#ON PRIDE NIGHT ‼️

[tiger-balm]

press: can you as a goalie, use anger to fuel you after [the knies hit]?

famously level headed goalie joseph woll: yeah I was pretty pissed after that so I tried to harness it

[crybaby-bkg]

maybe it’s the easy quitter in me, but I started this book called filthy rich fae last night (that I absolutely love and am already halfway through) and the FMC is sooo stubborn about him taking care of her and like. I get it bc she quite literally sold her soul to him. but if a literal filthy rich faerie prince offered to pay my student loans, get me a new car, never have to work again, and can live in a five star hotel with a shit ton of books I don’t think I’d put up that much of a fight tbh

[kwonhochi]

just got back from the local pride festival and it was so wonderful and amazing it was so heartening to see so many queer people just existing happy and free and together

[jellykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Entry : 052 - Lovesick! Fae King! Sung Jinwoo x Fem! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

‼️[ TW: stalking, obsession, gaslighting(?), gore, body horror, blasphemy, BLOOD, the act of burning people alive, arson, yandere/lovesick Jinwoo au ]‼️

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Then Let This World Set Ablaze ] ¡! ❞

You really don't know how it happened, one day you were strolling blissfully in the forest behind your cottage and now you were suddenly acquainted with the fae king who was in charge of the underworld

In your world that was run by a bunch of swindling and bastard gods with their minions of divine creatures who praise even their most horrendous crimes; lives an eternal fae king of the dead who never wanes in power.

From the heavens, the lands, the seas and the afterlife— The Fae King of the undead was someone no one could touch. Not even the greater demons and the father of all creation could dare face this man.

Well, they did once upon a time.

And the world was plunged into eternal darkness with humans being shielded by the same king everyone had despised. Humans now realized that those they worship had little to no regard to them as they started a devastating ragnarok just for the sake of pride and royalty.

In the end? 80% of the gods who started the war fell beneath the fae lord's feet and reincarnated into ghastly undead soldiers made of shadowy wisps wicked beyond one could ever imagine.

Since then, Jinwoo had become someone the common folk and even demons worship. Does he care? No. He just wants to live his long and take care of his family in his kingdom where no one can get in or out.

Not even the 9th class mages could even locate where it is.

Maybe there are but never lived to tell the tale and probably suffering eternal punishment in his army of the undead where even gods aren't spared from.

Until you.

Yes, you.

Just a simple girl who lives out in the cottage living life as happily as she can away from the big city.

The foolish and small you who doesn't even have a pinch of divine power nor exceptional mana flowing within your blood.

Somehow, the same you who is nothing more than just one of the many soul the resides in this vast world— Stumbled upon the kingdom of the Fae King of the Eternal Night.

Word of tongue say this place would be barren and dry with rot here and there. The nauseating scent of death would flow here and there that it would lead you mad.

But all of those were lies.

Instead you had found youself in a tranquil land where all sorts of flowers glow beneath your feet as a guiding trail. When you followed the gentle lights that guided you in this ethereal land where the stars shine brighter than you've ever seen— You would find yourself in front of the same king that all beings fear and submit you.

Yet why is he so beautiful?

You should be afraid.

And yet you find yourself entranced by this man who brought the mightiest being of earth to their knees.

Cascading and silky long black locks that falls so prettily as if it's made from the finest of fine silk, loose and almost open black robes that seem to glimmer softly as if it's made with a blanket of stars, a face so sculpted so perfectly it's impossible to not say this man must have been a sculpture made with hands of a divine artists whose touch only brings perfection— And oh those eyes.

Those enchanting silver eyes of death that seem to pull you into an abyss you're willing to drown yourself into.

This divine being in front of you,... Is he truly the same man who has powers so great that he can eradicate all living being with a wave of his hand whenever he pleases?

You find yourself incapable to believe that, no way, this man is too beautiful for all that wickedness.

And so that was the day you have somehow stumbled upon the kingdom of the eternal night and earned the favor of it's benevolent ruler.

꒰ ... ꒱

Contrary to what the ancient texts and the priests say about Jinwoo's cold temperment— He's actually surprisingly decent and quite normal.

Maybe even more gentle than the local men of your village who are nothing more than burly men who only care about their muscles and beer and getting laid in the dead of night.

Jinwoo is extremely easy to talk to and seems to take pleasure in showing you around his kingdom which is full of life despite being a place where the personification of death presides in.

No, in fact, this place is far more beautiful than the major cities you have seen in your small lifespan as a living being.

His soldiers who are the most fiercest of all would turn into somewhat into a group of puppies the moment they see their master passing by. Of course, the undead creatures were skeptical of you at first but quickly grew warm as soon as they realized that their 'father' is quite fond of you.

A few of them are even asking if you could play with them— To which Jinwoo strictly says no to their dismay.

You really think nothing of all this, don't you?

After all, the fae king is treating you so warmly.

You really aren't thinking of it, don't you?

You foolish, naive child.

꒰ ... ꒱

Jinwoo had his eye on you for the longest time ever since you had moved into the meek village. You are nothing more than a puny and naive human who wants to live a good life and the village welcomed you.

You were given the abandoned cottage deep in the forest but not too far from the village, they even volunteered to repair the decrepit place to which you can't possibly thank them enough for.

Such generous humans for someone as sweet and cute as you.

Yes.

Cute.

An emotion that the fae king couldn't quite describe at first since he grew used to the absence of emotions because of his birth as the one who will succeed the late Ashborn as the new kingdom of the eternal night kingdom and the new monarch that will lead the army of the dead.

His duty? To uphold peace and make sure all living beings stay in their place and never go out of line.

Should they do so then it'll be immediate death as well as being added to the immortal army to prevent them from reincarnating and repeating the same mistakes.

He grew as a normal child of the elven kingdom. But as his powers grew— His emotions disappeared one by one until he is nothing more than that for a vessel of war.

Jinwoo is more than thankful enough for his beloved family who resides with him in the kingdom. He shaped this barren place for them to live in and do what they desire.

A medicinal lab for his little sister who studies healing magic, a garden for his mother to tend to any time, and a smithy for his father to busy himself to and craft weapons for fun, or maybe just his small way of helping his kind son who unfortunately has to carry the burden of the world on his shoulders.

Truly, he can't be thankful enough.

Even if he cannot feel the same level of affections he has for them the way he used to when he was but a small elven child who wished nothing more than protect and love them.

But then you came.

A fascinating and adorable human that he has a weird connection to.

He was drawn to you.

Jinwoo can never know where these foreign feelings stem from, all he knew is that he is completely entranced by you and you only.

What is it that he feels?

He wanted to watch you.

He wanted to imprison you.

He wanted to see you smile.

He wanted to see you cry miserably.

He wanted to ruin you.

But he also wanted to cherish you.

Jinwoo cant quite put a finger on it. Regardless, he was satsified on just watching you for now since he can't exactly interfere with anyone else's life since he wants to be left alone too.

But then you stumbled upon his kingdom by accident because one of his foolish children forgot to close the dimension that leads back to his domain.

He could punish them, but he decided against it since he is quite thankful of the unexpected arrangement.

He just has to tighten the security and indulge in you.

Jinwoo is aware that humans can express quite a lot since his sister is very much like that.

But you bewitch him in a way he cant really describe.

He loved to watch the way the flowers would dance and caress your gentle skin when the wind blows. He loved the way your clothes wrinkle around your perfect body that he just itched to hold. He loved to hear your sweet voice ringing in his ears when you ask him trivial and downright ridiculous questions just to satisfy your musings.

But he, the king of this land, was the fool that indulged in all your whims.

He can't really resist you, how could he?

Jinwoo has no will to fight whatever is stirring within him in the presence of the precious you.

It was to the point that he becomes extremely obsessed with you without him realizing, he wanted to know more.

Human curiosity is the reason why the species has thrived so far depsite being one of the lower life forms whose sole purpose is to play puppets for the pathetic beings higher than their measly mortal beings, right?

That means Jinwoo can also be curious too.

No matter how twisted it can be.

It should be fine.

꒰ ... ꒱

Oh how foolish can he be too, huh?

Your frequent trips to his kingdom resulted in the villagers rioting against you with the holy church charging you with meddling forbidden witchcraft.

Somehow those old bastards in the town managed to convince everyone that you are doing something heinous when in reality you were just accompanying Jinwoo on a daily basis.

And so they dragged you to the stakes, tied you on a pole and did their blasted rituals gaslighting themselves that what they're doing as it is for the world and the will of the lord that you die by fire.

