#especially knowing it would be for a tiny audience | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mv1simp · 3 months ago

Text

Obsessed ♥️

Max Verstappen x Reader

got the tensions so high, you can’t sleep through the night, know you try to fight it, but it’s on your mind (got you obsessin now, counting your blessings now)

After having had his eye on you - the paddock's it girl, viral influencer and now Lewis Hamilton's new fling - for months, Max decided to finally make you his after you snap his self control with your teasing. And everyone knows he’s not one to do things half heartedly - even if that means claiming you until you realises he’s the perfect boyfriend for you instead.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, dark! Max Verstappen, naive! Bratty! Reader, dubcon, kidnapping (but just for like a couple of weeks), LOL I KNOW I SAID I WOULD NEVER WRITE KIDNAPPING BUT I GOT HORNY, size kink, cheating, BDSM, bimbofication, aphrodisiacs, this is the nastiest piece of filth I’ve produced I hope the dark max girlies rejoice

With his muscled arms crossed and a clenched jaw, a certain blonde Dutchman watches you confidently walk around the paddock, your hips moving sensually underneath the frilly miniskirt you’ve decided to wear. There’s no way you didn’t notice the many eyes on you, guys from all different garages checking you out with interest, Max thinks with annoyance clear on his face. He’d heard about you a long time ago, as a rising content creator and viral Insta model beginning to dabble in sports reporting, but it wasn't until just a few months ago that he had first seen you. Max always rolled his eyes as he walked past reporters interviewing you, eagerly asking about your perfect makeup and gorgeous outfits. F1 was meant to be about racing, about bloodthirsty competition, not about pandering to internet celebrities. Especially ones who were only there because of fake fame made from social media. Honestly, Max hated attention seekers like you, and hated how you were in the Redbull garage more and more often to give your audience a closer look.

Yeah, he hated you, but somehow he couldn’t stop thinking about you all the fucking time. Before races, after races, back home in Monaco on an evening out, at night in his bed unable to fall asleep, in the morning as he zipped up his training fit. He hated how much attention you would draw with your pretty face and curvy body on display beneath the tight outfits you wore. He hated how all your interviews and posts went viral as the online audience flocked to your natural confidence and outgoing personality as you charm your way through the paddock. He hated how sexy you looked with your thick lashes and long curls, hated how his engineers would become distracted when you’d walk past mid conversation. He hated how you smelt like sweet vanilla perfume and how you’d stare at him with pouting full lips and hurt puppy dog eyes everytime he ignored you when you sweetly talk to him. Your stupid sweetheart pink minidress was so fucking tiny, pushing your cute tits up until they were practically in his face, how was his cock not meant to get hard at the sight?

Then he’d always have to storm off to his cool off room, closing his eyes and angrily jerking off and only cumming when he thought about finishing all over those lush tits of yours as you pull down your dress, looking up at him on your knees with those wide doe eyes. You disinhibited Max just by being in the same room, somehow made him spin out of control. And Max Verstappen was always in control.

You’re far too much of a potential headache for him to pursue you, attracting so much media attention that there's no way he could speak to you in the paddock without it ending up in 10 different headlines. So he decided to regain control another way - getting multiple other girls underneath him instead to blow off the steam, get his mind off you. But no matter how many he slept with, in however many positions or risk situations, he just couldn't fully unleash himself. It was almost funny how the universe taunted him by making him think about you even more. Mid thrust inside another random model he'd met at a club, he's far from focused on her and instead imagining how much prettier you'd look beneath him. It was almost too easy to start fucking the girl who's name he'd already forgotten from the back, so he could picture that it was your lush ass he was squeezing and slapping instead, your pretty hair he was pulling as you made cute ah, ah, ahs! Max came within seconds at the thought, releasing a low moan as he breathed your name. He wasn't surprised when the girl stormed out of his apartment angrily afterwards. Putting on some sweats, he made his way out to his balcony with a glass of gin, sipping slowly as he stared out to the glimmering Monaco nightlife. He should’ve known that replicas could never compare to the original, to what he really craved - you. You were the real deal, a true natural beauty with an aura that exuded confidence. He was done trying to ignore his instincts, and what Max wanted, Max always got. And what he wanted now was you.

There’s no more wasting time for Max, because he immediately calls his private jet and flies to your city, showing up at your door with an absurdly large bouquet of dark red roses. But to his surprise and frustration, you turn his offer for dinner down, saying that you’ve started seeing someone else. Apparently in the past month while Max had been suppressing his desire for you, you had somehow gotten tangled in a sensationalised media fling with Lewis Hamilton. Seeing you laugh as you cling onto his rival’s arms, dressed in your usual pretty pastel pink minidresses made Max’s jaw tense. But he doesn’t miss the way your doe eyes curiously drift over to him when you think no one’s looking, hastily turning back to Lewis when you find Max’s intense blue gaze looking back at you. He doesn’t miss the way you bite your glossed lips as Max unzips his suit mid interviews with you that he’s started doing, revealing his tight fireproofs stretched across his muscled pecs and broad shoulders. He makes sure to lean in, looking at you with full attention and letting you smell his husky cologne mixed with post race sweat. He smirks when he sees how you subconsciously take a deep breath, how your pupils dilate with attraction. Max is so much bigger, stronger, powerful compared to you, and your current boyfriend, and you guiltily squeeze your thighs together to control yourself. When he sees the way you cross your legs, miniskirt rising up to reveal chubby thighs that you clench so hard that your knuckles turn white, he knows that he has you right where he wants you. He corners you in an empty storage closet post debrief, large hands gripping your full hips as he leans down and murmurs that you two would make such a good couple, he’d spoil you so much, are you sure you didn’t want to join him for dinner tonight?

To his extreme annoyance, you hold your ground even more firmly than before, pushing him away and telling him in a condescending tone No thank you, like I said, I’m seeing Lewis now…it’s rude of you to ask again! You flash him a glare with those cute doe eyes of yours - an expression that doesn’t suit your pretty face at all - before strutting off in your kitten heels. You turn to look at him before you leave the garage, catching his icy blue eyes on your swaying hips, and can’t hide the small pleased smile at having caught the interest of the F1 champion. Max’s eyes darken as you slip out of his grasp for the second time, because now he was certain you knew exactly what effect you had on the Dutchman and were using it to your full advantage. Oh, and did you use it - bending over suddenly to grab something you “dropped” just as Max would appear behind you, giving him a hint of juicy ass, leaning in to grab something next to him and letting your soft cleavage press against his biceps. The real cherry on top would be the way you glared at him haughtily when his eyes would inevitably drift down to your neckline, where he caught the perfect view of your cleavage, before hearing you scoff at him and stride away with the ever present sway of your plush hips. And Max’s heated gaze would be fixated on you, watching you make yourself comfortable on Lewis’s lap with a giggle - but your oh so innocent eyes would meet ice blue ones with a fiery defiance. It was like you were taunting him, seeing how far you could take it before he snapped.

Max hadn’t planned on finally losing control when he did. After the Monaco race, when everyone found themselves dancing and drinking to the pounding bass in exclusive nightclubs, you had joined Lewis in celebrating his P2 with Ferrari. You still weren’t officially his girlfriend, with Lewis’ laser focus on an 8th WDC meaning he didn’t want to be distracted with a serious relationship. Still, you had hope you could be the one to convince him otherwise - even if shivers ran down your spine and heat pooled in your lower stomach not from Lewis’ warm, comforting eyes but from his arch rival’s intense, dark gaze. Even now you couldn’t help catching Max’s eyes across the neon club. You knew you shouldn’t think it, but seeing him lean against a railing and talk animatedly to Lando with a gorgeous smile on his face, you admired him secretly. He looked so good dressed in a white shirt that highlighted those broad shoulders and his infamous tight jeans, showing off his muscular thighs.

And then a girl approached Max, looking the very picture of a French model, flirting and batting her lashes up at him. You roll your eyes as you see the Dutchman entertain her flirting, because of course a guy as arrogant and cocky as him just loved women who threw themselves at him. Not you though, and as you wander off from Lewis and find your girlfriends you’re determined to put Max Verstappen far out of your mind and only focus on twirling and grinding your curves on the dancefloor. You do such a good job of drinking tequila shot after shot that it’s a little hard to remember much after that.

You remember giggling with your girlfriends, reapplying your makeup, saying goodbye to Lewis who wanted to go home early but you wanted to stay out and have more fun! You go from one club, to another, but the whole time you can’t stop imagining Max’s intense gaze locked into yours. You think you went for fresh air at some point, almost stumbling in your sparkly heels but then strong hands are holding you by the waist, bringing you in against a warm chest. And you’re staring into those ice blue eyes again, tipsily babbling that you’re sooo sorry Maxie, can he pleaseee help you find your friends?

Max looks handsome even in this dim street lighting and it makes your heart race. You feel your entire body weight being held up against him, as he’s whispering soft nothings in your ear that you’re okay, schatje, he’s got you, shhhh, here just give him your phone and he’ll tell your friends where you are. You nod sleepily, suddenly feeling so tired all of a sudden, grateful that you’d run into someone kind who was helping you out.

Really, Max hadn’t been planning on taking you back to his. But you’d fallen into his arms, begging him to help you, practically just asking him to look after you and make you his. You’re such a sweet girl, after all, dressed in her gold sparkly minidress and kitten heels, oblivious to the stares of the many hungry men around her who shamelessly checked out your bouncing tits and ass with ever cute jump on the dancefloor. And Lewis had left you all alone, all defenseless. So really, Max had no choice but to protect you and take you home with him. To unlock your phone and text your friends that you were going back to the hotel before your early morning flight so they didn’t look for you. To lay you down in his soft sheets, unable to resist pressing a kiss to your delicate neck as you slept comfortably, licking a line up the column of your exposed throat as he inhaled your vanilla honey perfume. It’s hard to resist the temptation to ruin the sleeping beauty beneath him, to spread your soft thighs with one of his muscular ones and grind his painfully hard erection against your heat, but he holds himself back - for now. He knew you’d have some difficulty seeing eye to eye with his method of protecting you, so he took some precautions…by locking you in his room as he headed out the next morning as you continued sleeping.

When he came back at lunch, he finds you anxiously pacing, your curls a disarray from pulling on them and streaks of mascara running down your face in tears at the unfamiliar situation. Your jaw drops in shock as you finally come face to face with your captor. Max?! You gasp, relieved it was someone you knew and not a random serial killer. You’re running up to him, confused, asking him to let you go home because why had he locked you in, you didn’t understand, was the door jammed or something-

Max cuts you off with a grin darker than you’ve seen before, confirming that you’re exactly where he wanted you to be. He tells you about how he planned on keeping you safe, keeping you protected, even if it means making you stay inside his apartment for the next few days. You don’t understand, schatje, he murmurs in a frustrated Dutch accent. You’re far too precious to be left all alone. Do you know how many bad men are out there who want to do bad things to you? Or who want to use you like a fling and never commit to you fully the way you deserve, like Lewis is doing.

Your eyes widen in shock as he slowly stalks towards you, backing you into a corner as he confesses what he’s done. You know you should feel scared, should be in hysterics, but for some reason you don’t actually think he would harm you…physically, at least. Mentally he was doing everything to break you down and accept his offer of becoming his. You’re crazy, you say, outraged. This is just kidnapping, it’s illegal, everyone will be looking for me, do you know how famous I am-

Oh, you had no idea just how far Max was willing to go when it comes to you. He smirks, shows you the multiple texts sent from your phone to friends and family that you’re going on some wellness retreat, you would be out of cellphone range. You look in horror at the replies telling you to enjoy, and then at your Insta post telling your thousands of followers you would be taking a break, and finally at your text to Lewis saying you think you two should take a break…and his reply agreeing, that you could catch up with him in a couple of months. It was too perfectly laid out, because you had been planning on flying out for a holiday that day - just to a fancy Greek resort with a suprise ticket for Lewis, and not some secluded retreat without wifi access. You’d even had your baby pink suitcase all packed full of cute outfits, ready to go - that Max had somehow collected from your hotel room and now deposited to you smugly. See, schatje? He purrs. I’ve thought about everything. Just relax, I’ll take good care of you.

You don’t believe him at all at first. You’re scared now that no one knows where you are, an unusual feeling for you around Max with whom you feel like you have the upper hand. But after a couple days pass and he makes no physical move to touch you, instead just telling you to shower because you smelt like a nightclub and making sure you ate three times a day, you start to relax when you realise he’s not planning on selling you off to the black market or force himself on you. And to be fair, the apartment is hardly a jail cell. No, the huge Monaco penthouse Max owns can only be described as luxurious, with his own terrace pool and gym, decorated with displays of his endless trophies that remind you just how successful your captor is.

