapist and the hope that this suffering now will be worth it in the end. 

Being a reserve meant you spent basically all of your time on race weekends in the garage. It wasn’t a foreign place to you by any means, but you’d never really been in the garage while the race was happening. You were more accustomed to being the one out on the track and not in here, but you’d grown to love the behind the scenes work. The one thing in particular was the role of race engineer. You were very familiar with them, your own engineer had been with you all through Formula 3 and 2 and you had fully planned on taking them with you into F1 if it was possible. The bond between racer and engineer is a special one, you’ve got to have the utmost trust with one another, know how eachother thinks and trust that they are doing everything in their power to help you. It sounds a little dramatic, but truly what is a racer without their engineer? 

Throughout the season you’d found yourself lingering more and more around the engineers. The occasional times where GP let you sit on the pit wall during practice sessions or qualifying you found yourself glued to the seat next to him. To see how effortlessly Max and him communicate and the level of trust is amazing. It’s a completely different atmosphere and there’s somehow a calm adrenaline that comes over you when you’re on that pitwall. GP makes it look like a piece of cake— looking at data, having multiple people in your ear at once, thinking about strategy. It sounds like a nightmare to some, but you grow to love it. The analytics make the gears in your head turn and the little racing nerd in you can’t seem to get enough. 

You seem to be focusing more on the engineering side of things more than racing at a certain point in the season and maybe it’s because subconsciously you know you aren’t going to get Daniel’s seat so you’re trying to distract yourself with something else. There are some moments during the season that give you hope that perhaps you will be considered, like the couple times you get to drive Max’s car in FP1. That hour you get where it’s just you, the car, and the track in front of you makes you realize why you fell in love with this sport to begin with. It’s just that when that hour is up you’re brought back to reality and you don’t want to get out of the car, but the proud look on Max’s face and his insistent rambling about how it was a no brainer that you finished with the fastest time each session made it a little easier. 

But even with the slivers of hope, Max constantly advocating for you, and not to mention just your raw talent– the team still decides to go with someone else. They don’t come right out and tell you, but you hear the whispers around the paddock and online that Pierre Gasley is who they want. Your name is barely mentioned in talks and when the announcement finally happens at the end of the season you aren’t even surprised. In all honesty yes it hurts, but you knew when you signed that contract that there was the tiniest chance that you’d get that seat and so throughout the season you built your walls up and prepared yourself for the inevitable. 

If it was even possible Max seemed more upset than you about it, but when you tell him over winter break about the other deal you struck he seems to forget all about how you once again had been wronged. Somehow by not getting a racing contract you managed to sign a different one. It was a long depressing month during the end of the season of coming to terms with the fact that your racing career very well may never go any further than F2, but you’d realized that you can still experience your love of racing, just differently, by becoming an engineer. You’d fallen in love with the behind the scenes work during your year as a reserve and GP had somewhat taken you under his wing.

So when the two of you had an actual conversation about you possibly taking the steps to become one it just seemed to click. You’d signed a contract alright, but it wasn’t the one you’d imagined to be signing. The little girl with a dream of being nothing other than a race car driver couldn’t believe that this is where she was headed, but here you were. You were no longer Red Bull Racing reserve driver, you were now a Red Bull Racing apprentice engineer. Even with your knowledge from being a racer for some time, you’d still need to go to school and you somehow managed going to school while working under GP. How you managed that work load you’ll never know. 

Max was thrilled that you two still got to work together and was proud that you’d seeked out a new path for yourself. He’d still be holding out hope that one day you’d get to be teammates, but for now he couldn’t be more happy for you. Especially because you seemed happy with how your life was turning out. 

As the years pass you only grow closer with Max. It’s like you’re joined at the hip sometimes, but you come to realize there’s no one else you’d want to spend the majority of your year with. It feels like your old karting days, he gets you and you get him and for you two that’s just enough. You’re there for his first WDC and you don’t think you’d cried as much as you did then, seeing the boy you raced with as a kid win such a prestigious title. But you also cried for yourself, because as much as you were so proud of Max, you couldn’t help but still mourn the fact that it could have been and should have eventually been you winning a championship. It stings a little less when he wins his second, but that’s mostly because you got so drunk you couldn’t really remember much of it. When you graduate with your degree in engineering Max is there cheering you on, dressed in something other than his team kit for once. You don’t remember much from that night either, but you can’t seem to forget how genuinely proud he seemed of you and how he couldn’t seem to be anyplace other than right next to you. 

The following year with a degree and years of experience now under your belt you get a promotion, mainly because GP got poached by another team for the following season. So for the 2023 season that is truly an iconic one for Max you’re practically his race engineer, but GP is still there right next to you offering his knowledge when needed. 

When it’s finally official that you’ll be taking over the role as Max’s race engineer in 2024 the news is mostly positive, but of course there are some people that think you couldn’t possibly be capable of taking on the role. That a three time worlds champion shouldn’t have a woman as an engineer, let alone one that was around the same age as him. It was funny truly, you were more than qualified to be an engineer. You’d done the schooling and had the experience, yet once again because you were a woman people thought you didn’t deserve the job. 

Max on the other hand was ecstatic that you’d be filling GP’s shoes. He’d had a good run with him, but he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t sure that you two would make an incredible duo. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“So maybe this wasn’t how I’d imagined us being teammates, but I did tell you I wanted us to be teammates didn’t I? And I think it’s safe to say I always get what I want.” Max stated as the two of you tried to hide in the corner of this end of season/Max's WDC party/your promotion party. Well technically it was Max’s WDC party, but of course he had to bring you into it and show his appreciation to the team as always. 

He’s clearly had one too many gin and tonics and the goofy smile on his face only got wider as he spoke.

“Cocky much huh? I think that third championship is getting to you.”  

He leaned in closer to you and those pretty baby blues narrowed in on you. “Well when we get my fourth title next year I’ll show you just how cocky I can be.” That was gin and tonic talking and you knew it was time for Max to retire for the night. 

“Alright champ. Think it might be time to call it a night.” Your hand wraps around his bicep to try and guide him towards the exit, but he’s a solid man and he doesn’t even budge. 

“No, it's still early! We haven’t even begun to celebrate you yet!” He’s being loud and pouty and all up in your personal space, classic signs of drunk Max. And truth be told you don’t want the attention on you whatsoever, hence you hiding in the corner. Which of course Max had invaded as soon as he could.  “Come on just one more drink?” 

You know one more drink is never just one more, but for whatever reason tonight you can’t tell him no. And so hours later when you’re both making your way down the fancy hotel hallway towards his room you don’t even recall wanting to leave early. Both of you tipsy are always giggling messes and when Max can’t seem to get his key card to work to get into his room it’s apparently the funniest thing on earth to you. Which in turn has Max laughing and you don’t realize how loud you two actually are until the door across from his opens and a disgruntled elderly man is stood there in his robe. 

“Sorry!” You barely squeak out to the man as Max finally gets his key card to work and you’re pushing him into his room before the old man can respond. When you hear the door click behind you, the both of you are stood in silence staring at each other for a moment and then laughter erupts out of both of you. 

Max plops down on his bed and you take that as a sign that he’s safely made it back to his room and you’ve fulfilled your duty as his friend tonight. “Alright. You’re safe and sound which means I’m gonna head to my room. Goodnight Max.” 

He quickly sits up on the edge of his bed at your farewell, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip as he wonders if he should go through with the idea that’s been consuming his brain for some time now. He had enough liquor in him now to justify even considering it. It’s not until your hand touches the door knob that he finally speaks up. “Y/N. Wait.” 

Your head whips around at the sound of his voice and by the time you’re fully turned around he’s inches away from you. “If this is you trying to convince me to rally and head back out I’m convinced you want me dead, Verstappen.” 

“No no, it’s nothing like that.” His voice is soft and you can almost feel the energy in the room change. 

“What is it then?” You throw him a questioning look. 

He’d cracked the can of worms and if he didn’t fully open them soon he doesn’t think he’ll ever get the chance again. “Um- there’s something I-” How was he supposed to tell the girl who in less than a month is going to be his official race engineer that he has feelings for her? He’d been somewhat harboring them since they were kids and as he got older and the feelings seemed to lessen he figured it was just a silly little childhood crush. He’d only then realized since becoming as close as the two of you have ever been these past couple years that those feelings were not just ones of a silly little childhood crush.

Sure it started out as that and yeah his feelings may have just gotten pushed down when your lives started to go in different directions, but now that he had you with him all the time and your relationship had blossomed into something more than just two kids on the kart track. He’d come to the conclusion that those feelings never actually went away. And he knows he should have said something sooner because this new phase in your relationship and your work relationship takes priority over his romantic feelings, but Max can’t help but be greedy. The three time world drivers champion surprisingly wants to have his cake and to eat it too.

The alcohol coursing through his veins isn’t really helping him in thinking that clearly, he can’t seem to muster up the words in the order he wants, it’s all jumbled up and he starts speaking in Dutch without realizing it. 

“Max, you're making no sense. You’re drunk, just talk to me in the morning or guess I should say afternoon by the way you seem to be sounding.” He’s tipsy, not drunk. He could hold a conversation, but apparently not when it came to confessing his feelings. The liquid courage he thought he had possessed was clearly no longer working in his favor. It’s only when he feels your hand touch his forearm that he pulls himself together. “When I signed that contract to be your race engineer I didn’t think it would include babysitting.” You slightly teased him as you tried to guide him back to his bed, but like back at the party his feet stayed planted to the plush carpet. 

You knew drivers and their engineers were close, you had to be, but there was something definitely different about Max and yours relationship. Maybe it was because you had known each other since you were children, but you two were for sure closer than the average duo. Case and point– the situation you two had currently found yourselves in. You didn’t know of any engineers and drivers who went out and hung out outside of work like you guys do or even party like you two do, but for you guys it was normal. So perhaps things would have to change when the season officially started. 

“If you’re going to be so stubborn then you can put yourself back to bed.” Your hand drops from his arm as you turn towards the door to leave when you feel his much larger hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you back towards him. “Max-” 

Your faces are inches apart and his pupils are so dilated that those pretty blue eyes that always stare back at you resemble something more of a black hole than a spring sky. “I may regret doing this, but I think if I don’t I’ll regret it even more.” 

And it’s in this moment that everything between the two of you changes and your lives are forever altered. 

You don’t even get to question what Max is talking about before you feel his plump pink lips against yours. Your brain short circuits and it takes you a second to realize what is actually happening, but by the time your brain catches up with your lips he’s already pulled away and cursing. 

“Fuck I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Clearly you don’t feel the same-” 

Max doesn’t even get to finish his rambling before your grabbing at the material of his shirt and pulling him back towards you. Your lips crashing into each others and this time he’s the one surprised. His hands reach up to cradle your face as he deepens the kiss, your lips moving in perfect synchronization. The night's drinks linger heavy on your tongues and they begin to mix as his tongue slips its way into your mouth. He’s dominant yet soft with his actions and you find yourself becoming enthralled with them. 

When you two finally pull away you’re both breathless with rosy cheeks and giddy smiles on your face. There’s a silence between you, no one wants to be the first one to say anything. To bring you back to reality and ruin this moment, but Max is the first one to burst the bubble. “I hadn’t really planned on kissing you. I actually had a whole speech planned out, but guess this did the trick just as well.” 

“A speech?” You question. 

“Was gonna tell you that I may have had a crush on you since we were kids in karting and how I thought it was just a childhood crush for the longest time, but then we became so close ever since you joined Red Bull and I realized that I’ve always been enamored by you. We just get each other and being around you is so easy. You’re my person Y/N.” 

You weren’t going to lie to yourself and say you didn’t have a crush on Max when you were kids too or that you’d perhaps sometimes in the middle of the night when your mind wandered thought that there may be something a little more between Max and you than what you let on. But you’d always pushed those thoughts aside as quickly as they arrived. You didn’t allow yourself to be distracted with silly crushes when you were racing let alone now when this new dream was at your fingertips. But the fact was that it wasn’t just a silly little crush. Max is just as much your person as you are his. He’s your biggest supporter and embarrassingly the person you think about the most. And perhaps you do find yourself staring at his pretty blue eyes or the way his eyes scrunch up when he’s really happy or laughing hard. The way his lisp becomes more prominent when he gets excited or how you love to hear him “maxplain”. 

So perhaps you were more down bad than you had let yourself believe, but it was no use dwelling on it. You were colleagues and soon you would be his race engineer. This was just a drunk mistake and Max was only caught up in the moment– at least that’s what you kept telling yourself. This couldn’t happen right now and you know you know you shouldn’t have kissed him back, but god kissing resembled the same feeling of when you overtake on the track. That adrenaline rush that starts in your stomach and travels up to your chest. It’s addicting and as he stands there in front of you, those swollen pink lips of his keep shutting down everything in you that tells you to not let this go any further. 

Max gently reaches up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering as he tries to figure out how you feel. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung this on you. It’s alright if you don’t feel the same, but I mean after that kiss… there’s got to be something.” The sly smirk on his face only has you rolling your eyes at him, but he knows from the small smile your donning that the eye roll was nothing of significance. “I just had to tell you. It’d been eating at me.” 

His hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently across the top. You practically melt into his touch and as your eyes flutter shut a deep sigh escapes past your lips. You know this can’t continue, you know you’ve got to be the one to set the boundaries, but god damn if this wasn’t something like a dream. 

“I’m not going to lie and say I don’t feel the same because I do. Perhaps even more than you at times, but this was absolutely the worst time for you to do this. Before you know it the season is going to start and I’m going to officially be your race engineer. We can’t mix pleasure with business.” 

He knows what you’re saying is true, but to hear you say you feel the same as him has him willing to risk it all. “I know I should have told you sooner, but I think we could make it work.” 

“Max.” You’re trying to get him to think rationally for just a second. 

“We don’t have to put a label on anything and no one will know until we are ready. We will just take it slow. Nothing would have to change between us or the people around us. Work will always come first.” 

His hands move down towards yours and your fingers intertwine as you try to make sense of all the things flying around in your brain. You’ve never felt this way about anyone before like you do Max. You’d been burying it, trying not to let it get in the way of your job, but it had been there subconsciously the whole time. Now that you’ve come to terms with it and found out he feels the same, how the hell were you two going to move forward with this?

“Things will change Max, even if you say they won’t we both know they will. We’ll have to be careful about how we interact and sneak around. This isn’t some little make believe play time kind of thing. This is real life Max.” You squeeze his hand as you speak, trying to convey just how serious you’re taking this and how he should be too. “I also have a lot more at stake than you do Max. I’ve gone through hell and back to get where I am today, I don’t want it all ruined in the blink of an eye.” 

Max so badly wants to make this work. He understands your apprehension regardless of how strong your feelings are for him, but he thinks you guys should at least give it a try. 

“I understand what you’re saying. I also think what we’ve got here is pretty special. It would be a shame to not pursue it.” 

Your brain is telling you to choose your career and your heart is telling you to choose both your career and Max. Everything could work out fine and he could be the guy you end up marrying and living happily ever after with or it could all blow up in your face and you could lose your career and your man. But if you would have never taken the risk of becoming a reserve for Red Bull then you wouldn’t be here in this position. So you take the risk and decide to go with your heart. 

“Alright let’s see how this plays out Verstappen.” 

His eyes light up at your words. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

And for the third time that night you feel his soft lips pressed against yours. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The 2024 season starts out with a bang. Max puts it on pole in quali and wins in Bahrain and the same thing happens in Saudi Arabia. You’d been practically shitting yourself in the weeks leading up to the start of the season. There was an insane amount of pressure from the public and media for you to do well, but also an insane amount that you had put on yourself. You wanted to prove to people that you were good at your job, that you deserved to be there. So when the first two weekends went smoothly and your communication went well with Max you couldn’t have been happier.

Not to mention how well it was going with Max. You two had been nothing but careful when it came to your radio messages, but also your behavior in the garage. The fleeting glances or smiles thrown your way only mean that much more considering you two are the only ones who know their true intent. And the evenings spent in each other's hotel rooms are like your own personal getaway. It’s just you two once that door is closed behind you and it makes the kisses even sweeter. 

Although the following week in Australia you weren’t expecting to be dealing with a hiccup so soon, but that’s the world of Formula 1 for you. It started off normal, Max took pole in qualifying and the race started great. Everything is normal on the pitwall and then you see Carlos overtake Max on lap two. It of course is not what you want to see, but it was only the second lap and you weren’t that stressed at the moment, but then you hear the dial of Max’s radio.

“I just lost the car. Really weird.” Max’s voice fills your ears through your headset. 

“Yeah no problem Max. Still early.” 

You watch the data closely as the race continues and you can see his time dropping ever so slowly.

“Fuck. The car is loose.” 

“I know. Try and hold on, we are working on it.” 

His time keeps dropping and you're combing through everything trying to figure out what could be going on. As you glance at the monitor with the race coverage you notice smoke coming from the back of the car and not a second later his voice comes through your headset once more. 

“I have smoke. Fire fire. Brake my brake.” 

“Copy. Try and make it back to the pits.” 

Fuck. This could not be good. You’re first real issue as an official engineer and it’s only the third race of the season. You turn in your chair as you see him rolling down the pit lane, his rear brake on fire. Your stomach drops and you know it's a DNF for him. Thankfully it wasn’t a crash, you think you would have been going to the medics with him if that was the case. 

Your headset is off and you’re making your way across the pit lane as soon as you see him get out of the car. You’re nervous considering this is the first race issue you’ve dealt with while being “together” or whatever you two are calling it and you aren’t sure how Max is going to handle it. 

He’s in the garage taking off his balaclava as you walk up to him and you want nothing more than to wrap your arms around him, but you know you can’t do that. There’s clearly signs of disappointment on his face, but he’s trying to keep a poker face when he spots you. “You alright?” You question as you lean against the counter. 

“I’m fine. Car isn’t though.” He’s short with you and you probably should have let him decompress on his own before coming over here, but you couldn’t help yourself. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve seen him in a less than cheerful mood, but it’s the first time since coming to terms with how you felt about each other and you being his engineer.

“I know, I’m sorry.” 

He shrugs his shoulders at you, his hand running through his dirty blonde hair. “Wasn’t your fault.” 

You feel like it is though. “Are we good?” You ask with a low voice. 

Max could barely hear you with the sound of the mechanics and when he sees them moving the car into the garage he grabs you by the elbow and leads you towards the back of the garage towards the paddock entrance hallway. It luckily was empty for the moment, the garage too busy dealing with the car. 

“Why would we not be good?” He lowers his voice too. 

It’s your turn to shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know. It’s just that it was the first issue of the season and I wanted to make sure you weren’t upset with me or something.” 

“Schatje.” The term of endearment always has butterflies fluttering about in your stomach, no matter how many times you hear it. “It was not your fault. It was a mechanical issue.” 

He can see the worry across your face and he knows the amount of stress you’ve been feeling about everything. The last thing you need is to be worried about how your relationship is going. He quickly checks both directions and when he sees the coast is clear he pulls you into his arms. It’s what you both needed after the shit show that was this race and even if it was brief his actions told you everything you needed to know. “We’ll talk more tonight, yeah?” 