"Ignite her," A booming, thundering voice ruptures through the maddeneds howls and cackles of the villagers and priests gathered around your sorry figure praying to whatever fucking god they believe in. "I dare you"

"You!" A bishop raises his finger at the stranger, his action full of vigor and pride. "How dare you interrupt this holy ceremony dedicated to our benevolent ghod Anakkhis?"

"Hah?" The heretic scoffs, finding the whole idea ridiculous. "You're talking about that god? That fool that wept at my feet for mercy? You have some thick skin for thinking that someone like me will cower over a measly insect like that?"

"You—" The bishop gasps, completely taken aback at how bold he was. "Restrain him! That filthy thing dares to speak blasphemy of the great one! Burn him alongside that wench!"

"That wench?" Jinwoo clicks his tongue, his eyes turning into an even stronger color of blazing purple as priests and ordinary humans charged at him. "You've given me more reason on why I should murder the lot of you. For daring to call my woman a wench and burning her for a sin that was never there."

With a snap of his fingers, head would explode one by one and the screams of onlookers would fill the air that was once filled with laughter and mirth.

Cold and unfeeling Purple eyes look straight at you, each step that he makes accompanied with the falling corpses.

You dare not look at Jinwoo's gaze, after all, the air is too suffocating. You can barely even take a full breath, everytime you try to it feels like your lungs will suffocate.

And the screams, god those tortured screams.

How dare you ever doubt that he is the absolute being that has put the world on a chokehold?

By the time the priests have realized who Jinwoo was, it was far too late now since he immediately had their heads bursting.

When he reached you, his blackened hand gently lifts your face to meet his maddened and cold gaze.

How is he still so hauntingly beautiful despite the blood splatters on his divine face?

How can wrath look so gorgeous and ethereal on someone like him?

You can see the vein popping on his jaw as he unfastened the ropes and picked you up, allowing your sorry form to weep on his shoulder.

"Please, stop it!' You beg, not wanting to hear more of the torturous screams. "I'll do anything, just please stop it"

"Anything?" Jinwoo tilts his head, musing at your sobbing.

"Anything." You choke up, holding tighter onto him to show your sincerity. "Please, please stop it"

"Then you shall be my wife" Jinwoo simply says as presses his lips on your pretty little head. "Humans have a saying ti'll death do us apart. But you have no need for that."

"After all, your husband is death itself."

He is both hell and heaven depending on which side you choose to take. He is the absolute being that brings everything to it's knees. The madman who has succesfully put the world into the palm of his hand.

The village that once welcomed you with warm and loving arms starts to disappear from the distance as it billows a cloud of smoke from cindering and brilliant violet flames that defies everything natural.

It was a warning to the gods and all other living beings

,... That the Fae King of the Eternal Night Kingdom, the Shadow Monarch of the Immortal Army— Is alive and well.

It is a way to announce that he still stands as the most powerful being with an omniscient view of this wretched earth and will return should they step out of line again.

May it be humans or their worshippers, no one will be spared from the bloodbath and carnage he will bring should his wrath ever be incurred.

And, you.

You, the foolish and naive child of the land—

Is the salvation that will prevent this world from dancing in violet flames so long as you remain in his hold. Forever captive to his obsession.

꒰ 🪼 A/N: Whoever may i write for I will always return to my beloved Jinwoo heheh><!! I love him dearly and can never stop loving him try as I might xD!! Next fic are hsr men again so look forward to it. For now, a self-indulgent au is here that I will be making a bot for tomorrow too so heheh:3!!! ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[florvaine]

— tied him down to my queen bed !

Shoto’s always open to help you - even if it’s torture having to sit through it.

sub!shoto todoroki x fem!reader

warnings: bondage/shibari, 🚨‼️ PATHETIC ‼️🚨 shoto, how whiney can i make this grown man?, no actual smut this guys just needy thats it hit post

a/n: this is self indulgent ngl 😋

wc: 1.3k

One thing about Shoto is that he is willing. If you called him at two in the morning before the sun even thought of rising, if he was halfway across the globe, he'd find a way to get to you as soon as he could. It's one of the many reasons why you love him.

There was one time that you had a wardrobe malfunction at an important event, so you called him. In a matter of minutes he made his way into the women's bathroom with a whole new outfit for you. He stayed by your side for the rest of the night. What you found out later was that he cut an important interview short to get you that change of clothes.

It took a while to figure it out, but through many slow conversations, he revealed that he likes being useful. He enjoys being the first person you call for and finds pride in your trust of him. The undying loyalty of him being more than just a husband but a partner to be with forever, come ripped seams or life-threatening situations. Shoto thrives in chivalry, especially for you.

There's an underlying emotion of being the opposite of his father, a man who Shoto can't forgive to this day even if the rest of his family does.

In shorter terms, if there's some way that Shoto can serve his beautiful, strong, lovely wife, he will.

But it's moments like these that he hates it.

The second you came up to him just before he was about to leave for the gym, Shoto knew by the glint in your eyes that he wasn't anymore.

You pressed up against his back, wrapping your arms under his and to his tapered waist. Over the black compression shirt he wore, you (not very subtly) dragged your manicured nails along the muscles on his abdomen.

"Where are you going, dressed like that?" You hummed, a hand sliding down to thumb at the waistband of his grey joggers, hanging low on his hips.

Shoto knew that you had a certain affinity for this specific outfit and was hoping he could escape before you saw. As soon as he felt your hands glide across the material of the shirt, he sank back into you slightly. A heat crosses wherever you leave your touch, causing the two-toned man to let out a breath.

Shoto turned his head over his shoulder to look at you, almost immediately noticing the way you look back at him. Eyes half-lidded, lips pulled into a glossy, unsuspecting smile. Your whole expression showed expectation.

"Nowhere," he muttered.

Like that, his fate was sealed. More precisely, his fate was sealed by soft crimson rope wrapping around his limbs. Shoto let you pose and prod and pull at him onto the bed with forceful love. His head bowed like a knight to a queen until you gently grasped his jaw to look him over.

With every length you tie, every splitting junction from a knot you tied, you create an intricate design over top of his mundane clothing that he just wishes would disappear.

Laying thick twine steadily against his broad shoulders, past his flexing arms, across his sturdy chest and down his sternum, you make careful bonds at his joints and set him up like a model for an artist.

Eventually you finished the final knot. You had got Shoto pent up, his arms and hands tied behind his back, and forced his rideable thighs to bend underneath the strips of scarlet. Diamonds sat along his arms, and a heart – which you had been reading on how to do recently – sat in the middle of his chest. The string wasn't pulled tight enough to hurt but enough to slightly hinder his movements and keep him where he was.

By the time you've finished and stepped back to admire your work, Shoto's huffing and puffing with need. He can't hide it; the tips of his ears flushed along with his neck, and pressing a hand to either side of his face showed how he was reacting.

It feels as if you're holding him down, the thread replaced with your hands cupping, holding, gliding along his body as he just wants to rid himself of his shirt and trousers to get as close to the feel as he can. But he can't, the binding reminding him of his dilemma.

You avoided placing pressure where he needed it. A familiar print pressed against the clothing of his trousers, both from his want and the ropes that led from his hips to the back of his legs.

It's not very often that Shoto gets like this, all desperate and pliant, but when he does, you take your time.

He holds back whines from the back of his throat as you graze lightly over his torso. You watch fascinated at the way your hands send ripples along his skin underneath his clothing. One of your hands lingers around his thin waistline, feeling his reactions underneath slivers of rope. The other moves smoothly up to his face, and with a tender grasp, you direct his bowed head upwards. And oh, what a sight it was.

A crystalline layer covers azure and gunmetal irises, lashes pronounced with low eyelids. The scar around his eye was slightly more prominent from his dishevelled hair, wine and chalk fusing together to form a slight pink if you focused. His thin eyebrows pulled together and up with a look of utter hopelessness. There were small breaths exiting his parted lips, and a pink overlaid his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

"Look at you," you mumble with a loving smile on your face.

With the hand from his torso, you lift it and card through his hair softly, settling on his lap. Shoto inhales sharply, reacting with a slight movement of his hips underneath you. He's been craving any sort of contact from you that wasn't fleeting and replaced with thread, and now it's overwhelming.

You're so close to where he needs you, and you know it. It's difficult not to ignore the hardness that rested beneath you, but you settle light kisses across the warm and cold expanse of his face.

"Please," he whimpers out as you sneak your fingertips underneath the collar of his t-shirt.

The needy man gulps for air that doesn't seem to exist, Adam's apple bobbing and drawing your attention. In seconds you draw your lips down from his jaw and settle around his neck, light loving pecks transforming into wanton and messy. Taking your time to pick and choose where to mark him, leaving light cerise plumes of skin in your wake and smoothing over sensations with your tongue like a cat.