You’re still skittish until he starts letting his cats inside the room to keep you company. Seeing his cute bengals who curl up in the bed to keep you company and then comfortably migrate over to Max, who treats them with such care and adoration, chips away at the last pieces of fear that fling onto you. Then you’re just annoyed, pissed off that Max thinks he can just make you his. You start fights with him, telling him he’s delusional if he thinks you’d ever want to get with him, just because he couldn’t charm you normally he decided to force you to spend time with him?

Max is unphased with your verbal insults, finding you similar to when his cats are in a hissy mood. It’s not until you level up that you really start to test Max’s patience. He regretted bringing your suitcase to make you feel more at home, because instead of wearing the same old hoodie and sweats of his for the past week you decide to put on things that are a little more…revealing. He comes home from padel to find you lounging on the plush couch, greeting him with a smirk as he walks over to you, oh so innocently stretching your neck and accentuate the low neckline of the white summery minidress you’ve chosen. Max had liked the sight of you looking so soft and cozy in his clothes, but seeing you get dolled up again, seeing how you bat your thick lashes up at him, giving him the perfect view down your plush cleavage from your seated position filled him with pure raw desire again.

He knows what game you’re playing though, and he’s not letting you take the upper hand. Instead, he teases you by leaving heat pooling in your tummy with his dark, intense gaze before asking what you wanted for dinner. You don’t stop there, of course, wearing skimpier outfits every day, endless halter neck crop tops and skin tight baby tees with tiny skirts, having him come home to find you sunbathing on the balcony in a pathetic excuse of a bikini, fat ass and lush tits practically out on full display.

You thought he’d finally snap when he catches you almost escaping from his apartment, when he’d let his guard down a couple of weeks in and left you alone in the living room to answer his phone. He’d never left you alone in any part of the apartment before where you could access the front door, and you didn’t even think for another second before scrambling towards the door, getting as far as stepping out into the hallway-

Before you’re yanked back inside with a strong arm around your waist, easily manhandling your full weight as you try to yell and fight him off. He locks you into your room again, like he’d done on the very first day, ignoring your angry bangs and pleas to let you out. So by day two you’ve switched tactics, remembering the most effective way at getting under his skin. You smirk to yourself as you rustle through your suitcase, pulling out the baby pink bullet vibrator you always packed.

Sitting in the next room over, a scowling Max spins his rig wheel around, the annoyance in the way he aggressively clicked his steering buttons evident. He thought you’d know better by now than to try something as silly as trying to escape. Clearly, he needed to make you understand your new position by his side. You needed to be disciplined, to be punished for testing Max to his limits. He’d let you get away with far too much, and now you were under the illusion that you had the upper hand. His dark thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a low buzzing, before he hears your sweet moaning, making his eyes widen in surprise. You sound like an OnlyFans star, putting on an absolute show with high pitched whines and moans he can hear through the wall. He smirks in approval - until he hears you breathily gasp Lewis, please…

Oh, sweet little you had no idea what she’d just awoken inside the possessive Dutch Lion. You were playing with fire, dramatically letting out sinful noises and moaning Max’s rival’s name. You don’t get to say it for long, because within seconds Max is entering your room, blue eyes icy cold as he glares at your arched form on the bed. You jump, startled, not having expected him to actually come inside and there’s an embarrassed flush on your face as you withdraw your hand and quickly snap your thighs shut, mindful that he could see between your legs. You’re stammering, asking him what the hell he’s doing here, can he get out-

You squeak as Max wraps a single large hand around your ankles and yanks you forward, easily bringing your whole body in front of him. You don’t get to say much more because you’re suddenly dangling in mid air as he tosses you over his shoulder, shutting up your indignant yelps with a firm slap to your bare ass that’s barely covered in the tiny red nightie. You can’t help the butterflies swirling in your tummy at seeing how strong Max is, how he carries you like you weigh nothing over to his bedroom, tossing you on his soft mattress with a bounce. You swallow nervously as you see the look on his face, his sharp eyes taking in your heaving chest and exposed cleavage where your nightie had started slipping off. Maybe you had taken it too far this time, so you sweetly try to apologise but are met with a dark chuckle from Max. Oh, it’s way too late for that, schatje he croons, tilting your delicate neck up to meet his intense eyes as he stands in front of you at the foot of the bed. A shiver runs down your spine at his possessive tone, but with it you feel your aching pussy throb, already stimulated earlier from your games. I think it’s time to teach you who you really belong too, no matter how much you keep trying to deny it, hmm?

And like always, Max proves his words weren’t a threat but a promise with his actions. He’d tied you to his headboard, your arms resting above you comfortably but without any chance of getting free. He knew that he’d have to break you in, leave you craving his touch so desperately that in the end you begged for him and never wanted to leave his side. So he teased you mercilessly now, large palms exploring your shivering form ever so gently, making you tense as you wonder where he’ll go next. Making you part your lips and sliding a finger in for you to suck on, over your peaked nipples through your lace nightie, and then down, down-

You whimper as Max fingers your hypersensitive pussy, your puffy folds eagerly dripping as he smoothly fucks you on his large fingers. So fucking tight and warm for me, Max groans lowly in your ear, licking the shell of it. Can’t wait to see how well you take my cock.

Your doe eyes widen at this, and you adamantly shake your head, whining that there’s no way you’d ever let him inside you-

Max smirks as your cunny gushes fresh slick all over his hand as you practically ride his fingers, despite your best efforts to act like you don’t want him. He decides to give you a little extra push in the right direction, grabbing a bottle of oil from his bedside table. Uncapping it, he lazily lets it hang downwards and drip all over your inner thighs, before trailing it up over your peaked nipples. You arch against the bed at the strangely pleasant sensation, the chill making you gasp. But soon the chill was replaced by a burning need, as your soft skin went into overdrive, desperate to feel Max’s strong, warm hands again. What the fuck did you just do to me, you demand brattily, refusing to admit the raw lust throbbing in between your legs right now was your own.

Instead of moving closer, Max grins as he gets up off the bed, still fully dressed despite the state you’re in - hands and thighs tied up, silk nightie bunched around your waist and lace cups pulled down so your pretty tits are on display. Oh schatje, he croons, stroking your cheek almost lovingly and making you glare at him. It’s just a little…stimulant. Makes things very fun in bed. But it only works to heighten emotions you’re already feeling…so if you really don’t want this at all, then it should just fade away, yeah?

And with a goodbye kiss to your forehead, he strides out the room, telling you he’d be back in a few hours. Of course, the oil he’d poured all over your body was nothing more than a particularly potent aphrodisiac, making you more sensitive and turned on. But telling you that it would only affect you if you felt attracted to him was a rather devilish move by Max to make you question your boundaries, second guess the line between hate and love towards the Dutchman.

It proves to be a very successful strategy, because that evening when he asks you if you’re ready for him to fuck you, you’re watching him in anticipation, biting your lip to try and hold in the desperate pleas. You so terribly want to just ask him to have his way with you but cling onto the last shred of self control you have. Max sees this, and responds by slowly undressing down to his boxers, enjoying the way your breath hitches as you stare wide eyed at this broad shoulders, his tense abs, and down to his muscular big thighs that you’d love to rub your pussy against. And when he settles in next to you, still carefully avoiding laying a hand on you but instead pulling his own large cock out of his boxers, he can’t resist darkly chuckling as he sees you practically swallow back drool. He jerks himself off slowly, and you lick your lips as your gaze remained fixated on the beads of precum rolling down his tip. He’s so well endowed that you can appreciate his size even with one of his large palms wrapped around it. More wetness slides down your cunny, mixing with the oil as it travels down in between your sensitive asscheeks. You whine, suddenly feeling boiling hot despite the chill from the aircon. You’re so thirsty, feeling so warm, so desperate with your need to feel Max that maybe taking him inside your mouth would help. You reassure yourself that it wouldn’t go any further than that, and breathily ask Max if you could go down on him. Hmm, what was that, schat? the handsome blonde next to you teases. Couldn’t hear you.

You huff, knowing he was giving you attention hard time for your bratty attitude earlier, but swallow your pride as you ask could you please suck him off, you’d do a really good job, you promise! You just needed a little taste, a brief relief from the sweltering torture consuming your body right now.

Max smirks in approval, rewarding you by releasing your ropes. You breathe in relief, sitting up to relax your muscles, but instead find the ropes replaces with a collar fastened around your neck, attached to a lead resting comfortably in Max’s large palms. You flush at the possessive gesture, but don’t resist as he playfully tugs on your collar to bring your face level with his cock. Up close, it’s even bigger, swollen and angry and red, making you swallow nervously before poking your tongue out to flick his tip. Don’t tease, Max growls above you, his hand territorially tangling in your curls. Or I’ll have to leave you alone again with some more of that oil all over your ass this time, hmm?

Your eyes widen at the threat of more torture, over your sensitive back hole this time, and you quickly start bobbing your head up and down his fat length. Hearing his low groan of approval, you enthusiastically deepthroat and choke on his pulsating shaft, head down and your ass up in the air as more and more slick drips down your thighs. You can't believe how horny you’re getting sucking Max off! You don’t normally enjoy giving blowjobs, preferring to have guys go down on you like the pillow princess you are, but something about the heady taste of Max's precum, the comforting warmth in your mouth is so addictive that you can't help but eagerly worship his cock with your plush lips. And the way he's murmuring filthy praises above you, calling you his good girl, take it all the way in, just like that, helping you take his sizeable length with a helpful hand applying pressure to the back of your neck, just adds to the heat pooling in your belly. And when he cums, his hand holds you down in place as you do your best to swallow the generous load he pumps down your throat. When he lets you up, you sit back, slivers of his cum dripping down the sides of your mouth that you lick up as you meet his heated gaze. Max got his release - finally, after all your relentless teasing - but you've become even more frustrated and desperate.

Max gives you a knowing smirk, taking in your heaving tits and dazed eyes. Training you would be much more effective if he drags your punishment out, and he does exactly that by telling you to go shower before he makes you both some dinner. The change in pace to sweet domesticity messes with you even more, and even though the warm shower water washes away the sticky oil coating your body, you can't stop thinking about how good it had felt letting Max handle you like that.

So a few days later, when Max is back from a race weekend and you've been secretly playing with your vibrator while picturing his cock instead, you sweetly ask if you could please sleep in his bed tonight? Just because you were feeling so lonely, of course, you weren't going to have sex with him or anything!

Max obliges, coming to bed in a tempting display of sweats slung low across his waist so you can admire his muscular chest. To your dismay, he pays no attention to the baby pink negligee you've put on, the fabric practically see through and showing off your tanned nipples. Instead of bullying his way inside of your clenching cunt like you hoped, he contentedly games away with his TV in the bedroom. Asking him to use his fingers again would be fine, right? He'd already done it before, without you asking...so really, it didn't count as anything more. You still weren't giving into him, you reason with yourself naively, before leaning up to press your tits against Max's large biceps and sweetly ask Maxie to pretty please help you out, you hadn’t been able to make yourself orgasm, just this once could he use his hand again?

He sighs, putting down his controller, murmuring that you were so needy, he’d only do it if you put that special necklace on again, okay?

You bite your lip anxiously for a moment, looking at the bedside drawer where you know the collar and leash rest, before giving in and nodding your head obediently, making Max smile and your heart flutter from making him happy. It was just this once, you were certain you’d calm down from this despite once you got your release! And so with the collar securely tightened around your delicate neck, you excitedly part your legs as Max lifts you and sits you in his lap, your back to his chest. He teases you for ages, only lightly rubbing circles through your thong, and you can’t even complain because he’s messily making out with you, his tongue exploring your willing mouth. You’re so caught up you don’t even realise he pulled out the oil until you feel it suddenly drip all over your spread inner thighs. H-hey! you protest, managing to weakly protest against Max’s distracting lips. No fair, that oil was so intense last time, and you were being so good for him now, why was he punishing you again?

Max hums as he litters your neck with gentle bites and hickeys, murmuring that he was using it as lube so he didn’t hurt your tight cunt with his big, thick fingers, making your heart race in confusion from his apparent thoughtful actions. Besides, he reminds you, you won’t feel anything different as long as you don’t actually have feelings for me, remember?

His gaslighting works its magic again, because he teases you right on the edge with gentle thrusts of his two fingers, not quite giving you enough to send you over the edge as your cunny flutters around his digits. You tell yourself that it’s just the oil heightening everything, including the tiny little part of you that wants Max back, as you as him for more, harder, please-

And then, when he’s already worked you through two orgasms with his hand you’re asking for even more, screwing your eyes shut and burying your face in his muscular neck. Would you please use your tongue Maxie? I need more!