You simply nod at him, both of you knowing you have to go back to your respective roles in the team before someone comes around the corner. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before disappearing behind the corner and back into the garage. You lean your head against the wall as you let out a deep sigh. There was something in you that had a feeling that this season wasn’t going to be an easy one. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Japan and China have you guys back to regularly scheduled programming and then Miami comes and turns everything upside down. When Max wins by the skin of his teeth in Imola the following race week you know something is not right with the car, but you can’t seem to pinpoint it. You know Max and you know he’s driving the car to its full ability and he somehow manages to secure the win in Canada and Spain, but not without being vocal about how shit the car is over the radio, to which you can only reply copy that Max.

It’s clear to you and probably everyone else that this season is not looking to be a dominant Red Bull season and it makes your stomach churn to think about the headlines about you. There’s not a doubt in your mind that everything will be blamed on you, especially after the horrible weekend that is the Austrian Grand Prix. 

It doesn’t start out bad, Max puts it on pole in qualifying and he holds the lead throughout the majority of the race. It’s not until lap 48 that things start to fall apart. 

“I can’t hold this much longer.” Max’s voice sounds through your headphones. 

“A couple more laps Max.” 

“The tires are fucked.” 

You don’t want Lando to undercut Max and you know if you don’t time this pitstop right that it may very well cost Max the race. On lap 52 you call Max into the pits and McLaren pits Lando also. You need this pitstop to go well and of course — it doesn’t. A stubborn left rear wheel nut is what brings the gap between Max and Lando down to two seconds. 

There’s not a bone in your body that wants to relay that information to Max, but you’ve got to, it’s your job. 

“Gap to Lando is now two seconds Max.” 

“Fuck.” 

“I know, but you can hold him off.” 

As the time began to shrink between Max and Lando your confidence in Max holding him off was dwindling and you knew he wasn’t going to just let Lando pass him. He was going to hold Lando off for as long as he could and when the racing started to get sketchy you were sure you wouldn’t have any fingernails left by the time this race was over. 

“Keep it clean Max.” You tell him after a particularly close call. 

“Something is wrong with the car.” He replies. You can tell he’s got no grip, but he’s also trying to defend like his life depended on it. 

As the laps go by the two drivers seem to be getting more desperate as both of them are pushing track limits and each other. You know it’s not gonna end well and you can only do so much from the pitwall. It’s Max who makes the final decision out there regardless of what you say. 

It’s been a tiring back and forth game with them and when they finally make contact on lap 64 your stomach drops for the man you care for, but you shake your head as his engineer. Both of them have punctures and somehow Max is able to make it back to the pits and still finish fifth. It’s quiet on the pitwall and the cheers from the Mercedes team drown out anything that might have been said. You don’t know what to say to Max when you see him. As his engineer you know he was defending (rather recklessly in your opinion) but as his ‘girlfriend’ you want to slap him for being so reckless. 

You know it’s better to just let Max decompress on his own and at this point you somewhat need to also. He’s got media duties to deal with and you’ve got your own responsibilities. You don’t even bother in waiting around for him like you usually do after a race. Once your tasks are done you’re making your way back to the hotel and for the first time that weekend you actually go to your room. Nothing sounds better at the moment than a nice long hot shower and so you let the water help wash away the stress from this weekend. That is until you hear a rapid knock on the door as you’re wrapping yourself in the hotel branded fluffy white robe. You know exactly who it is, but considering you’re dressed in nothing but a robe– you check the peephole. To no surprise there on the other side stands a disheveled Max Verstappen. His hand runs through his hair obsessively and you can tell he’s not in the cheeriest of moods. You open the door and he wastes no time in coming in. 

“Why aren’t you in my room?” He immediately asks, his tone almost reads as offended that you were here instead of three rooms down. 

“A girl can’t use her hotel room?” 

“You know what I mean.” 

You sit down on the edge of the plush bed as Max remains standing. 

“I just wanted some alone time. To decompress after this weekend, specifically today. Figured you could use some too.” 

He’s standing in front of you now, his fingers lightly toying at the collar of your robe. “All I wanted to see when I came back to my room was my girl waiting for me.” His voice is soft and you can tell this weekend has taken a toll on him. He plays the tough guy act during racing, but at the end of the day he’s just a man who wants and needs love and comfort. And so without a second thought you're sneaking off to Max’s hotel room like a couple of teenagers trying to not get caught. 

The warm embrace of Max’s arms is one of the places you feel the most safe and tonight is no exception. Austria is clearly a weekend to forget, but you know the media will be dragging it out for weeks to come. “The only thing I’m gonna say about today is that you’re lucky all that happened was a puncture. As your engineer and girlfriend you put me through the fucking ringer today Verstappen.” 

He doesn’t even register you somewhat scolding him for his driving today, all he can seem to focus on his you referring to yourself as his girlfriend. Of course you’ve been nothing less to him in his mind, you were exclusively his and no other woman would compare. But with the somewhat tricky situation you’d found yourselves in you’d never really put a label on it and that was fine to him. In fact he’d been the one to suggest it in the beginning, mainly because he knew how nervous you were about exploring the relationship between you two. But to hear it nonchentaly come out of your mouth that you’re his girlfriend is perhaps the best thing he’s heard in a good while. 

“Girlfriend?” He questions, his tone somewhat teasing you. 

Your head leaves its home on his solid chest and moves to look up at him. You hadn’t even realized you’d referred to yourself as his girlfriend, but after six months of you two just going with the flow or whatever you wanted to call it. There was no doubt that you two were exclusively one anothers. 

“I mean– that’s what I am right?” You pray you haven’t just made a fool of yourself, but you know he feels the same. 

His hand cups your cheek and he looks at you like you’re the most breathtaking thing on the planet. You can feel the butterflies erupting in your stomach and just by the way his eyes soften when he looks at you, there’s no way he doesn’t feel the same. 

“Yes, but only if I’m your boyfriend.” His voice is sweet like honey and the butterflies are about ready to escape your stomach at this point.

“We sound like two 13 year olds right now.” 

Your laughter is like music to Max’s ears and he can’t ignore the swelling feeling in his chest. It’s terrifying, but thrilling at the same time and it’s a feeling that he’s sure he never wants to be without. 

“Well ok then I need to know if we are actually boyfriend and girlfriend.” Giggles fill the hotel room and you would have thought you two had been drinking with how ridiculous you two were acting, but you were really just lovesick fools. 

As the laughter dies down you can sense a shift in the atmosphere as you two lay there and stare at each other for a moment. In what seems like no time at all your leg swings over his waist and a second later you’re straddling him. His hands instinctively move to your hips and your hands lay flat on his chest as you lean forward. “I think it’s safe to say that you’re mine huh? My boyfriend?” 

Your lips hover just above his as you whisper to him and you can see his pupils dilating and feel the grip on your hips getting tighter. 

“I like hearing that.” He whispers back, his lips jutting out to connect with yours, but the tease in you has you pulling back ever so slightly. 

“Hearing what?” A playful smirk adorns your face as you sit up with your hands still splayed across his chest. 

He sits up too, but it’s clear you’ve ignited a fire in him. His hands snake around your waist as he holds you close to his chest. Your hands now resting on his shoulders. “That I’m yours.” 

And in one swift motion he’s flipped you onto your back as his large biceps bulge while he hovers over you. His head leans down towards your ear and his breath tickles your neck. It’s like every nerve in your body is heightened and you’re aware of every single thing he does to you and himself. “And that you’re mine.” 

A shiver runs up your spine as he whispers into your ear and by the look in his eyes you know it’s going to be a long night. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

To say you were looking forward to summer break was an understatement. The mere idea of having a month off was the only thing that got you through those last three races. Silverstone wasn’t horrible, but Hungary and Belgium were nothing to write home about. The team had figured out that the upgrades that were brought to the car weren’t working correctly, but now it was trying to figure out why they aren’t working and how to correct them. But even with potentially corrected upgrades it still seemed like the car would be a pace behind McLaren or Ferrari. You’d been stressing trying to work on a new strategy with Max and trying to figure out how to make the car faster with basically nothing to work with. Not to mention the headlines that had your head on a spike claiming “Red Bull’s downfall” was because of you. It was truly tiring and so when the checkered flag waved in Belgium you were one happy girl. 

It’s not everyday that you get to send a week on a private island with your boyfriend, yet here you were. When Max had mentioned something about getting away during summer break you had figured Saint Tropez or Bali or really any typical F1 driver vacation spot. You had also figured you’d be spending some time apart considering it would be a little weird to be spotted on vacation together. The last thing you wanted was for rumors to start flying around, but Max surprised you with the unexpected. 

When Max told you this was a private island you figured there’d be maybe a handful of other people, but it was literally just you two and the staff for the villa. It’s truly paradise on Earth and you have to pinch yourself sometimes to see if you’re dreaming. Days spent on the beach and in the ocean. Nights spent tangled inbetween the sheets and mornings spent waking up to the gentle lull of waves crashing onto the sand and alright sometimes it is spent tangled in the sheets. Decadent food at the snap of a finger and the feeling of the sun on your skin everyday. It’s just what you needed, what you both needed to help you recharge for the second half of the season. 

On one of your last nights on the island Max and you find yourselves cuddled up on one of the giant loungers outside. The ocean had calmed for the night and the moon’s light cascaded over the water and onto you two. For once Max had sought out comfort in your arms and you thought you had put him to sleep from running your fingers through his hair until he spoke up. 

“I’m glad we found our way back to each other.” 

Your movements stilled, you weren’t expecting him to say that. Sure Max is a lot more loving than people would expect, but he isn’t one to be overly sappy. “Me too.” There’s a beat in the conversation and your hand finds its way back to his hair. “I don’t think as kids we saw our lives ending up like this though did we?” 

“Career wise or us being together?” Max questions. 

“Both I guess or at least it was that way for me.” You can feel Max slip his hand under your shirt and his finger start to mindlessly trace patterns on your abdomen. “If you would have told the girl who hated your guts for a while after you left me behind in F2 that I would be on a romantic getaway with you years later, I would have laughed in your face.” You can sense the shit eating grin on Max’s face. “I also fully believed that I was going to be a Formula 1 driver. There was nothing that you could have told me back then that would have changed my mind. Hell even five years ago I was still holding out hope. Guess I should have known better.” You’d turned the conversation in a different direction, but it was Max and he was the one person who you could have these kinds of talks with in confidence.

Max knows this is still a very sore subject for you and how could it not be? He couldn’t imagine having gone through all the shit you have just to be denied over who you were. He may have had his fair share of shit to go through as a child and some other things, but in the end he got to achieve his dream and no one denied him of it because of who he was. He knew you had to look at him with envy more times than not and he wished he could only go back in time and somehow by the grace of the racing gods get you a seat. “There’s no such thing as “knowing better” you had a dream and the talent to back it up. There was no reason you shouldn’t have been able to achieve it schatje. Life is just one cruel fucker sometimes.” 

“But I guess without that happening we probably wouldn’t have ended up together then?” You try to change the subject to something less depressing than your failed racing career. 

“Everything happens for a reason.” Max states. 

You nod in agreement, it’s something you’d told yourself quite often to try and cope with your dreams getting crushed. 

“I do love my job now and however shit my luck may be it can’t be that bad. I still get to enjoy racing and I’ve managed to acquire you in the process.” 

Max lets out a small laugh at your statement. “Didn’t know I was some prize to be sought after.” 

“You were like an added bonus that came with the job.” 

Max playfully scoffs and after a few moments of silence he changes the subject.

“Maybe we should just stay here for the rest of the season.” He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s been dreading for summer break to end and to go back to driving a car that wants to disagree with everything he does.  

“It would be nice, but we have a championship to win.” 

Max looks up at you and even with the moon as your only light source those baby blues of his still sparkled. “You really think we still have a shot at it?” 

You know this season has been weighing him and the whole team down and as much as you’ve been stressed you still have faith that you guys can pull off the WDC. ‘I’m gonna tell you something my Dad used to tell me. Whenever I had a difficult race or was upset or even when I was getting rejected for an F1 seat he’d always tell me ‘it’ll pass’. You may be feeling like shit right now or hopeless, but after some time things get better and eventually that feeling of despair will pass. This rough patch we are in right now– it’ll pass Max. You’re gonna win again, especially if I have anything to do with it.” 

The overwhelming desire he has to tell you he loves you right now is something he can’t ignore. He’s never had someone in his corner like this before. Had someone that he cared about so deeply and loved be so involved in securing his success, but also reassuring him and instilling confidence back in him. It’s something you were good at as kids too, he couldn’t recall how many times he’d snuck off and hung out with you and your family during your karting years. If he hadn’t had a particularly good race he always knew you’d be there for him no matter what others in his life said or did.

But as much as he’s confident in his true feelings about you and the fact that he really hadn’t felt this way about anyone before, he decides to keep it to himself for the time being. If you by some chance don’t feel the same he doesn’t want to ruin this nice moment or vacation by blabbing his mouth about how he feels. So for now him pressing his lips against yours and the feeling of your hands on him will have to suffice instead of ‘i love you’. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The first race back after summer break is Max’s home race and you both want nothing more than for him to win this one. The usual cool and collected Max has some nerves to him this weekend. You’d been nothing but reassuring and supportive this weekend because you truly think with the little tweaks the team had made to the car and some new strategy techniques that you may have this weekend in the bag, but Max can’t seem to shake the doubt in his mind. He’s of course thrilled to be racing at his home race, but the fact that he hasn’t been winning and that his family is going to be here has his mind working on overdrive. The little boy who hated to be a disappointment is still inside of him no matter the size of the nonchalant facade he tries to put on. 

When Max qualifies P2 you know he’s going to be upset, but you know you guys can work with P2. You two go over the best possible strategy techniques Saturday night and come Sunday morning you’re both feeling good about the race. 

“Alright Max twenty seconds until the formation lap. Be smart and safe.”

Your voice travels through the headset and Max smiles at the last part. It had become a habit of yours to always tell him to be smart and safe over the radio. It’s your way of telling him you care and perhaps subconsciously that you love him and he wants to tell you he loves you back every time, but he knows everyone can hear what is being said, so he settles for the old stand by. 

“Copy.” 

When the lights go out you don’t realize you haven’t taken a breath until Max overtakes Lando on the first turn and you’re breathing out a giant sigh of relief. This is what you guys needed and now all Max needed to do was get some distance between him and Lando and pray for it to be a boring race and he’d be taking that top step. 

“Beautiful Max.”

You know the reassurance over the radio will have him smiling like a fool under his helmet. 

It doesn’t take long though for your confidence about the race to start to diminish. Lando wastes no time in trying to gain his position back and you can tell Max can’t hold him off much longer. He eventually overtakes him and the gap that Lando starts to create is making your stomach turn. You knew if Lando got out in front and into the clean air it would be game over and that’s exactly what happens. With only ten laps left you don’t even want to tell Max how big the gap has gotten, but from his radio silence and him not outright asking, you figure he already knows. 

22 seconds. 

That’s the gap between Lando and Max when the checkered flag waves. Your stomach is in knots as you take off your headset and make your way towards the crowd already forming for the podium celebration. Max still ended up with P2, but to be beaten with a 22 second gap at your home race has got to be killing him. You watch him from below and you can tell his mind is going a mile a minute, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins and the disappointment from losing the race is written all over him. 

After the podium celebration and the team debrief and every other responsibility that you have on a race weekend, you finally find yourself back at the hotel. Usually you’d be flying back home on his private jet, especially on a weekend like this, but Max opted to fly out first thing in the morning. So while Max finished up the last of his responsibilities you opted to torture yourself some more and go over countless amounts of data from this weekend.

Technically this isn’t even your main job, but if you can somehow figure out what the hell is wrong with this car then you’ll take on whatever job you have to. You don’t even realize how long you’ve been sat at this small hotel room desk, papers scattered everywhere as you hunch over your laptop. The sound of the door opening and closing doesn’t register in your mind and it’s not until you feel two strong hands on your shoulders that you are brought back from the world of tire degradation and sector times. 

“Baby, come on, let's go to bed. We can’t solve this in one night.” His fingers work slowly into your tense muscles and a sigh of relief comes from you as you lean back in the chair, eyes fluttering closed as he continues to work his magic. 

And as good as this feels, your brain wants to talk about the elephant in the room. “So we are gonna pretend like you didn’t get beat with a 22 second gap at your home race?“ His movements halt and you realize you probably could have worded that better. 

“Well I’d actually like to forget about it if that’s alright.” He moves away from you and chooses to sit down on the edge of the bed. His body language is nothing shy of defeated and you could kick yourself for how you spoke. 

“That’s not what I meant to say. It came out wrong. I was just trying to say that I’m trying to figure this out so it doesn’t happen again. We can act like it didn’t happen but it did and there’s clearly a reason here in this data.” 

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you blankly. 

“I’m sorry if this isn’t what you want to be hearing, but I’m trying to get you a winning car again Max. I mean this is my first year as your actual engineer and I feel like I’m gonna lose my job if you aren’t winning races. The car is shit and we can’t seem to figure out a good strategy to work with the shit car. I don’t know what the fuck happened from last year to this year but I’m losing my fucking mind. People already think I shouldn’t be here and by not cranking out wins I’m just giving them more ammunition to use against me.” 

You hadn’t realized you’d started crying until you feel Max’s thumb wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Fuck I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go on some rant and have a breakdown.” 

You bury your head into his chest as his arms wrap around you, enveloping you in his strong warm embrace. “It’s fine. It’s good to let it out.” One of his hands moves to gently stroke your hair and when you finally pull your head back to look at him, he’s pressing a kiss to your forehead and it tells you everything you need to know. 

“I know we’ve both been under stress, but I didn’t know it was this bad baby. I wish you would have talked to me sooner before it resulted in this.” 

You shrug your shoulders at him. “Didn’t want to be a burden.” 

“You’re never a burden to me. We are a team, remember? Regardless of actually working for the same team, at the end of the day it’s still you and me. Don’t ever feel like you have to bottle things up because you’re worried it will stress me out. We’re in this crazy ass world together yeah?” 

A sniffle comes from you, but your tears had subsided. You find yourself just staring at him, getting lost in those ocean blue eyes and you know you’re so eternally grateful to have a guy like Max in your life. If only the world could see just how compassionate and loving he actually was. 

“Don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“Probably be miserable.” 

And there was the smart ass Max that you knew all too well. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The season was coming to an end in a little over a month and you and Max and the whole team had been working overtime in trying to get the cars back up to the normal Red Bull standard that everyone had come to know. Max hadn’t won a race since Spain in June and with only four races left in the season the media had been in a whirlwind over a possible title fight between Max and Lando. You tried not to pay it much mind, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that Max wouldn’t win his fourth championship this season. Even with a less dominant car he still went out there and gave it everything and his talent truly showed this season, to see him pulling that car up to podium level multiple times told everyone what they needed to know 

Brazil was this weekend and it’s always a fun race in your opinion. Rain is always expected at least once throughout the weekend and the teams prepare for it, but this weekend it seemed that mother nature didn’t want this race to happen. Qualifying had gotten moved to Sunday morning which made things a little more complicated. If Max wrecked it didn’t give the mechanics much time at all to make any repairs. To make things even worse he was already starting with a five place grid penalty due to power unit change, so he had to make the most of this qualifying. 

The garage is alive preparing to send the cars out for qualifying, but you can see how wet the track is and you can’t lie– you’re nervous. Usually you’d be on the pitwall by now, but you’re lingering in the garage waiting for Max. When he sees you he’s surprised and when you pull him to a somewhat less busy spot of the garage he’s worried that something is wrong. 

“Everything alright?” He asks. 

“Yes. Just wanted to tell you in person to be safe. It looks nasty out there.” 