Shoto can't handle it. Whines release from his mouth, vocal cords pulled in a way to allow for the high-pitched sound to echo around your shared bedroom. The warmth of you sat on him, but not where he needed you; the feeling of love transferred to his skin through your lingering pecks to his face and the stinging and smothering reoccurring touch of teeth and tongue.

You pull away, lips just hovering over his as he breathes heavily. "So pretty, so beautiful."

The praise pulls a sound from him before you push your lips against his fully. With that you slip a hand underneath the material of his joggers, and Shoto knows exactly why he waits to serve, existing in limbo to your beck and call.

[xo-cod]

someone asked for it but the ask got deleted so here it is again :)

bodyguard!simon x popstar!reader

absolutely hated you in the beginning. only tolerated you because price had given him this responsibility and because the pay was decent. otherwise he was just a shadow with one worded responses and grunts towards whatever you said.

used to manhandle you whenever you used to walk slow, pulling you along with a tut and a roll of his eyes. you couldn't really see his face since he still wore his balaclava but his face was definitely screwed up behind it

the loud cheering becomes jarring to him the first few times, he's not used to this environment and there's been a few times where his hands have sprung to his gun ready to unload hell onto a poor excited fan who wanted a signature

but the more time he spends with you, the more he warms up around you. he even knew time brought you on base for when he needed to grab something quickly and you ended up meeting his team members

gaz and soap are basically #1 fans fr. the fact that you're friends with their favourite musicians makes them fanboy, your life is so exciting and they always want to know the latest gossip.

simon watches on unamused but secretly feeling a certain way when he sees you speaking happily with his friends

the dances you have with your backup dancers make simon so jealous ‼️‼️ the way your hips sway with theirs, the way their hands are across your waist, the tight outfits, god he has to physically restrain himself from ravishing you

he watches on with his jaw clenched, body rigid as his eyes feast upon your body like treasure. even through the thousands and thousands of people there, you'll always feel the burning of his eyes on you

and when your eyes meet him on a special part of a song, he's literally entranced by you. his breath held and he feels vulnerable, despite the millions of people there. when you're singing to him, it's to him

his praise to you is usually a nod of his head and a "good" but the more you both grow closer, the more you notice how touchy he can become and the more praise that falls from his lips (though it still can sound a little cold only because he feels awkward and doesn't think you need his reassurance that you're doing a good job)

"wear this pretty number f'me" when you both become super close, he likes it when you wear his favourite outfits. he'll hand them to you offering no explanation, only that it looks really good on you. secretly admiring you on stage when it glimmers and shimmers against the light because you look so beautiful

secretly has a few pictures on you on stage where you look so beautiful, he can't help but flick through them at the dead of night when he's alone.

will also secretly heart and save the videos on a private account of all the fan edits of you and him (a cliche but i like them 🤭)

will definitely notice the little skulls you have dangling from your outfit/jewellery and he smiles to himself, it's like an easter egg no one could guess

begged him to make an insta and after much reluctance and pleading he finally did.

he gained followers very quickly, his dm's full of people wanting to thirst over him to his workout routine

but you're the only one he follows <3

yes, he's also fallen victim to stalking your page and looking at old boyfriend with a smug and annoyed look

you got papped one time with the initials SR♡ on your necklace and it went crazy popular. everyone trying to figure who the mystery person was.

but simon looks on in pride, he might be called ghost to everyone else but between you both he'll always be your simon riley. a secret no one could know <3

cue soap and gaz screeching at the paparazzi pictures, having called on the whole thing when ghost was assigned to you in the first place

[snowseasonmademe]

Wow! Guardati!

word count: 6,003

warning ‼️: smut. kind of fulffy at the end.

pairing: lewis hamilton x black female reader

summary: an encounter with an extra flirty journalist results in the expansion of your family

tag list: @sucredreamer @irishmanwhore @dexastres @coffeevacation @goldenngt @btslover117 @kennaskorner

@leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro

@jessnotwiththemess @thepointlessideas

@kjlovesbigwilo

note: let’s act like lewis has a documentary coming out okay? just for the storyline! anyway, here’s a cute little something for my lewis girls :) i really enjoyed the end of this and i hope you all like it! next is an aurélien fic, then a wilo fic and then an alejandro fic :) as always, enjoy and tell me what you think!

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

The atmosphere buzzed with elegance, anticipation, and a kind of glamour that could only be conjured under the Italian moonlight. Florence’s old-world beauty was the perfect backdrop for a night like this—timeless, opulent, and humming with flashbulbs. The red carpet shimmered under the weight of the moment. Lewis’ latest passion project, F1, was premiering tonight, and the turnout had been nothing short of cinematic. Everywhere you turned were tuxedos and gowns, laughter softened by champagne bubbles, camera lenses blinking like stars just inches from your face.

And through all the spectacle, Lewis hadn’t let go of you once.

You were still high on love—on the marriage, on the promise of forever. Five months into your union and it still felt like you were floating, like each morning you woke up next to him was the start of something new. He kept you close the entire night, fingers tracing soft, reassuring lines over the fabric at your waist, pulling you in like you were the anchor in the sea of lights and attention. His hand never strayed from you—always grounded, always present. There was a reverence to the way he held you, like you were both part of the show and entirely above it.

He looked stunning, of course. That effortless Lewis Hamilton kind of stunning—tailored black tux with crisp lapels, the soft glint of jewelry against his skin, and that signature calm that made the loudest rooms feel intimate. But tonight, it wasn’t just about the way he looked. It was about the pride in his eyes. His movie. His vision. His voice finally made cinematic.

And you… you were the dream incarnate beside him.

Your dress was bold—a strapless red that kissed your curves in all the right places, tailored within a breath of scandal but wrapped in pure class. It shimmered under the flash of every camera, the neckline a delicate frame to your collarbones and shoulders, the hem grazing just the right amount of leg when you walked. You were red wine in silk. Velvet flame. He hadn’t stopped staring at you since you stepped out of the car, his eyes lingering like a man deeply, wildly in love.

The photographers had eaten it up. Posing together, Lewis’ hand steady on your waist, your smiles in sync—it was art, really. The kind of love that makes even the most jaded paparazzi pause behind the lens. After the photos, it was time to make the rounds—answer questions, shake hands, show face. Lewis kept his hand locked with yours as he guided you from one cluster of journalists to the next, answering questions about the movie, the creative process, his transition into film.

And, of course, about marriage.

“She’s been incredible,” he said more than once, nodding toward you with the kind of smile that made your stomach flutter. “Honestly, I don’t know how I did any of this without her.”

You tried to stay quiet in the background, but Lewis made sure you were never just an accessory. His answers were laced with love, and his glances in your direction were nothing short of devout. The glimmer of your wedding rings caught the light more than once.

It had been smooth sailing—until you approached him.

The flirty journalist.

He was standing at the end of a velvet rope, credentials swinging from his neck, mic already raised before you even reached him. Tall, tan, and smug with confidence, he had sun-kissed skin and chestnut curls that framed a chiseled face. His hazel eyes sparkled with something cocky, like he was more interested in the fantasy than the facts. His suit was sharp, but his smile was sharper.

As soon as you and Lewis stepped up, he zeroed in on you.

“Wow, guardati!” (Wow! look at you!) he said with a flirtatious grin, eyes unapologetically raking over your silhouette. “Mrs. Hamilton, you look absolutely gorgeous tonight. Are you enjoying yourself?”

You felt the weight of the attention immediately, felt it coat your skin like heat. But your years beside Lewis—your years of practice with poise—had trained you well. You didn’t falter. You smiled, nodded, poised like a diamond. You were used to the attention, used to being watched, admired, and occasionally tested. But something about this man’s tone felt a little too eager, a little too personal for the setting.

Still, you knew the drill: smile, thank him, and redirect. It wasn’t the first time you’d had to politely deflect on red carpets.

But before you could respond, Lewis stepped in.

His voice was smooth, but the tension in his jaw was subtle and unmistakable. “She does look absolutely stunning tonight, doesn’t she?” he said, eyes fixed on the journalist like a man quietly staking a claim. His hand squeezed your waist, fingers a little firmer now, pulling you ever so slightly closer to him.

The message was clear. Crystal.

You smiled through it, gently brushing a loose curl away from your face, giving the camera a glimpse of your glistening wedding stack. “I’m honored to be here with my husband,” you said, deliberately drawing out the last word like honey on your tongue. “He’s worked so hard on this project. I’ve seen the hours, the passion. I’m just so proud he finally gets to share it with the world.”

