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pucksandpower · 3 months

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Fixer Upper

Max Verstappen x interior designer!Reader

Summary: Max Verstappen is the most frustrating client you’ve ever dealt with … but maybe he can make it up to you

“How about some pops of color in here?” You suggest brightly, gesturing around the stark white walls of Max Verstappen’s new Monaco penthouse.

The Dutch driver sniffs, glancing up briefly from his phone. “No thanks. I like it plain.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he does. You’ve been working with Max for two weeks now trying to decorate his new home, but so far he’s shot down every single idea you’ve proposed.

As an interior designer based in a principality known for catering to the rich and famous, you’re used to difficult clients, but Max may just take the cake. Still, you’re determined to give him the space he desires … if you can only figure out what that is.

“Alright, plain it is,” you say evenly. “But we should at least add some artwork, don’t you think? Something modern and sleek could look fantastic against these walls.”

Max doesn’t even glance up this time. “No art. Don’t like it.”

You inhale slowly. “Okay, no problem. We’ll keep it artless.” Time to switch gears. You gesture to the expansive bank of windows along one wall. “These floor-to-ceiling windows are incredible, some of the best views in Monaco. We could do some fabulous seating here to take advantage of the natural light. Maybe a chaise lounge or two angled toward the harbor ...”

“Don’t need seating.” Max is focused on his phone, thumbs flying. “I’ll just put my sim rig there.”

Your eye twitches involuntarily. His racing simulator setup — in front of floor to ceiling windows overlooking the most coveted views in the principality? Absolutely not.

“Well,” you begin delicately, “Perhaps we could find another place for your sim, one that doesn’t obstruct the views quite so much. I’m sure we could-”

“No, I want it there,” Max interrupts flatly. “I like seeing the water while I drive.” His attention doesn’t waver from the screen in his hands.

You close your eyes briefly and take a calming breath. Alright. No color, no art, and a sim smack in front of priceless views. So much for design aesthetics. Time for a new tactic.

“You must do a lot of cooking,” you say brightly, turning towards the kitchen. “This is an amazing culinary space. We could do some open shelving with sleek finishes to highlight the quartz countertops.”

Silence. Max just gives a non-committal grunt, still absorbed by his phone.

You soldier on. “Or maybe some nice warm wood cabinetry for contrast? I have some fantastic artisan contacts who could do handmade custom designs.”

“Don’t cook much,” he mutters.

Your smile tightens. “Not to worry, we can keep the kitchen minimal too.” Is there anything, anything at all, you can propose that he won’t immediately shoot down? You’re starting to doubt it.

Switching to the living area, you smooth down your dress and try again. “For the living room, I was thinking we could do built-in bookcases along the back wall there, and maybe expose some of the original brick behind for an industrial chic look ...”

Max glances up from his phone to level an unimpressed look at you. “But we’re inside. Brick would make no sense.”

You close your eyes briefly. Of course not. “My mistake, you’re absolutely right,” you say through gritted teeth. Enough pussyfooting around. Time to be direct.

You plant yourself in front of where Max sits on the couch and place your hands on your hips. “Max, I’m going to be honest. I’m having trouble getting a sense of your style and vision for this space. You’ve rejected all my ideas so far.”

He blinks up at you blandly. “I don’t like any of your ideas. This is my place and I want to do what I want.”

You resist the urge to tear your hair out in frustration. “Of course, and I want you to have exactly what you want. But in order to do that, I need you to communicate with me. Tell me what kind of look and feel you envision for your home. Modern, traditional, minimalist? What colors and textures appeal to you?”

Max just shrugs, his attention already drifting back to his phone. “I don’t know. Just make it nice.”

Oh for god’s sake. You inhale slowly through your nose. “Perhaps you could show me some inspiration photos of interiors you like?”

“Nah, don’t feel like it.”

That’s it. You’ve had it with this infuriating man. You know you shouldn’t lose your cool with a client, but you’re at the end of your rope.

“Well, I’m afraid ‘make it nice’ doesn’t give me much to go on,” you snap sarcastically. “I can’t read your mind, Max. So unless you start providing concrete input on what you actually want, I’m resigning from this job.”

You expect anger, or at least surprise at your outburst. But Max just regards you evenly for a moment, then nods. “Okay, fair enough. The truth is ...” He pauses, looking faintly embarrassed. “I just wanted an excuse to spend more time around you.”

You blink, blindsided. “I’m sorry, what?”

A slight flush rises in Max’s cheeks. “I didn’t actually care about the decor that much. I just thought if I kept saying no to all your ideas, you’d have to stay involved with the project longer.” He gives you a sheepish smile. “Guess I took the stubborn client thing too far.”

You’re dumbfounded. And, if you’re being honest, a little charmed. “Let me get this straight — you’ve been wasting my time and driving me crazy for two weeks because you … have a crush on me?”

Max winces. “When you put it like that, I sound like an idiot.”

You have to laugh. “A bit, yeah.” But you can’t help but feel a warm flutter in your stomach too. You’ve always thought Max was cute in a boyish way. Knowing he orchestrated this whole thing just to spend time with you is, admittedly, very flattering. And more than a little endearing.

Max rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to be difficult on purpose. I just ...” He trails off with a helpless little shrug.

You take pity on him. Yes, leading you on a wild goose chase of rejected designs was unprofessional. But the hesitant smile he’s giving you now tugs at your heartstrings anyway.

“Well, I appreciate you coming clean,” you say gently. “How about we start fresh? I’d love to actually get your real input now on what you want.”

His smile widens, grey eyes lighting up. “Yeah?”

You can’t help but smile back. “On one condition.”

He nods eagerly. “Name it.”

“You take me to dinner.” You arch an eyebrow. “To make up for the stress you caused me over the past two weeks.”

Max lets out a surprised bark of laughter. “Deal.” He shakes his head ruefully. “I really made a mess of this, didn’t I?”

“Little bit, yeah.” You grin to soften the reproach. “Next time just ask me out for a drink. It’s a much more straightforward approach.”

“Duly noted.” He smiles sheepishly.

You move to sit next to him on the couch. “So tell me honestly, what kind of look are you picturing for this place?”

Max considers the blank canvas of a space. “Honestly, I’m open to anything you suggest. I trust your taste — I’ve seen your work before and it’s amazing.” His eyes meet yours. “But I do definitely want my sim rig with a view. That part wasn’t a lie.”

You laugh. “We can make that work.” Your gaze travels over the strong lines of his face, the mussed brown hair, the wry curve of his smile that makes your heart beat faster.

As you begin sketching possible layout options, you make a mental note to clear your schedule for dinner soon. Very soon.

***

“Well, this is … quite a space,” you say diplomatically as the hostess leads you and Max to your table.

You’re immediately assaulted by a riot of clashing colors and patterns as your gaze darts around the trendy restaurant he’s brought you to for dinner. Your trained designer’s eye picks out aesthetic atrocities everywhere you look.

An art deco mirror topped by an incongruous ultra-modern light fixture. Fussy rococo chairs paired with sleek metal tables. And dear god, is that shag carpeting?

“Yes, Le Chat Noir is very popular right now,” Max agrees, seemingly oblivious to the decor travesties surrounding you.

You hold your tongue as the hostess seats you. The haphazard decor choices are an assault on your senses, but you don’t want to seem rude on your first date with Max.

A server appears to take your drink orders. You welcome the distraction, busying yourself with the wine list. But as soon as he departs, Max leans forward, an amused glint in his eyes.

“Alright, I know that look. Out with it — what do you really think?”

You bite your lip. “What do you mean?”

He gestures broadly around. “Of all this.”

You hesitate. “The decor is certainly … interesting.”

Max grins. “I can tell you absolutely hate it.”

You wince. Damn, he’s perceptive. And here you were trying so hard to remain poker-faced.

“Sorry,” you say with an embarrassed laugh. “I was attempting to refrain from judgment, but it appears I failed.”

“No need to apologize.” He settles back in his chair. “Please, critique away. I want to hear your professional opinion.” His eyes dance with humor. “Don’t hold back.”

Well, far be it from you to turn down an invitation like that. As your drinks arrive, you take a fortifying sip of wine before launching in.

“Alright, you asked for it.” You set the glass down firmly. “This space is an absolute disaster from a design perspective. It’s like the interior decorator was blindfolded and threw darts at a wall covered in paint swatches and fabric samples. Nothing goes together at all.”

You point above your table. “That light fixture up there? Ultrasmack modern against 19th century crown molding? Make it make sense.”