A smile creeps its way onto his face and before he can tease you about being a softie his head mechanic comes up asking him a question. You take that as a sign to get your ass over to the pitwall before anyone overhears anything else. With your headset on and your nerves at bay for the moment you turn around in your chair to see Max getting into his car. 

“Alright. Green light at the end of the pitlane. Be smart and safe Verstappen.” 

“Always am.” 

You roll your eyes at him and prepare yourself for what could be an interesting qualifying session. When the first cars go out you know there’s going to be multiple crashes, you can just tell. Luckily Max makes it to Q2, but that's where everything goes wrong. A late called yellow flag has Max qualifying P12 which is actually P17 and you know when you hear the static in your headset that what comes out of his mouth is not going to be pretty. 

“What the fuck? Why did they wait that long to pull out the flag? Should have been red to begin with, he went into the wall!” 

“I know Max. We will discuss it later.”

You’re trying to not let himself get more community service, so the less he talks on the radio the better. 

Max is raging as soon as he exits the cockpit of his car and you can tell from the pitwall that he has a bone to pick, but the race is in a few short hours and you have work to do. He can rant all he wants later, but you’re on a mission to somehow get him to win this race all the way from the back of the grid. He doesn’t come and find you for some time, but when he does you two don’t even mention the drama from qualifying. He’s clearly cooled down and you two know it’s now time to lock in and make this strategy work. You two go over three possible strategy plans, but you can tell from the fire in his eyes that he’s planning on pulling out a little bit of Mad Max today. 

There’s maybe a half an hour until lights out and you take that time to go and find your parents who had been invited to attend the race this weekend. You like to think their very cool race engineer daughter is the reason they are here, but unfortunately you are a nepo baby and your Dad was invited because of who he was. Unsurprisingly you find Max and your parents chatting in the garage, Red Bull lanyards hanging from their necks. They greet you with a hug and kiss and Max and your Dad continue to talk while your Mom and you head out into the paddock. 

“How’s the engineer life been treating my baby?” She asks as you two stroll down the paddock. 

“I can’t lie, it's been stressful, but I love it. Helps that I’ve got such a good driver to work with though.” 

“It’s nice to see you two reconnect.” There’s an inflection in her voice and you know there was a totally different meaning behind her words. 

“What is it Mom?” You groan. 

“Nothing. All I said it was nice to see you two reconnect. You two were close as kids and I’m not surprised that you found your way back to each other.” 

You stop in your tracks, turning to face her. “Mom.” 

“It’s truly nothing. It’s just a little bit of Mother’s intuition.” You stare blankly at her– waiting for her to continue. “I’ve heard how you talk to him over the radio, how you two look at each other in pictures, and I’ve witnessed firsthand how you two have acted today. You’re in love with him aren’t you?” Your heart starts to race and you don’t know what to tell her, of course your Mom would know this. She links her arm with yours and you two head back towards the Red Bull garage.

As you two walk through the entrance you find your Dad and Max still talking. Your Mom lowers her voice as she speaks to you. “Your silence tells me that I’m correct.” When Max spots you his whole face lights up and he’s waving for you to come join him and your Dad. “And I’d say it’s pretty safe to say he’s in love with you too.” She whispers to you before heading towards the two men.

You’re dumbfounded as you stand there in the middle of the busy garage, but the sweet sound of a familiar Dutch accent hollering for you has your legs moving before your brain catches up. 

In what seems like no time at all you’re back on the pitwall and the cars are lined up on the grid. After a mess of a formation lap the five lights finally go out and the race is underway. Max wastes no time in making his way through the field and you’re crossing your fingers that this rain on the radar goes around the track, but as the first few droplets fall you know this is about to get interesting. 

Max had made it up to second thanks to a combination of VSCs, other teams pit stops, and then by the grace of the racing gods a red flag. Which gave you guys a free pitstop and allowed for him to hold his P2 position. Things were looking up, but when the red flag lifted it seemed like the rain was only getting heavier. You knew at this point that this was the ultimate test of trust between Max and you. He was blindly following your orders and praying that what you were telling him wasn’t going to have him end up in the wall like so many others. 

“No red flag? This is getting dangerous, even for me.” 

“No red flag.” 

“What the hell?”

“I know. Anything can happen out there. Please be careful.” 

Your fingernails are non-existent at this point and you’re sure you’ve aged ten years from this race alone, but eventually Max overtakes Esteban and after more safety cars and yellow flags it’s down to the last lap. Max has got this and you can feel the happy tears starting to well up in your eyes. And when that checkered flag waves and he’s the first person to see it the whole pitwall and garage erupts into cheers. You would have thought he’d won the championship the way everyone was acting, but he was just reclaiming his spot at the top.

You can’t make your way over to the barricade fast enough and to see the pure joy on his face as he climbs out of the car makes your heart swell with happiness. It had been a long time coming this season and of course his first win in what seemed like forever was one hell of a drive. He comes running over to the team and when he spots you you’re the first person he’s hugging and practically pulling over the barricade. You can feel the happiness radiating off of him and you know that after this that he’s got the championship in the bag. 

The podium celebration was one for the books and to see him radiating up there and smiling down at you had you forgetting that you’re keeping this relationship a secret. But the one thing you know you won’t forget is how in love you felt and what you don’t realize is how bad it’s going to hurt. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The two week break before the triple header that ends the season has you spending some time at headquarters. It's just the usual end of the season stuff, but when an email pops up from HR wanting to schedule a meeting you’re a little concerned. You don’t mention anything to Max, figuring it’s just maybe something silly, but when you walk into the HR office you can sense that it’s not something small. 

“Y/N, so glad you could work this meeting into your schedule. I know you’re a busy woman so I appreciate it.” 

You sit down in one of the plush chairs in front of her desk and you try to calm yourself, if it was something so bad then why would she be so cheery towards you. “Of course. What did you need to discuss with me?” God, could you sound any more robotic? 

Her cheery demeanor turns more serious and when she clasps her hands together on her desk you know this is the moment that someone has found out about you and Max and you’re about to be canned.

“I don’t know how to really go about this, but I’m just going to come right out and say it. There was someone who got into contact with us and claimed to have pictures of you and Max engaging in less than professional activities after his win in Brazil.” 

You’re stunned for a moment and don’t know what to say, you’d been mentally preparing yourself for this moment, yet when you actually hear it you realize you didn’t actually believe that this was the reason you were being called in. You two had been so careful about maintaining professional boundaries while at work and out in public, but apparently not that weekend. 

“I can assure you that’s not the case with Max and I. Did they actually have the photos to back up their claims or is this all just hearsay?” You weren’t going to immediately give it up in case this was a test, but when she pulls out an envelope and slides it across the desk, you know it’s over. 

The envelope though it weighs virtually nothing – feels like the heaviest thing in the world.

When you finally work up the courage to open it you feel like you’re going to throw up. Your palms are sweaty, mouth is watering, and you feel light headed. There in your hands is the thing that is going to ruin your career– pictures of you and Max kissing outside his hotel room in Sao Paulo. How could you two have been so dumb? You aren’t sure if you want to cry or scream or throw up. 

“There’s no denying that it’s you in those photos, but I’m here to give you your options.” 

“Options?” Your eyes are still locked to the photos that are still being held in your shaky hand. 

“Listen. I admire what you’ve accomplished as a woman in a fully male dominated sport. I also know what happens to women who let things like this go public. Their hard work is diminished to becoming their partner's significant other or your hard work could only have been accomplished by selling your body in exchange for promotions. Luckily, I was the one who saw that email and I squashed it early enough to where we won’t have a scandal on our hands, but I need something from you in exchange.” 

You’re like a deer caught in headlights and there's so many things going through your brain that you can’t even communicate with her. 

“I get that this is overwhelming and the last thing you wanted to happen, but right now it’s only you, Max, and me that know about your relationship at Red Bull and we want it to stay that way. I also know that you’ve gotten offers from McLaren and Ferrari to work for them next year and you’ve ignored them.” How did she know about that? You hadn’t told a soul, not even your parents. You’d been mulling over it for some time. You didn’t want to leave Max and you had made a home at Red Bull, but McLaren especially had been so adamant about getting you to join the team. Your contract with Red Bull was only for a year, but you figured they’d resign you, now it doesn’t seem that way. “So, you’re only real option here if you want to continue to make a name for yourself in this world is to break things off with Max and accept one of those offers.” 

Your eyes snap up towards hers and you can feel your heart about ready to beat out of your chest. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but my higher ups will not want to deal with this scandal if you two continue to be careless. There will be no workplace romance, you will be gone and your hardwork will be for nothing. I followed your journey Y/N, you deserve to be out there racing with all of them, but life gave you lemons and you somehow made some damn good lemonade. Now don’t let them drink your lemonade.” 

She takes the photos and the envelope out of your hands and you hear her put them through the paper shredder. You feel like you’re frozen in time, like how you felt back in that meeting at Williams all those years ago. “I’m sure it’s nothing too serious between you two anyways. So this shouldn’t be a hard decision.” 

You’re brought back to reality and the words are slipping past your lips before you even realize it. “It’s not serious.” 

Yes it is. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The following days leading up to Vegas are a blur, you try to drown yourself in your work and Max can’t seem to leave you alone. It’s not that you don’t want to see him, it’s just that you’re waging a war in your mind right now and he’s at the root of it. 

You try to ignore the impending doom hanging over your head and actually enjoy this weekend. If Max finishes one place ahead of Lando this weekend he’s going to be a four time World’s Driver Champion. It’s the thing you guys have worked towards the whole season and to see it finally come together might be one of the highlights of your career. Vegas as always is a spectacle, the lights, the parties, the celebrities. It’s nothing like any of the European races or really any other race if you were being honest. 

When the sun sets and the track lights come on your mind only focuses on the task at hand and not the ultimate ultimatum you’ve been given. Qualifying goes somewhat to plan, Max didn’t manage to get pole but he does qualify ahead of Lando, which puts him in a great spot for tomorrow. He’s buzzing once he gets out of the car and when he finds you he can tell there’s something slightly off with you. Your energy isn’t necessarily what it usually is, but he figures maybe you’re cold and tired, so he doesn’t press the matter. 

You try to follow the script the following night, but the longer this thing festers in your brain the more you can’t keep on your poker face. 

“Twenty seconds till formation lap. Be smart and safe.” 

“Copy.” 

The race thankfully is pretty unremarkable. The main goal tonight was to just beat Lando, if you managed to score a win also that would be great, but the Championship was what you were going after tonight. 

And that’s just what Max does. 

The roars from the crowd and the team as Max crosses the finish line before Lando are deafening and you can feel the mixture of happy and sad tears streaming down your face. 

“Max! You’re a four time champion!” 

It’s nothing but pure glee back from him across the radio and you can’t help but laugh at the simply lovely through the tears. You managed to pull yourself together and accept the congrats from the rest of the pitwall and make your way through the crowd to see if you can find Max, but he’s already trying to find you. The crowd makes space for you to get to the barricade and when Max spots you there’s nothing but love in his eyes and it absolutely kills you. He pulls you up over the barricade and envelopes you in the most bone crushing hug you’ve ever experienced. There’s millions of cameras around so you have to be careful, but you savor the moment for as long as you can. “We did it!” Max exclaims and you can see the happy tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. 

“We did! I told you it was gonna happen, didn't I?” 

Seconds later you two get into a Rolls Royce with a cameraman that takes you along the track. You look over at him and he’s radiating with happiness and the ache in your chest only seems to grow. “I’m so proud of you Max.” That smile that you love so dearly beams back at you and you want to reach out and caress his cheek, but you know you can’t.  

“I couldn’t have done this without you. This championship is as much yours as it is mine. I hope you know that.” He goes to reach for your hand, but then remembers the cameraman and quickly snatches it away. Silence fills the luxurious car and you know Max is trying to take in being a four time back to back champion, while you’re coming to terms with the fact that not too long from now you’re going to not only break the man you love’s heart, but your own. 

That little girl with a dream is still inside of you, she’s with you every race weekend. You love Max more than you should, but you know if you continue on with this you’ll be the one losing your job and not him. It’s not fair, but you learned that life isn’t fair early on and you’ll be damned if you allow yourself to lose something else that you worked so hard to achieve. So if that means losing Max and moving teams then you guess that's how it has to be. Your Dad’s words replay in your head ‘it’ll pass’ and you know that nothing ever truly passes and that all you do is learn to live with it. The ache gets weaker over time, but it never truly goes away.

Even though you found a new dream to pursue you still have moments of truly missing racing. Like when you see the pure excitement and joy on Max’s face when he wins a race or when you see the adrenaline radiating off of him when he gets out of the car, you can’t ignore that ache in your chest. You can’t help but sometimes still think that should be you and you know you shouldn’t feel like that about the man you love, but you’ve never been able to live through him. He’s told you so many times that his wins and now this championship are as much yours as they are his because without you he wouldn’t be able to win. But those words do nothing to heal the teenage girl who got her dreams shattered just because she was a girl. You want to be able to have your dream and keep the man you love, but the career you chose doesn’t allow for you to have both. So for that little girl that still lives inside of you, you choose your dream. 

You attend all the team celebrations and end up getting soaked in champagne more times than you can count and you try to savor every last moment you have with Max and that includes going out and celebrating and coming back to his hotel room and celebrating some more. You savor it all fully knowing this is the last time you’re going to make love to him and kiss him and be held by him. And when he finally decides to fully bare his heart to you as you lay in his arms that night, you stick your knife right through it. 

“I love you.” 

You don’t answer him for a moment and you know this is how it’s got to happen. The longer you wait the harder it’s going to be. 

“It’ll pass.” 

Max isn’t sure he heard you right and he’s choking on his own words trying to form a coherent sentence. “What are you talking about schatje?” 

The tears are already falling down your cheeks and you know there is no coming back from this. “Please don’t call me that.” 

Max removes you from his grasp and sits up in bed. “Why not?” 

“It makes this harder than it needs to be.” 

He’s more than confused at the moment. His heart is racing and you’re crying and he doesn’t understand what is going on. He just won his fourth championship and finally told the woman of his dreams that he loves her and she replies with it’ll pass? “Y/N what the hell is going on? I love you and I know you love me back. I see it in your eyes when you talk to me or when you look at me. I hear it when you tell me to be safe as I line up on the grid. Am I a fool or something? Have I been blind this whole time?” 

“I love you more than you could imagine.” 

“Then why are you sobbing and telling me it’ll pass and asking me to not call you schatje?” In the back of his mind he knows, but he doesn’t want to come to terms with it. 

You just want to pull him back into your arms and kiss him and take back everything you’ve said so far, but you can’t and you wish this wasn’t your reality at the moment. “We can’t be together anymore Max.” 

He furrows his eyebrows at you, he really can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. “Are you being serious? Like are you being totally honest with me right now? Because we have something special here Y/N. I want to know why you’re throwing this away so easily.” 

You take a shaky deep breath and sit up next to him in the bed. “Someone got a picture of us kissing outside your hotel room in Brazil and Red Bull’s HR got wind of it. I got called in and she showed me the pictures. They squashed it before it got out, but Max, she basically told me that if we were to come out as a couple that I’d lose my job. I can’t afford to lose out another dream of mine Max. You don’t understand what it’s like.” 

He grabs your hand and the simple feeling of his skin on yours has more tears rolling down your cheeks. “Listen, I’d give away every championship every wi-” 

“You don’t mean that Max.” 

He’s up out of the bed at this point and you fear it’s only going to escalate from here.

“For fucks sake yes I do! I know we’ve made things a little complicated, but we can make it work. I mean I’m Max Ver-” 

“Exactly, you’re Max Verstappen. You won’t have to worry about losing your job over this. You’re F1’s golden boy, world famous Max Verstappen. It’ll be a little slap on the wrist for you, but for me in this boys club? It’ll be hell. I’ll be painted a whore, a girl whose only way to have gotten into this position was to have had sex with every guy I had to. You don’t know what it’s like to be one of the best drivers of your generation and not get to follow your childhood dreams simply because no one wants to take the chance on signing a female driver. I’ve had to give up one of my dreams and I’m not about to have to lose another one. So yes, I love you and it’s fucking killing me inside to do this, but sometimes we have to let go of the things we love. This horrible heart wrenching feel we are both experiencing will pass. I promise you. You deserve to be with someone who can give you their all.” 

He sits down at the end of the bed, your words finally sinking in and he feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. Like he's gone into the wall at full speed. “I don’t want anyone else but you Y/N.” You crawl to the end of the bed and wrap your arms around him and it’s at that moment you realize he’s crying too and the last little bit of your heart that’s intact finally breaks. “I’m not gonna be able to convince you to stay am I?” 

You press a chaste kiss to his bare shoulder. “No.” You whisper. “I’m probably always gonna love you Max, but this is how it has to be.” 

His hand reaches up and grabs yours and a shaky breath escapes from him before he speaks. “Guess you finally made me cry didn’t you?” 

FIA Gala 2025 

The black gown you’ve chosen to wear tonight is stunning, but you’ve still not grown accustomed to wearing them. And you haven’t grown to like these fancy Galas either, but you’ve got to go to it though. You’re being honored for being the first female engineer to win back to back WDCs with two different drivers on two different teams . Your season with McLaren this year was nothing shy of spectacular and people actually started to recognize your talent.

You’ve been nursing this glass of champagne for some time now, listening to the team talk about the season while all you can think about is taking this dress off later. They get called over to a different table to talk with some sponsors and you take the alone time to scroll through your phone. You’re just about ready to go and see if there’s anything here other than champagne when you hear him speak from behind you and that all too familiar ache blooms in your chest.

“Is this seat taken?” 

[sleepy-fiction]

FIRES OF SHAO LAO.

lin lie x f!reader x shao lao 🐉🔥 NSFW

syn: once a month on the full moon, shao lao possesses your club member, lin lie. on a uni camping trip, you get chased through the forests and pinned down by lin; whose fuelled with the fires of shao lao. his only desire? to fill you with the seed of god's and men's

tgs: bdsm, powerplay, hunter/prey, cunnilingus (fem reciving), breeding kink, oviposition, laying an egg, dubcon(?), brat/brat tamer dynamics, possesion, lin physically over powers reader, p n v, freaky and cringe

an: after days of trying to figure out a new, unique lin lie fic w a fresh story (that was different from the others), I finally found it. the Adam warlock fic is becoming my longest one yet, it's a enemies to lovers slow burn and it's taking some time to cook up!! so I thought in the mean time I'd drop another lin fic for the covettes (if ur waiting for the Adam fic ur gonna have to wait longer!!) yes this is inspired by the nessa barrett pornstar edit of lin on tiktok BARELY PROOF READ

5.6K WORDS (ESTI)

Your university's Mythology club put together a fun camping trip. There were 16 of you in total in the club, split between 9 girls and 7 boys. You knew that one of the members, Lin Lie, had a crush on you. It was obvious from the longing gazes he threw your way when he thought you weren't looking, or how the cute brunette would come up to talk to you after club meetings, running hands through his soft black hair, staring at you with those sweet brown eyes.

He was so handsome, you'd admit. He was large and muscular, though he tried to hide it under various dark sweaters. His hands were about as big as your head. His presence was strong, secure, and safe. You always let out a relaxed sigh whenever he was around. Uni is borderline hectic. All these kids start off their lives as fresh "adults" lacking the maturity of middle schoolers. Or at least, that's how you'd describe the men.