Your voice was calm, collected, elegant. But you didn’t miss the way the journalist’s eyes flicked back to your neckline, or the way Lewis stiffened ever so slightly beside you.

“And Lewis,” the man continued, clearly unfazed by the shift in energy—or maybe just too bold to care, “you’re looking sharp as ever. Marriage suits you. Has Y/N been helping with the wardrobe lately?”

Lewis didn’t miss a beat. He smiled—tight, amused, challenging.

“She actually picked out all my jewelry tonight,” he said, holding up both hands to show off the glint of his watch and the rings that adorned his fingers. His wedding band sparkled the brightest.

“She makes great fashion choices,” the journalist added, casting another glance your way—lingering, greedy.

And that was it.

That was the moment Lewis’ patience ran out.

He tilted his head slightly, a sharp motion almost too subtle to catch. His eyes narrowed just enough to shift the air between them. The sweetness in his smile dissolved into something darker, more pointed.

“Did you wanna marry her too, or—?”

The question was tossed like a blade disguised as a joke. Your lips twitched, stifling a laugh as your gaze dropped to the carpet for a moment. You could feel the heat blooming at your cheeks—part embarrassment, part delight.

The journalist blinked. “No, no,” he stammered, taken off guard but trying to recover, “she just looks so beautiful, I can’t help—”

“You are not her type” Lewis cut in smoothly, voice low and final. “Enjoy the movie man.”

And just like that, he gently guided you away, a protective hand on the small of your back, shielding you with the strength of someone who knew exactly what he had—and refused to let anyone else forget it.

You kept a soft smile on your face as you walked off the red carpet, the sound of your heels echoing lightly on the stone steps beneath you. Lewis’ hand remained steady at the small of your back, guiding you with that same mix of intention and tenderness that always made you feel like the only woman in the world. The flashes were still going off, camera bulbs catching the sharp lines of his jaw, the glossy sheen of your lips, the way your bodies curved toward each other like you were made to fit—like he belonged nowhere else but beside you.

But even as you kept your composure, your mind was still spinning a little. That journalist. The way he looked at you, the audacity in his smile, the not-so-subtle flirtation that slipped between his words like smoke. It wasn’t your first time being flirted with in front of Lewis—but this had felt different. Bold. Purposeful.

Still, you didn’t let it show. You walked gracefully back into the venue, back through the velvet-lined corridor that smelled faintly of fresh paint and expensive perfume. His fingers twitched once at your waist but stayed respectful, possessive only in the way he tilted his body just enough to keep you between him and the wall.

Only once you were in the elevator did you allow yourself to break the silence. The doors glided shut with a soft chime, cutting you off from the chaos behind you. The moment felt suspended, like the city was holding its breath.

You giggled, the sound light, teasing, deliberately casual. “Was he actually okay?” you asked, tilting your face toward him, your cheek resting briefly against his arm. “That was kinda crazy babe.”

Lewis didn’t answer right away. He inhaled, jaw clenched just slightly before his shoulders dropped and his voice came out low and steady.

“He must’ve lost his mind,” he muttered. “That guy’s fuckin’ crazy. Who talks like that to someone’s wife? On camera?”

You smiled again, tracing little circles against the fabric of his sleeve with your thumb. “He was kind of cute though.”

He turned his head slowly to look at you, mouth parting as if to say something, but what came out was laughter. Deep, amused, slightly exasperated.

“Y/N, don’t joke like that,” he said with a playful warning in his voice. “Even if you did find him cute—which I know you didn’t—he can’t dress, and he smells like pepper. Like, full-on crushed black peppercorns. Who wears powder yellow to a movie premiere? In linen? Is it 1973?”

Your laughter burst out before you could stop it, sharp and bright in the small space of the elevator. “You’re so mean”

He smirked, rolling his eyes. “Nah. I just have taste. Can’t have my wife being hit on by a man dressed like a lost Easter egg.”

You leaned into his side and sighed, smiling to yourself. You could feel his arm shift as he brought his hand up to your waist again, this time resting his fingers just beneath your ribs. There was a comfort in it—protective, proud, and just the tiniest bit possessive. But not in the way that smothered. No, this was different. He was reminding you that he was here, that you were his, and that anyone with eyes could see how lucky he was.

~~~~~~

The rest of the night unfolded in golden, surreal fragments.

The lights in the screening room dimmed slowly, and the room fell into a silence that was reverent. The movie began without any grand title cards or booming score. Just the hum of an engine, the sound of breath through a helmet, the stillness before the chaos.

You saw the world through Lewis’ eyes—literally. The camera moved like a body. Like his body. You were pulled into the cockpit, thrown into corners, accelerating, braking, dodging raindrops and grit, hearing radio chatter and sudden silence. It was breathtaking. Terrifying. Intimate.

Every flick of the steering wheel was a decision. Every race was a war. And beneath it all, you could feel the unrelenting pressure—the constant negotiation between perfection and catastrophe.

And then came the personal parts.

The montages of his childhood. Footage of him karting. Shaky home videos with his father. Archive clips of headlines that vilified him, commentators dismissing him, critics dissecting his every move.

You held your breath during those moments.

Lewis didn’t move beside you. His posture stayed the same, but you saw the tension in the set of his jaw. The way his hand tightened slightly around yours as a clip played of a journalist calling him “too flashy,” “too emotional,” “too political.”

And then came the joy. His first win. His championships. The scenes of him working with his engineers, pushing his team to be better, standing at the front of protests, speaking up when everyone else stayed silent.

By the end of the film, you weren’t just emotional—you were transformed.

You turned to look at him as the credits rolled. There was a stillness in his face, but his eyes were soft. Brighter than they had been all night.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the back of his hand.

He didn’t say anything right away. He just leaned over and kissed your temple, long and slow, breathing you in like you were the only safe place in the world.

~~~~~~

Later, you were home.

The bathroom light spilled out across the marble tile, casting a soft glow that made your skin look warm and golden. You were standing in front of the mirror, unclasping your earrings with a tired sort of grace. Your feet ached, your body was starting to slow, but you still looked stunning—red gown hugging your curves, lip gloss smudged just enough to be human.

You heard him before you felt him—his bare feet on the tile, the soft rustle of his jacket hitting the armchair. Then his arms wrapped around your waist, his hands spreading wide over your stomach as he pulled you back into him. His lips found the slope of your back, trailing kisses up your spine. Gentle. Thoughtful.

“I loved the movie baby,” you murmured, your eyes meeting his reflection in the mirror. “I know I already said it, but… it was so good. I think—” you yawned mid-sentence, covering your mouth—“I think I wanna watch it again tomorrow.”

He chuckled, the sound low in your ear. “We can watch it again. Maybe we’ll invite Mr. Wife Stealer too.”

You laughed, turning in his arms and walking slowly to the edge of the bathtub, sitting with a little sigh.

“Can you take my shoes off?” you asked, looking at him through tired lashes.

He raised a brow as he followed you over and knelt, one knee touching the cool tile. “Babe, I already said yes,” you said, teasing. “Now can you take off my shoes?”

You smiled and let your head fall back as he unstrapped your heels one by one, his touch reverent. When the first one came off, he cradled your foot in his palm and began to massage it slowly, pressing into the arch like he’d done it a thousand times before. Your mouth fell open in a quiet moan of relief.

“This color makes you look really sexy” he murmured. “If I’d known this was what Ferrari red did to me, I would’ve signed the contract years ago.”

You opened your eyes and looked down at him, his face bathed in the amber light, devotion etched into every line. He moved to the other foot, giving it the same care, same attention.

Your voice came softly. “Do you think he would’ve still flirted if I was pregnant?”

He paused, just briefly. Met your eyes.

“I mean… unless he’s secretly from a scouser, probably not,” he said finally. “But clearly we never know. I would think the big ass ring on your hand would be enough.”

You pulled your foot from his hand gently and shifted, rising up to straddle his knee. He leaned back slightly, one hand instinctively catching your waist.

“It’s not too soon for kids, right?” you asked, fingering the open collar of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin just beneath. “I know you said you wanted to wait until you retire, but…” you trailed off, eyes searching his face, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want another cute Italian journalist flirting with me.”

Lewis looked at you for a long moment. Then he smiled—slow, certain.

“I wouldn’t say it’s too soon,” he murmured, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. “We’re gonna be married forever. Might as well get started now.”

You didn’t say anything. Just smiled, slow and private, like you’d just made up your mind about something important.

Then, wordlessly, you stood and reached for his hand.

He took it.