Max chuckles. “Quite the mashup.”

You lean forward, on a roll now. “And this carpet!” You gesture in horror to the shag beneath your feet. “This trend needs to retire immediately. It looks like an avocado fucked a bear.”

Max nearly chokes on his drink. “A what now?”

You wave a hand. “You know what I mean. Just tragic.”

Sitting back, you take in the rest of the garish space. “The artwork over there is just hideous. And that tufted velvet on the booths makes me want to scream. Who decided olive green was an accent color that pairs well with anything?”

You turn back to Max, on a tirade now. “Honestly, nothing works. The proportions are bad, the color palette is an atrocity, the mixture of styles is absurd. It’s like the designer threw every conceivable element at the wall to see what would stick. I could have done a better job blindfolded after downing a bottle of tequila.” You finally stop for breath, cheeks flushed.

Max has an enormous grin on his face. “Wow. Tell me how you really feel.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help smiling too. “Sorry for the outburst. Like I said, feel free to tell me to zip it.”

“Are you kidding? I could listen to you shred this place all night.” Max shakes his head, looking delighted. “I’ve never seen you so worked up. It’s adorable.”

You blush, smoothing your hair self-consciously. “Oh hush. I just have … strong opinions when it comes to interior design choices.”

“Clearly.” Max’s eyes positively dance with affection. “I love how passionate you are. And your criticisms are spot on. This place really is horrendously designed.”

You blink in surprise. “Wait, you actually agree? You’re not just humoring me?”

He snorts. “Absolutely not. My knowledge doesn’t come remotely close to yours, but even I can tell everything in here clashes hideously.” He gestures at the table. “I mean, a wooden chair back with a metal seat? Just pick one material!”

You grin, happiness blossoming in your chest. It’s such a treat to have him validate your expert opinions instead of just patronizing them like many dates would. You launch eagerly back into listing all the ways the restaurant decor offends you, with Max chiming in occasional agreement or egging you on for more.

By the time your food arrives, you’ve dissected the lighting, furniture, textiles, and color schemes within an inch of their lives. Max watches you intently the whole time, blatantly enraptured by your critiques. Your wine glass is nearly empty from all the gesticulating.

“Well, I think that covers all the ways this interior design should be illegal,” you conclude, taking a bite of your meal. “Thanks for indulging me. I know I can get carried away analyzing spaces.”

“I could listen to you trash talk bad design forever.” Max can’t seem to rip his eyes away from yours. “I love how opinionated you are. And you look so damn sexy getting all fired up about it.”

A pleasurable shiver runs through you at his heated look. Maybe ripping this restaurant to shreds wasn’t the most conventional date conversation, but it clearly impressed Max. Nothing like a shared hatred of garish decor to bring two people together.

“Well, I’m glad one of us enjoys these tirades,” you laugh. You cock your head coyly. “Maybe I could come over sometime outside of work and critique your place again now that it’s shaping up. I’m sure I can find a few more things to complain about.”

Max’s eyes darken. “I’d like that.” He leans forward with a roguish smile. “Maybe we can get out of here and you can tell me all the ways you’d redesign the bedroom in my current apartment. You know, so we can avoid making those mistakes again while you help decorate my bedroom in the penthouse.”

You nearly choke on your wine, heat flooding your face. And lower regions. Goodness, Max’s flirty side really brings out your inner vixen.

You recover and stroke his ankle lightly with your heel under the table. “I’d be happy to provide any hands-on design consultation you require.”

Max sucks in a sharp breath, eyes blazing. The temperature between you two has risen about fifty degrees in the last few seconds. Suddenly you want nothing more than to leave this horribly designed restaurant and get him alone.

Immediately.

***

“A good mattress is crucial for proper sleep and recovery,” Max declares as you walk into the upscale furniture store together. “We need to test them thoroughly.”

You allow him to lead you to the mattress section, hiding a smile. When Max asked you to come mattress shopping with him for his new bedroom, you’d naively thought it would be a quick errand. But knowing Max, you should have guessed he’d take the task of “testing” mattresses very seriously.

An eager salesperson appears. “Welcome! Are we looking for any mattress in particular today?”

“We want to try them all,” Max announces, eyeing the rows of display beds keenly.

The salesperson falters. “Er, all of them?”

“How else will we know which is best?” Max shrugs as if this is obvious.

You squeeze his arm, charmed by his matter-of-fact logic. The salesperson forces a professional smile.

“Of course, take all the time you need.” He gestures expansively at the floor models. “I’ll be right here if you have any questions.”

“Excellent.” Max wastes no time striding over to the nearest bed. He sits, then lies back experimentally. “Hmm, decent firmness.” He pats the empty space beside him. “Come try it out.”

You curl up next to him, hiding your smile at the salesperson’s raised eyebrows. When you said you’d help Max pick out a mattress, this wasn’t what you pictured. But you have to admit, lying here with him is fun.

Max frowns. “Too much motion transfer when you move.” He sits up abruptly. “Next!”

You have to smother a laugh as you follow him to the next display. This no-nonsense methodism is peak Max. Systematic and entertainingly stubborn.

At the second bed, Max immediately starfishes spread-eagle. “Well? Get over here and test it with me. It’s the only way we’ll know.” He pats the mattress insistently.

You note the salesperson observing this display with thinly veiled disapproval. But Max just looks so irresistibly eager, you can’t help but indulge him.

You crawl onto the bed and cuddle up to him happily. “Mmm, this one’s nice. Great hugability.” You pretend to grab Max in a koala hold.

He laughs. “Agreed, good hugging potential.” Wrapping his arms around you, he shifts experimentally. “But the bounce is all wrong.” He releases you and sits up. “Next!”

And so it goes for the next hour as you enthusiastically demo mattress after mattress with Max. You try them on your backs, sides, fronts, analyzing the firmness levels and motion transfer. At one point you even test out the edge support — whatever that is — with Max insisting you sit together on the very side of the mattress frame.

“Considerable sag here,” Max murmurs against your ear, his arm firmly around your waist. You have to hide your shiver at his warm breath so close. “Could be problematic.”

The salesperson looks like he’s one demo away from throwing you both out. But Max either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. He cheerfully drags you from bed to bed, ticking off pros and cons on his fingers.

“Decent lumbar support, but it sleeps too hot.”

“Great responsiveness, but poor motion isolation.”

You’re having the time of your life. Testing mattresses was benign enough, but the excuse to crawl into bed with Max over and over has you both giddy. Each demo seems to involve increasingly creative configurations of your interlocked bodies as you evaluate firmness and ergonomics.

“I’m just not sure this is a good fit,” Max eventually concludes, frowning up at you from where you straddle his hips. His hands rest casually on your thighs, as if finding yourself atop a handsome man in a public place is perfectly routine mattress research.

You smother a laugh and climb off. “Valid analysis. Though some of the testing scenarios still need more data, I’d say.” You shoot him a coy look.

Max grins. “Agreed. Further testing required.”

The salesperson pointedly avoids looking at you both. “Perhaps you’d like to narrow down your top choices? I’m sure you have plenty of notes by now.” There’s a tautness to his professionalism that suggests you’ve stretched his patience to its limit.

But Max seems oblivious. “We’re not done yet! There are still at least half a dozen models we haven’t tried.” He takes your hand, pulling you toward a plush, pillow-topped display. “Now this one looks perfect for spooning. You little spoon first this time ...”

Mattress testing with Max, you’ve learned, is a delightful mix of structured analysis and shameless flirtation. You can’t remember ever having so much fun shopping. And based on Max’s boyish smile and lingering touches, the feeling is mutual.

“Too much dip in the middle,” Max tuts later, rolling you both gently across yet another mattress surface. “Though the close contact isn’t terrible.” His low voice in your ear makes you shiver.

You grin up at him coyly. “We should do an in-depth pressure point analysis next.”

Max smirks. “Crucial data to collect.”

Eventually, however, even Max’s enthusiasm starts to wane. “I think we have sufficient consumer testing results now,” he decides, pulling you up to sit beside him on the edge of a low platform bed.

You laugh. “That poor salesperson was ready to toss us out an hour ago.”

“Hey, we were conducting necessary R&D!” Max’s grey eyes twinkle. “But I am rather tired now ...”

He lies back, resting his head in your lap. You automatically begin stroking his hair and he sighs, eyes slipping closed. You take the opportunity to admire how sweet he looks, lips slightly parted and lashes fanned on his cheeks. Testing mattresses all afternoon seems to have worn him out.