Lin Lie was a breath of fresh air. He was responsible, protective, and incredibly aware of his surroundings and social standing. He was the guy you'd flock to find at a frat party, and even if you didn't talk to him at it, you always made sure you were in his line of sight. You had no time for childish men, or any sort of relationship at all. You had a Bachelors to earn.

But still, you let the handsome Chinese man in your class talk you up. He was flirty and confident at times, unearthing a side of him you didn't know out side of the quiet, responsible one. There was something wild flickering behind his eyes. And you let him entertain you with it. It got to the point where you started getting giddy whenever he was around, already knowing what he was preparing to say, and how he would lean in close to say it.

So when this trip came around, you and many women of the club almost said no to going. That was the case, until Lin Lie decided to come along. That's when all 16 members decided to pitch in, instead of the original 6 that were planning to go. Being the woods with a bunch of nerdy uni boys sounded ass. Being in the woods with uni boys and the strong, masculine Lin Lie? Hell, that scale balanced over quick.

Lin Lie was popular.

Not that he'd agree. He was one of the popular loners, mysterious and incredibly fine, living a quiet and busy lifestyle. You similarly fit the description, but that's only because you were in so many clubs.

You remember the drive there, your club leader, Peter Parker, Lin's closet friend, had rented a bus for everyone to take everyone to the camping grounds. Oddly, as you got on the bus, you were hoping for Lin to sit next to you, but he didn't. In fact, he didn't even look at you. Unlike him, he sat all the way in the far back, his navy colored hood resting high down on his forehead. He looked pale, and he almost immediately fell asleep at the back.

You hummed. You leaned forward to the seats next to you, tapping your clubmate on the head. The blonde turned around, his honey golden eyes flickering with annoyance. You spoke, "Hey... What's up with Lin today? Doesn't he seem... kind of sad?"

"I dunno. Peter said something about him being ill..." He murmured.

"Aw damn. If he was sick, he should've stayed at the dorms... Poor guy," you whispered.

Another clubmate chimed, shaking his head, "Hell no. Lin can't stay home cause then the girls wouldn't wanna go."

The blonde classmate chuckled, "Yeah! I swear if the girls bailed I'd strange, em."

As if he could.

You couldn't careless about their convo after that, softly glazing back at his groggy form, how his arm twitched in his sleep. Your eyes softened, sadness dwelling in your body as you stared at soft eyebags under his eyes. Still you couldn't crack a tender smile. "Responsible as ever, Lin... You always sacrifice yourself for others," your heart grows warm.

Maybe if he keeps it up, you might fall for him. You chuckle sadistically to yourself, turning back around and plugging in headphones. Preparing yourself for the rest of the trip.

The view of the countryside from the windows were gorgeous, as you followed from the busy city to endless rolling hills to dense greenery with the charmastic, singing crickets. When the bus stopped at the campsite. You found yourself engulfed in fallen autumn leaves, orange and green leaves singing in the lulling wind, as the middle of autumn was quickly approaching. The sun was low in the sky, as the club quickly set up camp for the night.

After dinner, poorly made steak and salad by the guys (food you noticed Lin did not eat), Peter gathered us all up by the fireplace. He grinned with an ecstatic expression, "Myth-busters!" The shoddy name Peter made for the club, "As you all know, for the past weeks, we have been going over Greek Mythology. Now, today we are here because this is the perfect season to view Ursa Major! Ursa Major heavily conmected to the Greek myth, associated with the story of Callisto, a nymph transformed into a bear by the great and powerful Zeus," He called on.

The club cheered and dummed excitedly, and you too couldn't help but be swayed by his words. The sun was beginning to set. Peter pointed to the mountain behind us, "That mountain leads to a cliff clearing where we can see the beautiful constellation in full. We're gonna hike there."

The club was a mixed group of cheers and boos, but Peter paid no mind. "Here's the deal. We're going to split into pairs. We're gonna need a pair system to make sure all of us are heading up! It's gonna get dark out here, so there's no way in hell I'd let any of you get injured," he huffed. "So everyone, let's pack up our gear and get into groups," he cheered.

You stood along with the buzzing crowd, already giggling as you exchanged looks with a few clubmates. You already knew you wanted Lin. You nonchalantly rushed on over to him, your hands behind your back as you cleared your throat. "Hey, Lin. Why don't we be buddies," you asked.

He flinched at the sound of your voice, never turning around to face you. He stood there silently for a second, his shoulders tense, his hand grabbing onto his wrist. He cleared his throat, his voice gravelly and cold, "No. Someone's gotta watch the setup... Peter chose me."

"A-Ah," even you couldn't bear the sudden ice he was throwing your way. You almost dreaded the words, as you knew he didn't want to talk anymore, "You okay... Lin?"

He winces, "Just a cold."

"Ah... Hah. Well... Get well soon?" Your confusion is imminent as you rejoin the group.

Everyone had already split into groups, save Peter, who was the hike guide. And with the odd number now that Lin's out, you were all alone. Peter noticed the mellow aura about you, as his eyes nervously flickered from Lin to you. He had this knowing look on his face. He gulped with a nervous laugh, patting your shoulder, "He gets moody when he's really sick! Ah, the g-guy... You know, always want to protect people... Even when he's in pain, he thinks not showing it is uhm... N-Not uh," Peter was oddly nervous.

Well. Peter was always a little socially awkward.

But this? You narrowed eyes on him.

He knew something and was trying to hide it. Peter awkwardly squeaked under your glare, dropping a hand from your shoulder and clapping instead. "Well! Y-You can um... Be the backline watch! Make sure nobody strays from the path, and keep an eye out on... The-uh," he turns away from you, gathering the club with a clap, "Alright, everyone, let's go!" He didn't even stay long, as your glare got too suspicious. Too tense.

Something was up. Still, you followed up the trail, beginning your way up the mountains, the campsite slowly beginning to disappear behind trees, the sun almost set behind the horizons.

Something really wasn't right.

Your gut burned.

Instincts screamed at you to stay with Lin. He's never sick, and when he is, he's never so... Brooding, so dog tired, so growlish and cold. No way. You at least need to glance to see if he's okay. You cave in, giving the campsite and Lin one last glance as it begins to disappear behind trees up the path.

That's when you saw an odd beam of green light. It was bright and quick, the odd color was a neon teal, the kind present on digital ads, not in the wild. It shot like a beadon high into air before it was swallows quickly up by foliage. A strong urge of wind flew up from the direction. What the fuck was that? You stop dead in your tracks.

You blink.

The forest was normal, the chittering of cicadas and the singing of crickets. Nothing was out of place.

You're not crazy are you?

You blink again.

No you definitely saw something!

You begin to sneak down the path, catching the smallest glimpse of the campsite, with Lin no where to be found. It was weird as you tried to duck around to see if the trees gave way to more glimpses of him on the campsite, but it didn't.

A hand clamps on your shoulder, you gasp, as you hear Peter speak, "(y/n)."

You whip around. The whole club's stopped and staring at you. You gulp in embarrassment.

Peter's eyes become serious, as if warning you with them, "(Y/n) let's stay on the path. Lin will be fine. We don't need to go back to the campsite." His grip on your shoulder is so foreboding. Foreboding also, was the aura that surrounded you in this moment.

You didn't understand it. But you shut up quickly.

This was. A little scary.

"Trust me, Lin's gonna be okay. I'm his best friend, you know," Peter tries to get all cheery as he holds your hand and brings you back up the mountain with the rest. "You know what, guys, let's make smores when we get up there!" He says to the group as he slips back up to the top, and the line starts moving.

You stare blankly down at the ground, your grip on your electric lamp tight.

"Hey, (y/n)... You okay?" You hear MJ ask, her brown eyes melting with concern.

You shake your head, "Must worried about Lin... I hope he'll be okay by himself."

She smiles at you, tucking her wild brown curls behind her ear, "Yeah... Lin's strong. Don't worry."

Don't worry was what you told yourself when you made it to the cliff clearing. Don't worry, was what you told yourself when you helped set up the fire. Don't worry is what you told yourself as you mingled with the group. Don't worry is what you told yourself when Peter put out the fire so we could all see the constellation.

It was beautiful but.

You looked back at the pitch black, foreboding forest behind you.

That mysterious light.

You blink.

You've gotta check it out.

You glanced back at the club. Everyone was relaxed, drinking hot cocoa and enjoying their stores. All pre-occupied with drinking in the moment. Best of all, Peter was snugging up with MJ at the front of it all, lost in the sauce. If there was one thing you learned about Peter, was than when he was with MJ, he saw nothing else.

Neither did he, or anyone else who cared, as a few frats saw you sneak off, catch you dip away back down the trail.

This was so damn stupid of you. But you always trusted your institution. Something was wrong with Lin.

You can't help but think of the worst as you rush down the path. It's about a ten minute walk back to the campsite, but you're booking it like a mad woman, your heart about to erupt in your chest. You can cut the time in half if you go fast enough.

So many horrible anxieties rush your mind as you follow down the path, jumping over stones and missing entire flights of the steps entirely. But you're moving at a rapid, steady pace, a treat from the sports clubs you've joined to make your uni-life more memorable. You can't help but think, with a racing heart and panting lips, about Lin collapsing somewhere - somehow, unable to call for help.

And that green light. What the fuck was that green light?

RROOOOOUGHH

An earspliting growl ruptured your eardrums. It's sound was chasmic and ferocious, animalistic-- yet deathly uncanny. It stopped your heart dead in your chest, slowed time, caught you off guard as your head turned to where the sound came from, your foot in the air as you were caught in the middle of a jump.

The roar was animalistic. But it didn't sound like an animal.

It sounded like...

Just as your eyes turned, in this slowed moment, you saw a flicker of flowing green, unnatural as it warped behind a shady, black figure. It was human, glowing, setting two black eyes on you from the dark.

You screamed, missing your landing, your ankle rolling in distress as it collided unnaturally with the ground. Unnatural, as you slipped down the paths stairs, unnatural as you rolled down the steps and cried. Unnatural, as a firehouse gusto of wind overcame you, unnatural, as you felt terrifying arms encapsule your body. Unnatural, as with a hearty crunch of leavs and sticks, you found yourself pinned to the ground before the giant bone fire your club lit back at the campsite.

Unnatural as you peeked your eyes open to find... Lin Lie?

Lin stared down at you with dark, unreadable eyes, his lips downturn, both of your hands captured above your head with a single palm. You were breatheless. There was this teal aura whipping and flickering in the air around him. You watched it leak out of his skin like sweat and take flight like whimsical plasma. How his face was still cast in a dark, heavy shadow despite the glow of the fireplace. How his hoodie was torn poorly off his body, ripped in devilish places as the fabric stringed about like a useless accessory.

His body was glistening with sweat, and you could finally see how broad and muscular he was. He was cosmic, built like a Greek god, chiseled finely in some holy defile of purity, as you clenched in your panties immediately. His scent was strong as it floated with his aura, the smell of these odd, almost pheromone like scents dripping off his body. It made you squint and shudder off a breath.

But you couldn't look away from those broad shoulders, that barn-like chest, how his arms carried all the force and the raw powerful to put you out of your pitiful misery.

Aderaline was losing in you body, as you could suddenly feel how fucking badly your ankle burned. "A-Ahh," you whimpered out, breathless and afraid.

All of Lin Lie's body helped him push out of a deathly, terrorizing grunt, it spilled out of the bowels of hell, trilling with an animalistic flare.

You whimpered even more, unaware of how your eyes began to water. You squirmed helplessly, flinching to not upset up, as you mustered up all of your courage to cry, "Luh... L-Lin... What's gotten into you," you wailed.

He growled over uou again, sinking his head closer. You squeaked and flinched away, shutting your eyes deathly tight. Your breath was sucked out of your body as you felt him suck in a strong gust of air. It blew cold against your neck, a direct contract to the deep huff that he released on your neck, it was hot enough to burn your skin. It sent tingles of fire down your body where it met you, as when you looked down at it, surges of green plasma flowed down the waves of your body.

"Unngh haa--" it drew out your voice, the surge of energy forcing a vulnerable whimper out into the air. He breathed deep and doggishly against you like this, each time making your knees rattle, your thighs lock themselves tight.

Your head tilts back at the bonfire, your body drowning in the passionate plasma. It made your neurons fire, your pussy to throb, combined eith the raw smell of him, your mind was becoming hazy. "L-Lin! Get off muh-- me," you gasped out, feeling ever the more light headed.

Lin opened his mouth, but a fire of passionate mandarin slew out his lips. "Zhū shén fā, wǒ wúfǎ tíng xiàlái... Zhū shén fāshì, wǒ kěwàng nǐ."

by the gods, I cannot stop. by the gods, I long for you.

He boomed it in your ears, his voice deep and chasmic, it withered and hissed, echoed twice within itself, present with a glorious entity. Something straight out of a cheesey c-drama, yet it flickered devilishly before your eyes. He boomed with authority in thus moment Whatever it is that he said, your sanity was taken with it. You gasped erotically, sickeningly.

He boomed.

As if he were a god.

You lost it, tears flying out of your eyes, drowning in an array of endless desire, letting those sweet plasmas to caress your skin, letting yourself give way to that holy voice, letting your body limp like the helpless ragdoll you were. You were set aflame everywhere, the fear of his strength made you impossibly wet. This was something you didn't even know about yourself.

Lin's powerful hands rolled you onto your side by your hips. You slumped over, sliding your knee up, hiking your ass up in the process. You tried to pick your body up, with your hands, but you felt him sink onto his forearm behind you, his other hand cupping your chin.

You sniffled and whimpered in his warm palm, as it slipped up to hold your face, his large thumb wiping your under eyes.

His body was so close to yours. His face and lips so dear to your skin. You could feel his heat, feel it as he tilted his head, voice deep in your ears. He hushes, "Nǐ chàndǒu ba, wǒ de tùzǐ……wǒ xià dào nǐle ma? Wǒ xiǎng hé nǐ zuò'ài……wǒ xiǎng zài nǐ de zǐgōng lǐ bō xià yī kē shén de zhǒngzǐ..."

You're trembling, my rabbit... Did I scare you? I want to make love to you... I want to plant a god's seed in your womb.

You shake, slobbering out, "I-I... I want to... Please... I want to see Lin... What-- What have you done to Lin-- please... Lin.. Let me see your face." Your run down of mythology helped you deduce some god had possessed Lin. But you couldn't exactly figure out which one. Chinese Mythology was what got you to join this club. Lin himself hosted it, and it was filled with wonder.

But your brain was foggy with needy trembles and whims of sex and fear. You could feel Lin's broad chest against your side. The god turns your head to face him, and from the shadows of his face, you see Lin's hooded eyes glimmer with untapped zeal.

"For I am Lin,"

"Yīnwèi wǒ shì Lín,"

"And Shao Lao, who has saved this body,"

"For I have reborn him, and given him life. Therefore, once a full moon, Shao Lao owns it."

"This vessel hungers for you. My Lin.. I, Lin Lie, hunger to drop seed in you. The seed of gods and men,"

His voice echoes, two voices pouring out at once. One was the roar of a dragon, hissing in mighty mandarin, the other was Lin's, booming with prowess and power. Every word, it doubled like so.

Your hips buckled, your eyes heavy.

"S-Shao Lao," your memory flickered from Lin's passionate teachings, "The Dragon god slain by K'un-L'un, walking the earth without a heart-- resurrected by Yu-Ti, t-trialed to die again and again at the hands of t-the Iron Fists? That they may gain p-power through your deaths?" You spit out, trembling under the dragon's stare. It cackles delightfully at your words, well pleased as it leans down to rub it's nose against your neck.

Despite it being Lin, insides it's body, you can feel it's cosmic shift, noting that in this second, it was fully Shao Lao. You moan out, and it takes a deep sniff in the crook of your neck. He can smell how horny you are. Your panties are wet with slick, drenched to uselessly stick to your pussy like a wet bathing suit. Shao Lao is pleased by the scent, releasing deep, strained breaths.

"Yes, little one."

"B-But... What does a such a god want with me? Come now, S-Shao Lao... Breed me tomorrow, or the next day, where I will be ready to take care of you," you manage out, sweaty in his embrace.

The Dragon cackles, slipping a hand up your tank top, hot fingers trailing up your stomach and pushing up your bra, cupping your breast. Your nipple is hard already. He simply pulls and teases it.

"Wise, hare. The full moon will not arrive tomorrow or the next night. Neither would it any night but tonight. You cannot trick me. This vessel cries for your womb. And I, I am delighted by your wisdom and beauty. You have sealed your fate, you have interested me more. Behold, your your trickery has planted you in deep water,"

He growls out. Hearing Lin and the mandarin dragon echo such words in unison had your eyes rolling back, mouth agape. The dragon played with your nipples, squeezing them between rough fingers, dragging a hot, fiery tongue up your neck. You shudder and mewl out, your eyes already dancing between the clouds.

The dragon hums, a pleased trill escaping Lin's plump, sweet lips.

"Amuse me, rabbit. Why do you resist when your body aches with need? What do you gain except frustration?"

You giggle, gulping, "I waste a god's time and gain his fury..."

You hear a fiery rattle burn through the dragon's throat.

"Then shall I meet you with a heavy hand."

The Dragon scoops you up into Lin's gorgeous biceps, the crackling shadows around his face just hazy enough for you to see the face eating grin the dragon bares. You shudder, as it carries you into his den, or more commonly known as Lin's tent. He pitched his closest to the bus and farthest from everyone else, the rest of the tents in his circle were MJ's and Peter's.

The Dragon carries you into the teal tent, where you see shredded rope and mountains of bottled water stacked on the side. His tent was in utter disarray, but the Dragon pays it no mind as he drops you down on the plush sleeping bag. He undresses, and your eyes behold the gorgeous stature of Lin's bare body. He's wonderfully built, stockier than a barn, a giant powerhouse of pure muscle with a small waist. His cock is glorious, eight inches with a fat tip, his thickness stocky and grand. Your mouth watered.

Shao Lao kicks some of discarded rope, laughing,

"This vessel believed it could restrain me, prevent me from hunting you... Indeed, it is true that I would have not taken you. But you came down the mountain for him, did you not? It was you who sold this fate..."

You gasp in disbelief, but it doesn't fester as the dragon pulls your shirt from over your head, watching your breasts as unlatches your bra. Your pretty titties fly out, and you watch as a pink tongue emerges from the hazy black fog.

"You do, wish to be devoured, little human?"

You look away, "Is Lin okay?"

"This vessel only wishes for your safety."

"Ah... Then... Breed me, Shao Lao."

Behind the smoke, you can see the dragon's eyes widen. But something about it was so uncharacteristic for the proud serpent. Was it? Lin? You blink in surprise. Just as you notice the change, it disappears.

Shao Lao undresses you briskly, picking you up when he needs to, and you help him by kicking off your panties and pants when he drags them down. The dragon bares a deep, pleased sigh at the sight of you, admiring the way your body ebbs and flows, the softness of your skin, adoring your shape. He parts your legs with rough hands, you brace yourself as Shao Lao, in Lin's heavenly body, dives into your neck.

The Dragon nips and suckles your neck, using Lin's whole tongue to do so. Adverse to the way a human would do it. It's such a small detail you notice that makes your mind hazy, a reminder that a true god is trying to fuck you. He cups the other side of your neck tightly, forcing you into his sharp love bites and vigorous slurps.

He does so hungrily, diving out with unsatisfied huff.

"This is not enough,"

He hisses with all of his belly.