You led him to the bedroom.

The room was dim—near dark. Only one candle burned in the far corner of the room, a slim, flickering flame perched on the mantel above the fireplace. Its soft golden light cast long shadows across the walls, dancing over the sheets, painting you both in warm amber and deep, stretching shadows. It smelled faintly of bergamot and wax. Quiet. Private. Tranquil.

Lewis reached for you with both hands and pulled you into him like he couldn’t bear even a sliver of distance. The kiss was immediate—no teasing, no gentle buildup. Full-bodied. Deep. Tongue and breath and heat. His mouth moved over yours with a hunger that felt old and familiar, but new somehow too. Urgent and tender all at once.

As you kissed, his hands moved. Purposeful, but never rushed. He undressed you both right there—standing in the center of the room like no one had ever taught him patience but you. His shoes came off first. Then your gown, sliding down your body in one red whisper. His socks, his belt. His pants pooled around his ankles. Your bra, unhooked with a single snap of his fingers. His shirts—both layers—peeled away to reveal warm, waiting skin. His boxers. And finally, your panties. Every layer felt like it mattered. Like a ritual. A vow.

He walked backward toward the bed, never once breaking the kiss. He held your face, your jaw, your shoulders, like you might disappear if he didn’t touch enough of you. Your knees bumped into the mattress, and before you could lower yourself, he pulled you into his chest and let both your bodies fall together. The bed caught you, the sheets cool beneath your backs, and in one fluid motion, he flipped you over—settling himself above you, kneeling between your thighs.

He wasted no time. His lips descended to your throat, and his mouth opened against your skin. He kissed, then sucked—soft at first, then harder, then slow again—leaving deep bruises that bloomed like ink beneath your skin. He moved lower. Your collarbones, your chest. He took his time with your breasts, kissing them like they deserved worship, like they were speaking a language only he could understand. His mouth was soft and warm, and his toy—already thick and lengthening—rested against your thigh. It twitched when you gasped. Hardened when your hands found his hair and tangled, fingers tightening with every graze of his tongue.

You could feel how aroused he was. Not just in his body, but in his intention. Every breath, every pause, every pass of his thumb over your hip bones screamed one thing: I want to get you pregnant tonight. And not by accident. By design.

He looked at you like he was etching you into his memory. Not the kind that fades—but the kind you revisit every night before sleep. He wanted you to remember this too. So when your belly was swollen and your feet were sore and you felt like a stranger in your own body, you’d be able to close your eyes and remember this moment: the way he made you feel like a goddess while planting something inside you that would change your life forever.

You ground your hips against him, needy, aching, seeking relief. His mouth curved against your stomach as he kissed down your torso, slow and indulgent.

“Relax baby,” he whispered against your skin. “I’ll give you what you want.”

The way he said it—low, sure, almost reverent—made your toes curl.

He kept kissing lower. Over your navel, down the soft skin of your pelvis. Then, finally, he reached your center and didn’t hesitate. He spread your thighs wide, his hands anchoring your hips like he needed them open. Needed them generous. Needed you to be his in this way.

And then he devoured you.

His tongue moved in slow, languid strokes—no rush, no teasing. Just firm, unbroken pressure that melted your spine and made your mouth fall open. He licked you with full attention, full intention. And when he sucked—low, soft, rhythmic—you whimpered, hand flying to the back of his head. His braids slipped between your fingers like silk. He hummed against your clit, the vibration thrumming through you like music.

One hand left your hip and slipped down—he pressed a single finger into you, deep and unhurried. You gasped. It curled, then stroked, then curled again. Right against the spot that made your legs tremble.

He never broke his pattern. Mouth on your clit. Finger inside you. Controlled. Certain.

“Lewis,” you whispered, breath coming fast. “Oh—Lewis, you’re gonna make me cum.”

Still, he didn’t stop. He didn’t even pause. That same pace, same pull, same promise.

And when you came—when your body finally gave in and clenched around his hand—he groaned against you like he was the one being undone. You shook beneath him, voice catching, thighs closing around his head as if trying to keep him there. You didn’t mean to. It was instinct. Desire. Need.

He didn’t let up until you sagged into the sheets, boneless and dazed.

And all he could think, as he looked up at you—eyes heavy, lips glistening, chin wet with your release—was I can’t wait for her to cum on my dick like that.

He came back up to your face slowly, like a man drunk on something sacred. His lips were soft, parted and glistening. His chin slick with the mess he made of you, your sweetness still clinging to his skin. He smelled like you now—warm and musky, earthy and raw, the scent of sex thick between your bodies.

Your chest rose and fell, trying to catch the breath he’d already stolen. You let out a soft laugh, your fingers curling loosely around his shoulders. “This is why your beard’s ginger.”

He smiled, the corner of his mouth twitching upward before it spread across his face, wide and boyish. A little smug. But affectionate.

“I wouldn’t care if your pussy dyed my beard green,” he said, voice gravel-thick and low. “I’d still eat you.”

And then—before you could respond—his mouth was on yours again, like the words had only been a bridge back to your lips. He kissed you like he missed you. Like he’d been gone for days. Like tasting you wasn’t enough—he needed you under his tongue, around his dick, under his weight, everywhere.

He kissed you until your lips were sore. Until your thighs started to tremble again. Until your breath came in shallow gasps.

His mouth trailed down from your lips to your jaw, your throat, your collarbone. Then back up. He sucked at the edge of your bottom lip again before dragging it slowly between his teeth. His tongue flicked behind your earlobe, then his teeth grazed it—gently, then not. You whimpered, hips shifting on instinct as he ground his length against your clit. Slow. Deliberate. Unrelenting.

The weight of his dick pressing into your center was torture. Your body jolted, sensitive and swollen. And he knew what he was doing. He ground against you like he was memorizing your pulse, like he was setting it.

Your fingers curled into his back. “I can’t wait any longer,” you breathed. “Put it in, baby. Please. I need it.”

He lifted his head, eyes dark with desire. “You need it?” he asked, as if confirming. Then he smiled again—this time with hunger.

And he gave you what you wanted.

He reached down, letting your hand guide him. You both looked down between your bodies to where you held him—thick, hard, veined and leaking. He was already ready. More than ready. He pressed the flushed head of his dick against your entrance and slid inside with one, slow, devastating stroke.

He didn’t stop until he was all the way in. Until his hips were flush with yours and your pussy was wrapped around him like a vise.

A gasp tore from your throat. Your hands flew to his arms. You were full. Stretched in every direction. But it felt so good. So right.

He dropped his head into the crook of your neck, breathing hard, moaning low against your skin. “Fuuuck,” he groaned, like the heat of you melted something inside him. He stayed buried there for a moment, barely moving, like he wanted to memorize this exact feeling—of being surrounded, held, welcomed.

You were trembling already.

“Give it to me, Lewis,” you whispered, voice shaking. “Put a baby in me. Right now.”

That pulled a growl from his chest.

He started to move. Slow and smooth. His hips rolled forward and back with perfect control. Like a wave. Dragging the thick length of him along every sensitive inch inside you.

Your mouth fell open. Your hands slid up to cradle his face, making him look at you. You wanted to watch him fuck you. Wanted to see what he looked like inside you, lost in you.

His eyes were glassy and dark, and he didn’t look away.

Your body was making the most obscene wet sounds—loud and raw and needy. Every stroke of him was met with a squelch of your arousal, and it only turned you on more.

“I fuckin’ love that sound,” he said, never breaking eye contact. “Fuck.”

You whimpered when his fingers found your breast. He rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, soft at first, then harder, pinching until your back arched. “Mmmm yes,” you moaned, voice high and stretched.

His forehead rested against yours, and for a second, it felt like you were floating. Drifting in the heat of each other’s breath.

Then he paused—only long enough to reach beneath you and slide a pillow under your hips.

The second he started again, you felt the difference.

The angle changed everything. He was right there now, hitting your spot again and again. Slow and steady, but deep and hard. Every thrust made you cry out, body jerking.

“Ohhhhhh my God, Lewis!” you shouted, nails digging into his arms.

The slap of his skin against yours echoed in the room—wet and urgent, a rhythm that stole your thoughts.

You were gone.

He was breathing hard now, muttering curses into your shoulder. “Can’t believe how wet you are for me…”

He shifted again, and suddenly your leg was higher on his shoulder, bent back nearly to your chest. He gripped your thigh with one hand, the other dropping to your throat.

He was hitting your g spot.

Dead on. Over and over.

Hard and slow. Just how you liked it.

His fingers wrapped around your neck—tight enough to hold, soft enough not to hurt.