You lean down to murmur in his ear. “Ready to take this mattress research home to really compare notes?”

One grey eye peeks open. “Mmm, home analysis does sound optimal.” His voice is raspy with fatigue in a way that melts you. “Wake me when it’s time to go?”

You brush a soft kiss to his forehead. “Of course.”

He nuzzles into your lap with a contented noise. Watching his breath deepen into sleep, you feel your heart overflow. There are a thousand reasons you adore Max, but these unexpectedly tender moments might top them all.

The salesperson reappears, offering you a pained smile. “So were you able to decide on a mattress today?”

You grin, fingers still carding through Max’s hair. “You know, I think we need to sleep on it a little longer.”

***

“Well, what do you think?” Max gestures with pride around his freshly competed penthouse.

You take it all in — the sleek but cozy furniture, the warm lighting, the pops of color — and smile. “It’s perfect. You have an incredible home now.”

He wraps an arm around your waist, gazing around. “I really couldn’t have done it without you. This place was a disaster before you came along.”

You lean into him happily. It’s been months since you first met Max and began working with him on decorating his new space. It was a battle at times, but you’re immensely proud of the final result.

“I’m honored I could help bring your vision to life,” you say sincerely. Though if you’re honest, the best part of this project was getting to know Max himself. The way his smile makes your heart flutter hasn’t diminished one bit.

Max turns you to face him, his expression soft. “I didn’t just get a beautifully designed home out of this. I got you.”

Your breath catches at the open affection in his eyes. Before you can respond, he dips his head and kisses you tenderly. You melt against him, the feel of his lips erasing any coherent thought.

When he finally draws back, his eyes are darker. “You know, there’s still one part of the place we haven’t officially christened yet.” He cocks his head toward the bedroom.

You bite your lip, pulse already quickening. “Is that so? Well, we should definitely perform a final inspection to confirm everything meets our standards.”

Max grins wolfishly, pulling you toward the bedroom. “Thorough testing is required.”

You laugh as he tugs you down onto the plush king mattress you’d finally agreed on after extensive “research.” The two of you bounce slightly from the momentum, causing you both to dissolve into giggles.

“Well, motion transfer still seems acceptable,” you quip. Max chuckles and silences you with another heated kiss.

You hum approvingly as his hands begin to roam your body. “Mmm, responsiveness is excellent too ...”

Clothes are quickly shed as you reacquaint yourselves with each other’s forms. When you’re finally skin-to-skin, Max sighs in satisfaction.

“I’ve been waiting months to get you in this bed.” His voice is low and gravelly in a way that makes you shiver.

“It was the longest mattress testing phase ever,” you breathe as his lips kiss down your neck.

Max laughs against your shoulder. “Worth it though, right?”

In answer, you flip him onto his back, straddling his hips. “Absolutely.”

You take your time exploring each other, hands and mouths worshiping every inch. Until late afternoon sun filters through the curtains, bathing the room in an almost ethereal glow.

When Max finally sinks into you, you moan softly at the exquisite fullness. “Oh yes, this mattress has great ergonomics,” you sigh dreamily.

Max huffs a laugh, his chest vibrating against yours. “I’ll be sure to mention that in my product review.”

You grin and shift your hips experimentally, making him groan. “The responsiveness really is top-notch.”

“We should still test a few more positions though,” Max murmurs. “Just to be thorough.”

You happily comply, indulging in acrobatic mattress testing that leaves you both blissfully satisfied and out of breath. As you lay tangled together afterwards, endorphins still flooding your systems, Max presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“Well, I’d say the new bed passes inspection with flying colors,” he declares with sleepy satisfaction.

You laugh and stroke his hair. “Agreed. You chose an excellent mattress.” You snuggle closer. “Though the company in it is what I really enjoy.”

Max tightens his arms around you. “Think you can put up with me and my high-maintenance decor demands a while longer?” His voice holds a vulnerable note beneath the teasing.

Your heart swells and you cup his face. “Max Verstappen, I’ll critique mattresses and furniture with you any day. As long as at the end of it, I get to fall asleep next to you.”

His smile outshines the lowering sun. “Deal.”

***

“You know what I love most about how our place looks now?” Max murmurs, his arms wrapped around you on the couch.

You tear your eyes from the awful reality show you’re watching to glance up at him. “Hmm?”

His gaze sweeps over the living room, a small smile on his lips. “All the little touches that are just so you.”

You follow his look around the penthouse that over the past year has transformed from Max’s bachelor pad to your shared home. It’s still sleek and modern overall, but with warm accents reflecting both your styles.

And yes, you realize, your personal influence shows in the decor now that you live here full time. The mugs hung on hooks in the kitchen, the plush blankets tossed artfully on the chairs, the bowls of sea glass collected from beach walks that adorn the tables.

Your heart swells looking at the traces of yourself woven into Max’s space. “It does feel more like home now, doesn’t it?”

Max nods, dropping a kiss to your hair. “It’s perfect. I love coming back after a race and being surrounded by reminders of you.”

You snuggle deeper into his embrace, incredibly touched. “Well, I promise to keep leaving my clutter around to make you feel at home.”

He chuckles. “Please do. It’s my favorite kind of clutter.”

Smiling softly, you think back to when you first started dating Max after working on his penthouse makeover. Who could have guessed that would lead to sharing this life together?

Your gaze lands on a shelf displaying photos of the two of you, and your throat grows tight. There’s you and Max laughing on vacation, kissing right after he won his fourth world championship, curled up with hot chocolate on a ski trip. So many beautiful memories.

“It’s hard to remember what this place even looked like before,” you murmur. And not just the decor — it’s hard to recall your life before Max.

He rubs your shoulder idly, eyes faraway. “I know what you mean. It’s like you’ve always been here.” His voice holds a note of wonder.

You lift your head to meet his gaze. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Max’s eyes shine. He bends to kiss you, soft and heartfelt. Your lips curve against his.

When you reluctantly draw back, the television screen catches your eye. You cringe at the fake drama unfolding.

“Ugh, this show is terrible,” you groan. “Can we watch something else?”

Max grins and grabs the remote, flipping through channels. He eventually lands on a home renovation program you both enjoy analyzing and critiquing together. Some things never change.

You settle in eagerly as the show starts, scrutinizing the design choices. Max wraps an arm around you, idly playing with your hair as you watch.

Despite the show’s flaws, being curled up with Max like this fills you with utter contentment. You can’t imagine anything better than coming home to his smile and laugh each day.

During commercials, you fetch snacks from the kitchen, navigating the space with ease. Max trails behind to steal bites, ever drawn to food.

You swat his hand away from the chocolate you’re preparing and laugh. “Get your paws off, those are for sharing!”

Max just tugs you close and kisses the protest from your lips. You happily let him devour the sweetness from your mouth instead, the chocolate forgotten.

Finally you collapse back on the couch together, munching and critiquing the show’s poor tile work. Max throws popcorn for you to catch, his aim as impressive as his racing lines.

Your eyes droop as the evening wears on. The cozy penthouse, tasty snacks, and Max’s warmth — it’s the perfect recipe for relaxation.

When your head nods against Max’s shoulder for the third time, he chuckles and clicks the tv off. “Alright sleepyhead, time for bed.”

You make a half-hearted noise of protest but let him pull you up. Max keeps an arm securely around you as he leads the way to the bedroom, knowing you’re prone to stumbling when tired. It makes you feel so cared for.

He even helps you change into your nightgown, his hands impossibly gentle. As you finally crawl under the blankets, you let out a massive yawn.

“Night Maxie,” you mumble, already mostly asleep. He gathers you close and presses a kiss to your hair.

“Sweet dreams, liefje.” His voice is impossibly soft. You float away cradled in his warmth and the knowledge you’re home.

The next morning, you wake slowly to sunlight streaming in the windows and the smell of coffee. Stretching languorously, you take a moment just to soak it in.

Muffled sounds drift in from the kitchen signaling Max is already up and at ‘em. You smile sleepily. The man has the energy of a hyper puppy.

Before you can muster the will to leave bed, Max appears holding two mugs. “Morning schatje,” he greets with a smile. “Thought you might need some caffeine.”

You beam and make grabby hands until he passes you a mug. The rich aroma instantly perks you up.

Max slides in next to you, sipping his own coffee. His hair is adorably mussed and you gently smooth it down before cupping his face and bringing him in for a long, thorough good morning kiss.

When you finally separate, Max looks pleasingly dazed. “Well, that’s certainly one way to wake up.”