Laughter rumbles through the Dutchman’s broad chest as he runs a soothing hand down your back, cooing how you really were just a sweet little thing that needed him to take care of you, hmm? But he’d already finger fucked you twice, and now you wanted him to eat your pussy, too…how were you possibly going to make it upto him?

Your dazed eyes try to focus as you run through all the possibilities, offering to cook his favourite pasta dish for him, or wash the cats, or reorganise his trophy display - but Max shakes his head. And then, just like he’d hoped, you blush and shyly whisper into his ear that you could make him feel good too, and let him fuck your mouth again if he wanted?

Max had to control himself from all but thrusting his cock into your divine warm throat right there. Oh, did he want. You had no idea how much he wanted, but he plays it cool as he shrugs and says you’d have to do a better job than last time, then.

You nod eagerly, ready to prove yourself, and willingly meet his lips in a deep kiss as you part your legs, expecting him to move his talented mouth downwards. He was such a good kisser that it already made you wet with slick, you couldn’t wait to see how good he teased your clit! But to your surprise Max repositions you, easily tossing you around so your thighs are snugly thrown over his broad shoulders and your face - your face heats up as it comes right in front of his erect cock. M-Max! you whine, embarrassed at the filthy manoeuvre into sixty-nine position he’s somehow manipulated you into. You’d never done something so dirty before! But when a familiar hand possessively tangles in your curls, pushing your neck down firmly, you have no choice but to part your plush lips and welcome his throbbing member down your throat. As you gag and choke on him in this unfamiliar position, drool and lipgloss leaking from your lips and dripping down your chin, Max starts lazily lapping at your dripping cunt through your soaked thong. He works you up into an ever more frustrated state, before yanking the flimsy lace to one side and swiping his nose through your folds to deeply inhale. Fuck, you smelt amazing, even better than anything he’d been dreaming about, and he’d certainly been having his fair share of dirty fantasies about having you split open on his tongue. Your responsive moan vertebrates around his cock, making pleasure course through him and he rewards you by dragging his wide tongue through your soft, puffy folds. You’re absolutely debauched for Max now, head completely empty and only one thing on your mind - which you make clear as you let out high pitched moans and shake your ass back against him, desperate for more. Max has to keep you disciplined, of course, keeping your head down like a good girl so you obediently continue kissing his cockhead and slurping on his large balls that were close to bursting. If he let you run free he’d have no doubt you’d start riding his face like a cowgirl, desperate for your own pleasure like the pillow princess you are. But you were learning your place, learning how to obey Max and make him feel good first, and you use your bouncing tits to rub against his warm cock as you keep suckling on his sensitive tip. He cums with a pleased growl at your submissiveness, thrusting his hips into your waiting lips so you could drink the entire creamy load greedily.

Only then does Max properly fuck you with his tongue, placing you on your back with his huge hands pinning your thighs against your soft tits, exposing your glistening pussy. You scream his name as his wicked tongue glides into your cunny, tears gathering in your eyes from the sheer intensity before you end up squirting all over his chin, making a mess of the sheets. He tsk’s at you playfully, blue eyes glinting as he takes in the beautiful sight of you completely wrecked and gulping deep breaths of air as you come down from your high. He can’t resist grabbing his phone to capture the moment, the flash capturing your glowing skin and swollen lips, the hickeys littered over your arched neck and soft inner thighs, your pink negligee still bunched up around your waist. Maybe it’s too soon, but he can’t resist-

Schatje, he murmurs, low and deep, making you cutely blink open your eyes from the content sleep you were heading towards. His phone light remains on, the blinking red light indicating that he’s recording as he asks you how did you like the taste of his cock?

A smile slowly spreads across your face, giving you the very picture of post orgasmic bliss as you lick your lips and say it was soo yummy, Maxie, you’d happily blow him anytime he wanted!

The handsome blonde lets out a slow exhale at your sinful confession, deciding to test how far he could push you. Oh really? He murmurs. Was it better that your ex’s dick?

Recognition flickers in your eyes at the mention of your ex, and you bite your lip again, thinking but Max plays unfair again when he comes in against you, letting his now hard length rest against your lower belly. You’re immediately distracted by the pulsating warmth deliciously stimulating your clit, practically getting heart eyes as your eyes darken sultrily. Oh, so much bigger and better than my ex, you say unashamedly, looking right at the camera because you know what Max wants. I never let him finish in my mouth, he’d always have to wear a condom. But you, Maxie…I’d drink your cum everyday and still want more! You finish with a playful giggle, wiggling your hips to get more friction on your clit.

And Max knows he’s got you exactly where he wants, ready to make him feel good however he orders it. He snaps away more steamy photos first, wanting to add to his personal collection while you look so delicious in his bed. Videos of you squealing happily as he slaps his heavy cock against your clit, the weight of it dizzying, and then of you jiggling your ass against him he turns you onto your side to slide himself in between your thighs. Feeling Max’s strong muscular arms holding you close against him, his lips tracing your ear as he murmurs dirty things in your ear, and most of all feeling his cockhead rub against your slit as he slowly fucks your thighs from the back breaks you down even more. Please, Max you beg, the sound music to his ears. I need it…just the tip, please?

You feel his lips smirk against your ear as he teases you for being so desperate for him again, see, he told you you’d feel so good by his side, right?

And when his fat cock stretches your pussy open you can’t help but gasp, because if this was just the tip you couldn’t even imagine how amazing the rest of him would feel. You both moan together as your wet cunny clenched and drools around his length, and then you’re reaching back and gripping his hip to guide him further into you. More, please Maxie, I need you- oh!

There’s only one way this ends once you’ve both gotten a taste of each other, and are addicted. With him fully thrusting his length in and out of you, making you scream his name as you cum around him, messily squirting. You’re so far gone that you don’t even say anything except moan sluttily when he finishes inside you, leaving you stuffed full of his creamy cum. There’s no going back after that, and in the morning - after he’s had another round in the sheets with you - he finally takes you out of the apartment, making your debut at a expensive cafe as Monaco’s new it couple. And with your manicured hand wrapped around his bicep, walking into brunch in cute kitten heels and feeling dozens of admiring and envious gazes on you both, you can’t help but feel like you’re finally where you’re meant to be.

—————————————————————————

A/N: goddamn this took so long to write hope you enjoyed! Sorry for the delay in posting Ik I’ve really slowed down, work has been getting me tired af lately but should be easing up soon!! Have lots of drafts half done hehe keep sending me inspo I love all your messages!!!

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen smut #max verstappen #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #max verstappen x you #dark max verstappen #dark smut #18+ mdni

1K notes · View notes

hoshigray · 1 year ago

Text

based on this old req ask!! sorry it took a while, but glad i got to it :3

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna x fem concubine! reader - SFW yet a tiny bit suggestive; proceed with caution - bullying/mistreatment - fluff! - kissing - hickeys + biting - pet names ([little] dove, good girl, pet, woman) - sukuna lowkey treasures you, aww - implied scratching - mention of assault/abuse.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.4k

“…Speak.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.” The four crimson-eyed narrows his gaze, and you gulp thickly. “What’s occupying your thoughts?”

When your cursed giant of a husband asks–more like commands– you to speak your mind, you’re expected to comply, of course, however, the thing that clouds your mind isn’t something that the King of Curses should concern himself with; it’s a matter for you to deal with.

It’s a matter you must bear alone…because it’s about you.

“Ugh, it’s you. Get out of my sight.”

“You! How dare you come in between me and Lord Sukuna?! Are you that desperate? Unbelievable.”

“Ignominous wench. Know your place, you lower-class concubine.”

No man with many mistresses in a palace can say he has no favorite—it’s impossible. You, a lower-ranked concubine amongst the many that serve for Ryōmen Sukuna, are his most valuable mistress. He never said it himself, using his actions to speak for himself. You are the one who mostly beds him when he seeks company, the one who attends to his walks around the palace gardens, the one he speaks to as acquaintances, and -in the rare times when he feels like it- will send you a gift or request you be with him during his audiences.

You also don’t say anything, not wanting to overstep boundaries or speak for your master. And yet, your heart can’t deny the feelings you experience when the tall behemoth chooses to spend time with you, whether for private services or trespassing your personal chambers to nap on your lap as he wishes. Down to your very soul, you knew you were his most favorite.

“Greedy whore; can’t keep your hands off him for a second, huh? You have no right.”

“What? You can’t possibly think you are his favorite; you might as well change from a concubine to a clown.”

But, it is not a sentiment shared amongst the other women under Sukuna’s wing. Some women have been servicing the master longer than you have, some of whom come from affluent names and take their jobs seriously with pride. So, you can’t find it in your heart to blame them for despising you—a lowborn who effortlessly gains the lord’s favor? You were a sight to their eyes; no wonder they had to step in and demand you to stay in your lane.

You honestly can’t argue with their philosophy; you’d probably be doing the same had you been in their positions instead. Nonetheless, you’re much of a concubine like the rest, and Sukuna finding comfort in your presence is a fact only a fool would discredit. And a fool you were not. To question your work ethic only made you silently agitated, your stomach knotting itself in dread.

“Dove.”

And nearly has you forget where you are right now, straddling Sukuna on his massive frame. His lower hands hold you by the thighs, the tongue of his stomach teasing your elbow with an inquiring lick, and his upper right hand brushing your cheek to remind you of the current moment. He’s still awaiting your answer, and it would be foolish not to respect his time—especially on the tiny occurrence he’s asking worrying about you.

“My apologies, Lord Sukuna,” you smile and lean to his hand, his palm easily gulfing the size of your face. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Hmph, so now you lie?” His thumb grazes your skin. “If it were nothing, I wouldn’t have asked.”

“Yes, you are right, my Lord,” your hand rubs on his upper abdomen; the pleasant rumble from his stomach is a purr. “But you don’t have to worry; I don’t wish to bother you with my troubles.”

Maroon eyes scan your expression before he holds your chin and brings his face closer to yours. His upper left hand ever-so-slowly slid your hadajuban down along your kimono. “What makes you think you can say your troubles will bother me? That’s for me to decide, which is why I ask.”

“My Lord, please—“

“Woman,” a quick twitch on your chin silences you–a warning. “I won’t ask again. Speak to me, or I’ll leave because I won’t waste my time here when you’re thinking of something or someone else—“

“N-No,” you��re quick to reassure, your hands finding his chest. “Forgive my reluctance, my King,” you sigh deeply as the giant returns to his relaxed state, and you finally tell him of your growing concern. He listens to every word, not forming a reaction until you’ve spoken till the very last point. Then, he speaks.

“Tch, those insolent women,” he sucks his teeth, and the grip on your thighs gets tighter. “And you, how can you let the words of others dictate your value to me; they aren’t me, so they don’t speak for me when it comes to you.”

That’s why I said it wasn’t a matter for you to worry about… “Forgive me, Sukuna,” your eyes widen; you forgot to address his title and spoke informally. You avoided his gaze after seeing his grin and hearing his snigger. A speck of humiliation coincides with the heat of your cheeks; you’re sure he’d feel it, too, as his fore and middle fingers brush your cheek. “It’s just….I don’t ridicule them for seeing me as a threat, as we are all meant to serve you. Regardless, I…pardon my selfishness, but it’s not fair that I should back down and reject your wishes simply because they don’t like it. Again, our purpose in this palace is to serve you, and all the other mistresses have just as much a right to want to be of use to you. Yet,” you chew your lip before saying the following words. “…I wish to be in your favor for as long as possible.”

The sole-slitted salmon eyebrow rises, examining your figure at his pace as the silence makes you uneasy. Then, with no warning in Sukuna fashion, strong cursed hands have you maneuvered, taking his place with your back to the futon. It takes a second to process until you find your master propped above you, his broad frame shadowing yours. Your breath hitches as he brings his face closer.

“Would you be fine if I go accompany someone else?” Your warmth shifts cold when he asks.

“No, my Lord.”

“And why is that?”

“Because…you’re here with me now.”

“Right, because I’m not interested in being with anyone else right now. Whoever I see is for me to decide, and if I wish to see you the most,” he bends closer, and the tip of his nose meets yours. He whispers, “then that’s for me to criticize. Those who think otherwise are not worth my time, right?” You nod; he is pleased. He inches near, “So, I don’t want you thinking about this or anyone else, not while I’m here. Understood?”

“Yes, Master Sukuna…”

“Good girl,” his lips meet yours for a soft kiss, your whimper prompting him to peck more. Instinctually, your legs spread for him to come between, and your hands come to cup his face as you return his kisses with merit.

Moans are exchanged as the kiss becomes more indecent; Sukuna shoves his tongue inside once you open your mouth for him, and you happily accept him with compliant whines and swirls of your own wet muscle for him to tease and nibble. Your lower half begins to buck subtly without your knowledge, reciprocated with humps from Sukuna.