“You want me to get you pregnant baby? Huh?” he asked, breath fanning over your face. “You have cum for me first. I can only get you pregnant if you cum for me.”

His voice was laced with heat and command.

He felt it.

And he fucked you harder.

The room blurred. You couldn’t hear your own screams. You only felt him. Felt how his dick dragged against every sensitive part of you. How his fingers squeezed just enough to keep you open, gasping, eyes locked on his.

Then it hit, your body obeyed.

Your orgasm rushed toward you like a freight train. Your eyes widened. Your thighs started to shake.

You came with a cry that scraped your throat raw, body convulsing as your walls clamped down around him. You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. You only felt the pleasure explode and ripple through you like fire.

“Fuck, that’s it—fuck!” he growled, fucking you through it, his own breath falling apart.

His pace stuttered. You felt his legs tense, his rhythm grow erratic.

With the last thread of strength, you grabbed his face, eyes wide and desperate. “Give it to me, Lewis pleaaassee” you begged. “Cum inside me. Please. Give me a baby.”

That pushed him over.

He moaned loud—raw and unrestrained—and slammed into you with a final, bone-deep thrust.

And he came.

You felt it. Hot. Deep. Endless.

You could feel how much more he gave you this time—thick ropes of him spilling into you, pulsing with every twitch of his dick. Your body opened up to him, holding every drop.

He stayed like that, buried inside, chest heaving against yours. Then he collapsed fully, his body resting on top of you. Heavy and solid. Safe.

You kissed his temple, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. Still grinding gently, still chasing the feeling.

He chuckled, eyes still closed. “Give me five minutes, baby,” he murmured. “We’ll go again in a minute.”

And he kept his word.

He fucked you everywhere.

On the carpet beside the bed, your legs over his shoulders again as he whispered filthy things into your ear.

In the closet, with one of your dresses still hanging behind you, his fingers dug into your hips while you bit down on his shoulder to keep from screaming.

In the hallway, where he took you standing up, pressed against the wall, his hand covering your mouth as you whimpered.

In the foyer, bent over the console table, your hands flat against the glass while he drove into you from behind.

In the kitchen, on the cold marble counter, where your back arched and your legs shook as he licked your nipples and fucked you slow.

In the living room, on the couch, on the floor, on top of the throw pillows.

And finally, against the living room window. His hands gripping your waist, your breath fogging the glass, the night pressing in around you like a curtain. No one could see. But it wouldn’t have mattered.

By the end of it, your mind was blank.

Your body wrecked.

Your legs barely working.

But you knew. You felt it deep in your core, heavy and full and certain.

This pregnancy only needed one try.

And tonight had been it.