He drags all of his tongue down your collarbone and to your breasts, slurping one of your nipples up. It suckles and twirls it's blazing hot tongue around it, letting go with a pop as it swells around the underside, sucking you in fill his mouth, all while his freehand squeezes and teases your other.

You shiver and whimper, feeling his teeth against your skin. His jaw restricts, threatening to bite you. You know that if he did, you'd be disfigured. "Mm-aah," your pussy throbs.

He grunts worser, releasing you. His grunt is filled with pure agitation, his shadowy eyes darkened in a crazied haze.

"This human body restricts me... This is not enough."

It puff and heaves with anger, and with a strong vigor, the dragon slides his tongue down the valleys of your breast, down your ribcage, down your belly, over your womb, through your hair. And as he grabs your thighs, pulling them up in ease with thick hands, the dragon eats up your cunny in one full lick.

You whine as he uses all of Lin's tongue to part open your labia. The hot, fat muscle is fully flat against your hymen before it slides up and trills against your clit. You buck up into it with a cry, "S-Shao Lao!"

The Dragon hisses gleefully like a snake. It vibrates its tongue with ease against you, trilling up with a vigor as if it were merely rolling an 'r'. You jerk with all of you, as you reach and grab chunks of Lin's short raven locks. For a moment, sweet eyes gaze lovingly at you, but you fail to see it before it's overriden.

The Dragon licks up your clit with all of its tongue, the flatliness bigger than your clit as it strokes you once then twice, before he pulls a little away to speak.

"Tender, sweet, and juicy..."

Shao Lao burries his nose into your pussy, taking a deep sniff. The green energy sends tingles against your body. The dragon leans up, rolling out his tongue with a soft gag, there, from the midst of the smoke, you can see something round and orange glow, slipping out from the back of his throat. It slides down his tongue, revealing itself to be a little glowing orb, as it's guided right into your hole. The dragon leans forward, digging into your cunt as it forces it deep into your walls.

It sets you aflame, you grow impossibly more wet, drowning our from the magic of whatever it was that was placed within you. Your cervix sucks it up into your womb. And in awe, you can see it glow beneath your skin.

The Dragon laughs,

"I can perform much greater trembles than this in my original, blessed body. You truly are one graced human. You do not know the merit you are being bestowed, if you did, you would be worshiping me now... Paying hom--"

You pull Lin's hair, shoving your cunny back in the dragon's face, watching it disappear beneath the shadows. It narrows dangerous eyes on you. You only return with a grin.

The Dragon reaches, grabbing your wrist with a crushing pressure. You wince, pitifully letting go. As Shao Lao sits up, broad chest flexed forward with prestige. His darkened eyes glimmer with ferocity. Eyes that read, "you should not have done that".

Shao Lao drops your wrists, using Lin's mighty and quick hands to grab both of your ankles. He stands up with them, and with a scated cry, your body jerks forward, your legs held up in the air. He pulls higher, higher until your neck is the only thing keeping you on the ground. "Aah! Shao Lao! I'm so--" you can't even get a chance to speak, as Shao wraps his bulging biceps around your hips, dropping you in the candlestick pose, except your knees rest your legs on his shoulders, your hands shaking, helplessly grabbing chunks of raven locks.

With a deep, burling growl, Shao Lao buries himself into your cunny, trilling against your clit at an unforgiving pace, rippling his tongue against you in a fluttering frenzy, your throbbing clit swelling under the abuse. You cry out, saliva spat out in the intensity, as the way he's forced you down, you can't do much but claw at the dragon's biceps, or tug at his hair.

"S-suh-- Ahh! Shao L-lao! Ooh," you cry, your legs shooting up with an electric spark before slopping back down. Your toes arch, your breathing is constricted, overstimulated tears prick your eyes.

He'll only stop his devious defilement to suck and slurp up your clit in intervals between flickering his speedy tongue against it. The abuse complimented by Lin's fat juicy lips as the insides of them run over your clit inbetween slurps. He'll pull back to run a flat tongue side to side vigorously on your clit, only to slurp it up, suck on it, and smooth right back into flickering.

You yank intensely on Lin's hair, weak tears streaming down your face as your thrust into an intense orgasm. You legs jerk and fly up into the air, kicking at nothing before shooting straight up and flexing, flexing as you curse out into the sky. They never meet back down, as after your orgasm, Shao Lao is still on you just as intensely, not allowing you a break for your high. Your moans turn into frantic, pant-filled wails, slobbering sobs dribbling down your forehead and into your hair.

You rut into his tongue over and over again, trying to squirm but your hips are locked in place by meaty biceps. You're forced to look at the shadowed over pink-tipped nose Lin was always equipped with, buried into your vulva. You're bullied into another orgasm, cumming with all of your body again, he doesn't rest while you ride out your high.

You plead, while you cum hard, barreling out like a frantic shout, "G-Grace-cious-- Shao Lao pleas-suhh! Please forgive m-me! P-Please-- M-Mighty-- gaw--"

You can't continue as you groan out, finally feeling that fat tongue stop, laying flat against you. You sigh out, feeling your neck ache, and your senses return, your legs sag forward to your head.

"Mmuh! Sh-Shao Lao... I beg... aah... Please... forgive me-- I'm so... so aah... sorry... I'm sorry, S-Shao," you slur out, already fucked out of your mind.

By the grace of god, he releases your hips, slowly guiding you back onto the floor. You can feel your spine cry out with glee, your eyes rolling back with relief. Shao kneels between your legs still, biceps meaty and glowing, his arms folded forbidden, glaring down at you with serious eyes. Ever the reminiscent of Lin's face scolding and disappointed stare, shaming you of your very existence.

The god is still not settled.

You meekly reach and touch his elbow with the tip of your fingers.

"My god... My Shao Lao, please don't let this offend you... Remember your selfishless desire to bless me with the seed of a god's... Show me your true self, your kindness... Please take me another way to subside your rage... S-Show me... Show me who you are," you whisper-mewl, a whorish expression of need overtaking your face.

Shao grins.

He slams his large palms on either side of your head, your flinch, the ground shakes beneath you. Your body is sent aflame in shivers, excitement dribbling throughout your body. Your hands greedily trace down Lin's gorgeous body, feeling his gorgeous chest, it's bouncy and built. You moan out under Shao's stare. He's not moving again.

You whimper, "God hurry up Shao."

He laughs, finally taking in your sweet lips, slurping up your tongue, burning with passionate friction. He leans upright as you melt into the kiss, slapping down your titties, your nipples arching into them. He sits you up with ease, grabbing your ass, kissing your neck as he commands, "Turn around, bunny."

Your eyebrows quirked, too fucked out of your mind as you obeyed, slipping back to turn around, your ass popped back for him to enjoy. You sprawl out almost immediately, doing the cat yoga stretch, arms out infront of you, palms against the floor, ass up and perked.

You can hear Lin hum deliciously, his voice ebbing with lust.

Something's off.

You ask, "My dragon, does this pose please you?"

"It does, my bunny," speaks, rubbing your ass with both hands.

You grin, "Does it please your vessel as well?"

He pauses, then speaks again, "It pleases Lin greatly."

Lin Lie.

That was you wasn't it?

Did Shao switch so he could have this?

You stay quiet with your knowledge, a purr of excitement building up. The knowlege intensifies the feeling of Lin's fat tip kissing your entrance. You moan in anticipation, rocking against it, as he grabs full control of your hips. He waists no time to plunge in, his hard, fat cock slips right in from how wet you are. It doesn't even hurt either, as you bottom out eight inches of burly, stocky thickness in milliseconds.

You wail, toes and fingers curling up. He pulls back even a little a slips right out of you, releasing a charmastic laugh. Lin... It really was you wasn't it. He slips in, your walls expanding in fullness, the feeling enlarging and all compassing. Your hymen muscles burn and enjoy the stretch, both loving and hating it, blending into a delicious mixture as he slowly thrusts in and out.

The plunge is deep into your walls, stimulating the farthetes depths of you with a fat thickness. It's a sultry sensation, as your jaw slacks, as a marvelous gasp whines out of you.

"Mmh, you like that? Shao Lao's fiery cock," he hisses out.

You giggle, "Yes, m-mighty Shao Lao."

He starts to fuck into you now, speeding up with a haste precision. You moan, but it's interrupted as Lin slaps a heavy hand against your ass. The stung is sharp, burns with a hiss before it's washed away with the tides of pleasure. "I'll show you, Shao Lao's fury," he moans out.

With one hand he grips your hip in a vice, the other comes crashing down on your red cheek as he fucks hard and deep into you. His hard, hot rod slices you open, as you stretch and flex about him. He can feel your pulse when he digs in deep, how your pussy squeezes vice around him. "Aah-- Fuck, r-rabbit," he's trying so hard to keep up the facade. But you already know if Shao Lao was here, he'd slam into you relentlessly, not caring if your knees gave out; without moaning once, as he fucked you into the ground.

That's not to say Lin isn't doing you justice right now. You can barely handle this speed, as you whine and cry, as he penetrates your poor pussy, fucking into it with barely any care, slipping around and enjoying the clap of your pretty ass. He cracks a punishing blow against your already red and bruised cheek, enjoying the way you welp.

"Aah-- Mm- Come take this God's cock," he grabs you with both hips and slams you back into him. You jerk onto your palms with a breathy mewl, as he begins to pump you on his dick like a fleshlight.

"Fuck-fuck-- Lin!" You cry out, your orgasm surprising you. What sent you prematurely was how his tip slammed your cervix, the sensation painfully delicious, it sent you into a frenzy.

He didn't give in, as he dropped his head back, using his pumping biceps to pull you all the way off, just to carelessly slam you back down. "Gimme' your damn hands," Lin hisses, ans obediently you give him one at a time. He grabs your wrists, pulling you back, forcing all your weight to be dependent on him.

You jerked about like a ragdoll, overstimulation riddled in your body. Despite this being Lin, you could still feel his energetic plasma flicker around. He was supercharged and boundless.

Lin started to precisely bump his tip down against your g-spot on his way to your cervix, fucking up into you to meet in the middle, loving the way your walls spasmed from the aftermath of your orgasm. Your moans were useless screams by now, the sensation of your speedy abuse complimented the pusles from your swollen, defeated clit.

You whine, "'M cummin' M-- Cumming!!"

"S-shi-- (Y/nn)," he whines.

With one satisfying slam, Lin shoots hot rods of cum into your womb right as you splatter, coating the orange orb in your body with your cum, as it sucks up Lin's. You feel the orb vibrate in your womb and it glides down to your cervix, feeling it push back against Lin's cock.

You gasp, "L-Lin! Pull out!"

He obediently listens, laying you down and slipping right off. With a heavy grunt, your push the growing orb out your body, as it expands in your vagina, before slipping out the size of a large duck egg. You frantically look back, eyes wide in shock.

Right between your legs is a duck egg sized, orange orb.

Your eyes flicker up at Lin, his eyes are darkened and hazed over.

"S-Shao Lao," you cry out in fear.

He crashes as strong hand against your ass. You yelp, but he smooths it over with the carress of his palm.

"Why are you surprised, my hare? Have I not fulfilled my blessing?"

"I'm-- I'm on birth control! That's the only reason I said yes, I can't raise a baby," you huff.

"Not a human child. You will hatch another god. She will know her purpose the moment she hatches, and will take flight to it... We dragon's do not dwell on sentimentality the way humans do... Our affection for our birth is shown in our magic and prowess... Not hanging around as useless, crying, flesh... Your daughter will bless you, much like Lin as the Iron Fist."

Your eyes widening in shock, unable to process which sentence was crazier than the last.

"What the fuck are you talking about!"

"You are immortal now, (Y/n) (L/n). Your have bore the seed of the next generationg of gods."

"What!"

You heard the voices warp, as Lin speaks, "(Y/n) I didn't know this would happen."

"What... The fuck... " you whisper, blinking, "so do I sit on it until then- o-or?" A humiliated flush covers your cheeks as your turn back slowly, carefully sitting down on your sore, stretched out ass.

"I will guide her in the realm of the gods. She cannot stay here on Earth. But she will return to grant you one blessing, before she starts her eternal journey at home... Where she belongs. We dragon's are not meant to be bound to humans... But I am. For the--"

You gasp, "Wait!"

"Yes, my hare?"

You point at Lin's body, "He's The Immortal Iron Fist?"

"Yes. He is my vessel."

Your slaw lacks.

"Your friends will be arriving soon. I must take my leave, my hare. I will breed you again, for I must spread my seed--"

"What!"

"Until then, I implore you to enjoy my vessel..."

The smoke and plasma mix together spining above Lin's head, and out of it comes a glorious dragon. Heat surges the room, as the flying serpent is made of pure fire, it swallows the egg up in an instant, turning back from wince it came and descending into the cloud of smoke into Lin's body.

You watch Lin surge and gasp, no longer drowned in a shadow haze. His skin flushed and bright, his lips bright red and bruised, the taste of pussy still lingering on his taste buds. You watch his shaggy, sweaty hair lean down over his raven locks, his sweet eyes wide with shock.

No one says a word.

You slowly drop your head down onto the sleeping bag.

"What the fuck just happened?"

There's a this guilty look on his face as he sits next to your feet. "I'm sorry about that I-- Trust me, (Y/n), I did everything in my power to stop that. Shit, once Shao Lao learned I like you... In that way... He sort of... Listen I'll tell him off, me or him, we won't ever see you again. This will not happen again I will assure you."

You pause, quietly staring at the top of the tent. "Nah," is all you whisper.

He perks up, "What?"

"Don't go away... I sort of... I like you Lin... I tried to deny it, but I do. I was so worried about you, you know... I'm sorry for... My part in this... If I said no then we wouldn't be here," you sigh.

He gasps, "Oh god, no, I should be apologizing.. No matter what I'm the one who should've--"

"I'm not mad, Lin," you flush.

"I yet you're saying that now but--"

You wince, "For fucks sake, Lin! I'm saying--" you stop, watching as he leans forward, eyes plagued with worry. You pause and correct your tone, "I'm saying I liked it... I liked it. I mean its kind of an honor to be fucked by Shao Lao... I wanted it, and I don't really care about the damn dragon god baby- if its anything like its father it'll fuck off and be conceited-- I just... I want my bachelors, and... I don't mind... Seeing you, m-more after this."

Lin stares at you with bewilderment.

You squeak ans hide underneath your palms, "God this is too surreal."

He gulps, "W-Welcome to the superhero squad?" He tries to be funny.

"Fuck you," you're mad, but, a grin splits your face open, man your pussy feels good. You were stunning in the after glow. You'd do it again, with Shao Lao. And as you glance up at Lin, who flashes an amazed smile at you. You'd do it again with Lin too

He lays down next to you, folding his arms on his chest. "You're pretty kinky, (Y/n). You always seemed so regal," he whispers it. His face bright red.

"I can't believe you're Iron Fist," you mumble. You look over at him, he joins you. "You think my dragon'll grant me with riches," you blink.

"Mm," he looks up in thought, "Maybe. They usually gift items. Like my family's heritage is a sword. Maybe... Maybe you'll get a lucky necklace that makes extra money grativate in your life." He blinks at you.

"Mm... Maybe that's shallow thing to ask," you sigh

"Nothin' wrong with money. I like money," Lin speaks. "Besides, you can ask for something else after the second dragon you make," he giggles, leaning up and wrapping arms around you.

"Yeah I could-- Hey! S-Second," you whisper, laying hands on his broad shoulders.

He chuckles heartily, caressing your face with his thumb. "You okay? How's your body?"

"It's fine actually, it doesn't hurt surprisingly? Maybe the egg's got something to do with it," you whisper.

He sighs, "Good. I'm glad you're safe." You relax with Lin, as he drops his forehead down against yours, releasing a relieved sigh. You revel in the soft tranquility, its a great contrast to the endless brutality of Shao Lao.

God what the is your life going to be like now with these two. Or well one, who knows if Shao'll be back next full moon. He's got a baby to take care of. Lin helps you onto your side and spoons you, wrapping a warm hand around you, cupping a titty while he's there. He buries himself into your shoulder, running his nose along your edges. You flush.

You squeak out, "Why's this more embarrassing than the..." Although you can't finish your sentence, he chuckles, but he doesn't flee from giving you affection.

"Actually--"

"(Y/n)! (Y/n)," You hear Peter shriek from distance.

The two of you shout, "Oh fuck!"

You scramble to get dressed, but you're too weak to stand. He ushers you into the sleeping bag once his pants are back on, and he tries to wipe away the cum stains with his shredded hoodie. When the flurry of voices searching for you get closer.

Lin frantically unzips the tent,sticking his arm out as he waves bashfully to everyone. He's mer with a flashlight the the face. "She's fine! She's here! She-- uh... Ran back to," he doesn't have to finish it. Everyone can get the vibe from here.

Afterall Lin's disheveled, sweaty, and shirtless. It's MJ who laughs first, mostly in a mixture of pure horror and relief. Then the rest of the club follows short, but Peter's quick to dismiss everyone.

"Alright! Shows over go off to bed guys," he cries. MJ slicks off into Peter's tent, and Peter's takes the time to frantically rush over to Lin. His eyes are bulged out, terror in his voice, "Dude? Does she know? Is she okay? Did Shao do anything?"

Lin shushes him, glancing back you with a reassuring smile before whispering, "She knows I'm IronFist, and it's a crazy story that I'll tell you later - But Pete' she's immortal now too."

He shrieks, "What!"

[angelltheninth]

Love how you write for Marvel Rivals! It's been one of my favorite games lately. If it's not too much to ask can you write Emma Frost, Natasha, Magik, Hela, Wanda and Storm using a strap-on on their girlfriend?

Hi, Anon! I'm glad you're enjoying the game and me writing my silly little fics. I'll write this one for you too!

Pairing: Emma Frost, Hela, Illyana Rasputin, Natasha Romanoff, Ororo Munroe, Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, established relationship, strap-on use, praise, breeding kink, kissing, clit stimulation, dom/sub dynamic

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: It's a really good time to love women! I love women so much!

Emma spends a ton of time teasing you with it before anything else. She has you tied to the bed, wrists bound and legs spread open, all dolled up in lingerie that is complementary to her own. Of course the strap on is shiny, glistening even more as she runs it through your slippery folds. She hears all your little whimpers and she doesn't need to use her mind reading powers to know how you want to be fucked. And then she does the opposite, her hips moving so slowly but even that feels like too much to your pussy, and yet not enough.

Hela will fuck you in every position possible but her favorite one is the when you're both on your knees and she's thrusting into you from behind. Her hands smooth up and down your thighs, brushing against your wet cunt. She's moving fast, but deep, grinning into the kiss you clumsily pull her into in a desperate attempt to silence your moans. All your effort to do so it futile, with every thrust you get louder. There's no need for you to keep quiet while she's fucking you, she wants to hear you clearly, her favorite woman in the whole world.

Illyana developed a breeding kink during the many times she's used her strap-on with you. She didn't mean to say she's gonna get you pregnant while almost breaking the bed, it just slipped out. From then on she only uses the strap-on with artificial cum in it and bends you in half while doing so. No matter the position she's always within kissing distance, she loves kissing you, her tongue demanding against yours. if she goes too hard on you she will kiss your pussy as an apology and she is being very sincere with her apology.

Natasha often wears her strap-on under her clothes and leaves it to you to get it wet and ready. You can suck it, you can use lube, you can ride it until you come all over it. But after that it's her turn to have some fun and for you to be a good girl and not a brat like she knows you can be. If you do behave like a brat she has no problem putting you in your place, which is under her, screaming her name, telling her how much you love her cock. She's also very forgiving towards you, if you ask her nicely she can go easy on you.