You grin cheekily and go back to your coffee. Max wraps an arm around you and you lean into his solid warmth, trading occasional lazy kisses between sips.

Sun streams over your entwined forms as you bask in contented silence. Eventually you stretch and make your way to the bathroom to start the day, dropping a kiss to Max’s hair as you pass.

You smile seeing your hairbrush by the sink, pink toothbrush next to Max’s blue one. Such small signs of your merged lives, but they mean the world.

Refreshed, you return to Max sprawled on the bed with his phone. He immediately opens his arms in clear demand for more cuddles. Laughing, you collapse into them happily.

Nuzzling into his chest, you sigh. “I know I was practically unconscious last night, but just wanted to say again how special it is having pieces of us both around the place now.”

Max’s arms tighten around you. “You being here makes it a home, not just an apartment.” His voice catches slightly. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

You lift your head to meet his gaze, your own suddenly misty. No words can encapsulate what it means to build a life and home with this incredible man.

So you tell him silently instead, with a kiss overflowing with love and promise: I’ll stay by your side as long as I’m welcome.

Judging by Max’s arm anchoring you fiercely to him, that will be a good long while. You melt into his embrace, spirits soaring.

No fancy penthouse or perfect decor could compare to what you’ve found with Max — a home rooted in love, laughter, and devotion.

One look at his tender smile and you know he feels it too. This is everything.

So you’ll happily leave your mugs around the sink and blankets on the chairs, weaving threads of yourself into his space. With each passing day, it matters less whose belongings lie where.

Because home isn’t things — it’s the man gazing at you like you’re his whole world. And you know as long as you’re together, any place will feel just right.

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gemsalive · 1 month

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re: that HEFTY siffrin sweep on id5’s isat favourite blorbos poll — this might sound silly but i do actually think it’s kinda fascinating that isat, as a game so inseparably steeped in (for lack of a better way to describe it) queer fandom culture, managed to so completely sidestep the common Fandom Phenomenon that i suspect was behind the poll in the first place by creating a main character that is also overwhelmingly the fan favourite character for once.

obviously there are any number of factors we could point at to explain the extent to which siffrin nomiddlenames nolastnames manages to grab people and absolutely not let go, but personally i think one of the most interesting ones to consider is the one specific to the medium — that is, how siffrin subverts the “silent blank slate video game protagonist” archetype in such a way that happens to be primo brainrot breeding grounds.

like, when a video game dev makes a silent protagonist it’s usually a bid to maximize immersion by closing the aesthetic distance between player and character as much as possible, right? which is especially true of rpg video games — players find connection in the generic, as that is what gives you the freedom of motion to insert yourself into the story in whatever unique shape suits you best. you are your character and your character is you.

(as ever, post ran long. yall know the drill. tossin in a quick header pic before thoughts on blank slates & blorboification continue under the cut)

and then you’ve got siffrin, who is expressly pointed out to be the taciturn type; who when initially giving the player exposition about their journey so far doesn’t seem to hint at a life or history or even really any motivations outside the journey; whose every thought and action is narrated in second person so as to keep tracing and re-tracing the connection between him and you.

even their design — all darkless and shapeless, bundled up in that big cloak, as if an invitation for you to fill it in with whatever lets you relate to them most! at this point they are their own character for sure, but they also have enough very clear parallels going on with the silent protagonist archetype to feel more than accidental.

of course, as you keep playing you start to recognize that his blankness is much, much more than just a grab at immersion; his apparent lack of backstory, itself a fundamental piece of backstory. this is where he flips dramatically in the player’s perception from “generic vessel for story delivery” to “thoroughly multidimensional character trapped within endless torment nexus custom-built to target and exacerbate all his very specific worst traits rooted in very specific traumas”.

yknow, the good stuff !

but by then you have also been playing enough to be feeling the effects of the thing isat’s design does best of all. i’m talkin bout that ludonarrative lockstep baby. every piece of isat’s gameplay is designed to make you feel what siffrin is feeling — you understand by now that he is not a stand-in for you, but all the same you share in his frustration, his grief, his rare moments of joy and the subsequent heart-in-your-shoes devastation when that joy is inevitably poisoned — and through it all, the desperate grasping for anything new — all as if they were every bit your own.

so in this way the connection is maintained, even if you were someone for whom siffrin’s particular traits & struggles might not otherwise cause you relate to them at all if you had encountered them elsewhere, in a setting where you weren’t actively controlling them as a player. siffrin still gets to carry all the “just like me fr” impact of the blank slate protagonist in the tropes he embodies and in the game mechanics’ design, while totally free to evolve completely into his own character and keep you relating to closely them all the same. now toss back in the fact that said traits & struggles very much ARE of a flavour that a great many people Would Tend To Relate To and just like that you’ve got a perfect storm cookin.

too individual and compellingly written to be an empty vessel for plot delivery. too closely connected with the player’s emotional state to be a story observed impassively from the outside. he has 92 mental illnesses and for the low low price of free u can give him yours to carry too. nobody is doin it like him. congratulations on your well-deserved nose sniffrin nomiddlenames nolastnames <3

#isat #in stars and time #isat spoilers #isat siffrin #sniffrin #been trying to write this post for the past two days straight but it kept escaping me for some reason #luckily we got trapped in airport hell round 2 and apparently there’s just something about these spaces that gets the post juice flowing #& i wanted to be rid of it #shrug #i don’t think i’ve necessarily vocalized much that’s really new here but sniffrin poll just has me thinkinnnnn #also i am making an active effort to not apologize for writing words on the Writing Words website. thank u for ur understanding mwah #atlasisms

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myspacebrat · 2 months

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𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝓍 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝓍 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐣𝐣

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you didn’t anticipate on your first tattoo being so painful. But luckily for you, you have two hot guys to help you through it.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, needles, anxious reader, pet names, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), degradation, dirty talk, boys kissing, daddy kink, unprotected p in v sex and p in a sex, spit roast, double penetration, creampie. {4.9k}

Your palms are sweaty as you walk down the darkened sidewalk, the sun had since set and you were praying that your intended destination hadn't locked its doors. You definitely should have made an appointment, but when scrolling the shop's instagram page you exhaled in relief at the words “walk-ins welcome” in their bio.

The bell atop the door rings loudly, signaling to the empty shop the arrival of a new customer. You take in the aesthetic, and the overall cleanliness of it. The white walls are covered with hand drawn flash art, four black full body chairs sit at every worker's corner and there's a nice, big expensive looking rug underneath a large plush gray couch that lines the wall of the sitting room.

“Welcome in, I’ll be with you in a minute.” A voice calls out from the back of the shop, making your heart rate speed up. You fist your phone in your hand as you walk around gazing over the art pieces, anything to take your mind off the anxious nerves buzzing through your body.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, sweetheart.” You turn towards the voice, a lump in your throat as you lay your eyes on the man you are presuming is going to be sticking a needle into your skin for several minutes. His shaggy blonde hair, blue eyes and pretty dimples almost have you forgetting about the pain you’ve been overthinking all night. “What brings you in, doll?” The pet names instantly have butterflies fluttering in your belly.

“Oh, well i-i wanna get a tattoo.” You can feel the heat rush to your face at your stutter, and you wanna kick yourself for stating the obvious.

“Yeah, that's usually why people come in,” He chuckles teasingly. “So did you have anything in mind or were you looking to get something from one of our flashes?” He probes, noticing the nervous way you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, in your cute little mary janes.

“I have a picture of what I want on my phone.” You murmur quickly as you begin to scroll through your overly pink and glittery phone. Once you've found it, you show him the design you found after hours of scrolling through the internet last night.

��That’s cute…okay, what about placement?” He asks before running his tongue along his bottom lip.

“Well, I was thinking on my arm..but what do you think? Your uh professional opinion.” You ask nervously, as a figure catches your attention out the side of your eye.

“Yo J, lock the doors and turn off the sign.” The figure commands, as he moves about cleaning up and putting things away. But, just his back alone has your breath hitching; he’s tall, tatted and you can make out his dirty blonde hair that flips out beneath his black baseball cap.

“Yeah man, one second.” He replies back with a clench to his jaw. “Your arm’s a good place for your first tattoo.” He murmurs back, shaking his blonde strands out of his face. “Just give me your I.D and fill out this form for me and I’ll get started on sketching it.” He hands you a form attached to a clipboard as you slide your I.D into his tattooed palm.