You were pregnant.

~~~~~~

Six months later:

November. The São Paulo Grand Prix.

The sky above Interlagos was a wide, searing blue, streaked with the barest wisps of clouds. The sun was high and golden, baking the asphalt and flooding every corner of the paddock with a kind of electric heat. The Brazilian crowd was still roaring, their cheers echoing long after the checkered flag had waved. Flags flew, champagne glistened in the air, and camera flashes lit the pit lane like tiny bolts of lightning.

And there you were.

Plump. Glowing. Radiant in a way that stopped people mid-sentence.

Six months pregnant.

Your belly rounded out the silk of your dress, soft and prominent beneath the hand you kept cradled over it—like a natural extension of your body, like you were made to carry this baby. The swell of your breasts pushed against the neckline of your dress, full and sensitive. Your skin was dewy, warm, bronzed by the sun and made even more vibrant by the joy in your face. Your lips were painted a soft, glossy pink, your edges laid, curls pinned back with a silver clip that glittered when it caught the light.

You looked exactly like what you were—loved. Wanted. Cherished beyond measure.

The day couldn’t have gone better. Lewis had taken pole position yesterday and sealed it today with a win so commanding it had people whispering about vintage Hamilton magic. He climbed out of the car with his arms raised, fists clenched in triumph, confetti in his hair, champagne in his mouth, and the first thing he’d done was point toward you.

The cameras caught it. You, smiling from the edge of the crowd, your hand pressed to your stomach. Your other hand lifted in a small wave, tears in your eyes, unable to stop grinning.

That was how the world found out.

A baby.

His baby.

You’d waited six months. Not out of secrecy, but because it was yours first. Something sacred and quiet, just for the two of you. After that night—the one that changed everything—you’d known right away. You felt it the next morning in the way your body ached, in the way your insides felt different. Like something had taken root.

But just to be sure, you and Lewis kept trying. Again. And again. And again. For four weeks straight. He couldn’t keep his hands off you. Morning, afternoon, middle of the night. In the shower. In the car. In the kitchen. He was a man on a mission, and the mission was getting you pregnant.

You laughed now, remembering the look on his face the morning the test turned positive. That glassy, soft-eyed smile. That whispered, “I knew it.” The way he’d kissed your stomach for fifteen straight minutes, whispering things to it like it could already hear him.

He hadn’t stopped kissing you since.

And now—here you were. Walking through the paddock hand in hand with your husband. Husband. The word still made your heart race.

His fingers were laced with yours, thumb brushing the back of your hand every few seconds like he couldn’t help it. He was still in his race suit, peeled down to his waist, fireproof shirt clinging to his skin, hair damp from champagne and sweat. The gold chain at his neck caught the light. He wore his win like it was stitched into his skin. But more than that, he wore you.

He didn’t let go of your hand once.

People kept stopping to congratulate you—soft smiles, gentle hugs, nods of admiration. Engineers, journalists, even rival drivers. Some offered a light touch to your arm, others beamed at Lewis and shook his hand with firm, proud grips. Everyone seemed to feel the magic between you. The way your hand never left your belly. The way Lewis kept stealing glances at it. At you.

“Baby’s first race win,” someone joked.

Lewis grinned. “First of many.”

Your steps slowed as you walked past the Mercedes garage. The air shifted slightly. You felt it before you saw him.

The journalist.

The one from that red carpet in Italy. Young. Handsome. The same dark eyes. The same sharp jaw. He was standing beside the pit wall, notebook in hand, headset slung low around his neck. This time he didn’t wear a smirk. No cocky tilt to his chin. No hungry eyes trailing over your frame.

He looked at you. Just once.

And you looked back.

Not with disdain. Not even with warning. Just a soft, knowing smile. The kind that said: You could never have handled me. Not like he does.

And maybe he understood that now. Maybe that’s why he didn’t smile back—just lowered his head in a respectful nod.

Lewis saw the whole thing.

And the way his jaw ticked made you tighten your grip on his hand, thumb tracing soothing circles into the back of it.

You leaned over and whispered, “Relax. He learned his lesson.”

Lewis didn’t respond right away. He just slid his arm around your waist, slow and possessive, resting his palm flat across the curve of your belly. His thumb stroked the side of it like he was drawing a boundary.

“He better have,” he muttered, mouth brushing your temple. “Next time he so much as thinks about you, I’ll remind him whose last name you’re carrying.”

You smiled and turned into his chest, letting the sound of the paddock blur around you. The crowd. The engines. The hum of celebration. None of it mattered.

He kissed the top of your head, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. “You hungry?”

“For you or for food?” you teased, and he groaned softly against your ear.

“Both,” he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “But I’ll feed you first.”

He helped you into the hospitality suite, kept one hand on your lower back the whole time like he was guiding royalty. You knew once the sun dipped and the sky turned dusky and rose-tinted, he’d take you back to the hotel. Strip you down slowly. Kiss every stretch mark, every swollen curve. Run his lips along your belly and whisper promises against the skin.

Because even after the win, after the podium, after the cheers—

You were his prize.

And he was yours.

Forever.

[backwardsbread]

Hazbin Hotel Characters:

Forgetting an anniversary

A/N: This is my first time doing anything like this, so if anybody wants to see more, feel free to ask! The Hazbin brain rot is real—

Warnings‼️: Established relationship, character x reader, fluff, but also some angst?, swearing, gender neutral!reader, mentions of alcohol.

Not really proofread

I didn’t mean to write that much for Alastor but here we are—

Lucifer:

To be fair this guy is the literal KING of hell, (the devil from, THE BIBLE) so to say he’s a busy man is an understatement.

This dude is also MAD depressed making him constantly disassociate, so he’s prone for losing track of what day it is.

You kind of figure he’s forgotten the day is coming up when he’s not hyperfixated on it.

For birthdays, planned dates, special occasions, this man usually goes ALL out.

He tries to keep what he has planned secret, but he’s usually bouncing off the walls the days before, and ends up letting his plans slip.

So when he’s not talking your ear off the day before your anniversary, you suspect the date might’ve slipped his mind.

When the day of your anniversary comes along and you’re not woken up with kisses and cuddles, possibly breakfast in bed, you KNOW your partner has forgotten.

However, you don’t tell him or remind him of the date. Since your partner had a busy day ahead, you didn’t want to force him to focus on you when there much more important things to be settled.

You kind of wallow in your own self pity, while you wait for Lucifer to return to the castle.

Lucifer had plenty of things scheduled for the day, but he can’t shake the feeling that he IS forgetting something.

(And he is)

He checks his schedule, triple checks he didn’t miss any meetings, makes sure he has his lucky duck in his suit pocket.

All seems well. But he still can’t shake the feeling that he’s forgetting something.

It’s not until he gets home later in the evening and SEES you, that he remembers the date.

This man is ON HIS KNEES, profusely apologizing to you. The king of hell is practically begging for your forgiveness.

“Why didn’t you tell me?? You’re more important than some stupid meetings! I’m so sorry, I won’t let this happen again.”

Despite if you say it’s alright, he calls off anything he has scheduled for the next week. Treating you to the prettiest and fanciest places every inch of the pride ring has to offer.

This man usually goes all out for your guys’ dates and such, but this is extravagant. He’s treating you like the royalty you are to hopefully become. (If he ever gets the gall to ask you-)

Vox:

Similar to Lucifer, but even worse in the sense of his schedule is ALWAYS booked. It’s not easy being the face of all tech in the Pride Ring.

This man gets ZERO days off, working 8-12 hour days depending on what’s going on.

He’s got meetings, interviews, paperwork, you name it. This man might as well be the living embodiment of stress.

The thing he usually looks forward to is going home to you. Finally being able to relax and rant about his day.

(Finally able to stop his fake ass smile that’s usually imprinted on his face)

So when he gets home to find you already in bed, fast asleep when you usually would stay up and wait for him, he’s a little peeved.

He tries to be understanding, not really knowing what you might’ve done in the day. Perhaps it could’ve exhausted you. Or maybe you were feeling under the weather.

He then almost throws a full blown hissy fit when he sees blanket and pillow on the couch

A silent demand from you that he is to sleep there for the night.

His screen glitches in silent rage, as he grumbles to himself about how childish you were being for no apparent reason.

The two of you had obviously gotten into fights/arguments, mostly about his work schedule.

But it was rare that those arguments wouldn’t end in the two of you talking it out and ending the night in a cuddle session to make it up to each other.

(Vox refuses to really apologize for his work, his pride won’t let him apologize for something he doesn’t think he did wrong.)

Vox kind of accepts your demand, not wanting to piss you off more. You could talk about it with him tomorrow.

Vox wakes up early the day after your anniversary, going to work as usual. Velvette is getting him in ready in a new suit she designed. While she’s getting him ready she asks;

“So how was your night? Did you have anything planned?”

“Uhh.. what? Planned for what?”

“Wasn’t yesterday your anniversary?”

��….Fuuu-huh-huuuck”

He ditches his morning broadcast, instead heading towards his monitor room. When he sees you’re awake, and on your phone, he makes his face appear on the small screen.

Which scares the shit out of you— he usually gave some sort of warning when he was going to just appear on your device.

By the look on his face, you can tell he now knows the reason you made him sleep on the couch. You give him a look in return, waiting for his excuse.

And just by the look on your face, he can tell you’re not willing to hear any bullshit he has to spit about his work being a priority.

His screen glitches in a slight panic, as he’s sort of loss for words at first. He could tell you were angry, and he knew only he was responsible for causing that.

To your surprise, he actually apologizes, saying how there was no excuse for his absence and your guys’ special day.

He reassures you it won’t happen again, telling you how he still loves you. He has you pick any place of your choice for the two of you to go to dinner tonight.

(He hacks into the system to be put on the reservation list)

Anything to somewhat make it up to one of the only souls that truly understands him in this miserable afterlife.

Alastor:

He’s not as busy of a man as Vox or Lucifer, but he’s not very big on celebrations like birthdays or anniversaries.

You’re his and he is yours, you both don’t need to prove that to anyone.

But…..it would feel nice to at least acknowledge the stepping stones in your guys’ relationship.

Alastor doesn’t really understand the hints you drop when mentioning your guys’ anniversary.

He definitely knows the date is coming, but once the day arrives, he treats it like it’s just any other day.

He notices your mood is less cheery than any normal day, but doesn’t connect the dots that it’s because of HIS behavior.

(What could he have POSSIBLY done wrong??)

He instead tries to cheer you up by poking fun at you the entire day. Calling you little names like “grouch, stick in the mud, drag”.

Insisting that you wipe that frown off your face and replace it with a similar smile to his own permanent one.

He unknowingly rocks the boat with his behavior, only making your mood turn more sour.

Before he can even continue his banter for the last half of the day, you’re ignoring him. Not giving any excuse to him either, you’re just walking away from him.

He makes fun of your bitter mood? You didn’t hear it.

He asks you a question? Your conversation with Charlie is more important.

He tries to hold your hand or embrace you? You suddenly have something totally necessary to get done on the opposite side of the hotel.

You are determined to push all of his buttons just as he had unknowingly done to you.

And this absolutely gets under his skin.

Alastor is one for control, he needs to know everything, he needs to be in charge of situations. Why you were being so stubborn, this man is CLUELESS. And that irritates him to no end.

Tensions are high in the hotel, with a very grumpy radio demon and his other half who refuses to sooth his anger.

Night falls on Hell painfully slow, as you just want this whole day to disappear and never return. You sit at the bar, swirling around the liquid in your glass.