Sucking on your tongue has you wailing, feeding more to the cursed man’s ego. You wrap your legs around him, the tongue of his stomach venturing out to lick your first layer of robe that serves as an irritating barrier. It pushes the flap to the side, finally greeting the skin of your tummy with laggard laps.

You break the kiss, and he snickers, bringing his lips to your neck and collar to suck on and bite. You sob softly, the sound only humoring the giant. “Mine,” he nibbles on your neck again. “My little dove…”

His lower right hand glides from your leg and ventures to your hadajuban, sliding between the flaps to touch and grope the flesh of your inner thigh.

You almost sink into the sensation of being touched so delicately, yet engulfed by his massiveness. Then, something hits you, and Sukuna is shocked by the sudden push of his chest. “Wait, my Lord,” you start before he can interrogate. “Pardon me, but I…have a request I would like you to hear before we continue. May I?”

He doesn’t reply; you’re wary of moving a limb. But after a brief silence, he says, “Go on.”

You wish to exhale in relief, but you save it for later. “May I please mark you?”

Of course, the man tilts back with a scowl. “Mark me?”

“Marking, like how you bite and leave hickeys on my skin.”

“And give me a good reason why I’d let you mark me?”

You were treading towards a different wave, a boundary that isn’t typically meant to be stepped over when dealing with Sukuna. And yet you still plead your case: “You leave your marks on me to remind me that I am yours and yours alone, yes?” He huffs in confirmation. “I wish to do the same to you and—“

“Who said I belonged to you?”

“I don’t want to do it to make it appear like that.” Another huff from him. “The other mistresses have yet to ever leave such prints on you as they wouldn’t dare. And yet those same people come to me and chastise me for spending my leisure with you. So, I wish to leave my mark on you to establish my standing, that I shouldn’t be belittled just for gaining most of your favor.”

Sukuna scoffs. “So you want to use me to show off?”

You nod. “Only if you allow it, my Lord.”

There was another brief silence between you two; four red eyes honed on yours. “One condition,” he begins. “To leave your mark on me entails you are irrefutably mine, meaning you are my thing to play and destroy and no one else’s. Mark anyone else, and you better hope I lean to leaving more permanent bites and features rather than having you dead and staining the garden.”

A promise you know better than to push aside. “I expect nothing less from my master if I were stupid enough to ever forget that.” You nod while stroking his cheek with your palm. “Until you cast me away, I am solely yours.”

He grins, kissing and faintly chewing your palm. “Fine, scratch and mark away, pet.” His lips come to yours once more, and you have no desire to stop him this time.

SLAP!!

“Fucking bitch, how dare you?!”

“You really have no shame; what the hell is wrong with you?”

The next day was much more intriguing, especially your subsequent encounter with two other concubines. Including the stinging feeling on your cheek, the altercation became more physical. The scales were tipped, and they had enough, voicing their vexation on this fine day outside the engawa strip.

One grabbed you by the kimono, her teeth gritted with anger. “What a third-rate whore. What kind of concubine doesn’t bother concealing their hickeys? “

The other woman clicks her teeth. “Do you think we want to know your business as you stride these hallways? Are you trying to get killed?”

Usually, after your nights with Sukuna, you’d ensure every mark possibly present to the naked eye was concealed. However, today was different; the hickeys of your neck were visible for everyone to see.

“I’m sorry,” but you weren’t; just saying words for show. “I must have forgotten.”

They did not like your answer. The one yanking your clothing struck your cheek again. “Forgotten, my ass!”

“Don’t you dare act smart with us,” The other woman yanks you by the ear, but you don’t make a sound. “Trash like you should relearn some basic manners and etiquette.”

And who said you were the ones to teach me said lessons? “With all due respect, Tenth and Twelfth Mistress,” the women glare at the mention of their titles from your voice. “I don’t see myself taking your advice when you two aren’t even placed in the top five standings.”

A hand is raised to strike again. “Why you—“

“Swing that hand, and you will lose it.”

Three pairs of eyes move to the colossal figure coming from the hallway’s darkness. Sukuna, the observer to the entire entourage, tailed with subordinate Uraume right behind him. Your eyes flicker to the trembling hand gripping your clothes; anyone would be a fool not to be scared of the tall man staring daggers at them.

Sukuna bares his teeth. “One second to let go of them, or your hands will be sliced off.” They obeyed halfway into that statement, moving to the side of the wall to fetal bow as thunderous steps came near.

“Forgive us, Lord Sukuna!” Apologies fly out instantly, and heads burrowed in shame in the back of their palms. Seeing such agitation towards you transition to utter fear in seconds—how interesting.

The pink-haired curse stops before you, yet his eyes are locked on the two bowing. “Lift your heads.” The women do as they’re told, their expressions displaying nothing short of horror. Sukuna wore his casual attire, a black yukata robe with his chest proudly peaking out, all four arms crossed to shield his torso.

However, what contrasts the most is what catches your eyes and the other concubines. The window of his chest showcases a mark that contrasts the color of his skin, situated right below the collarbone of his right pectoral—a hickey out for you three to see. Unknown to the women, there were more markings that were shielded from his clothing—scratches from your nails exist on his back and tiny bite marks on his hidden shoulders. But those were facts only meant for you to know.

“For how many times you hit this one,” his arms unscrew from each other for his left hands to bring you close to him. “Will be the how many scars I’ll leave on those faces of yours.” The shudder of the women is noticed. “Know your place.”

And with that, Sukuna doesn’t allow you to dismiss yourself from the scene. He leads you with him, walking further down the engawa hall. Uraume follows you both, giving the women a short look as they stride.

You don’t say anything; just strolling to where your master will take you. Because you know he will be there wherever you go—away from the women or anyone to strike you, for only his hands were meant to touch you.

3K notes · View notes

talaok · 1 year ago

Text

Enjoy the view

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You surprise your husband with a new cooking attire, and he's more than happy to show you how much he appreciates it- even if he has an audience… especially when he knows how much you like it.

Warnings: smut| exhibitionism, voyeurism, cooking practically naked, a lil tiny bit of free use, oral sex (f receiving), butt-play, and unprotected p in v sex.

[thots]

"I'm home!"

His greeting echoed through the house, and while usually it would be followed by your two little demons running down the stairs to attack their daddy, today, the only response was yours.

"Hi baby, I'm in the kitchen!"

You heard some shuffling as he made himself comfortable before his footsteps started in your direction- only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight before him.

"Babydoll, where are the k-"

You turned around just a little bit, your neck twisting so your gaze could see his face as it settled on your ass.

On your bare ass and bare legs and bare torso and- oh god- on the small apron only covering the lower front of you.

What the actual fuck was his life

And how the actual fuck did he ever get so lucky

He was on you in a split second, his mouth as ravenous as his hands.

You let a soft giggle past your lips as he left hot, wet kisses down your neck, his hands kneading the soft skin of your ass as he pressed his hard cock against it.

"the kids are at my mom's" you murmured, as if the man behind you wasn't worshipping your body

"yeah?" he groaned, his hands on your boobs now

"I'm making us dinner" you explained, resuming cutting the fruit on the cutting board while sticking your ass out even more for him.

"such a good girl, thank you darlin'" he murmured against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"Can I have my appetizer while you finish up?"

You pretend to ponder the idea, biting your lip

"Tommy's still outside trying to fix the grill, baby"

Of course

Lucky didn't even begin to cover it.

He could just close the curtains facing your backyard, he knew it, just as you did.

But that's not what you wanted

Oh no

His girl liked to be watched

"then we'll just have to hope he doesn't fix it in time, won't we?"

He watched your eyes flutter shut as the words sunk in, and you could only offer a soft "yes" as you presented him the slightest nod

"attagirl" he murmured, kissing you right below your ear "Now don't mind me, keep on cookin'"

You nodded again, humming softly, and he kissed every inch of skin he encountered as he dropped to his knees.

Cold air hit your core as he grabbed each of your asscheeks in his hands and spread them apart like the animal that he was.

You let out a little whine as he admired the work of art before him, but just when you started cutting the fruit before you once again, he'd dived in.

His whole face was deep into your core, his tongue not wasting a second before tasting your sweet juices, wishing he could drink them every day instead of water.

His hands were gripping your waist, holding you in place, even as your body begged to grind against him.

"fuck" you moaned, biting your lips as your left hand gripped the counter.

"tastes like heaven babydoll" Joel groaned, the vibrations of his voice sending shocks of pleasure straight to your core.

You could only continue emanating needy little whimpers as he feasted on your cunt, and then, finding more strength in you than you even knew to even possess, you resumed cutting the strawberry before you.

"Joel" you moaned louder now, his tongue plunging into your pussy and lapping at your walls as your head fell to your chest "baby-god"

And just when you were breathing heavily, feeling your core flutter at the pleasure, his mouth trailed up, his focus shifting to your other hole.

The knife fell to the cutting board and your body slumped forward at the feeling, but while your moans were only getting louder, he was only getting hungrier.

And as much as he loved eating your ass, he needed to hear those pretty sounds you made while coming on his face, so of course...

Your whole body felt a shock of electricity as Joel finally, finally, started sucking on your clit.

"Fuck-fuck- baby- just like tha-oh!"

You came so hard you thought you were gonna pass out, but luckily, he was there to hold you through it, not wasting a drop of what you gave him.

"my perfect fukin' girl" he murmured lovingly, kissing your cunt one last, overstimulating time before he was once again standing pressed against your back.

"enjoyed yourself?" he asked, biting your earlobe as you tried to will your breathing to get back to normal

"yes" you smiled, forgetting all about your task as you turned around towards him, clatching his lips into a deep, searing kiss.

"yeah?" he asked again, a smug, sexy grin on him as he let you taste yourself on his tongue once again

"mh-mh"

"I think someone else did too"

And when his gaze shifted to his left, you knew.

You didn't need to look to know what he was looking at, but you did nonetheless.

Tommy was standing on the other side of the glass door, his eyes set onto you like a starving predator, and you could only gasp.

"Joel-"

"shh" he hummed, kissing the side of your lips "It's ok," he said, while your eyes remained on his brother "You wanna give Tommy a show babydoll?"

But of course, he knew the answer already,

you've done this before,

hell, before Tommy had gotten himself a wife too, you'd even let him join once or twice.

"I mean..." you whimpered, as Joel undid his zipper while kissing your neck "He's fixed the grill for us after all"

He chuckled, finishing your thought for you

"he deserves a reward, doesn't he?"

"I think he does" You nodded, looking up at him with pleading eyes, as if there was a chance he'd ever not do something you wanted.

"You're so kind" he murmured, picking you up just to set you on a free spot on the counter "Such a perfect selfless wife that I've got, mh?"

You could only grin, giggling softly as he kissed you again.

"let's show Tommy how beautiful you look while coming on my cock then shall we?"

"yes please"

Your answer was breathless, desperate, just as the moan you let out once he finally guided his length inside of you, taking his time to let you adjust...and so he could enjoy the faces you made all for him... and his brother.

"good girl" he groaned, easing himself out of you almost completely just to thrust back in at full force, making you cry out and throw your head back.

"Oh f-fuck"

"I know" he cooed, only going faster, deeper, as you arched your back, your nails clawing at his back "I know baby, you take me so well" he murmured, against your mouth "So deep inside this perfect fucking pussy"

"Joel!" you gasped, his dick hitting your sweet spot over and over together with his dirty words.

And when you glanced to your right, when you saw Joel's brother, the sibling to the man who was currently railing you on your kitchen counter palming his hard cock from the confines of his jeans, his eyes glued on you... it was like a volcano of pleasure exploded,

a dirty, twisted, dark kind of pleasure

"yeah look at Tommy" Joel groaned "Poor guy's probably so jealous he's not the one balls deep into ya baby" One of his hands moved from your waist to pinch your nipple, making you cry out just to prove a point "he's probably wishin' he could come here and fuck you himself baby" he continued, his thrusts getting harsher, faster "but he's not gonna" he growled "and ya know why?" he asked,

"'cause I'm yours" you moaned, looking him into his lusty eyes

He moaned too this time, he never could help himself when you said those three magic words

'cause fuck him, but he still sometimes struggled to believe you were his himself

"goodamn right you are" he smirked, crashing your lips with his, as the room filled with the filthy sound of your wet heat accommodating his movements.

"Show him sugar" he urged "Show Tommy who you belong to" he murmured, watching as you turned your head to his brother again

"show him who's the only man who's ever gonna touch you baby girl," he said "and how fuckin' good you look creamin' my cock"

And so you did what he said, you looked his brother right in the eyes as you screamed Joel's name at the top of your lungs, wave after wave after wave of pleasure coursing through you as you came hard around Joel's cock.