Ororo teases you a lot but ultimately gives you everything you want. She spoils you when she uses the strap-on, she encourages you as you ride it, massages your thighs, your ass and your hips and grins when you tell her you're close. When you feel tired but needy she is more than happy to stay still and cuddle, only moving back and forth occasionally, eliciting soft whimpers from you. Plants soft kisses across your neck while you ride her up and down, back and forth. One of her favorite things is to have you clean it afterwards.

Wanda uses a magical strap-on that makes it feel like the real thing, meaning she can feel your pussy gripping, tensing and relaxing around it. It drives her crazy when you're close to coming but she forbids you from doing so more than a few times. That when when you finally do come she knows you'll take her with you, right over that edge. Loves to watch the strap-on go in and out of you while her thumb massages your clit. The wet, silky pressure around her cock every time she touches your clit almost makes her magic go wild.

[inkskinned]

it is the first snow today. i think we should all have off work, even though it didn't stick. i think there should be 4 national holidays, one for each season. happy first snow, go home and make cookies. for spring it can be the first crocus. for summer the first lightning bug. for autumn, the first golden leaf. go home, kiss your dog, feed your cat (who is absolutely already-fed but somehow still starving.)

i think we should all take more showers together, but i mean that in the soft way. i mean it like taking a nap. two years ago i had 5 adult friends in my queen bed, all of us laying across each other, head over belly over thigh over hand. any time one of us would giggle, it would ripple over each of us, like pulling on a spiderweb. kim actually needed to nap and didn't get to sleep and i am still sorry for it even though this is one of my most precious memories.

i think we should all wash each other's hair, i mean. i walk my dog and i watch someone put up twinkle lights around their front porch. alex and i just moved, and i love the neighborhood. already so many of our new neighbors have stopped by to say hello. the nice lady downstairs also collects plants, like me. she gave us her number on a pink post-it note. i am trying to decide whether to make her cookies or brownies.

i am going through a very hard time. something bad happened this weekend that i do not wish to discuss. it is hanging over me. i think of the green ribbon, and the woman who had her throat cut. it feels like that sometimes, inside of my body. like i am walking and talking despite being half-corpsed. like i am hanging on by a ribbon, standing on some kind of cusp. i keep saying - at least it wasn't worse. we are so lucky it wasn't worse. the idea is river-rock smooth now, all the edges worried off.

in this very dark night - the sun sets by 3 now - people don't need to, but they try anyway. they paint the missing light into things. i have an embarrassing number of missed calls and texts, but i feel the love from them nevertheless - hey. if you need something, i'm here. i will bring you food/puzzles/anything. i got you.

i think we should all have a big group chat where we do errands with strangers. this week i got lost in a home depot, which is wild because i'm a lesbian and we are actually hatched in a lowe's lumber section. there were two other women in the whole store. we ended up shopping together, at first by accident (we all needed things in the same aisle), and then because, well, why not. one of the ladies was taller than me, so she pulled down the screws i needed. i am agile and have the personality of a raccoon, so they sent me after anything below 3 feet. we talked about holiday plans and never learned each other's names, but did learn all the drama about each other's families.

i am making you cupcakes, because i have so much affection i want to pour it into batter. you ask me if i am eating enough per meal. i wrap your gift twice, trying to do it prettily. i get excited to give it to you, just because i hope you'll be excited too.

my parents drive an hour just to see the new apartment and to do the parent thing; standing in the kitchen saying things like "oh you'll get so much use from this dishwasher" and "well, you could paint that" and "when your mother and i moved it was uphill both ways and in a snowstorm and of course your brother was an infant." my mother brought me a plant for housewarming. i always say i love you before she leaves.

i play dnd on tuesdays still, after all these years. we all keep that night free. at one point, between grad school and marriage and all of it, we had to have a serious discussion about how to keep it running. we will keep going, we decided eventually. just to see each other, even if we don't play - you are all important to me. sebastian is not prone to affection but last night he stole my usual sign off - i love you all, be good, he said. he was laughing.

i don't love the winter, actually. i like snow in theory, but i grew up in the north, and am too-familiar with the season of "mud and sludge". i don't like being cold. but i do love something kind of soft and rare: every year around this time, people remember oh yes. you and i are human together. and i have love to spare.

it is the first snow, and something in my heart is finally warm again. i have spent what felt like the last 18 months just going-through-the-motions. it has felt blank and immediate, like i would never actually feel again. that sounds extremely trite and stupid - but that is the boring and familiar experience of depression. life just washes up against your windows, and you watch it happening. you see things that should be lovely and affecting, and it just whispers too-thin. i was desperately uncreative. uninterested in my hobbies. unimpressed by my writing. i told my therapist, often, i don't know how to find hope again.

almost sheepishly, something strange and lovely is burning in my chest. i keep not-looking at it, worried it will scamper back into the shadows again. it is skittish and wild, but it is so warm i want to sink my hands into its fur and feel it breathing. i love-hate it: if it's real, it can hurt me when it leaves again. but i am icarus-born, sun-lover and poet: i can't help myself. despite my best intentions, i am falling in love with life again.

i am planning to make cookies for my friends. alex and i are going to go christmas tree shopping. we picked out matching dish towels last night, and they have little mushrooms on them.

i love you. it does come back. yes, even after a long time. even for you. i promise. keep trying. you will wake up and it will be a day you can smile about.

write me when you get there. we will take the day off of work, and i will wash your hair, and we will both be laughing.

[idontmindifuforgetme]

This is making me lose my mind just read a whole post where people refer to him as a “kid” and knowing that people lambast women for calling themselves “girls” sometimes instead of “women” this is driving me insane the double standard is so real

This is very irrelevant to the whole Luigi Mangione case but can I just say it’s striking to me how they refer to him as a “26 year old rising star in the tech industry” bc I always get intrusive thoughts about if they’d have the same description for a 26 year old woman

[gilverrwrites]

Batguys when they have for the first time a vibrator put ON THEM (their dicks) by reader during sex ( they never experienced a toy on themselves before, it was always used on their girl if they were using toys).

AND I’m the same person that send the bat guys vibrators suggestion! What if the guys thought the vibrator was only for women and they’re proven other wise 😏😉

AN: I’m not convinced of them not knowing per se, so much as they’ve just never considered it for various reasons. So, in order of understood to least understood; Ft. Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Roy

Batman:

He knows full well the effects, he’s just hates to not be in control. So when you finally pin him down long enough to have your way, it’s because he lets you. When you teasingly glide the tip of your vibe along his length he purposely bucks his hips, urging you to use it on his sensitive tip, enjoying the whole commotion more than he thought he would.

The gloriously thick muscles of his thighs tense under his own self-restraint as you finally give him what wants.

“You’re taking it so well Brucie.” You coo and he glares at you from beneath his brow, trying and failing to maintain dominance but the rest of his body betrays him; his cheeks are tinted a precious shade of red, his broad chest heaving with each shallow breath.

When you praise him again; “You’re such a good boy.” He loses it completely.

Nightwing:

100% understands, but why would he ever want to use them on himself, when he could use them on you?

Then again, you’re so cute with those big puppy dog eyes, that mischievous grin when you ask to try something on him, how could he say no? And my god, he is a sight to behold. Even having seen the effect your bullet has on you, the way it makes you wither and moan uncontrollably, nothing could prepare him for his first experience.

He’s so loud, louder than you and just as unruly. His hands gripping tight to every surface, you, the headboard, the pillows, the mattress nothing satiates him. His long legs stretch, his toes curl, hips rolling and jerking for friction as his whole body shakes. Unable to muster the normal slew of filth he typically showers you with; he pants your name between obscenely breathless moans until he cums all over himself.

Side note: I swear, put this man in a vibrating cock ring, I need it.

Red Hood:

He’s just literally never thought about it before. One night you ask him to grab something from your bedside drawer and you’re surprised when he comes back holding your wand. When you ask if he wants to try it out, this is not what he expects.

Hell, if he’s not complaining though. Jason has never seen this kind of thing in action, so he’s lounging on the bed, legs spread wide as he leans against the headboard, not expecting too much.

When you tease the vibrating head along his shaft, causing it to twitch, he laughs and jokes about it tickling, but the moment you press it to the tip of his cock his whole body trembles.

“Ah, fuck baby.” He bites his lip, trying and failing to keep his eyes from rolling back. “Right there, right there, please don’t stop.”

Arsenal:

And if I may throw a wildcard in the mix;

Roy is exactly the kind of smart but dense kinda guy who could tinker away endlessly, making the perfect toys (out of equipment intended for weaponry might I add) to meet your needs, things meant to fill you in all the right spaces, to vibrate and pulse at the strength and speed that drives you wild, without it ever occurring to him that it could be used on him too.

He’s already hard as a rock and close to the edge after you’ve gone down on him, when you show him what you’re doing he lazily mumbles “Oh come on baby, that’s not gonna do anything.”

He’s proven almost immediately wrong. He’s lovingly cupping your face or holding your hair back but when he feels the vibrating sensation on his already sensitive cock his grip automatically tightened like a vice.

The skin from his cheeks to his belly growing hotter with each pulse until his body is just a few shades lighter than his hair, he’s sweating, eyes watering, begging for release and when you grant it he nearly tumbles over, legs weak and trembling.

[tropes-and-tales]

Lieutenant Steal-Your-Girl, Part III

(Bob Floyd x F!Reader; Jake Seresin x F!Reader)

CW:  Angst (relationship woes); open relationships; violence (the boys be fighting); 18+ only.

Word Count:  3871

AN:  This is part of a larger mini-series, found here, and it was requested by several anonymous folk!

AN2: This has not been edited in any way, shape, or form!

Jake has the idea to follow you and Bob.  A nauseous rage courses through him from where he sits, tucked away in the shadows.  He has the idea to follow Bob’s truck as it drives to Bob’s place, to confront the two of you:  his treacherous girlfriend, and his fellow Dagger.

But from his vantage point, he watches you and Bob.  He sees how broadly you smile, how Bob says something that makes you laugh.  When was the last time Jake made you laugh like that—where you pause in your steps, throw your head back, and actually laugh?

Then he sees Bob Floyd—fucking Baby on Board—lean into you, sees the scrawny fucking back-seater kiss you.  He sees how you melt into the kiss, the way your body arches into Bob’s.  He sees you when you break away, the little laugh you give as you reach up and adjust Bob’s glasses, the tender gesture needling at Jake’s heart.

He has the idea to follow you and Bob, but Jake finds himself frozen in place.  He sits in his truck in the side alley.  He stays there long after you and Bob leave, his hands clenched so tight on the steering wheel that it creaks from the pressure of his grip.

*****

Bob knows from his work that there are always limits.  A plane, designed in such a way, can only go so high or so fast before systems start to fail.  Punishing speed, the crush of gravity, extreme cold or heat…engineering can only do so much.  There are always limits where a system starts to fail.

Bob knows this thing with you is exactly the same.

He’s reaching his limit.  Maybe he’s already reached it and has been a dead man flying for a while now. 

He went into this thing with open eyes, he thought.  This thing.  Hell, he doesn’t even know what to call it.  A fling?  An affair?  A relationship?  No word really captures it, and half of the words make it feel tawdry, even though Jake was the one who opened up your relationship.  The other half of the words make it feel tender and promising, which is hard to believe when you’ve only ever spent the night once.

Like tonight:  Jake told you in no uncertain terms that he was going off to fuck another woman.  You watched him leave the Hard Deck.  Moments later, you left with Bob, came back to Bob’s apartment, and fucked Bob.

And now you’re dressing and getting ready to leave.  You sit on the edge of Bob’s bed and pull your shirt back over your head, and Bob is left tangled in his sheets and feeling about as badly as a man can.

There are always limits.  Steel, carbon fiber, titanium…it all cracks under pressure, if there’s enough pressure.

“You can stay,” Bob says.  He sits up and reaches to the bedside stand for his glasses.  He slides them back on his face and watches how your shoulders tense up at his offer.

“I should head home.”

Bob snorts at your choice of wording.  Home.  Where you live with Jake, when Jake deigns to come home and be with you.  When he’s not out sleeping with other women, sowing his wild oats—too scared of being locked down for life to one woman, but too much of a coward to cut you loose in the meantime.

The noise makes you turn and look at him.  You study his face and must see something there, because you frown and say his name in a way that sounds like a warning.

“Bob.”  You meet his gaze and shake your head faintly.

“What?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”  He leans forward and takes your hand in his, but you pull it away.  He sighs. 

“Don’t…just…I don’t want to—”  You try to find the words, but he cuts you off.

“What are we even doing?” he asks. 

You turn away, hang your head, and with your back to him, Bob can see the tension in your shoulders, the slump in them.  How tired you look even from this angle.  Worn down.  The pressure must be getting to you too.

“I don’t know,” you finally reply.  Your voice is so quiet, barely above a whisper, he has to lean closer to hear you.  “He…he wants to take me home with him for the holidays.”

Another snort, but more bitter.  “So he can play Boyfriend of the Year?  So he can pretend like he hasn’t been fucking around on you for the past year and making you feel like shit?”

You curl in more on yourself, wrap your arms around your waist, and isn’t this why Bob has steadily grown to hate Jake Seresin?  That he’s made you into a cringing, insecure creature, so unsure of yourself that you can’t even voice what you want?

“Honey, c’mon.”  He moves towards you and you don’t dodge him, so he settles behind and wraps both arms around you.  He pulls you close, and he feels how you sag against him.  He lays his cheek against your head and sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into your hair.  “I don’t wanna fight.”

“Then don’t fight.”

He kisses your temple, sighs again.  Settles back against you and takes in the scent of your shampoo, the scent of you that manages to linger in his place long enough after you leave that he aches with how much he misses you.

“I just want to see you happy,” he says, and that’s the truth.  He wants to see you laughing and smiling, and if Jake could do that for you, Bob would step aside even if it hurt.  “Are you happy with him, honey?  Are you happy with the life you’re living with him?”

You shake your head in reply.

“Then why…”  He trails off, doesn’t finish the question, but you understand it anyway.

“Because he’s all I’ve ever known.  The only boyfriend I’ve had.  I’ve…Bob, I’ve followed him all over the country my whole adult life.  Everyone back home knows me as Jake Seresin’s girl, for heaven’s sake.”

The admission stings Bob a little, but he can’t say he’s been your boyfriend.  He’s mostly just been your hook-up.

“I’ve dated him since I was a kid,” you add.  “It’s been so many years.”

“So many years and he still won’t commit.”

That makes you untangle yourself from him, and you stand up from the bed and turn to look at him.  If he expects rage or tears, he is disappointed:  there’s only your eyes fixed on his and a deep exhaustion behind them.

“Maybe all he needed was this time to get all this,” you gesture broadly, “out of his system.”

Bob shakes his head in frustration, and he reaches down on the floor to snag his boxers, his t-shirt.  He pulls them on and stands to face you, and when he places his hands on your upper arms, you don’t pull away.

“And I need you to understand that a real man who really loved you would have had nothing left to get out of his system,” he tells you.  He jostles you lightly, tries to get the words to sink into your skull for once.  “He would have given you so much love, he wouldn’t have even looked at another woman.  He would have given everything to you, with nothing left for them.”

You reach up and grasp his wrists where he holds you.  You look so sad.  Defeated.  Bob can see not just the past year but the years, all the time you invested in Jake—so much that you aren’t even you to many people.  You’re Jake Seresin’s girl, and your identity is wrapped up in your feckless boyfriend.  Bob can guess that you only see yourself as a pale reflection of Jake’s bright fly-boy persona.

“It’s been so many years,” you repeat sadly.  “It has to mean something, Bob.”

Then you gently pull yourself from his grasp, and Bob can only stand there as you leave.

*****

Bradley has a sense about these things:  something bad is coming.

He has a preternatural feel for doom which, not to be dramatic, probably comes from his dad dying in a freak accident and then his mom withering away from cancer years later.  He got both ends of the death spectrum—sudden, violent, and slow and wasting—and so he feels particularly sensitive to certain atmospheric conditions that signal trouble.

Then again, Hangman’s fucked up life blowing up during a Saturday game of dogfight football is hardly on the same scale as Bradley’s path to being an orphan.

Bradley scoffs at himself (dramatic asshole, he thinks), but his stomach does do a warning twinge the moment all the relevant players are on the field.

There’s Hangman, the Golden Boy from Texas, his jawline clenched so hard that Bradley imagines his teeth cracking under the pressure.

There’s you, you hand held firmly by Hangman until you get set up in your perch higher up on the sand—you shake out a blanket, weigh down the corners with your shoes and a cooler.  You tilt your head towards Jake for the bruising kiss he lays on you before he turns away and makes his way to the other Daggers.

And then there’s Bob, standing quietly with the other Daggers, watching quietly as Jake kisses you. 

Something about the scene makes Bradley go on alert, and the thought drifts through his head the moment Jake walks past Bob.

Jake knows.

Which should be fine.  Jake should know.  Bradley is entirely confused about how the man couldn’t know, since the open relationship was his idea.  Since Jake brazenly took other women home while you watched like an abandoned kitten from the sidelines of the Hard Deck.  Since Jake joked around about it sometimes, months ago, playfully tried to drum up dates for you with the other Daggers.  Hell, Bradley was there when Jake sidled up to Bob once, asked the guy if he wanted to fuck you, and if it was all just joking around, Jake still shouldn’t be surprised if Bob eventually took him up on the offer anyway.

Goddamned Jake and his fucked-up life.  Bradley never saw the point of it, opening up a relationship like yours.  That sort of shit probably works fine for couples where both parties are into it, but any casual observer could see how miserable you’d been at the start of it.

You hadn’t really started smiling again until Bob came along, and that is something worth pondering, Bradley thinks.

The problem with Bradley’s sense for impending doom is that he’s rarely wrong.  Almost never.  So ten minutes into the first game of dogfight football, when Jake—who is on Bob’s team—hits the backseater, all hell breaks loose, and all Bradley can think is shit, I’m right again.

*****

One minute, Bob is standing in the sand, watching Harvard drop back and throw a perfect spiral to Coyote.  As his gaze shifts to take in the other ball—currently tucked against Nat’s stomach as she tries to weasel past Javi—Bob’s world suddenly shifts sideways, and he finds himself with his face in the sand before the pain from the blow even registers.

“Wha—” he starts to say, but something presses him down into the sand, someone’s on top of him, and Bob only gets a glimpse of Jake’s red, furious face before a fist connects with his face.  The wire frame of his glasses dig into his cheek, and Bob stops thinking and just reacts.

He jabs his elbow up and connects with Jake’s belly; the man grunts out in surprised pain and ease up enough for Bob to roll out from under him.  He finds his feet, does a quick scan of himself.  Ribs hurt.  Face hurts from the hit and the cut from his glasses.  Nothing catastrophic though.

Jake stands too, but only for a second—then he charges Bob again.  Bob only has a split second to react.  He takes a quick step to the side, manages to dodge being completely tackled, but Jake gets an arm around him and drags him back to the ground.

Bob’s never been much of a fighter.  Aside from backyard squabbles with his brother and cousins when he was a kid, he’s never been in a proper fight until now. 

He probably gets one half-assed blow in for every three of Jake’s.  The man’s fists come fast, steady—timed to the hammering of Bob’s heart, almost—and each new bloom of pain is immediately replaced by a new one. 