Once the form is filled out, the artist leads you to one of those full body chairs, nestled in the corner. You scoot back onto it, so nervous you don’t even think to hold your mini, jean skirt down as it now bunches up at your hips, leaving your white g-string exposed that your best friend bought for you as a joke, that says ‘slippery when wet’ on the crotch.

You’re sitting back, twiddling your thumbs when the boy with the black cap comes into view. He doesn't spare you a glance as he walks up behind your tattooer and slaps him on the back with a look of annoyance.

“I said turn off the sign too bro, didn’t I?” Black cap guy says in a displeased but teasing tone, then he turns around and his shimmery blue eyes fall on you, they roam your body shamelessly and a smirk ticks up onto his lips, he leans an elbow onto the front desk as the artist is hunched over in the black rolling chair, his hand moving in sharp strokes as he sketches.

“How long d’ya think this is gonna take?” He asks all the while his eyes never leave the spot they're burning a hole into, between your thighs. You follow his gaze, snapping them shut so aggressively a loud clap rings out into the shop. Your face is hot to the touch and you're so close to hopping out of the chair and running out, from complete mortification.

“Should be about 20 minutes, why what’s up?” The artist asks, before glancing at you over his shoulder, he sends you a wink as the dimples in his soft cheeks deepen.

“Cool, I’ll just stay til you're done.” He states plainly, before running his tongue over both lips as if he were hungry. That thought causes you to clench your thighs in a not so subtle way, and you're not sure if he catches it, but if the scheming look in his eyes is anything to go by, then it’s a good possibility.

“I thought you said you were meeting that one chi– ow, what the fuck?” You giggle at their antics, and both of their baby blues snap back to you. Unable to take their equally intense gazes, you look down at your lap, both of your hands white knuckling your little skirt. Your baby pink manicured nails digging into the jean fabric.

“Plus, I can’t really trust your ass to close up shop properly.” Black cap guy says with a teasing tut.

“That was one fucking time man, months ago mind you.” Your artist fires back while holding up both of his middle fingers.

Black cap guy saunters over towards you, pulls a rolling chair from one of the other stations and sits directly in front of you.

“Names Rafe,” he states with a slight tilt of his chin, “what’s yours, pretty girl?” The smile he gives you is so sweet, he seems genuinely interested so you give him your name and a smile of your own. His heart swoops from how beautiful it is, and how your name fits you perfectly.

“C’mon, no hitting on the customers.” Your artist says before snorting obnoxiously, as if that rule has never actually applied.

He takes his seat, slips on a pair of black gloves then begins filling tiny cups with ink. Several minutes later, he picks up the tattoo gun and wraps it in plastic wrap before turning it on. The loud buzzing causes you to jump in your seat, Rafe catches the movement and scoots closer to you, “This your first one, baby?” The way these guys effortlessly throw around sweet pet names while talking to you, helps to calm your nerves. "Yeah, first one." You murmur, shyly.

“Alright, you ready to get started sweetheart?” The artist asks as he slaps his two gloved hands together and rubs mischievously. You aren't in the slightest, but you nod your head anyway, hoping to convince yourself in the process.

Rafe seems to be very intune with every look of nervousness that crosses your face, he tilts his head as he asses you, almost like a puppy. “Don’t be nervous, baby. You’re in good hands, I promise, JJ’s gonna take good care of you.” He soothes with a genuine smile.

“Yeah sweet girl, I’ll be gentle.” He shoots you a wink, as his pretty dimples deepen.

You can’t help but to clench your thighs at the way they talk to you, your face is hot and you’ve almost completely forgotten about the tattoo, that is until JJ turns on the gun and it buzzes back to life.

The first prick of the needle on your arm has you curling your toes in your mary janes, your whole body tightening up as the needle begins to drag across your skin. You scrunch your nose and it makes Rafe laugh, it’s low and deep and it’s almost enough to have your mind occupied with dirty thoughts over the pain, but not quite enough.

“Relax baby,” His voice calms you slightly, and when you open your eyes you realize he’s scooted so close that his elbows are now resting on the end of the chair you're seated on. “Just relax, it hurts worse when you tense up.” His hand finds its way onto your exposed leg, just below your knee. He rubs up and down doing his best to comfort you.

“I-I don’t think I can take this pain.” Your lower lip quivers, making you sink your teeth into the plush skin, in order to hold back a whine.

“You can. Be a brave girl, for us?” They both send you equal smirks and fuck, you really can’t help it at this point, your thighs clench again. But this time with Rafe’s hand sliding up closer and closer to your thigh, he immediately catches on to what you’ve been doing when you wiggle around like that. You’re horny.

His hand doesn't stop as it comes close to the hem of your skirt. “I have an idea, pretty girl, can you lay back for us?” Everytime Rafe says for us, your panties grow more and more wet. You’ve never been this turned on before.

You listen, laying back and resting your head on the padded leather, while propping your feet on the end of the long chair, giving JJ much better access to your arm and Rafe even better access to your thighs. He never stops rubbing, even as his fingers reach the hem of your skirt that has conveniently been lifted, leaving you exposed for the second time tonight.

“You comfortable, baby?” His voice is low and husky, as his thumb grazes the skin where your thigh and pussy meet. Your body seems to relax, even while the needle drags along your skin again.

“Mhm.” You nod your head, trying your best to hold back your moans. Your thighs spread easily for Rafe, giving him more access to your clothed mound making him smile at your nonverbal consent.

His thumb presses against your panty clad slit, he swipes up until the pad rubs against your throbbing clit. He circles it gently causing a loud moan to fall from your lips.

“Doing so good, angel.” JJ beams, his unoccupied hand moves over the bulge in his jeans, as he tries his best to stay focused on his task.

“Can I see your pussy, baby?” Rafe all but begs, he licks his lips as if he’s ready to take the lid off his meal and dive in.

“Yes, please.” You moan, making both boys chuckle in amusement.

“Beggin already?” Rafe says with a cocky grin, that you can’t help but find so fucking sexy.

“Oh fuck, look at that.” He whispers, “such a pretty pussy. Fuck, look how wet she is.” He blows on your exposed lips, making you gasp and throw your head back in pleasure. He’s barely even touched you and you're already falling apart.

The tattoo gun stops abruptly, your eyes blink open and you see JJ leaning over so he can get a better glimpse of your cunt.

“Goddamn, you lucky fuck.” He mutters, throwing Rafe an annoyed side eye as he gets back to work.

“Yeah, I fuckin’ am.” He responds, before bringing his fingers back to your dripping cunt, they circle your entrance before moving up to do the same motion on your sensitive clit. Your eyes roll back from the pleasure, the pain of the tattoo a complete after thought.

“Oh fuck.” Your moans get louder as he plunges a finger inside you, then curls it up to hit that sweet spot you’re never able to find yourself.

“Sound so fucking pretty.” JJ grunts, and you can tell by the vein in his neck that he’s doing everything he can to not drop the tattoo gun and join in on the fun.

“I have to taste this pussy, baby. Please?” Rafe begs with a jutted out lip and the biggest puppy dog eyes, as if letting him eat your pussy would be doing him a favor and not the other way around.

You spread your legs wider, hiking them up towards your chest and doing your best not to disturb JJ as he tries his best to concentrate on your tattoo. You look over and realize he’s almost done, a few more lines and shading and the pain will stop. But, you almost don’t want it to stop, the pleasure mixed with the pain is doing things to you that you’ve never felt before. Making you much more bold for one. Just an hour ago you would've never thought you’d be laid out on this chair, ready to get your pussy eaten as your tattoo artist praises every sound you make.

Rafe slips both thumbs into the little white strings of your panties that sit on your hips. He works them down slowly, rolling them off your legs. Then holds them up with a devious smile, reading the stupid saying on the crotch out loud and then putting them up to his nose and inhaling deeply. “Smell so good. These are mine now.” He says before crumpling them up and slipping them into his back pocket.

He leans forward, bringing his chest flush with the chair and between your thighs, while the rest of his tall form hangs off. His face is inches from where you need him and you almost thrust your hips in an attempt to bring him closer, but then you remember why you can't. You really rather not walk out of here with a fucked up tattoo.

Grabbing his black cap, he spins it around so it now sits backwards on his head, then finally Rafe’s tongue glides along your slit, before circling your clit with the tip. He sucks your bud into his mouth, causing your moans to compete with the buzzing of the gun.

“That feel good, angel?” JJ asks, you look over and meet his eye, the tattoo gun lifted away from your skin as he watches Rafe devour you. You catch movement in his lap and realize he’s unbuttoned his jeans and now has his dick in his free hand, stroking it as beads of precum drip from the tip. You lick your lips, wishing so badly to lick them up and taste him.