"Fuckin' perfect-" Joel purred, kissing your chin as his orgasm approached "fuckin' mine"

1K notes · View notes

anim-ttrpgs · 1 month ago

Note

If any of y'all had tips for aspiring TTRPG creators, what would they be? I'm hosting a "How to Make your own TTRPG" panel at a con this weekend, and anything to show folks from a fellow indie studio would be great!

Yeah a bunch. Each one of these could basically be its own post, but here are the condensed versions.

Social Media

You need social media. No one will ever hear of your game without a strong social media presence. And as much as it sucks, your best bet is probably tumblr. It’s the only populated social media site that allows your posts to be widely circulated without you having to pay, and also long form enough to actually include information. I dedicate one day a week entirely to social media and that’s just about the only reason we make any money at all.

Also, when using tumblr, the first five tags you put on a post are the most important, those are the tags that make it show up on people’s dashboards. The first twenty tags are the ones that make it show up in search results. Don’t put the name of your game in the first five tags generally, because if no one has heard of it yet, no one is following those tags.

Don’t Paywall Your Game

You deserve to be paid for your work if you indeed did any work at all (we’ll get to that), but that just isn’t the world we live in. Unless you have an advertising budget to essentially trick people into buying a game that might end up being crap, you need something to prove that your game is worth spending money on. Without an advertising budget, that proof has to be your game. Setting your game to pay-what-you-want, or providing “community copies,” lets people try your game before they buy. Plenty of people will buy up-front when given the option, and others who can’t afford it at that moment will download it for free then come back and pay later. Some people will never pay, but what that means for you is that they either never experience your game, or they pirate it. People experiencing your game, showing it to their friends, and talking about it is one of the most valuable pieces of advertisement you can ever have. It will ultimately lead to more people who are willing and able to pay learning about your game.

Start Small but Not Too Small

Do not make a one-page game for your first game. Do not be like us and make a 700-page game for your first game. Try to aim for something between 20 and 200 pages, especially if you’re one person or a small team.

Play and Read a lot of RPGs or Your Game Will Suck

Would you watch a movie by a director who had only ever watched one movie? Would you read a book by an author who had only ever read one book? Hell no, those would suck.

Read many rpg rulebooks, from many different genres and decades, play as many of them as you can (by the rules) to understand how the rules work and why they’re there. This will give you the creative tools you need to make something that isn’t just a weaker version of the last RPG you played. No, listening to "actual plays" does not count.

Most actual plays stray significantly from presenting a regular gameplay experience in favor of an experience that is entertaining for an audience. If you want to learn martial arts, you should be watching martial arts tournaments, not WWE.

If you want an actual play podcast that has my “actually mostly presents a real gameplay experience” approval, try Tiny Table.

If you say you don’t have time to read rulebooks, then you don’t have time to design a good game. Studying is part of the process of creating. If you don't, you won't even know about gleeblor.

This will let you know whether your "innovation" is more like "Cars don't need to run on gasoline!" or "Cars don't need crumple zones and airbags!"

The Rules Matter, So Design with Intent

The rules matter the rules fucking matter holy shit what you actually write down on the page matters I can’t believe this is actually the seemingly most needed piece of advice on this list. The. rules. matter.

Design your game to be played in the way you designed it. The rules affect the tone and genre of your game, they affect the type of people PCs can be and the kind of stories that will result from gameplay. Bonuses encourage PC behaviors, penalties discourage PC behaviors.

Do not fall for the trap of “oh well people will just play it their own way based on vibes anyway so it doesn’t matter what I write the rules to be.” Write that you wrote this game to be played by the rules and that significant changes to the rules mean that players are no-longer playing the game you made. Write like you deserve for your art to be acknowledged by its audience. If you don’t, then there is no point in anyone playing the game you made, because if the person who wrote it doesn’t even care what the rules say, why should anyone? The people whose “playing” of TTRPGs consists of never opening the rulebook and improving based on “vibes” will still do that no matter what, but the people who would have actually tried to engage with your game will find that it sucks if you don’t even care what the rules are yourself.

Playtest

You need to playtest your game if you want it to work as intended. You need multiple sets of eyes on it. If you don’t have the opportunity personally to do so, just release your game anyway with the acknowledgement that it’s unfinished. Call it an alpha or a beta version, and ask for people that do play it to give feedback, then update and fix the game based on that feedback.

Ignore Feedback

Most people do not have any game design credibility, perhaps least of all TTRPG players. You do not, in fact, have to listen to everything people say about your game. Once you ask for feedback, people will come to you with the most deranged, asinine, bad-faith “feedback” you can imagine, and then get really mad at you when you don’t fall to your knees and kiss their feet about it. You do not need to take this feedback at face value, instead you need to learn to read between the lines and find out which parts of the rules text are being misinterpreted by players, and which incorrect assumptions players are making about your game. Then, you update and improve the game by clearing those up. Only like 30% of “feedback” you receive will actually be a directly helpful suggestion in its own right at face value.

You can’t please everyone, and shouldn’t, so appeal to the people who actually like your game for being what it is, not the people who don’t.

Read Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy

Yeah this one sounds self-serving but hear me out. Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is as much a treatise on TTRPG game design as it is a game itself. When it presents mechanics and rules, it tells you what they are, why they are, how they are, and what you’re intended to do with them. This makes it an excellent example to read for anyone wanting to get serious about game design and learn how TTRPGs tick under the hood, and an excellent example of a TTRPG that expects players to play it the way it was written to be played, and why that is a good thing. Also you can download it for free.

321 notes · View notes

mirouie · 7 months ago

Text

cw: mentions of drinking, vomiting

you’ve warned heeseung this would happen sooner than later, but your best friend has never really been good at listening.

you tell yourself exactly that when he gags and retches in the toilet for the fifth time that night, grimacing at the sight and rubbing a slow, gentle path down the expanse of his back to console him. you can feel his muscles twitch and shudder at every heave, and you feel sorry for him, bit by bit.

“you shouldn’t have drank so much, hee,” you whisper, quiet and solemn as you tuck a stray cherry-red strand behind his ear. he’s damp with sweat from the strain of throwing up, and you kindly dab away at it with the sleeve of your sweater.

he looks small like this, curled up on himself in a corner of the small bathroom—a stark contrast to his big, cocky self just a few hours prior; when he downed five shots and three bottles of beer in a row, for no good reason besides impressing the little audience he had. audience being you.

he paid no mind when you told him it wasn't a good idea to challenge his alcohol tolerance right off the bat, only plastering that preening smile of his on his face that ticked you off just the right amount.

"relax," he cooed. "i'm going to be alright. this isn't my first rodeo, babe."

it sure wasn't his first rodeo, but it meant turning his stomach inside out right after isn't the first time, either.

it’s cramped in the tiny bathroom—you’ve offered more than once to give him some space, but he’d stubbornly refused, clinging onto you even if you know and he knows that the stuffiness would make him feel worse.

heeseung groans, sluggish when his knees slip a little on the tiled floor and he slumps against you.

you feel awful for him. you wish he didn't like to drink so much.

he shuffles so that he’s peering up at you, and he grins. wide and unabashed, as if he had not a care in the world.

“hey,” he hiccups. “hey, you. what's with the frowny face?"

his fingers curl under your jaw, thumb sliding over the pudge of your cheek. he pinches it—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to startle you—and pulls so that your lips quirk up at the edges. "i'm totally fine, sweetheart, you don't have to worry about anything.” he tries to sound confident, but his voice tapers off into a murmur of sounds instead of coherent words at the end. he's inebriated, almost too far gone. “y'look pretty tonight. smile for me?”

you sigh. "heeseung.”

"babe." he cups your face in both hands now. “smile for me, please?”

he squishes and squishes your cheeks until you swat his hands away, giving in and smiling half-heartedly. heeseung decides he’s not satisfied and pulls at your lips a little more, grinning when he is and leans in to smush his nose against yours clumsily, almost head-butting you in the process. "that's better. y're so pretty."

you sigh again. he’s lucky he’s so cute.

a silence falls as heeseung sidles up to you, wriggling his arms underneath yours and pushing his face into your shoulder. he hums like he’s contented—he probably is, it doesn't take much to please him when he's drunk—his breath warm against your neck.

the soft quietness that comes after the sickly chaos isn’t a first, either—it’s the reason why you put up with all his drunken antics in the first place. he’s a heat-seeking missile and undeniably affectionate, but most especially when it comes to you. always you.

he looks at you like he’s about to fall asleep, but the affection is there, you can tell. he always look at you that way, you realize, but it’s more evident when he’s got alcohol in his system. a sticky sweetness that has your insides squirming with something you’re not sure you could name.

it makes you nervous.

“do you want to go home?” you ask eventually, watching his eyes droop and droop. heeseung gives you a noncommittal hum, and your arms around his shoulder squeeze him gently.

“yeah, i do,” he mumbles. "but only if you come home with me."

oh.

you've been over at his place more times than you can count, so you don't know why you feel your heart stumble and your stomach drop a little.

“stay with me…” heeseung’s voice is barely a whisper, you have to strain to hear him. he giggles. “sleep with me, even.”

he catches your eye, sees the flustered expression in them, and laughs heartily. “not like that, silly. never like that.” you don’t know if the way your heart stutters is because of relief or disappointment.

“never like that, unless you want to. i’d never do anything you don’t want to do.”

honey and molten gold coat his words and you think he forgets that he’s your best friend sometimes. you forget too, and selfishly, you wish to forget all the time.

you wish you were something more than this.

so, you say yes. “i know, heeseung. i wasn’t thinking about it anyway, you were. gross,” the smile you give him is a little more genuine, a little more playful when you shrug him off your shoulder and push him into sitting straight. well, hunched, in his case. he hasn’t stopped smiling, either.

“let’s go home, yeah? and the next time you drink yourself into oblivion like this? i’m not coming to your rescue, hot stuff. ‘i’m going to be fine,�� my buttcheeks.”

heeseung chortles. “hot stuff. you think i’m hot.”

you push his face away when he leans in again, brows wiggling. “in your dreams.”

this has been sitting in my drafts for a long, loooong time, i have no idea where i was going with this so ignore the terrible ending 🤧

#★ maya’s works!#enhypen #enhypen x reader #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x reader

426 notes · View notes

backtothefanfiction · 3 months ago

Text

TWO: ADRENALINE

Summary: settling into your new role, you and Joaquin slowly start to get to know each other.

Warnings: a little violence, a little fluff and feels

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: I don’t know if I’m happy with this and it’s late so may be some mistakes but it’s here anyway. Also I’m publishing this on my phone so won’t be adding the tag list until later in an edit on my laptop, sorry for any inconvenience.

Two weeks and five missions later, you and Joaquin were working better together than salt and pepper. It may have taken you both a moment or two to start with on those first couple of missions to find your rhythm, but once you did, you were totally unstoppable. And although you were only at a computer in your tiny apartment, both the audio and visual feeds from the FEARN drone and his suit, made you feel like you were right there in the action.

Joaquin would tell you to do a lap to survey the area and you would hold your breath to stay as quiet as possible, even though no one was ever able to hear your voice other than Joaquin. Bullets would come flying his way and you would find yourself shaking with adrenaline as he ran for cover. You thought after the first couple of missions it would get easier watching him fight, but somehow (when you weren’t fearing for his life) you found yourself getting all flustered whenever you watched him flip one of the bad guys over his shoulder, or he’d do a spinning kick and knocking them on their asses. He was impressive and he always left you breathless.

“Wooooo!” Joaquin crowed as he pumped his fists in the air in triumph. “Did anybody see that!?” he cried out. You watched his POV through the second monitor as he looked around him for anybody, the man desperate for an audience, but as always, it was just you.

“I did. I’m always watching,” you said through the comm link, but somehow, the way his head hung low, told you that he didn’t think your presence counted.

“Thanks Fearn,” he muttered to himself as he began to trek back up the dirt path at the back of the property.

It wasn’t the first sign he’d given you that he didn’t think you were a real person but you still weren’t completely sure he wasn’t either, especially on the times you flirted and held longer conversation with one another.

“Would you like me to send the footage to Cap?” you asked him in a teasing tone, hoping the more human like teasing interaction would reassure him of your actual presence in the world.

He froze. “No, no, no.” he quickly said and you could feel his cheeks growing pink even though you couldn’t see them.

“But you said you wanted someone else to see.” you replied.

“Yeah, I did, but like in the moment,” he replied. “I feel like sending him a video of me kicking some dude’s ass is bragging and he just won’t think I’m cool.��

“I think you’re cool.” you replied through the com link.

“Thanks Fearn,” he replied. But once again his voice sounded a little dejected.

“That’s alright, Joaquin.”

You watched as he began to recheck over some of the modifications on the arms of the suit as he walked, you flying the drone at his shoulder as he made his way back towards the warehouse where Cap and a crew of military personnel were waiting for his return.