It feels like it goes on forever.  It feels like Bob and Jake are the only two people in the world because everything is quiet except for the blows that reverberate through Bob’s skull.  Later on, he’ll realize the entire fight is less than a minute, really just a handful of seconds before the Daggers understand what’s happening and pull Jake away.

Bob lays on the sand, gasping, sun-blinded and stunned in pain.  The only sounds are his own pulse thudding away in his aching skull…but then he hears screaming.  He manages to turn his head, blinks against the spots dancing behind his eyelids.  His vision is blurry—his glasses are long gone—but he knows it’s you running towards him, and even against the royal beating Bob just took, he smiles.

*****

It’s funny how much can change in less than twelve hours.

You’d left Bob the night before, exhausted and confused and unsure of what to do.

Half a day later, here you are:  kneeling on the sand between a bleeding Bob, glaring up at Jake, and the decision is so fucking clear to you.

“What the fuck, Jake?” you yell.  You turn back to Bob; his face is already swelling, and a shallow gash on his cheekbone oozes blood.  You notice a glint in the sand and see his glasses, but when you pluck them from where they are half-buried, you see that they are beyond repair.

“You know what the fuck,” Jake growls back.  He takes a half-step towards you, but Bradley holds him back.  You study Bob, take in each wince as he catches his breath. 

“You okay to stand?” you ask him, your voice low. 

Bob nods, and Nat kneels on the other side of him.  Together, you each get an arm under him and help him stand up.  He staggers for a moment, leans on you, and you brace yourself to take his weight.

Then you turn back to Jake.  His expression is stony:  his eyes cold and impassive as he takes in you and Bob.

“I’m closing our relationship,” he tells you. 

That’s what makes you laugh.  That’s what transforms all the hurt and confusion and self-doubt to a sad sort of hilarity.  You take a sharp inhale at his words, but then breathe them out in punched-out laugh, a shrill giggle that probably makes you sound insane…but once you start laughing, you cannot stop.

You know it sounds hysterical, but it’s been years of this bullshit.  Instead of screaming or crying, you laugh—until tears flow down your face, until your ribs ache from the effort.  Bob has an arm around your waist, and he squeezes your side in a grounding, questioning gesture, but you let it all out.

It’s so fucking stupid.  It’s been stupid for so long.  You’ve been stupid for so long.  Trailing after Jake like a whipped puppy, eating every bit of shit he ever fed you.  And for what?  For a man who never put you first, rarely even put you second, and who only wants to shut down this entire stupid open deal the moment it stops being fun for him.  All those years meant nothing after all, and even if you’ve only ever been Jake Seresin’s girl, it hasn’t amounted to much anyway.

Are you happy with him, honey?

Bob asked you the question only hours ago, and now you know the answer with a certainty you’ve never felt before in your life.

“Oh, Jake.”  You reach up with your free hand and swipe at the tears that have finally slowed as your laughter died down.  You study the faces of the Daggers around you—their expressions range from wariness to confusion, and Bradley has a faint grin—and then you look your boyfriend dead in those gorgeous eyes a shade of greenish-blue you’d never seen in another person.

“Fuck you,” you spit out.  “Forever until the end of time, fuck you.”

He sputters some reply, but it washes over you.  You never note it at all. 

That’s how you finally end your relationship with the only boyfriend you ever had:  walking away from him on a sunny San Diego beach, staggering under the half-dead weight of the man who just took a hell of a beating for doing nothing but caring for you.

*****

Bob is not exactly clear the next few hours.  He never loses consciousness, but he’s not entirely all there either.  Pain makes time skip and drag in a weird way.

There’s a trip to urgent care.  X-rays.  His dislocated nose is reset; a dislocated finger is taped into a splint.  He’s packed in ice packs, given prescription-dose ibuprofen, and sent home.

You and Nat take care of him:  hover at his elbow, keep him steady as he totters from Nat’s car to the urgent care waiting room, then back, then home.

Nat disappears for a while, then returns with a pain pill left over from her wisdom tooth removal surgery.  Together, you and her get Bob cleaned up, tucked into bed.  The pain pill is just starting to pull him under when Nat calls out from the doorway of his bedroom.

“I’m gonna take her over to her place.  Pack a bag or two.  You okay on your own for a bit?”

Bob nods, and he wants to ask for you—he wants to see you, wants to take your hand in his, wants to make sure you’re okay—but his tongue is thick in his mouth, and his eyelids feel like they are weighted down.

He sleeps.  Despite the pain, he sleeps deep and dreamless, and when he surfaces back to wakefulness, the day has ended.  Long shadows creep across his bedroom floor.

He gets up on unsteady feet.  Makes his way to the bathroom, studies his face in the mirror.  He looks like shit, swollen and bruised.

He hears the low murmur of his TV, and when he makes his way to the living room, he finds Nat sitting alone.  She stands up, makes her way over to him.

“How you feeling?” she asks.

Bob chuckles.  “Like I got the shit kicked out of me.”

She helps him sit, then perches on the couch beside him.  He doesn’t even have to ask the question before she answers it for him.

“She’s at my place.  I told her she could crash there as long as she wants.  I have the spare room, and things are…well, they’re a lot right now.”

“She could stay here.”

Nat nods, bites at her lower lip.  “Yeah, she knows.  It’s just complicated.”

Bob shakes his head.  “Seems like it just got a lot less complicated.”  The dark thought crosses his mind then, so he adds, “unless she didn’t break up with him after all.”

“She did.”  Nat sighs, and she turns herself to face him.  “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

He doesn’t like the ominous tone in her voice, but he nods.

“You need to let her go,” she says simply.

He’s stunned by Nat’s order for a moment, then he laughs.  It’s ridiculous—after all of this, he’d just let you go?  Now that you’re finally free of Jake?

Nat’s eyebrows furrow together.  “I’m serious, Bob.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to be let go.”  It comes out defensive.

“Maybe she doesn’t,” Nat agrees.  “But maybe you need to be the bigger person anyway.”

It takes his pilot a long time to get through to him, but in the end, Bob sees the sad wisdom of what Nat is trying to say.  They talk for hours—interrupted only long enough to order food, then eat—and then they talk more.

Nat understands your situation as well as he does.  Maybe she understands it better, even.  She points out what everyone knows—you and Jake, your long history together—but then she adds more that Bob never knew, bits and pieces gleaned during girl-talk at the Hard Deck, then a flood of intel freely given during the past few hours as the two of you tended to Bob.

“They grew up in a small town in Texas,” she explains.  “I grew up in a similar sort of place.  Towns like that, they aren’t democracies.  They are some weird fiefdom system, and people like Jake and his family are at the top of the heap.  Jake’s dad owns a Chevy dealership, you know?  His mom was the county fair queen.  They live in this big, sprawling ranch and just rule the town.  Then comes along your girl, and she’s from a middle-of-the-road sort of family.  Nothing spectacular.  But Jake noticed her, and a guy like him noticing a girl like her…that’d be like me turning down a date with a prince, Bob.  She was so young, and everyone around her was telling her how lucky—how blessed—she was.  Of course it warped her thinking.  She was just a dazzled kid, and by the time she started to wise up, she’d invested years into her relationship with him.”

“I get it.”  He lifts his hands, helpless, then lets them drop.  “So I’m too late either way.”

“No.”  Nat reaches out and puts her hand on his knee, pats him gently.  “Not too late.”

“Then what?  Let her go, then what?”

“Then you do like the cliché says.  If you love her, let her go.  If she comes back to you, then you know she’s yours.”

Bob shakes his head.  He wants to disagree, wants to make Nat understand how he feels with you, another cliché:  how he feels like a complete person.  Not that he is missing pieces and you’re there to shore up the missing parts.  It’s harder to describe, the calm that washes over him when you’re with him.  A charged calm, a paradox, because he feels like he can finally relax, knowing he’s found his person, but he also feels a jolt of energy because he’s found his person and wants to face each and every adventure with you.

“You have to give her time and space to be alone.  To learn who she is without Jake fucking Seresin jerking her strings.  She’s never been alone, Bob.  Doesn’t she deserve a chance to find out who she is?  Who she might be?”

His voice, when he finds it, comes out rough-edged, a croak.  “What if she doesn’t come back to me?”

Nat’s hand back on his knee, bracing him.  “Then you’ll still always be the man who broke Jake’s spell over her,” she replies.  “And that will always count for a whole fucking lot.”

[incognit0slut]

Since you want to be realistic can you write something about squirting? What if r has been trying to squirt but fails (because not all women can do that) but spencer is being patient and helps stimulate her?

(18+, MDNI) Unprotected sex, squirting, and no plot. This is just pure filth and very graphic ~2k words

-

Spencer tries to stimulate you into the most intense pleasure.

Wet. You were wet everywhere. Your skin was drenched in sweat as you lay against the bed. Your hair was a mess across the pillow, some strands stuck to your damp forehead. But the most intense sensation, the one that captured your entire focus, was the throbbing wetness between your thighs.

It felt as if every nerve in your body converged at that single, overwhelming point. How could you not when he was positioned between your legs, his body pressed firmly against yours, grinding the hard length of his cock against your soft, swollen folds?

You whimpered, feeling the underside of his cock brush your clit with every thrust. He had been doing this for what felt like an eternity, and you willingly accepted him, writhing beneath his body.  His sweat-coated skin slid against yours as you clung to him, his mouth hovering just above yours, lips barely touching.

You felt his hips withdraw, pulling back from your body before thrusting forward again. The slick mix of your arousal caused him to slip slightly, and the tip of his cock pushed into you without warning. You gasped at the sudden, intense stretch.

But just as quickly as it happened, he pulled out again, leaving you whimpering at the sudden loss. "W-Why’d you stop?"

He hovered above you, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. “I’m trying to stimulate you, remember?”

His palm brushed your skin, edging closer to your aching cunt. Your mouth fell open against his as he found your clit, slowly circling it with his fingers. You arched into his touch as he applied gentle pressure. 

“I-I am stimulated,” you convinced him. Your brows knitted together when his movements intensified, his fingers pressing more firmly. The sensation was almost too much, but not enough. “I’m ready.”

He shook his head. “You need to be relaxed and comfortable. It’s all about building up the right kind of pressure and being fully aroused.”

You sighed. “I don’t know why you’re so intent on making it happen… It’s never happened before.”

"It might happen now." "It won't. There must be something wrong with my body."

“There's nothing wrong with your body. Everyone is different, and that’s perfectly okay." He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, "But imagine if it does happen…”

His voice trailed off as he continued to caress you, drawing a gasp from your lips. His movements were slow and lazy, but precise, focusing on the most sensitive spots with an intensity that belied his relaxed pace.

"Spence..." you whined. The slow, teasing pace was driving you wild, but you knew he could hold out much longer than you could. "I want to feel you.”

"Patience," he murmured, his fingers never ceasing their rhythm. "The more we build, the more intense it will be."

Your hips bucked into his hand, your body pleading for more. The tension inside you coiled tighter and tighter, your breaths coming in shallow, rapid gasps.

"Please,” you breathed. The need in your voice was undeniable, and you felt him smile against your skin.

Finally, he relented, shifting his position into a sitting position before grabbing a pillow. “Lift your hips for me.”

“We’re using a pillow?”

“I’m trying something,” he replied. “It should help change the angle and make things feel even more intense.”

You raised your hips as instructed, and he carefully positioned the pillow under you, elevating your lower back. “I see you’ve done your research.”

A bashful smile crossed his face as he settled back between your legs. "Maybe a little.”

With the pillow perfectly positioned, he aligned himself again and slowly pushed into you. His eyes were fixated on the way your body welcomed him, but he didn't push any further. Instead, he began a slow, tantalizing rhythm, barely his tip moving in and out, teasing you with each shallow thrust.

The sensation was maddening. You felt every inch of him, the slow, steady strokes sent ripples of pleasure through your body.

"Oh, that's..."

"Good?"

"Very good," you managed, a moan punctuating your words.

How could something so simple feel so intense? Each teasing thrust seemed to make every nerve ending in your body come alive. The gentle rhythm, the soft sound of his breath mingling with your moans, created an atmosphere of pure, unadulterated desire. 

It was evident in the way his eyes darkened with every gasp you let out, the way his hands gripped your hips a little tighter. It was evident in the soft, slick sounds your bodies made with each teasing thrust, your arousal intensifying with every movement.

Your hands gripped the sheet as you fought to keep some semblance of control. And when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he proved you wrong when his thumb found your clit.

“Oh…” you moaned, surprised even by your own voice. The sudden, intense sensation sent a shockwave through your body, making you arch towards him involuntarily. His thumb circled your clit slowly, as if he was experimenting, finding the exact rhythm that made you quiver.

It was as if you were his perfect study, each movement of his thumb carefully gauging your reactions. He watched intently, learning what made you gasp and what made you moan, fine-tuning his touch to drive you closer to the edge.

"Stimulating the G-spot and clit simultaneously can increase your pleasure,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving your body. “It’s all about building the right kind of pressure.”

“Spence…” you gasped, your voice coming in broken fragments as pleasure overwhelmed you.

“Breathe. Trust your body.”

You focused on your breathing, drawing air in and out, as your eyes fixed on the sight before you. Looking up, you saw his messy hair shadowing his intense eyes. Your gaze then traced the line of his chest, down to his narrowed waist, across the soft curve of his stomach. The trail of hair leading down from his navel drew your eyes further down, and you paused, mesmerized by the sight of his cock moving in and out of you. 

Then he pushed deeper, stretching you further than before. The sensation was intense, a delicious mixture of pleasure and the slightest hint of pain as you adjusted to his fullness. Your fingers dug into the sheets, gripping them tightly as you watched him start to rut his hips into you.

You cried out as his thumb increased the pressure on your clit. It was becoming too much, the sensation was familiar yet different, and your body started to shake. He noticed your reaction and adjusted his angle slightly, aiming to maximize the stimulation while his thumb continued its relentless motion.

“Are you close?”

"Y-Yes," you managed to moan, your body quivering with the approaching climax. The way he angled his thrusts, hitting that perfect spot every time was driving you insane. He watched you intently, his movements never faltering, increasing the pace just enough to push you further. 

You felt the climax building, unstoppable, like a tidal wave ready to crash. "Spence... I'm going to..." you gasped, unable to finish your words.

He pulled out at that instant, and you thought the sensation would leave you, but it was already traveling through your body. You cried out, filthy and unfiltered, as your orgasm ripped through you. Your body convulsed, trembling uncontrollably as your cunt clenched around nothing, the release so powerful it left you breathless. 

Just as you started to calm yourself, Spencer pushed his cock back into you, drawing a gasp from your lips.

“Oh god…” you breathed, the renewed sensation overwhelming your still-sensitive body. 

He watched you intently, the way your body thrashed against the bed, legs instinctively falling further apart. Sensing an opportunity, he let go of your clit and reached to hold the back of your thighs, gently parting you even further, quickening his pace.

“Spence, I can’t—” you began, but your words were cut off by a high-pitched moan as he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

“You can take it,” he encouraged. “You’re almost there.”

You shook your head, feeling an unfamiliar pressure building. “I-It feels weird,” you whined, your head lolling against the sheets. “I need to pee.”

“That’s a good sign, it means you’re really close,” he explained gently, not slowing his movements but watching you more closely for any sign of discomfort. “Try to relax.”

Your body turned slightly, a fluid, almost hypnotic motion as the warmth deep inside you swelled, sending ripples of intense sensation coursing through your wet sex. The pressure built, unfamiliar yet compelling. 

“I-I really need to p-pee.”

“Shh, you’re alright,” he assured you. “Just breathe through it.”

Taking his advice, you focused on your breathing and felt him quicken his pace. You squeezed your eyes shut as he rocked into you harder. Every time his throbbing cock squelched through your aching core, your arousal spread to his pelvis, his thighs, and his knees. The intensity was almost too much, but also too good to want it to stop.

Your breath hitched when he momentarily pulled away, then abruptly replaced his already quick tempo with an even more vigorous pace and your cunt instinctively clenched around him, your muscles spasming fiercely as he fucked in and out of you with relentless force. Your body tightened, and that unfamiliar sensation returned.

"Spencer," you gasped, the words catching in your throat as you felt every inch of him. The friction was perfect—intense, almost overwhelming, bordering on unbearable.

"Let it out," Spencer encouraged, his hands finding your hips, guiding you with a firm, steady pressure. “I got you.”

"Fuck," you moaned, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes from the intensity. You blinked your them open and quickly noticed the fucked-out look on his face, the way his mouth hung open as he focused on your pleasure.

His gaze was intense, almost devouring, as he watched every reaction, every shift of your body. The deep lines of concentration on his forehead showed how much he was invested in your satisfaction, and how much he wanted to see you unravel.

It was the trigger your body needed.

With that, you suddenly climaxed, calling out his name in a trembling moan as all of your muscles spasmed together, legs buckling completely as you drenched him with your warm liquid. The pressure was so intense that the liquid pushed himself out, but he stayed close to you, holding the base of his cock in place as he let the tip rub against your throbbing cunt the whole time you convulsed. 

There was so much of your release drenching him and the sheets that you couldn’t believe he was capable of squeezing an orgasm so intense, let alone the satisfied smile he wore as he looked down at you in approval.

“You did it,” he murmured, his voice filled with pride and affection. His thumb gently traced circles on your hip as he lay beside you. “How do you feel?”

You took a moment to catch your breath before answering him. “Overwhelmed,” you whispered, a dazed smile spreading across your face. “And very wet.”

He laughed, a warm, infectious sound that made you feel even more at ease. He then grabbed your hip, his hand trailing down your leg before gently lifting it and placing it over his, turning your body toward him.

His hand rested comfortably on your thigh. “I think I can handle a little wetness.”

“You handle it very well.”

His grin widened, and he leaned in to capture your lips in a gentle, lingering kiss. “Do you want to do it again?”

You pulled away slightly. “That’s possible?”

“Absolutely. In fact, you can try to control it yourself.”

“…How?”

He suddenly pulled you on top of him, guiding you so that you straddled his hips. The sudden movement made you giggle, a light, joyous sound that filled the room as you buried your face in his neck. It was safe to say he helped you learn what your body was truly capable of that night.

[daycourtofficial]

Gingerfucker - Eris x Rhys’s Sister!reader Masterlist

Banner by @milswrites | Note: these are in chronological order by content, not by posting date. This is an ongoing series and will be updated.

Summary: no one is more surprised than Eris Vanserra to find that he is capable of much more than just political ambition

Some art of the babies: (Nyx and Atlas) (All the gingersnaps) (Atlas and Leif) (Atlas) (the family)

Art by @dawneternal: Eris during the events of Cold was the steel of my axe to grind, portraits of the gingersnaps, art of Eris and Atlas

Gingerfucker week 2024 blurbs

Moodboard

It’s just to satiate the bond - an agreement to have sex just to satiate a mating bond neither party wants is a great idea. Surely no one will get hurt, right?

Insatiable you - immediately following the events of it’s just to satiate the bond - Eris’s sudden disappearance when you saw him last has left you in a foul mood for weeks. Unwilling to admit to the source of them, they aren’t as one sided as your mate wants you to think they are.

One single thread of gold tied me to you* - Eris accepts the mating bond and is incredibly touched by the effort you put into cooking him the meal from scratch

All’s well that ends well to end up with you - fears and doubts cause you and Eris to do your first irrational act together: a secret mating bond ceremony

I am ash from your fire - Surprising Eris one evening, you’ve turned up in the dead of night to let him know that your brother had figured out your secret relationship, offering you an ultimatum.