You look down at your tattoo and there's one more area that needs shading but he makes no attempts to get back to it.

“Fuck, that’s so hot.” He whispers to himself as Rafe slurps on your clit, loud sucking noises ring out into the empty shop and you hike your legs up even higher, wanting as much of your clit exposed to him as possible. Your legs begin to shake as his head moves from side to side with your clit in his mouth. The way this man eats pussy is fucking feral, he laps, sucks and slurps with the perfect amount of pressure and friction.

“Hurry up and finish, or i’m gonna fuck her by myself, bro.” Rafe mumbles into your pussy, but JJ hears him loud and clear as he dips the needle into the ink and begins the finishing touches of the shading.

Luckily it only take a couple minutes because right when the buzzing stops, your whole body convulses as Rafe continues with those loud slurps you fucking love. “That’s it. Come for me, baby.” He murmurs, the vibration of his lips against your clit, tips you over the edge as you come with a loud shout of his name. Your cunt clenches around nothing, as he places one last kiss to your overly sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, you taste so good.” Rafe groans before licking his lips, savoring you on his tongue. “You want a taste, man?” He asks the other boy, they both break out into devious smiles and you think JJ’s gonna take his place between your legs and taste you from the source, but to your complete surprise Rafe pulls him in by the back of his neck and their lips touch in a rough kiss, the angle is perfect and you watch as Rafe slips his tongue into JJ’s mouth, it’s sloppy and wet from your juices which makes it even hotter.

JJ sucks on Rafes bottom lip before they completely detach from each other, both sets of blue eyes snap back to you and the hunger in them is evident.

“Come here, baby.” Rafe holds a hand out to you, you hop off the chair and take it, eagerly. “Let him wrap your arm up and then both of you come meet me on the couch.”

The sanaderm plastic wrap is secure against your tattooed skin when you walk back toward where Rafe is sitting, his legs man spread as he slouches back, his head resting on the plush material while he watches your every move. You hear JJ’s footsteps come up behind you, his warm body presses to your back and his now gloveless hand comes around and rests on your upper thigh, sliding up and finding its way under your skirt.

“You both gonna give me a show?” Rafe questions, his hand moving over the crotch of his jeans as JJ’s fingers glide through your wet slit, he growls in your ear when he realizes you're dripping. Then he roughly unbuttons your skirt and tugs it down before you kick it away to be dealt with later, next he rips off your white tank top over your head, tossing it into the growing pile.

Your nipples stiffen from the cool air, and Rafe’s hand moves quicker over himself as he eyes your exposed tits. “Pretty tits, too?” He asks, almost in disbelief. JJ grabs both of them in his tattooed hands and squeezes before harshly slapping one, then the other. The sharp burn is a welcoming sensation and it causes you to gasp and moan, making him do it again and again.”Think we turned her into a little pain slut.” He says to the taller boy who continues to eye you both with rapt attention. Before you know it Rafe is up and off the couch, taking short strides to where you're standing, he grabs your hair at the nape of your neck and pulls it hard.

“Is that true, baby? Did we turn you into our little pain slut?” His jaw is clenched tight as he stares down at you. Your eyes fill with tears from the burn but they’re right, the pain feels just as good as the pleasure.

“Yes, daddy.” You purr back, both boys' demeanors instantly change, and a shiver racks your body as their eyes grow darker and their muscles tighten, now standing over you are two men who are extremely willing to live up to that new title.

“Oh, you hear that man? She wants to play.” They both snicker meanly, as if they’re laughing at you and you’re so confused as to why it’s causing more wetness to drip from you.

“Play?” Your voice is low and soft, almost as if you’re not totally sure you want the answer to that question.

“Yes princess, play. Be our good little fuck toy and let us control your pleasure and pain, all night.”

Fuck yes, that’s exactly what you want.

“Yes, please. I’ll be a good girl for you.” You whine, just ready to get stuffed at this point. Your cunt is aching to be fucked and filled, you’re like a bitch in heat and you’re done being embarrassed or ashamed because of it.

“Get on your knees.” Rafe demands with a low growl, that has you dropping to your knees like an eager slut.

Your bare knees press against the soft rug as you wait for direction. “Take our cocks out.” JJ throws the next demand and again, you’re scrambling to work their cocks out from their denim confines.

Your mouth waters at their now exposed dicks that hang hard as a rock over the jeans. JJ’s long and his mushroom tip is a pretty pink color, whereas Rafe’s long and thick, with purple veins that lead to a painfully red tip.

“Open your mouth, slut.” Rafe commands with a low rasp. You open wide and stick your tongue out, ready for whoever wants to fuck your mouth first. They’re both stood so close on either side of your head that their tips rub together in front of your face, it’s fucking hot.

Rafe takes his dick into his hand and slaps the head against your wet tongue, beads of precum collecting on your taste buds making your eyes roll back before he inches further into your throat. You take him back like a pro as your eyes begin to water, you remember to breathe through your nose and swallow around his tip, which causes a long drawn out groan from him. “Little throat feels so fuckin good baby, mmm.” He thrusts a few more times before he pulls out and turns your head with a fist full of your hair.

JJ enters your mouth even harsher, and you can’t help but to gag, spit falling from the corners of your lips and onto the rug as he fucks your throat with no remorse. “That’s a good girl, take that cock. Oh fuck, look so pretty with your mouth full. Let me see those eyes. What are you cryin for, huh? Is it too much for you? Na, you can take it.” His rambling words are enough to have you squirming, in need of some kind of friction. He thumbs away the tears that have fallen down your cheeks before bringing them up to Rafes lips, the taller boy sucks it into his mouth without a second thought. It’s so erotic, almost like he’s sucking a cock and you’re left so dumbfounded, because why does the idea of him sucking cock turn you on so much?

Rafe lets go of his finger with a pop and JJ pulls you off of his cock and up from the floor completely. He kisses you first, it’s rough and he nips at your bottom lip, making you whimper from the pain. Then he rips you away from him and smashes your lips to Rafes, the taller boys’ kisses are slow, and so much more soft but not any less sloppy, it’s almost as if he’s savoring you, like you’re something to be cherished.

He brings the palm of his hand down harshly onto your ass, then grabbing a handful for good measure before he leads you over to the couch. You’re so turned on by the way they move you around, as if you’re their little puppet, completely in control of your every move. Fuck, when did the thought of giving up control to a man, much less two, become something that got you going?

“Face down ass up. Gonna fuck this sweet little pussy while you keep sucking J’s cock, okay baby?” You can see the switch in his eyes, he’s genuinely asking you as if he’s checking in to make sure you’re okay and your heart soars at the prospect.

“Yes, daddy. You can do whatever you want to me.” You respond back in the sexiest little voice Rafe has ever heard. Fuck, you really are something else.

“Such a good girl, you gonna make daddy and his friend feel good? Let us use your little holes whenever we want? All your holes.” He smiles down at you with that fucking look that could rival the devil and you’re putty in his hand.

“Yes, sir. Whatever hole you want, just want to make you feel good and take all your cum like a good slut.” You say with your face stuffed into the gray fabric of the couch, you can feel the drool already seeping from your mouth at how hungry you are to be filled.

Rafe moves in behind you, rubbing himself against your wetness as his thumb lightly ghosts over your second hole, you clench it making him groan as he feels it wink against his finger. You feel a glob of spit hit your asshole before Rafe rubs it around. “You really gonna let me fuck this little hole, too?” You’re not sure if he means now or another time and right now you don’t really care, you just need your pussy filled, stat.

“Yes, now please daddy, please fuck me.” You whine, thrusting your ass back onto him, his tip notches against your entrance, then he slams into you, giving you no time to get used to his big length. “Oh fuck!” You scream, Rafe slaps a hand over your mouth because the last thing he needs is someone to call the police to report screams coming from his tattoo shop.

“Come keep her quiet, bro. Occupy that cute little mouth of hers.” You can hear the teasing lilt to his voice and it has you clenching around his dick.

“Fuck, you love being talked about don’t you?” His thrusts pick up and loud clapping sounds fill the room. JJ moves into position in front of you, slapping his cock against your face while laughing before he’s filling your mouth. “Uh uh, don’t run away from me, baby. Take this dick.” Rafe growls, digging his fingers into the sides of your ass and bringing you back onto his cock. You have no choice but to take the whole 8 and half inches he gives you.