“Umm, Fearn, you can go to sleep now.” Joaquin instructed, his voice still a little dejected as he approached them.

You didn’t want to shut down. He was clearly going through something and you wanted to make sure he was okay, but it was your job to follow orders so you reluctantly docked the drone on the back of his suit and shut it down, ready for the next time he had use of you.

You waited a few more minutes just to be sure the mission was officially over and you weren’t needed, before you finally logged off, knowing you’d be able to take a longer break for a while. You looked at the time. 3:30pm. Time for a coffee and sweet treat reward. But as you slipped on your shoes and grabbed your keys and tote bag and headed out the door to pop to your local coffee shop, your mind was still focused on Joaquin.

It gnawed at the pit of your stomach all the way to the coffee shop and back. You tried to push it to one side and enjoy the slice of banana bread you had bought as your treat whilst watching a couple episodes of your favourite tv show of the moment, but still your mind kept wandering to him. You just wanted to know he was okay. But other than Fearn you had no idea how else to contact him.

“Hey, Fearn?” his voice suddenly called out into your appartment and you raced over to your computer to activate the drone. When the video feed kicked in, you realised he wasn’t in his suit. In fact he didn’t look to be on a mission at all. Was this… where he lived?

“Fearn?” he said again and although it wasn’t your real name, the way he said it made you ache for him.

“Yes, Joaquin? How can I be of assistance to you?”

There was a pause as he leant forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he thought.

“You said you could send the footage of me fighting earlier to Cap. Umm, do you keep all the footage from my missions?” he asked.

“Yes. All your missions are recorded for training and security purposes.” you replied.

“Can you access them and play them back for me?” he asked nervously, his hands rubbing together to alleviate some of his tension, as he struggled to keep eye contact with the drone.

You woke up your second monitor and began pulling up files and video footage ready. “Which mission would you like to see first?” you asked.

“Ummm,” he mumbled as he thought for a moment. “Can you bring up the footage from that rooftop fight last week?” he asked.

You began flicking through the folders on your screen finding the mission he was asking about and opening up the video footage. “Is there a particular moment you would like to revisit?” you asked.

He rubbed his hand bashfully through his hair before scratching at the back of his neck. “Can I rewatch the bit where I swooped in and kicked the guy off the top of the roof?” he asked.

You smiled, remembering the moment well. You fast forwarded through the video footage on your screen until you found it. You then manoeuvred FEARN so you could project the video onto his blank wall behind his bed.

“Wow,” he sighed as you activated the footage, the moment playing out for him again, just how he had seen it the first time from his suits point of view.

You rewatched with him as he swooped in and knocked the guy over the edge of the building as he landed seamlessly on the edge looking down. You silently counted down with the version of him in the recorded memory as the guy inched closer and closer to the ground, his screams of panic calling back up to him. When he got to one he stepped off the roof himself and began to free fall after him, the jet on the back of his suit kicking in to propel him forward faster so he could catch up with the man.

He caught him just before he was able to hit the concrete, the man literally pissing himself as Joaquin shot him back up again to the top of the roof and dumping him down. The man rolled across the gravel at the top as he landed.

“Joaquin?” You found yourself asking. He turned his attention back towards the drone to let you know he was listening. “What does it feel like?” you asked him. “To fly like that?”

You turned the sound down on the video, the rest of the fight just becoming background noise as Joaquin answered you. “Like the most thrilling adrenaline rush you’ll ever get.” he replied, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he thought on it. “It’s like getting to go on a rollercoaster every day, except there’s no track to follow and you get to make up the ride as you go along.” He paused a second before he continued. “Actually FEARN, can I tell you a secret.” he said, leaning into the drone as if it were a real person, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “It’s actually ruined rollercoasters for me.” You almost laughed at that. “I tried to go to six flags with my cousin a few months ago, but every ride I went on just felt boring. There just wasn’t any thrill in it anymore.”

“That sounds sad,” you replied, your heart breaking for him.

“Yeah, I guess it is.” he replied, his attention returning to the video on the wall. “Can you replay the footage from today?” he eventually asked?

“Of course,” you replied and that’s how you remained for the rest of the afternoon, rewatching his video footage and occasionally picking his brain until you were both ready to call it a day.

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquín torres #joaquin torres #Fearn #mcu #mcu x reader #joaquin torres imagine

238 notes · View notes

kisakis-boyfriend · 29 days ago

Note

Hi and congrats on 3k, thats a huge accomplishment!!! For the 3k celebration could I request a whole alphabet for Venti(genshin) if you write for him ( ´・∀・｀)

-very very proud anon

Author's Note: Thank you! :D One Venti for the sweet anon!!

For our 3000 follower celebration! (CLOSED NOW)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Legitimately the biggest snuggle-bug. Venti clings to you during and after sex like a parasite (affectionate)

He's also a master of praise, and praising you in such a way that makes you hard all over again. Expect lots of kisses as well.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Venti is fond of his waist and hands. Of yours, he loves your handsome face and your hands as well~

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

He always trembles like crazy when he cums, which makes his moans/noises shaky too. Venti likes to watch himself cum as well, especially if you're jerking him off while you're balls-deep inside~

Creampies are one of his favorite ways to finish sex, feeling your cum dribble out of his hole. Venti likes when you swipe it with your fingers and push it back inside, fingering him in the process, just to be mean 😇

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

The god of wind is heavily into breathplay/asphyxiation. Please choke this pretty boy hard, stare into his eyes and tell him how cute he looks gasping for air. Pound his pretty ass while you're choking him and Venti will cum so hard that he's in tears. 😊💖

Baby boy may control the element, but letting someone else have that control is unparalleled~

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Definitely has experience under his belt. Venti has had a number of flings and knows plenty of tricks.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. May include a visual)

Mating press, doggy style with you hunched over his body and pressing him into the bed, full nelson, really anything that drives home how tiny he is compared to you.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Have you met him? Venti is a little gremlin, a tease, a flirt, and has an infectious giggle. In between deep kisses and adorable whimpers, Venti will giggle at something or make a little joke. He's cute like that.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

I think he would trim his hair a bit, just to keep it looking nice. I also think it would be cute if the ends of his pubic hair were also teal, like his braids 💚

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

Incredibly romantic and possessive. Venti isn't afraid to let you know how he feels either. He'll do whatever he wants to spoil you, make you happy, drown you in love. It borders on overwhelming sometimes, with how intense the archon can be at showing his affection and devotion, but it's not all bad. With the way he worships you, you never have to doubt whether his affections are genuine or not — it's an assurance that Venti has woven into your soul 💚

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

God… Venti is so lewd when he masturbates, whether he knows you're watching or not. Though he will play it up if you're his audience ;)

Makes all sorts of lewd faces, drools on himself once he's really into it, and moans your name even if you're not in the same building/area. He masturbates somewhat frequently as well, though he prefers sex with his beloved.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Breathplay, spanking, orgasm denial, chastity (secretly), marking, size kink.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Just about anywhere, though he will pout and pretend to worry about someone seeing you two out in public. Don't take him too seriously — just grind against him a bit, kiss the back of his neck, whisper a few things in his sensitive ears, and you'll have a pliant femboy archon drooling while you rail him right in the middle of Monstadt~

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

When you use any variation of "my (blank)/mine" as a petname, seeing you act just as possessive as he is. Grabbing his jaw is another quick way to make Venti pop a boner.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

There's not too much that's off the table with Venti, he's kind of down to try out whatever :3

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Both? Both are good!

Venti adores when you go down on him, and it's a little embarrassing how quickly he cums — whether he's giving you head or receiving honestly. I think he'd be pretty good with his mouth, taking your cock like a good archon. He's more than eager to have you pushing your cock in his cheek and fucking his tight throat.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He likes it all, honestly. Different situations call for different paces, and Venti is happy with whatever! Typically, he prefers to start out slower, ease into things. But if you surprise him by getting rough right away, he'll be just as happy~

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Not preferred, since they normally lead to multiple rounds and/or an archon getting fucked dumb 🥴

Frenzied lovemaking in the morning or in the middle of the night, when he's having trouble falling asleep, aren't too bad though. Still, Venti would prefer to initiate sex when you have ample time to touch each other and truly enjoy the experience.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Yeah, there's not a lot that Venti says no to lol.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

As an archon, Venti has exceptional stamina. One round is never enough for him, especially not since archons are naturally possessive (aka needy)

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Maybe he would purchase a toy for himself, but it would have to be something that truly grabs his attention. Now, if you express an interest in using toys in your sex life, Venti would totally agree! Hell, he's even excited to see what kinds of toys you have in mind!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh, he's a tease, all right! He thinks he's so cute wiggling his hips in those shorts, bending over the counter so that his butt sticks out. Mr "I stick my tongue out at you to make you chase me and pin me down".

Venti is no better once you're actually fucking either. He won't let you pull out, trapping you until you cum again and tremble from overstimulation. His pretty voice right against the shell of your ear, telling you how tight he is, and how badly he needs your dick right this instant~

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Imagine stereotypical femboy noises — that's Venti for you. High-pitched, girly moans, whimpers, and whines. And he's very vocal about how everything feels, how much he needs you close to him, how desperately his body has been craving yours pressed up against it.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

This is really just a fun scenario that popped into my head while I was writing the rest of this. Enjoy~

I think Venti would like it when you make him cum without fully removing his clothing. So, dry humping, remote controlled toys, or…

Pressing his pretty face into the floor, yanking only his shorts down, holding a vibrator against his cock through his tights and making him cum through them. Just… stimulating him so intensely, until globs of cum are oozing through that thin fabric and running down his legs, and making sure that he repeats “Thank you, sir” over and over again while he cums. Until his legs feel like they're not there anymore, and his brain shuts down.

And, of course, once you think he's had enough, you scoop him up in your arms, hold him against your chest, and pet his hair whilst cooing gentle praises at him <3

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He's a little guy (3 inches erect) with cute pubic hair. Uncut, because I said so~

Venti's tip gets super red every time you have sex, no matter how many times he's already cum.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It's pretty damn high, but that's to be expected of an archon. Although… Venti may be a league above the other archons in this aspect 😵‍💫

Z = ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He might be a lil sleepy, but it's rare that Venti actually falls asleep right after. His eyes may be droopy, and he may yawn, but he swears that he's awake and listening to you!

224 notes · View notes

deustux · 4 months ago

Text

‼️Warning, this post has been rewritten. Due to me not explaining my points well at all (in my opinion) and also because im just un happy with how I've worded this. (No one has nagged or harassed me to do this. I'm doing this of my own free will).‼️

I understand why people do not like Varesa's design. Is she fanservice? Yes (like her skirt is barely there) and I also understand that she really does not fit into Natlan. (Like most of the natlan characters together do not look like their from the same nation).

However, I do absolutely love and adore her design. I also love the new body type (it's nice to not see the same body type on 90% of the women and a new body type being created and hopefully used onto new woman characters makes me so happy).

I also will say that she is not plus sized as she is still skinny and really only has thick thighs and the only reason she looks plus sized to a lot people is because the only bodytype woman characters had was either child or skinny itty bitty woman. (no slander to irl people with that bodytype as the bodytype isn't the issue it's how God damn re-used it is).

I absolutely love her colour palette and her design (I understand the tiny skirt and the knitted sleeves is really off putting to people). I also really love characters with Horns as well as pastel colours (light blue and light pink go so god damn hard).

My issues with the backlash is:

1) People claiming she's "fat fetish Material" in my opinion as a plus sized person (I'm not stating my fatness as a way to make you agree or to prove you wrong, just to let people know I genuinely don't see it that way). I don't think she is. The reason is because it's genshin, it took them 4 years to make a new woman model that might not be used again. This is the company that refuses to make Black characters and will only make light skin dark characters (9 out of like 95 characters are dark skin whilst 86 characters are all paper white). I genuinely do not think they'll make a character catered to fat fetishists when it took them 4 years to make a character with a little more meat on their bones and in a gaming community who's ideal waifu is skinny with big boobs and thighs (no shade to people who are into that at all) I do not think these people would be turned on by the idea of fat fetish Material.

2) People assuming that only "gonners" like her character design and if you genuinely like it, then it must be for fanservice or nsfw reasons. Sure, a lot of people may love her design for that reason and all power to them, but let's not accuse everyone of liking her for those reason. I definitely don't like her for those reasons, and if anything, I love her for just how pretty the art is, and my autism is gonna autism when it sees a design that is colourful and cutesy.

I would love and adore a chubby/plus sized character but for now I'm just happy we got a new character model. (Also I do have genuine problems with genshin for their characters being so God damn white and the shit show that was natlan. So I'm not gonna suck their dick and pretend their a perfect billion dollar company).