Cold was the steel of my axe to grind - centuries of plotting and scheming come to a head when his mate unexpectedly arrives in Autumn and Eris is desperate to set his plans in motion, least she become a piece for Beron to use against him

Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons - Eris leaves his mate alone in the Forest House, telling her to trust no one but his mother. The two women are ill-equipped to provide frontline fighting, but surely they can help Eris in their own way. *companion piece to ‘Cold was the steel of my axe to grind’

Hell was the journey but it brought me Heaven - in the immediate aftermath of Beron’s death and the thrum of power in his veins, Eris’s mate forces him to, at the bare minimum, bathe

Secret exchanges - a few weeks after the aftermath of Rhys’s banishment, your mate, the new High Lord of the Autumn Court, has a secret meeting with someone from your family.

Blood moon in Autumn - fae cycles are no joke, but your mate is always there to provide you comfort in the best way possible: by being your personal heating pad

Have I found you, flightless bird? - a reflection of a life of secrets and expectations and how, despite it all, a flightless bird found home in an unlikely place

Ferocious beasts with soft bellies - Eris’s hounds know you’re pregnant before either of you do, driving the two of you wild with their newfound devotion to you.

Starfall in Autumn - based on the prompt for Starfall week “characters a and b realize they won’t make it to Starfall. They make the most of what they have to celebrate”

Laborious anxieties - Eris is riddled with anxiety leading up to your labor, but what happens when some of his worst fears come to fruition?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed - your relationship with Rhysand had been icy at best, but your attempts to reconcile are quick to be shot down. A rash decision leads you to endangering your life - can Eris find you in time? Can he save your infant son?

Amber eyes, looking into mine - Eris finds something in his study that triggers him into a frozen state of panic. Who better suited to pulling Eris from his past than his future?

We started alone, in the end we’re okay - on a rare night alone, Eris reflects on his long life and the lonely nights that haunted his youth. And how he’s a long way from the person he was and the person he had to be.

Fireling - every father’s dream is to be there the day his son first uses his powers. Luckily for Eris, he gets just that.

Let’s play restaurant - your son’s version of playing is confusing, but Eris is surprisingly good at any games he wants to play

How the kingdom lights shine just for me and you - Eris tells his sons a story, letting them know how a strong knight defeated an evil dragon and saved the kingdom.

Loving parents, harmless fun - Modern!Gingerfucker - slice of life where Eris takes his family on a roadtrip and is only slightly annoyed at his son’s choice of car game

* = smut

[kiyawritesforf1]

PADDOCK PROPOSAL - LANDO’S POV

Much appreciated imagine with Lando’s POV

Carlos POV here

⸻

Lando’s not saying he trained his son for this exact moment… but he is saying the kid’s clearly inherited his taste in women and his sense of drama.

It starts off as just another sunny afternoon in the paddock, mechanics humming around, chatter buzzing through the garages, and somewhere in the chaos, his three-year-old tornado of a son is off playing with Carlos’s daughter again.

No surprise there — those two have been inseparable since they were old enough to waddle. Today, though? Today is special. Because his son, his legend of a three-year-old, just took a plastic diamond ring from the hotel jewelry box and gave it to Isabella Sainz.

Lando sees it from across the paddock — her tiny hands waving the ring in the air, curly hair bouncing as she runs toward her parents.

“Mamá, mamá! Look what Theo gave me! We’re getting married!”

Lando chokes on his water.

Carlos turns like he’s just been told Ferrari’s making him team principal — slow, stiff, and with a face already halfway between confusion and cardiac arrest.

Lando sets his bottle down and folds his arms, biting back the smug grin crawling onto his face. His wife leans in slightly beside him.

“Is that… the fake ring from my nightstand?”

“Yup,” he says proudly. “That’s the one. He nicked it this morning while I was brushing his hair. Slipped it in his pocket like a pro.”

Carlos is spiraling now — trying to make sense of the toddler-sized proposal, pointing at the ring, mumbling to Y/N, and glancing around like someone’s about to jump out and tell him it’s all a prank.

It is not a prank. It is, in fact, the best thing Lando’s ever witnessed.

“God, I hope there’s a photographer around,” Lando murmurs, already pulling his phone out just in case.

From a few feet away, Isabella’s still twirling, flashing the plastic ring on her tiny finger like she just left a Tiffany’s. And Theo? Theo is standing there with his hands on his hips, chest puffed out, beaming like he just sealed a contract with Mercedes.

Lando’s heart practically melts.

“That’s my boy,” he whispers. “Look at him. Cool. Confident. Committed. Kid’s three and already got a future wife lined up.”

His wife’s trying not to laugh. “Carlos looks like he’s going to pass out.”

“He’ll survive,” Lando grins. “Barely.”

He strolls over casually, just in time to hear Isabella say it again — louder this time, to Carlos’s face.

“Look, Papa! Theo gave me this ring! I’m his girlfriend now!”

Carlos’s expression is priceless. A mix of horror and denial with a generous splash of dramatic suffering. The man looks like he’s been hit with a rogue tire.

Lando can’t help himself.

“Well, well, well. Looks like we’ve got a wedding in the works,” he says, all innocent-like, arms folded as he takes in the chaos.

Carlos whips his head toward him, eyes wide. “A wedding? Lando, are you kidding me?”

He shrugs. “She said yes. What am I supposed to do — stop true love? I raised a respectful, romantic king.”

“You raised a menace,” Carlos snaps.

“Tomato, tomahto.”

He steps closer to Theo and ruffles his curls. “Proud of you, bud. You picked an amazing girl. Smart choice.”

Carlos looks ready to throw him into the McLaren hospitality fridge. “She’s three, Lando!”

“So is he. They’re perfectly matched.”

Carlos lets out a slow, dramatic breath through his nose. “This is your fault.”

Lando raises a brow. “Oh? And how’s that?”

“You bring him to the paddock. You let him run wild. You’re letting him propose to my daughter!”

Lando turns to Theo. “Did you ask her nicely, mate?”

Theo nods. “I said ‘you’re the prettiest girl ever, wanna be my wife?’”

Lando puts a hand on his heart. “Iconic.”

Carlos is spiraling again. “She’s calling him her boyfriend now! You’re not taking this seriously!”

“Oh, I’m taking it very seriously,” Lando says, all mock-gravitas. “I’m already picturing the guest list. Zak can officiate. Max can drive them to the reception in the RB20.”

Carlos groans.

Lando grins wider. “And obviously, Isabella will walk down the paddock with a bouquet made of tire warmers.”

“You think this is funny?” Carlos mutters, eyes closed in defeat.

“I think it’s beautiful. Childhood sweethearts. Paddock royalty. You should be honored, mate. They’re going to have fast kids.”

Carlos pinches the bridge of his nose. “I need a drink.”

Lando claps a hand on his shoulder, smirking. “Make it a double. It’s going to be a long engagement.”

He glances back at Theo and Isabella — now holding hands again, giggling like they’ve just conquered the world. And yeah, sure, it’s probably not legally binding or whatever, but Lando doesn’t care.

Because in this moment? He’s never been prouder.

His son is in love, Carlos is unraveling, and the paddock has never been more entertaining.

Best race weekend ever.

⸻

End.

[venussaidso]

Venus Dominant Themes — 𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 (part 1) 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

warnings: mentions of sexual assault, rape and murder.

Finally, I am exploring Venus as a nakshatra lord but, more importantly, the significance of the nakshatra Purva Ashada through medias I've collected. The nakshatras within the Sagittarius section seem to all connect through the theme of purification, especially with the start of Mula who destroys the falsehood through the hunter/huntress archetype and purifies the untamable. As Mula is the cycle of conquering the wild things and seeking truth, Purva Ashada is now a stage above that.

It is already evident in that Purva Ashada literally means "the undefeated" or "the unconquered", now dealing with themes of justice, honour and battle. This nakshatra is known as the Invincible Star. This victorious warrior-like essence stretches towards Uttara Ashada, as Uttara Ashada means "later victory" or "final victory", closing off this journey in Sagittarius. Other Venus nakshatras will be mentioned, as expected, since trine nakshatras all literally have the same outlining experiences.

Purva Ashada is associated with invincibility and triumph over adversity. It possesses the Varchagrahan Shakti, which is the power to invigorate or energise, meaning to be relentless and driven in its pursuit of ideals. Its desire is said to be “gaining the sea upon wishing for it”, being supported by its Jupiter rulership. As Jupiter is idealistic, Purva Ashada will be more set in its way through action and fixed determination as it is, first and foremost, a fire sign. As this is Sagittarius, it comes as no surprise that fictional archers in the media can be often played by these natives, signifying their grit and focused determination ♐︎.

Mula Suns Kathryn Winnick in Vikings and Anna Popplewell in Narnia.

Purva Ashada Moon Hailee Stainfield and Purva Ashada Sun Jeremy Renner in Hawkeye.

Purva Ashada Sun Jonas Armstrong in Robin Hood.

Archery is especially perfect for this nakshatra's lord as it requires a flowing adaptability and accuracy as Venus would obsess over perfecting and executing it, unyielding a level of concentration and precision through burning passion and drive.

Bharani Sun Stephen Amell in Green Arrow.

The star of Purva Ashada is very fierce and severe by nature, being Ugra, and with its Venus rulership, it will always always find a way to achieve its goals. Venus allows for creativity, craftiness, and even strategy (especially within diplomacy); the fire element making it fierce and quick-thinking for battle and war. The fire signs in the Venus section are specifically suited for overpowering societal norms in a way that their combined fire element and Venusian qualities know how to. The best character that exemplifies this is literally Mulan.

The themes of fighting for honour, family, one's country and being part of a larger purpose are just knocking on the 9H, and Sagittarius, as a whole. Purva Ashada cannot be victorious without overcoming hardships and obstacles that sharpen their skills and instincts. Her obstacle is what supports her journey to independence and truth, as she disguises herself as a man to join the army when women are not meant to fight for their country. Jupiter, being expansive in nature, shows in her decision to break free from the confines of being a traditional woman. Her character immediately signifies Sagittarius' need for freedom in pursuit of truth and expansion. When she is told no, she goes the other way to march to the beat of her own drum, her determination unwavering and her creativity helping her remain disguised while she acquires skills and knowledge that she wouldn't have as a woman (now her Jupiterian nature is able to flourish).

Purva Ashada Moon Ming-Na Wen voices Mulan. Purva Ashadha is formed by the stars Kaus Borealis and Kaus Australis in the Archer’s bow.

Purva Ashada signifies perseverance and moral duty which we see in Mulan who carries a deep responsibility to her family & country, choosing to prioritize duty and honour over societal norms or even personal desire.

She grows stronger, more skillful, after every challenge; influence of Venus sharpening and refining her, as she is on her way to become an invincible, victorious force.

Jupiter rashis (Sagittarius and Pisces) all have a theme of transcendence; Mulan's arc having more to do with family and patriotism, transcending limitations and becoming a hero who saves China. The message of the story has a lot to do with self-worth, making your mark no matter the restrictions of society; the philosophy of Mulan being that real honour and strength come from within and not from conforming.

The whole Sagittarius section deals with issues of conformity, such as Mula who doesn't fit in society or doesn't feel free within it due to its raw nature. Mula, being Ketu, tends to find ways to escape or its power can be intense. While Purva Ashada, being Venus, is more creative in maneuvering restrictions in order to overcome them.

Both Lea Salonga and Christina Aguilera sing the popular soundtrack song Reflection.

In the kdrama The King's Affection, Purva Phalguni Sun Park Eun-bin plays a character who disguises herself as a man to survive in such a patriarchal society.

Much like Mulan, she breaks societal expectations. Both characters have to prove their worth even while they're men, and these two Venusians excel in their roles despite all challenges and danger. While Mulan sacrifices her personal safety to protect her father and to fight for her country, the character Dam-i (in The King's Affection) sacrifices her identity and freedom to maintain her family's honour and stability in the kingdom.

Purva Phalguni Moon Yifei Liu in Mulan (2020)

Venus is connected to the idea of sacrifice in the willingness to endure for love, beauty, and unity. This willingness to transcend one's own personhood for the greater good or a higher ideal​ perfectly captures the Jupiter & Venus rulership of this nakshatra.

The film Wonder Woman (2017) begins by telling a similar arc to Mulan. Before being known as the hero named Wonder Woman, she was Diana, princess of the Amazons, who trained rigorously to be an unconquerable warrior.

Raised on a sheltered island paradise, she meets a stranded war pilot who tells her about the massive conflict happening in the outside world. Convinced that she can help stop the threat, Diana desires to leave Themyscira for the first time ever. Much like Mulan's desire to join the army was protested against, the Amazons tried to stop Diana from leaving, as they feared for her safety. As the rashi rulership here is Mars, there are no barriers to overcome to expand oneself from clear oppressive forces (which would be a Jupiterian storyline), instead, this portrayal of Wonder Woman goes head first into battle (very Aries of her).

Her Aries nature shows as we follow her in her journey of self-discovery when she joins the pilot to fight the wars. This Aries version of Wonder Woman is seen as she explores this new world like a newborn baby, as Aries is the baby of the zodiac. Her identity (following 1H themes) is slowly uncovered as she comes to realize that she is the Godkiller, meaning that she has always been a goddess. And that there is a potential confrontation awaiting her with Ares, the God of War. This discovery is picked up when she is fighting alongside men in a war to end all wars.

Bharani is ruled by the Lord Yama who is the god of justice. He oversees the transition of souls after death, ensuring that they face the consequences of their actions as he acts as a guardian of moral order and spiritual integrity.

Bharani ASC Cate Blanchett plays Hela, the Goddess of Death. Yama is the God of Death and the Lord of the Afterlife.

Purva Ashada nakshatra generally carries this sense of justice as well, as it stands for truth and high morality. This can be seen in the film North Country, which is directed by Purva Ashada Moon native Niki Caro (who also directed 2020's live-action Mulan).

Purva Phalguni ASC Charlize Theron portrays one of the members of the first group of women working at a local iron mine in Minnesota. Male workers become offended that they have to work with women, and they express this by lashing out at them, subjecting them to sexual harassment. Appalled by the physical abuse and violent misogyny, Charlize Theron's character files a historic sexual harassment lawsuit, despite being cautioned against it by family and friends.

The reality of femicide tends to be bravely explored through the media by Venusians the most, I've noticed. Acts that harm women, such as physical or sexual violence, can be seen as affronts to Venus itself, violating the sacred feminine.

A lot of revenge stories led by women start with the woman being sexually violated or physically oppressed, justifying her rage and her violence against those who have harmed her.

Lord Yama is also known as Dharma Raja, which translates to "King of Righteousness". Being associated with his punishment for sinners, retribution and justice are synonymous in this cycle; seen in popular revenge movies where one is given this divine right to properly, and quickly, execute justice for themselves and, or their loved ones. As if Lord Yama is acting through them, they are protected on their path of vengeance and restoration.

Purva Phalguni ASC Charlize Theron as Furiosa.

In the film Mad Max: Fury Road, Furiosa is driven by a desire to restore freedom, dignity, and hope to the oppressed class of society. Through her actions, she opposes the extreme patriarchy, her character signifying collective salvation. Furiosa carries a relentless drive to overthrow Immortan Joe’s tyrannical rule and rescue the few women in the society, who are treated as his property. Her unbreakable spirit in the face of extreme challenges mirrors the invincibility found within Purva Ashada (and its trine nakshatras). Purva Ashada's link to water, as it is ruled by the deity Apah, highlights purification, healing, and renewal. Furiosa’s quest to find the Green Place, a sanctuary of life and hope, reflects this thirst for a pure, life-sustaining environment. (As everywhere else is a post-apocalyptic wasteland).

Being that she is played by a Venus-nakshatra native, we see just how self-sacrificing she is for a greater purpose, being protective over the Wives and willing to risk everything for their safety and make it to the Green Place in order to establish a new foundation of harmony (Purva Phalguni is associated with comfort and happiness, and this version of Furiosa carries hope for such a future for her and the Wives).

Bharani ASC Anya Taylor Joy portrays a younger Furiosa who disguises herself as a man for survival and avenges the brutal death of her mother who was murdered in front of her as a child (much like O-Ren Ishii in Kill Bill.)

Bharani Moon Quentin Tarantino has written and directed popular revenge movies, such as Kill Bill & Django Unchained.

Both films star Bharani natives who execute retribution to people who did them wrong.

In Kill Bill, there's another Bharani storyline in which a little girl, O-Ren Ishii, witnesses the brutal death of her parents. She grows up to be trained and lethal, and kills the culprit that she's sworn revenge on.

O-Ren Ishii is portrayed by Bharani Moon Lucy Liu.

Bharani Moon Han So-Hee portrays Ji-woo, a woman driven by a thirst for vengeance, infiltrating a drug cartel to uncover the truth behind her father's murder.

In the Korean film Night in Paradise, Bharani Moon Jeon Yeo-Been portrays a character who goes on a murder spree in the ending, ambushing the gangsters who murdered her uncle and a friend of hers and being the one to successfully kill off the antagonist.

In Last Night in Soho, Bharani ASC Anya Taylor Joy kills all the men who have sexually violated her, and more importantly, avenges herself by murdering the man who lured her into the abusive underworld.

Claire Nakti touches on Bharani women being erotic dancers and finding themselves in the underworld. This further validated Anya Taylor Joy's Bharani placement for me, in this movie she's been sex trafficked and forced to be a dancer and prostitute in an underworld of sorts.

Purva Phalguni Sun& ASC Salma Hayek as an erotic dancer in an underworld in From Dusk Till Dawn.

It is interesting as trine nakshatras are also seen associated with the Goddess Persephone, Queen of the Underworld.

In The Matrix franchise, Persephone is married to the Merovingian, a program often described as a ruler or trafficker of information in the Matrix's underworld.

The Goddess Persephone is mostly associated with Bharani nakshatra. Initially being a victim of Hades' abduction, Persephone's evolution into a strong ruler of the underworld represents resilience and empowerment which perfectly encapsulates the journey of Venus nakshatras. She literally grows into a powerful queen, presiding over the dead and representing justice and the necessary order within the underworld. Bharani signifies the womb, representing creation, struggle, and the emergence of new life. Persephone’s cyclic movement between the underworld and the earth (as she is also the personification of vegetation, also being the goddess of spring) mirrors this cycle of life, embodying death (winter) and rebirth (spring). Purva Ashada represents the regenerative power of life, also signifying its association with Persephone’s role in seasonal changes. (Also, Furiosa's abduction from the Green Place perfectly parallels Persephone's abduction, as explained above).

In conclusion, there lies a higher purpose within the Venus nakshatras, especially Purva Ashada nakshatra, which possesses an ability to harmonize life's dualities—victory and loss, pleasure and pain, creation and destruction, love and retribution—into a transformative journey of growth, empowerment, and universal balance. Venus emphasizes how resilience and renewal can lead to profound evolution, with Purva Ashada's process of purification being removing impurities and starting anew. The character Mulan going through army training highlighted her inadequacies and shortcomings; her initiation of purification being the stage where she breaks free from traditional expectations. And so the process of purification is seen in her discovering ways to make up for her lack of physical strength, this being a mark of her transformation while being disguised as a man. Rediscovering her inner strength is all the cleansing of self-doubt that she needs to go through to finally be in her final triumph. Reconciling her inner self with her external role, Mulan symbolizes the renewal and balance within Purva Ashada.