“Oh, daddy.” You moan into JJ’s balls as you lap them up with your tongue, your hand moving rapidly up and down as you stroke him. “Love how you fuck my pussy.” Your words make Rafe fuck into you even harder. His thumb finds its place back onto your asshole. “Being such a good fuckin’ slut for us. But do you wanna be a really good girl?” He asks, the evil plotting heavy in his voice.

“Yes, I wanna be your good girl.” He could tell you to do pretty much anything in this moment and you’d do it. No questions asked.

“I want to fuck this tight little ass while J fucks your pussy. You think you can take that, pretty girl? Both holes being filled.” He sounds so sexy as he speaks low into your ear, it’s so raspy and full of desire so of course you’re gonna give him what he wants.

“Yes, yes I want that, please fill me up.” You beg without shame, you’ve left all your shame at the chair.

You all move into position, you on top of JJ as he sheathes his cock into you, you sink down onto it with a loud moan. Then, Rafe spits more globs onto your other hole, before he’s pushing a finger in and then two and finally three before he decides you’re ready for him.

He lines himself up, urging you to take a deep breath before he’s pushing in. The feeling is so foreign but it’s not unwelcome, your toes curl as he stretches you inch by inch. Gasping when there’s a slight burn, so he spits another glob on the spot where you’re connected.

“So fucking tight. How’s that feel, hm?” Words evade you, as hes now fully seated inside you but you’re done waiting, you need them both to fuck you, so you move your hips, grinding down and pushing back, trying to take both cocks as deep as you can. “Oh, she loves this shit. Don’t you, you filthy fuckin girl?” He slaps your ass hard before they both finally give into your neediness by slamming into you.

“Such a good girl taking everything we give you. Little holes are so greedy. Oh fuck, I can feel you inside her bro, it feels so fucking good.” You love the way JJ rambles when he talks dirty, you can’t get enough of either of them.

Rafe grabs your neck from behind, wrapping his hand around it and squeezing. He uses it to pull you back onto both of them, as you meet them thrusts for thrusts.

“Give us one more, baby. Need you to come on our cocks.” You can feel the slight burn down below that signals how close to the finish line you are, just a few more thrusts and JJs thumb circling your clit has you falling forward onto his chest as him and Rafe fuck into you. You shake and moan through it as they both praise you on how good of a slut you are for them. “We’re gonna fill you the fuck up, you hear me?” Rafe grunts, as the clench of your walls around them sets them off next. JJ comes first with a shout of your name, as he fucks every last drop into you, Rafe follows next emptying himself inside you with a growl and both hands slapping down onto your ass, making sure to drain every last drop into your pretty little hole.

Rafe removes you from between them, settling you into JJs side, before he falls over, squeezing you in between them as they rub their hands down your body in soothing motions, you all lay in a pile of limbs, working to catch your breath.

“So…would you guys want to do this again?” You question shyly, but they waste no time in their response as they say “yes” in unison. Then Rafe continues—

“We’d actually love to take you out, if you’d let us.”

The thought of being wined and dined by these two guys who just fucked your brains out, is enough to make you feel all those emotions you were trying so hard to push down.

If you weren’t careful you could see yourself becoming addicted.

a/n: thank you to my bun bun @xxbimbobunnyxx for always hyping me up! <3

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dcxdpdabbles · 4 months

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Hi!

If you’re still doing these asks, do you mind maybe adding a part 5 to Passion for Fashion?

I would love to see how Danny and Red Robin’s impromptu date goes and Constantine’s reaction to all this.

And poor Killer Croc is so confused and uncomfortable around the twins, oh and not to forget Dan’s inner turmoil over losing a love interest because his body no longer matches his mental and spiritual age😂

I’d also love to see the reactions of the rest of the Batfam to Tim going on a date and their reaction to Dan’s flirting with Croc.

Your request came in after I had already written most of Part 5, but I hope I can include most of what you asked for in it and make it up with another Part of the Au for you.

Danny strutted down the runway, fighting to keep his gaze straight ahead as various flashes from cameras went off.

He mentally went through his checklist of proper catwalk tips that he watched the other day—or, more accurately, Dan forced him to watch from some free video website—ensuring his hands were relaxed, long strides were made, and his shoulders were firm but not stiff.

This was the contest's second round, with Tim Drake proposing the "Gotham Aesthetic" as the theme and challenge. Apparently, the teenage CEO spent most of his childhood taking photos of the city and wanted others to appreciate the architecture of the aged town.

There was no kidnapping attempt this time, and the contest was back on schedule. However, there was a delay because some of the models had dropped out after they were nearly sold (Dan called them cowards, but Danny personally thought they were wise to do so). Hence, fashion designers had to scramble for someone new or forfeit their position in the contest, allowing some eliminated to take their place.

It took nearly four weeks to confirm that the same designers were staying but would need to remake or adjust their outfits. Thankfully, Wayne Amature Fashion Show was more than willing to offer them time.

Dan had already made Danny's outfit but figured he would remake it anyway. Once completed, new designs were crafted, adjusted, and flung into an idea box. He created so many it was as if Dan were a man possessed (Pun intended).

Danny needed to figure out how much fabric he was going through, but sometimes, he had to remind the other to sleep, eat, and shower. It seemed the other kept forgetting he was human now and needed to do these things for his health and Danny's poor nose.

Dan also seemed obsessed with exploring new parts of Gotham just to take pictures of buildings to get "inspiration." Danny went with him as he had nothing better to do, and the pair made an unlikely duo.

Both got stares in the streets—Danny for strutting around Gotham wearing some of Dan's regretted challenge outfits in an effort to learn to catwalk in them and Dan for dressing as close to the homeless as he could. For all that Dan could make amazing pieces of fashion, the man only filled his own closet with mismatched joggers and pajamas.

Danny had to force him back to change at one point since Dan had intended to walk around in a bathrobe- with shorts and stained short sleeves underneath it. He drew the line on bathrobes.

It was so embarrassing to be gawked at all the time that Danny could not help but wish Dan would try just a little. This was somewhat worse than when he was alone because at least then he knew it was just how stupid and awkward he looked in the outfits.

Now, he just felt subconscious about trying too hard compared to Dan.

"Relax, kid," The other scoffed, snapping a picture of the Brown Bridge. "By the time you're my age, you honestly stop caring about what other people think, so long as you like how you look."

"Can't you at least comb your hair?"

"I forgot how to do that."

Danny snaps his head in his direction, blinking owlishly "What?"

Dan shrugs. "My hair was fire for a literal decade, brat. How was I supposed to comb it?"

"Oh," Danny supposes, that makes sense. After all, Dan was more ghost than human at that point, driven mad by his grief and a colossal monster. He sort of forgot that. "Do you want me to show you how?"

"Ew. No. Too much work. Humans are so high maintenance." Dan rolled his eyes and shifted his tone into a mocking one. Comb your hair, change your clothes, take a bath."

"You smell like shit, Dan."

"You look like shit!"

"We have the same face!"

"It's better on me!"

Their public arguments also attract lots of stares. Danny would feel embarrassed by them if he wasn't so busy bickering with Dan as they moved about.

Ultimately, Dan had made his outfits formal steampunk during the break. Danny wished he had stayed with the Dark Academia idea because he felt he was walking around in a costume instead of clothes.

Dan told him that it felt too basic to go with Dark Academia since, now that he saw more of Gotham, he thought it better represent the city as a whole instead of the elites of Gotham. Danny debated with him until he agreed to make two of the four outfits- meant to represent all four seasons of Gotham's beauty or something stupid like that- to be dark academia.

Danny nears the end of the runway, stopping right before the judges to strike his pose. His eyes never leave the center decorative flower in the far back, but he makes sure to slowly turn his head as if he is gazing at the crowd.

There are gasps as he pulls off his tophat in a twirl to hide the way he presses the button on his hip. At once, his pants and sleeves light up in the gentle glow of the Brown Bridge's famous historic lampost show. It's no brighter than his ghost glow, but it makes him look like a vision, especially when he puts the hat back on with a mysterious curl of his lips.

Danny practiced that move for weeks—even when it made him cringe—and he is happy to have pulled it off successfully as he twists around and struts away. The Brown Bridge only lights its lanterns in the winter, so this hits a true Gotham native here for the seasonal challenge portion.

With his superhearing, he manages to catch Tim Drake-Wayne's dreamy sigh. Danny fights the urge to fist bump. If they impressed the special judge so much, then they just guaranteed their spot in the next round.