I also understand a lot of this outrage is also because Genshin isn't listening to their audience asking for basic updates and qols after 4 years as well as the bad rewards and asking for their opinions and issues only to ignore it and add useless shit. And so you have these understandable angry fans rightfully mad at the developers and then see a character who aligns with the way genshin appears to be going.

So I do understand the outrage and why people's hatred and just general annoyance of being ignored has built up into this anger aimed at Varesa.

It also doesn't help when natlan a nation of war was turned into a nation of sports and the god awful mavuika design (I will never get over her zipper going from her tits and vagina to her ass seriously. Especially in a latex suit in a land full of volcanoes and just all around a very hot place with a silver metal zipper, which definitely is burning her parts).

As well as the designs not matching what people wanted from a nation of war. The only designs I can see working for natlan is mulani, kachina, kinich and orlan (ofc if you take those damn jeans away since that's the only iffy part of his design in my opinion).

So yeah I understand Varesa does not fit into natlan and is also part of the massive problem people had with natlan in general.

‼️You can disagree with my opinion and absolutely hate her character design. Just please be respectful when disagreeing or agreeing with others and be kind in the comments to each other.‼️

#varesa #genshin impact

200 notes · View notes

randomusingsofalovesickgirl · 12 days ago

Text

EPISODE 04 (PT. 2): OFFICIALLY MINE

🎶 milk & honey by d'arcy spiller 🎶 touch tank by quinnie 🎶 officially mine by maude latour

“It’s time to get up! Get up everyone! Yes, you’re on the Inside right now, and I’m telling you to get up! So get up! Good morning!”

JJ’s cackles bounced off the walls like the world’s most sadistic alarm clock. After surviving this long on the Inside, there was nothing worse in the mornings than his menacing laughter.

Except today, it didn’t feel so bad.

Maybe because you’d actually slept instead of lying awake, chewing on all your thoughts until the early hours of the morning.

Or maybe because you weren’t cold for once. There was an arm around you, heavy and warm, stealing all the chill from the thin blankets and the freezing set.

But if you were honest — and right now, tucked away in George’s chest, you could afford to be honest—it was because you felt safe. Truly, stupidly safe. Not the kind of safe you’d always felt with him as a friend—this was different. Deeper. The kind of safe that scares you, because it makes it too easy to let your guard all the way down—especially when you know you can trust it completely.

Enveloped in his embrace, his heartbeat a slow and steady drum beneath your ear, you could almost pretend nothing else in this moment mattered; as if you had your own little bubble, away from all the cameras, contestants, chaos, and challenges. For a fleeting moment, you’d carved out a tiny sanctuary amongst the chaos.

But of course, the Inside wasn’t about to let you keep it. Around you, blankets were rustling and drawers squeaked open as the other Insiders peeled themselves out of bed to get ready for the day.

Last night, you and George had promised each other: this would stay private—at least until you figured everything out. Not a dirty secret, but not something to flaunt, either. You both said it was real, but you knew that in moments like this with every warm breath against your neck. Neither of you wanted to hand it over for the producers to twist into ratings, views, and some juicy storyline to feed the hungry audience.

He pressed a sleepy kiss into your shoulder, the scrape of his stubble making you bite back a smile. He was awake.

You shifted just enough so you could see him. His eyes captivated you; so painfully blue, puffy with sleep, but crinkled at the corners from a smile he hadn’t bothered to hide.

“Good morning,” He whispered, so softly that you almost forgot there were microphone packs capturing your every word.

“Good morning.”

It would be so easy to stay in this moment. To get lost in him and your little bubble. To let the cameras catch it all, consequences be damned. That was Outside You’s problem.

But you couldn’t. Not yet.

You forced your gaze away, pressed a kiss to the back of his hand instead, and then gently lifted his arm and slipped out of his embrace before anyone else could see too much…although, you couldn’t get far with your ankles still tied together.

“I have, like, no sense of time here.” Farah groaned from across the room, “Waking up to KSI’s voice like that is actually so mentally deteriorating.”

You slowly sat up, “Tell me about it.”

George remained lying down, although he now faced the ceiling. His hands shot up to his face as he tried to adjust to the bright harsh light. “I think…it’s Tuesday?” He mumbled.

Cinna jumped in to join the conversation, “We came in on Saturday, it’s been four days, so definitely Tuesday.”

“Thanks,” Farah replied, her voice soft with that same gentleness she has reserved for George since day one. You hated that it made something in your chest tighten, even now, after everything. You forced yourself not to think about it. Not right now.

He gave her a lazy thumb-up, without lifting his head from the pillow.

You looked back at him again, smiling before you even realised you were. He looked so at peace—his brown curls fluffy and messy against the white pillow, his blue eyes squinting at the light, his arms loose against the mattress. This is what you would have woken up to, if you hadn’t run that night… and back then, there wouldn’t have been any cameras waiting to ruin it.

Turning quickly, you didn’t want anyone to catch that stupid grin spreading across your face.

“How was it sleeping in a banana costume?” You asked Milli, whose bright yellow suit was almost blinding from across the room. “Hopefully it was at least somewhat comfortable.”

Milli groaned theatrically, falling back onto the mattress. “I had nightmares about being peeled.”

Everyone snorted, including you. She turned the question back to you with a cheeky, teasing smile, motioning toward you and George sharing a bed. As you chatted, you quickly changed the subject—but George’s hand slipped under the blanket, searching for yours. When he found it, he laced your fingers together, and your chest aches in that annoyingly soft way.

He wasn’t going to stop touching you now. Not when you were officially his. Then again, he never really stopped himself before — not at group game nights, not during movies at his place, not on those 2am McDonald’s runs.

“I had the worst dream,” PK muttered from beside you, his face buried in his pillow. “Mandi just kept calling me ‘snake’ over and over again. It wouldn’t stop.”

Jason snorted. “That wasn’t a dream, that’s just a memory.”

PK threw a pillow across the room, missing you by inches. Just then, the production assistant stepped in, clipboard in hand.

“Milli, please come to Room 19 to remove your costume.” At the words she’d been waiting for all night, Milli bolted upright, nearly tripping over the blanket.

The assistant then turned to you and George. “Once she’s done, you two, please come in next.” With that, she left, and the room slowly stirred—everyone following the cue to actually get ready.

George finally sat up, his hand still warm and holding yours beneath the blanket. His body shifted behind you, chest brushing your back as he leaned in close.

“Honestly,” he murmured against your ear, voice low, “we could just ask them to leave it on.”

You elbowed him gently, laughter bubbling under your breath. “I want to shower, you clingy little prick.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that made your heart lift, before pressing another light kiss to your shoulder.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Mandi and Dylan’s beds—neat, clean, untouched. The reminder of their eliminations twisted like a knife in your stomach. That could’ve been you and George yesterday, if things had gone even a little differently.

Sure, last night you’d admitted you wouldn’t have minded being eliminated—just to escape the cameras and keep things private. But George wanted to win. He wanted to support his sister. And now, a part of you felt guilty for even thinking about leaving.

You didn’t notice Cinna watching, smirking as she caught how close George leaned into you—how he softened in your space. Nor were you aware of Whitney, eyes narrowing as she tracked the electric energy between you two.

You were in your bubble. But not as hidden as you thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been four days, but you still can’t predict when the challenges will hit… or what fresh hell the Sidemen have cooked up this time. All you know is it’ll probably come later in the day, and will likely leave you wondering why you accepted Simon’s offer to be on the show in the first place.

However, the waiting has become your favourite part of the day. The eleven of you, sprawling in a loose circle around the couch, talking absolute shit about life on the outside and bonding over the trauma on the Inside. It’s moments like these that make you love the experience—like a long trip with friends, no phones allowed.

That said, you know very little of this will actually make it to air. Sure, the Sidemen have their names on the production, but it’s Netflix that holds the real power—and drama is what sells. You just hope the boys get to review the footage and keep the show theirs. (And maybe, quietly beg them to cut down on the shots of you and George.)

“Wait, are your ankle ties still on?” Whitney asked, her laugh bubbling with surprise. “You two are still quite awfully close.”

There were plenty of bean bags scattered around, but George had tugged you down next to him—well, basically on top of him—right as you reached for your own. He’d done it so casually, like he always used to... but now, it felt different.

George shrugged, already armed with a lie. “We got used to it,” he said, his hand creeping up to pat the top of your head. “Stockholm Syndrome, you know?”

You laughed at his excuse. “Trauma bonding, I guess.” He smiled down at you, ruffled your hair again, then slid his arm back around you like it belonged there—which, annoyingly, it did.

While Whitney moved on, you caught Farah and Mya still watching—suspicion bubbling under polite curiosity. But you missed Milli and Cinna’s quiet exchange on the couch: smirks, stifled giggles, and a shared knowing look.

Milli, the savior, piped up to redirect the conversation from further speculating on you two. “After this show, all of us will be trauma bonded.” Her grin was innocent enough to fool the room, but not you. You shot her a grateful smile; she winked back.

You were also thankful for Jason—blissfully oblivious or simply uninterested in your drama. “Can’t believe you two bonded over that,” he muttered. “DDG and I didn’t shit all day yesterday. What the fuck was that?”

George snorted. “First thing I did this morning was run to the toilet.” Which was a lie—because the first thing he did was follow you out of Room 19, cling to you while you grabbed clean clothes, and joked about joining you in the shower.

“How romantic,” you mumbled just for him, and his grin widened.

Milli snickered, more than happy to help make fun of George. “You should’ve seen him bolt. Didn’t even notice I was there.”

“I had to go!” George protested, throwing his arms in the air. “That was twelve hours of forced constipation. I didn’t want to die on this show that way.”

PK let out a loud laugh, sprawled across three beanbags like he owned the place. “You say that like today won’t kill us anyway. I’ve accepted it. I’m dying on this show—murdered by a Sidemen.”

You laughed at the mental image of your friends annoying everyone to death.

Uncle P raised a brow, “Or Mandi.”

PK immediately paled at the mention of the name.

“You two are so dramatic,” Cinna groaned, practically melted into her Inside hoodie. “Breakfast wasn’t even bad today.”

George lifted a finger, wagging it like some smug professor. Slipping into the accent of one of his more obnoxious skit characters, he corrected her: “Thanks to my sauce tip.”

Uncle P shrugged. “Could be a trap. Classic tactic—sugar us up before another elimination.”

“God, I hope it’s not another scary one.” Whitney groaned, dropping her head against the pillow, likely remembering her first challenge with spiders.

Mya scoffed, still not quite over being put into a box with snakes. “I will actually kill them if it is.” Honestly, if you were her, you would still be furious too.

“Whatever it is, it’s going to be humiliating.”

“Whatever it is, it’s gonna be humiliating.” Uncle P’s deadpan earned a round of grim agreement. Between pies to the face, secrets spilled, and dares no one should be proud of... humiliation was basically the point of the show.

“I still feel whipped cream in my ears,” Farah moaned, flopping back onto the sofa like she’d been mortally wounded.

George nudged you slightly, voice low enough just for you. “For the record, if there’s whipped cream again, I’ll be using you as a shield this time.”

You elbowed him, trying (and failing) not to grin. “Dream on.”

Across the room, Cinna watched. Her gaze flicked between the two of you. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. A smile tugged at her lips—soft, knowing. She could see it.

Before you could catch the look in her eyes, the TV in the corner clicked on.

Dead silence.

Then,like a horror movie jump scare:

“All the girls to Room 19!”

Your stomach dropped.

Just like that, the bubble burst.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The challenges so far had been bad…but this one was hell.

You’d never hated a challenge more, and Harry could probably tell.

Seated at the far end of the lineup, closest to where Harry and Josh stood orchestrating today’s chaos, you slumped deeper into the chair. While the production crew scrambled to fix a mic issue, Harry wandered over and leaned lightly against the back of your chair. His hand landed on your shoulder, trying to comfort you…but failing spectacularly.

Tilting your head back, you mouthed, “This is so fucked.”

He pursed his lips, agreeing wordlessly.

Your knee bounced uncontrollably, the pint in your stomach widening with every second of silence.

The challenge was called Lights Out, a twisted social deduction game (more like nightmare) where each round, one person gets called to vote someone out. If someone voted for you, your only hope was guessing who did it.

Like Mafia, but crueler. It wasn’t just for fun or laughs. Instead, hundreds of thousands of pounds were at stake. The production was forcing you to stab each other in the back, and still eat breakfast together the next morning.

Now Farah and Mya sat under a harsh red light a few metres away, likely getting eliminated. After all, it was their consequence for guessing wrong.

That could’ve been you, three rounds ago, if you hadn’t guessed Whitney.

Fuck.

It echoed in your head, steady and relentless.