Each round meant they were closer to completing the mission. Since it's been practically impossible to find Batman—even when the man was running around dressed like a giant bat—this was their best bet.

Once he's backstage, he rushes to Dan's area, already ripping off most of his outfit for the last piece. Spring dark academia vaguely reminded him of rich school uniforms, but at least they didn't have ridiculous amounts of belts and metal on them.

Dan already has the outfit set out and quickly helps him change. He adjusts the vest and collar for Danny, glancing angrily at the model walking up the line. "Come on, we only have a few minutes before the last two models finish their walk for the Winter portion."

Danny nods, throwing on the gargoyle ear cuffs, only to pause when he sees a strange card on Dan's station. He pushes aside the black rings to grab a tiny green card with a giant question mark. "What's this?"

"Some guy saw my work and wanted to commission him a suit. Apparently, he was tired of how no one could style the question marks." Dan answered, distracted while reapplying some powder to Danny's face.

"A question mark? Why?"

"It's his gimmick or something. I didn't bother to ask for too many details. He will be going to our house soon to get his measurements done," Dan says, twisting Danny's face with his chin to make sure everything looks good. Danny lets him, blindly slipping on his rings and bracelets. "Thought it be a fun little side project."

"How did he hear about you?"

"You remember how you took those boxes of clothes to the job search office to give to people? Apparently, one of his employees' younger brothers borrowed a suit for his prom, and he thought the photos were nice." Dan shrugs. Then he glances in alarm at the stage hand who signals for them. "Never mind that. It's almost our turn again. Get out there!"

Danny scurries away, but not before he sees a beautiful redhead woman in green- was that leaves and vines???- stride over to Dan as the clone puts away his makeup.

She gestures with a business card, and Dan blinks as she talks once before he eagerly takes out his design journal. She must be a performer asking Dan for a new forest design or something.

Danny wonders why Gotham has so many people with oddly specific gimmicks.

He turns his head away to stride back into the catwalk, head held high as he does so. Danny makes the mistake of locking eyes with one of the judges- Tim Drake-Wayne is gawking at him like the people of the street do- and he snaps his gaze away, fighting to keep his composure.

He thinks he does well since Team Fenton snatches first place in this round. Drake-Wayne catches him at the after-party, praising his final outfit so much that Danny offers to give it to him, knowing Dan wouldn't mind.

Drake-Wayne goes red, early agreeing, but since they are so different in size—the CEO's waist is slightly leaner but with far more muscular forearms—Danny tells him to come by his house that weekend to have Dan resize it for him.

It should be fine since the Question Mark man and Leaf Lady will also be there that day for their own measurements.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #passion for fashion #Part 6 #Remember the Poll? It was “Should Dan become an accidental evil villain suit designer”#Second round of the contest #Danny and Dan are both look hot in anything #Even if Dan tries to appear homeless #Danny just wants to go home #Dead Tired #What do you think is “Gotham Aesthetic”

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liyawritesss · 3 months

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ʟᴏᴠɪɴɢ ᴋᴇɴᴊɪ ꜱᴀᴛᴏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇ...

-> synopsis: what would life be like to love the worlds baseball darling and secret superhero Ultraman, Kenji Sato?

-> pairing: kenji sato + black!gn!reader

-> from: ultraman: rising

-> contains: pure fluff, gender neutral, mentions of emiko and emi, 2nd person ('you', 'your', 'yours')

-> a/n: these animators need to stop making these kid movies with fine ass main characters bc whyyyyyyy is he so cute??? why do i wanna baby him in my arms and tell him everything will be okay? LET THIS MAN KNOW PEACE PLEASE!!!

-> join my taglist!

-> tags: @badass-dora-milaje @uranometrias @lees-chaotic-brain @jacuzziwaters

Kenji Sato who loves loves loooooovveeesss those subliminal couples pictures. The ‘private but not secret’ ones. They’re so aesthetically pleasing to him and they allow him to show you off to the world while still maintaining an air of privacy that he cherishes deeply from the media. Kenji is proud to call you his, and wants to show that in all ways possible.

Kenji Sato who is heavy on the couples jewelry. He’s already got a couple of notable pieces in his collection beforehand, and they only expand when you come into his life. In fact, the speculations of his love life come from the fact that people were noticing that he was wearing pieces from brands that were specifically designed for couples. Of course, when asked about it, he never goes into depth about it, and just recites how he thinks they look nice on him…and on someone else.

Kenji Sato who introduces you to his mom only after he’s sure that he wants to be serious with you. I have a feeling Emiko is the type of mom to get attached to their child’s partner in the sense of already viewing them as part of the family very early on, and Kenji wouldn’t want to get her hopes up if something were to happen - he can’t stand to see his mom upset. But when he does introduce you to his mom, you two become the best of friends! So definitely expect to be sent on girls day adventures by Kenji, cuz he’ll definitely be treating the two most important women in his life like royalty.

Kenji Sato who requires a lot of patience to deal - I mean, the man has a lot going on. Being the number one baseball player in the world, saving Japan from threats as Ultraman, and caring for the large kaiju baby Emi is more than a lot on anyone's plate. Kenji’s gonna need someone to understand that his schedule is never solid, and plans may fall through from time to time, and thats not because he’s not trying, but it’s because spontaneity runs his life and things can change at the drop of a hat, out of his control. It’s not the life he asked for, but it’s one he must take on.

Kenji Sato who doesn't exactly know how to bring up the topic of him being Ultraman, much less about Emi, early on in the relationship. I mean, how often do you tell someone that you're Japan's legendary hundred-foot tall superhero or that you're the surrogate parent to a twenty foot tall baby dragon kaiju? As much planning that he does on telling you, it ultimately happens in the worse way possible - you end up finding him mid-transition with Emi in tow...now that's gonna be an interesting story to tell. Spoiler: you stay with him, but now he's subjected to jokes about how is ego isn't the only thing that blows up to an enormous degree.

Kenji Sato who appreciates a partner that can not only deal with spontaneity, but is also rather spontaneous themselves. Surprise dates, random gifts, adventurous propositions out of the blue, I think those kind of things are right up his alley. He’s learned to live life in the moment and to the fullest, because it can be taken from you within an instant, and he wants to cherish every moment he has with you.

Kenji Sato who would spend his money on you religiously. He’ll sit in the dressing room with you as you try on armfuls of clothes, only to hand you his credit card at the end of the haul with a kiss to your temple, encouraging you to buy it all if you desire. And don't let you look at something too long in a display window, because he will have it shipped to your address in two business days. Endless trips post-baseball season in secluded locations so that the two of you can optimize the privacy you desperately crave.

Kenji Sato who’s a little bashful and nervous in the beginning, but eases into the relationship as time goes on. He doesn’t wanna mess up something so good that he has going on. Opening up takes some time, as he’s got some high walls that are hard to climb, but once you do get him to open up and bare his heart to you, don’t take it for granted. He doesn't do this to everyone, only the people he feels will truly return the care and compassion he has - so don’t prove him wrong.

Kenji Sato who seeks your comfort in the middle of the night when sleep evades him, leaving him restless and anxious. Most times, its about his mom and her disappearance, a mystery that's never left his mind. If you don't wake up to find him sitting up in bed deep in thought, or trying to tire himself out in a simulation, he finds comfort in just cuddling you, admiring your sleeping form, and talks about the most random things until the sun begins to peak over the horizon.

Kenji Sato who’s sort of in between the serious lover and the playful lover - he’s maturing in his emotions and how to deal with his past, learning how to communicate better and express himself healthily. Simultaneously, he’s a goofball and a jokester reliving a bit of his childhood in his love with you. Playful banter, jokes and teasing are equally as present as the late night talks and the deep conversations the two of you share.

Kenji Sato who tucks the chain that has his promise ring on it close to his chest, and on game days, rubs his thumb over the gold band for comfort and assurance before he heads up to bat. During championships, he'll ask you to kiss it for good luck, and when he wins, he of course accredits it to you being his 'good luck charm'.

Kenji Sato who loves deeply and fervently, with compassion and the entirety of his heart, who will do his duty and love you unconditionally an proudly while shielding you from the cruel and prying eyes of the public, letting you know time and time again that it will always be you he chooses, no matter what.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

#black reader #black tumblr #ultraman #ultraman rising #kenji sato #sato kenji #ultraman ken #kenji ultraman #ken sato #kenji sato x you #kenji sato x reader #ken sato x you #ken sato x reader #kenji sato x black!reader #ken sato x black!reader

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