If they wanted two people gone before the voting stopped, were they really taking out two people today? Your mind spun. That would make it four people out in less than 48 hours. Then, you started to wonder: are the boys going through the same thing? And if so, did that mean four people would be gone before dinner?

Your chest tightened at the thought. George. Was he okay? Could someone have betrayed him?

Your eyes drifted back to Milli, who had been a punching bag throughout all the challenges. From being labelled the most fake to most likely to backstab in previous challenges, she’s now being guessed as the person eliminated round after round. She shrunk slowly into herself, fingers picking at her nails and chewing at her lips.

If she hadn’t been three seats away, you’d have grabbed her hand and squeezed it until your fingers hurt. Instead, you caught her eye and mimed a clumsy heart. She could only crack half a smile back at you.

“All right,” Josh called, mic feedback snapping you back. “This next round: you’ll vote between Mya and Farah. One goes home today.”

The air froze solid. No one breathed. It felt like if you stayed motionless long enough, maybe they’d laugh and say it was a prank.

God, you hope George was okay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air in the dressing room felt thick, heavy with everything that no one could even fathom the right words for.

No one said much at first as everyone shuffled around the room, taking a seat. Suddenly, the quiet hum of cameras and every sigh seemed to echo way too loud.

Farah cracked first. “It’s just…” Her voice broke around the edges as tears welled into her eyes. She immediately hid her face into her hands, breath hitching. “I know it’s a game, but friends…they’re really hard for me, okay? They always have been. I feel like people never really…get me. My whole life, I’ve been so misunderstood.”

No one jumped to respond. There wasn’t much to say at this moment. It felt wrong to give her a hug, not when Mya was the one voted out.

The tension was suffocating.

Cinna leaned against the vanity, arms tight across her chest. “We were forced to pick each other apart. It was shit. It all felt shit.”

You nodded, “It was literally pitting us against each other.”

At the end of the counter, Mya let out a sharp laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “That Van Cleef comment? It really offended me. I get that you could be using a joke or logic or whatever you could to make you feel better, but like…we can’t pretend this game isn’t about money.”

You wanted to explain, but it wasn’t the time. In the end, it was money. Farah had always been honest about how much it would help her. You didn’t know Mya’s whole life, but you had to pick. It was a shit choice, and you needed a reason

“I’m sorry,” you said instead. You meant it. “We were just thinking as logically as we could. It wasn’t personal—but it definitely sounded like it. You would’ve done the same.”

Cinna was quick to join. “I know that Van Cleef's comment was unfair. I’m sorry.”

Mya met your gaze, arms folded tight across her chest like armor. She gave the faintest nod. “Yeah. Okay. Just… next time, maybe don’t decide what people can afford to lose.”

Silence settled again, restless and prickly.

Then Whitney clapped her hands once, loud enough to break the tension.

“Alright! That’s enough self-pity. Anyone else got something to say? Dirty secrets? Crushes? A reason to swing a punch? No? Good. Clean slate time.” She pointed right at you. “We good?”

You nodded. And one by one, everyone else did too.

Whitney’s grin softened. “Right. Group hug. Mya, front and center.”

A few half-hearted protests, but everyone shuffled in anyway. Mya laughed — strained but real — and for one small moment, the room didn’t feel so stifling.

For a moment, it felt okay again.

Then the door slammed open—and the boys barreled in.

George. Your eyes darted through the group as they filed in — PK first, then Jason, then DDG, and then… him.

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were even holding.

PK spoke first, making the announcement for the group. “Uncle P got voted out.”

The girls froze. A chorus of shocked gasps broke out. Uncle P was the anchor; the calm when tempers ran too hot.

“I’m out too,” Mya said quietly, slipping free of the hug to cross straight to Uncle P. She wrapped him up, burying her face in his shoulder.

You hung back a second, watching them cling to each other: Uncle P patting her back, saying something fatherly and nonsense enough to make her hiccup a watery laugh.

“The father and daughter, both gone” He said it loud enough to draw a few wet chuckles from the group.

George was moving through the room too, hugging each of the girls—Farah, then Milli, then Cinna—murmuring little check-ins as he went. “You alright?” “That was rough, huh?” “You okay?”

He reached you last—of course he did—and his arms slipped around your waist before you could even think. He ducked his head, voice low by your ear. “You okay?”

You hummed, honest and a little lost. “I don’t know yet. You?”

He nodded slowly, then paused, forehead brushing yours. “Do I have a poker face?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. He read the confusion on your face instantly—like he always did.

“One of the lads said I did.”

A laugh bubbled up, faint but warm despite the lump in your throat. “Not even a little.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As most people followed Uncle P and Mya into the bedroom to pack up their stuff, Cinna pulled away from the group. Her dabbing her eyes with a tissue caught your attention… and a few others.

“I feel so bad,” she whispered. “I hurt her feelings. I just… I don’t know. I’m not cut out for this.”

Whitney went over first, wrapping Cinna in a firm hug. “It’s inevitable,” she murmured into her hair. “You’re not a bad person. You were just playing the game. It’s not that deep.”

Cinna nodded, still looking shaken.

You joined immediately, pulling both of them into a three-way hug. “We know you didn’t mean it like that. No one here thinks you're mean, Cinna. You’re one of the kindest people—if not the kindest person—here. We love you.”

Milli barreled in too, wrapping the three of you tight. “We got each other. Even if the Sidemen put us in shitty situations, we’ve got each other’s backs whenever we can.”

Part of you did want to leave yesterday. But moments like this remind you: the competition can be brutal, but the love is real.

Which is exactly why, ten minutes later, saying goodbye to Uncle P and Mya shattered your heart. Inside is going to feel miles different without them here, just like when Dylan and Mandi left. It’s like a puzzle missing pieces in the middle.

“Thank you, Uncle,” you sighed, giving him your final hug before he and Mya walked down the hallway. “Thank you for always being so honest, and so strong, and so cool.”

He chuckled at the compliment before he smiled down at you, not having much time to linger with goodbyes. “Keep in touch, okay?”

You nodded immediately—no hesitation needed. As he moved on to hug everyone else, you found Mya.

Whispering another quiet apology, you gave her the tightest hug you could muster, even though you felt weak. You thanked her for the bright light and buzzing energy she brought to the house… and then, just like that, they were gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The living room felt hollow after they left. It was much quieter now, everyone still reeling from the double elimination ...and from the fact that four people had disappeared in just forty-eight hours. Add to that the disappointed that came from Jason accepting his temptation and locking in his slot at the Charity Match.

No one dared to say it out loud, but everyone was thinking the same thing: who’s next?

The final day was creeping closer and closer, and paranoia was thick in the air.

George’s arm anchored around your shoulders, your fingers absently playing with his pinky while he and Jason talked about the Charity Match. You had started the conversation, hyping up Jason’s decision as you’d been to every game since it begun. But your mind had drifted off, trying to predict tomorrow.

Then, the intercom crackled to life. “George, please come to Room 19.”

He froze, eyes wide as if he’d just heard a ghost. “Oh, phallus.”

Jason burst out laughing. “Who says that? That’s so polite. So British.”

George shot him a deadpan look, before turning to you and…hesitated. It was as if he was debating leaning down and kissing you goodbye. Reading his mind, you squinted and slightly shook your head, just enough for him to read: not now. Not when he just got called and the cameras are looking at him and only him.

He huffed a tiny laugh instead. “See you guys in a bit, yeah?” His eyes lingered on you a moment longer than they should have.

You just nodded, watching him walk away. The space beside you went cold so fast it hurt. Instinctively, you tugged your sleeves over your hands, trying to trap the warmth he left behind.

Jason’s voice broke your daze. “It wasn’t the wrong decision, right?” He needed reassurance. Especially after how disappointed Cinna had been with him after she vouched for him wholeheartedly. At this point, there was no undoing it, so you offered him whatever comfort you could.

Soon enough, George came back, looking dazed and unsettled He dropped down beside you, thigh pressed against yours, body radiating tension.

“You oka—?” you started.

Your name crackled over the speaker.

Well then

“I guess that’s me.” You slowly jumped to your feet, seeing the production assistant tasked with guiding you to the room impatiently waiting for you. You stretched, purposefully turning to face George and check if he was okay. However, he didn’t respond with words; just a slight nod to follow.

Walking down the hallway, your footsteps sounded way too loud against the polished floor. Until you were greeted by Room 19.

The fluffy white couch. The blue walls. The soft lighting. If this wasn’t a glorified confession booth, it would’ve been a great relaxation room.

“Please sit.”

You obeyed, sinking into the cushions, palms clammy against your sweatpants. A camera stared straight through you, waiting for your soul to crack open.

One of the people behind the camera spoke up. “Please use the two paddles to vote on who should return: Patrice or Mya. Only one of them will get to stay in the game.”

Fuck.

Your brain short-circuited. Uncle P or Mya?

The camera was already rolling—catching every flicker of panic across your face.

Uncle P, as much as you loved him, was the most well-off. He could go without these funds. Although, you wanted nothing but for him to stay; for him to calm everyone down, give reality checks, and to tell his stories. But you owed it to Mya. After all, you did vote her out.

You found yourself mumbling out your reasoning, your mind fighting itself out loud. Finally, you shut your eyes, let the silence stretch just long enough to drown out the noise in your head — and lifted the paddle.

“Mya.”

So that’s why George had looked like that.

You looked the same when you shuffled back to the living room, eyes blank and limbs heavy. Jason was up next–they were likely calling people out by the groups they sat themselves with, probably to stop you from from discussing it with each other, to deliberate, to give the heads-up.

You slumped next to George. “This is getting too much.”

He brushed a soft kiss to your forehead, grateful that you two were finally alone…at least for a bit. “We’re so close to the end. Just a few more days. Hold on.”

An hour later, once every name had been called, Mya walked back in.

You weren’t surprised.

But you couldn’t pretend you weren’t a tiny bit disappointed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, you, Jason, Cinna, and George were the first to retreat to the bedroom. The four of you couldn’t deny how exhausted you were, even while the others lingered in the living room, still chatting away. All you wanted was for production to finally kill the lights—this was about the time they usually did anyway.

Today had been yet another emotional rollercoaster. A challenge that pit everyone against each other, a double elimination, a surprise save, Jason folding for the Charity Match temptation… and on top of all that, you and George.

It was too much…way too much.

“Bro, can they dim the lights or something?” Cinna called into the void, voice frustrated and fatigued.

“I just want to sleep!” You mumbled into your mattress, face planting straight onto the bed. Your bed hadn’t budged by even an inch from George’s.

Too tired. That would be your official excuse.

George laughed somewhere above you. “Oh my God, you know what would be really fun right now?” He flopped down beside you, pulled the blanket over you both, and pressed himself close. “Sleep.”

All four of you cracked up at once. It felt good to complain about something so simple—a tiny pocket of relief on a day that hadn’t given you much to smile about.

KSI’s voice cut through the moment, static and smug over the intercom. “Well, well, well. Why haven’t you two moved your beds yet?”

You didn’t even lift your head. “I just want to sleep,” you groaned at the ceiling, hoping the Sidemen could hear every ounce of your exhaustion.

Cinna wheezed out a laugh. “Why do we sound like we’re fifty years old?”

You and George lost it, burying giggles into the pillows. Your forehead pressed into his shoulder as your legs tangled together under the blanket.

Jason moaned from his corner, “Swear they usually dim the lights by now. This is actual torture.”

George scoffed. “Why would they dim the lights when they’re about to shove a Sideman’s face in ours to tell us how much we hate each other?”

Cinna snorted. “Not gonna lie, seeing any of them right now would piss me off.”

You rolled onto your back, eyes shut tight. “I’m disliking every single video once we’re out. Don’t care if they donate to a thousand charities, or if I’m in the thumbnail. It’ll be a thumbs down on principle.”

“Smear campaign,” Jason declared. “We’ll run it together.”

You snorted, burying your face deeper into George’s shoulder, desperate for sleep even with the lights still blazing overhead. George did the same, hiding his face in your hair.

You forced your mind to drift, your breathing to slow…

…until the challenge alarm shrieked through the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @rubyskies @edgyficuselastica @gmontaguesbitch @sundarksposts @canyouseethesainz @lovingaphroditesworld @maggie-readss @liz140569 @lmaowhathaha @moofilms @lalisasrealwife @courtjjade @bowielovesyou @raekensluver @cuntessaii @theresglittleronthefloor @isabelle-2934 @smzyyx @wroetominter @madforgeorge @megan-jane02 @lottiewills @cheesystylesig @suspicious-stain-in-spain @kneelforloki @wherethezoes-at @clarkey4life @madsclarkey @footballfangirly

#george clarke fics #george clarke fluff #george clarke x reader #george clarkey fluff #george clarkey x reader #sidemen inside

119 notes · View notes