Husk knew better than to pry at you and your annoyance towards your significant other. He instead kept your glass filled, and offered you a soft smile.

You’re slightly buzzed when your source of annoyance sits in the bar stool right next to you. You feel Alastor’s gaze on you, but you keep your eyes on your drink.

You feel static prick at your skin, making the hair on your arms rise from the chill. You hear the crackle of a very peeved radio demon sitting beside you.

Who did you think you were?? Ignoring someone like him! You were his lover and you were treating him like he meant nothing to you.

(At least that’s what it felt like)

The overlord beside you finally snaps, his voice toned heavily with radio static, his eyes darkening with dial pupils.

“What is with this behavior, 𝙈̳̎𝙮̳̎ 𝙙̳̎𝙚̳̎𝙖̳̎𝙧̳̎? What could possibly be your excuse for such immature actions towards me?”

Maybe it’s because you’re slightly buzzed from one too many drinks, maybe your emotions had been building up way too quickly from your irritation, maybe you felt guilty for treating your S/O like spoiled leftovers all day.

But as you look towards Alastor, observing his anger, your eyes suddenly well up with big crocodile tears, threatening to spill if you even dare to blink.

Alastor notices your expression soften and watches some unwanted tears slip down your face. There’s literally a record scratch as he just watches you desperately try and hide your face from him.

His eyes soften back to their normal red hue and he feels his harsh smile crack at the edges.

(If he could frown, he absolutely would seeing as you were so hurt by his actions.)

He’s quick to comfort you, pulling you in and whispering comforting words. Shooting a glare at Husk to leave the two of you alone and to not speak a word of this to anybody.

The two of you talk out your feelings about the day. You admit how you felt a bit abandoned by his lack of acknowledgement for the date.

He promises to you that for your next anniversary, because he knows you will always be his, he will make sure to make you feel as special as you truly are to him.

[sylusmisshunter]

‼️ 18+ MDNI ‼️

What a shame, I

asked for it.

Tags & CW : nsfw, smut, explicit sexual content, car sex, overstimulation, oral sex (f receiving), cockwarming, crying during sex, possessive sex, mdom, reader is a tease, sylus snaps, choking(consensual), marking, teasing, soft aftercare, sex in the rain, crying during sex, light power play.

author's note : after watching the new trailer i immediately got to werkkkkk heheh hope y'all enjoy reading this filthy fic! Also, askbox is open if you wanna request or talk to me. Likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated 💋Love you all.

Rain crashes against the windshield, pounding like the pulse racing between your thighs. The woods around you disappear into shadows, but inside the cramped car, every sharp breath is illuminated by the amber glow of the dashboard. You and Sylus sit side by side, the air thick with something more electric than the storm outside.

You’ve just come from victory, an impossible mission pulled off without a scratch. Success hums in your veins like an addictive drug, and Sylus is vibrating with a barely contained fire. There’s electricity pulsing between you two. His crimson eyes flick to you, hunger sharpened by pride and something deeper, darker. You shift in your seat, heart pounding as your breath catches in your throat.

"You’ve been testing me all night," he says, voice low and rough like gravel dragged across steel. He broke the ice. Despite being on a dangerous mission, the adrenaline pulsing through your veins did nothing to sedate the fire burning in your core. Watching sylus drive the car while firing his gun, killing those people without remorse, he looked every bit majestic in all his glory. So it's not your fault when you start teasing him by saying things like. "Are you always this rough when you're in charge?" With a shit eating grin when he brutally shot a man from the top of the car roof mercilessly, expressionless.

Or the time when you deliberately pressed your thigh against his shoulder while standing up, thigh brushing against his cheek a little harder as you shot the cars trailing behind you one by one. You swore you heard sylus growl as he kept his eyes on the road.

“Maybe I wanted to see what would happen if I did.” That came out of your mouth before you could even think.

His lips twitch into a dangerous smirk. “Then don’t act surprised when I ruin you for it.”

Before you can reply, his hand is on your thigh, fingers tracing a path beneath your shorts, tight, slick from rain still clinging to your skin beneath. He drags his nails lightly, sharp enough to sting but not break the skin, and you let out a soft gasp, the heat pooling in your belly spiraling fast.

He leans in close, breath warm and thick on your ear. “You want me to break don't you, kitten? Deliberately pushing my limits, you're playing a very very dangerous game, practically begging me to show you exactly what happens when you push me.”

You swallow hard, your eyes gazing into his scarlet orbs, silently giving him permission letting out a nod without words. The way he says your name, that possessive edge, tightens something deep inside you. You’re desperate to be claimed, owned, not gently, but rough, demanding, utterly unrelenting.

Sylus’s hand moves faster now, fingers digging into your thigh, unzipping your shorts. The cold air hits your exposed skin, goosebumps rising despite the heat pooling low in your belly. His touch is precise, teasing, like he’s savoring every inch of control. He drags the zipper down slowly, revealing your now soaked panties to his hungry gaze. He unbuttons your shirt just so that your plump breasts are revealed. His eyes darkening with each fraction of skin revealed. You can feel his breath hitch when he leans in and reaches your collarbone, lips brushing over the pulse point there, leaving a trail of fire.

“You’ve been playing with me all night,” he murmurs, voice thick and low, “like a damn prize.”

You bite your lip, heart hammering. “Maybe I wanted you to notice.”

His fingers tighten around your wrist suddenly, pulling your hand up and over his shoulder so your palm presses against the back of his neck. His eyes lock onto yours, intense and unforgiving.

“Good,” he growls. “Because I’m going to make sure you remember this.” He suddenly yanks you towards him, a familiar red and black mist engulfing you, lifting you up from your seat and onto his arms.

The rain outside is relentless, masking the sound of his mouth capturing yours in a possessive, bruising kiss. His teeth graze your lower lip, demanding entry, and you don’t hesitate to give it. Your hands clutch at his jacket, desperate to pull him closer, to feel every inch of him pressed against you.

Sylus’s hands slide inside your panties, fingers tracing over your bare skin, memorizing it. His touch is rougher now, possessive as he feels the slick pooled in your cunt.

“God, you’re soaked,” he rasps against your mouth. “Perfect.” He breaks the kiss, breath ragged, eyes blazing. Then he’s pulling you out of the car, rain drenching you both instantly.

The cold shocks your skin, but Sylus’s grip is iron as he hauls you to the back of the car.

“Not here,” he says low, voice thick with command. “Somewhere I can see you, touch you, own you.” Your breath catches, heart racing like it’s trying to catch up with his relentless hunger.

He doesn’t give you a chance to think, his hands gripping your waist as he spins you around, pressing you against the cold metal of the car. The rain pelts you both, but his body heat blazes against your soaked skin, burning through the chill.

Sylus’s hands are everywhere, grabbing, squeezing, tracing lines that set every nerve on fire. His mouth follows his hands, teeth nipping along your jawline, tongue flicking over sensitive spots until you’re trembling. You try to catch your breath, but he’s already pulling your panties to the side as you feel his bulge press on to your ass.

His fingers slip inside your wetness, sliding deep and slow, making you gasp and arch into him. “You’re already dripping for me,” he growls, “after all this teasing.”

You moan, desperate, fingers clutching at his shoulders as he increases the pressure, curling his fingers just right to drag waves of pleasure through you. Something about his fingers ruining your cunt as rain hammers onto both of you, soaking you both feels so blissful.

Sylus’s eyes never leave yours, watching every reaction, every shiver. “Say it,” he demands, voice low and rough. “Tell me how much you want me.”

You can barely form words, voice thick with need. “I want you. I want you, sylus, I want you to fuck me hard.”

His smirk is dangerous. “Good girl.” His fingers are out of your sopping cunt and you whine. You hear a smack of lips and then zippers being undone, he grabs your neck from the back in one hand as he lines his pulsing cock at your entrance. A shiver runs down your spine, electricity coursing through your veins as you arch into him. His other hand grip your waist steadying you.

He slides inside you in one rough thrust, stealing your breath. The car’s cold metal presses against your chest, grounding you as his hips snap mercilessly, pounding into you with a brutal rhythm. Your world narrows to the feel of him, the taste of rain and sweat, the sharp edge of pleasure and pain mingling.

Sylus’s hands grab your hair, tugging your head back, twisting your neck slightly so he can claim your mouth again. The kiss is rough, desperate, and he bites down just enough to make you gasp.

“Mine,” he growls against your lips. “You’re mine, in every lifetime, in every universe you belong to me and I belong to you."

You shiver, overwhelmed, your body burning with need and surrender. He sets a punishing rhythm, hips slamming into yours as the car rocks with every thrust. Rain continues to pour, but you barely feel it anymore, your body is burning, muscles taut with tension, nerves singing under his touch. Every sound he makes, every low grunt and hiss, feeds the ache inside you.

He pulls out suddenly, leaving you gasping at the loss. His hands grip your waist, spinning you around so your back hits the cold metal door, and before you can blink, he lifts you effortlessly, pinning you between his body and the car. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, and then he’s inside you again, deep, full, and unforgiving.

Your head tips forwards burying in his neck as he thrusts into you hard, the angle hitting something devastating. “Fuck, Sylus-”

“Fuck, sweetie. You feel so good wrapped around me.” he let out a guttural groan as his hand closed around your throat, not enough to choke, just enough to make you shatter in his arms. His eyes gleam, wild and dark with lust. “That's a good fucking girl. Fall apart for me kitten."

You cry out, nails raking down his soaked back as your orgasm hits you. Your walls flutter around his cock as he pistons it deep inside your needy cunt.

“You feel that?” he growls into your ear. His thumb presses down onto your aching clit, pressing tight circles as he fucks you through your orgasm.

You’re shaking now, lips parting in breathless whimpers. The rain still hammering, your body trapped between cold steel and pure, molten heat. You fall apart with a silent scream, pleasure ripping through you like lightning. Your whole body convulses, thighs trembling, back arching as the after math of your orgasm hits you.

Sylus doesn’t stop. If anything, he fucks you harder, chasing his own release. “Fuck! just like that, take it.”

You barely manage to stay upright, clinging to him as he slams into you one last time and groans deep in his chest. You feel him spill inside you, thick and hot, hips stuttering as he presses deep and stays there, buried to the hilt. His breath is hot against your throat as he rests there for a moment, still buried deep inside you, your walls pulsing around him. You’re shaking, your body buzzing from the intensity, but Sylus’s hands never stop roaming, gripping your ass, trailing along your hips, possessive and hungry.

“You thought one orgasm was gonna be enough?” he growls against your ear, voice wrecked and feral. “Not even close.” You whimper, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

He pulls out slowly, your slick dripping down your thighs, and the filthy sound makes him groan. “Look at that mess,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers down your folds. “So fucking ruined… and I’m not even finished.”

Sylus hauls you back into the car this time, shoving open the back door and pushing you down into the seat. He follows you in, hovering over your body like a storm, wet clothes clinging to his frame as he pulls your legs open with no patience at all.

“Stay just like that,” he mutters, eyes dragging over your flushed, trembling body like you’re prey laid bare. “I wanna see you fall apart again.”

And then his mouth is on you.

He eats you like he’s starving, tongue relentless, licking and sucking until your legs are shaking, thighs clamped tight around his head. He holds you down with bruising force, groaning into your cunt, lapping up all your juices, savoring every whimper, every plea that tumbles from your lips.

“S-Sylus, please, t-too m-mmuch-” you cry, hips bucking against his mouth.

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow down.

“Better get used to it, that's what you get for testing me, kitten.” he snarls into your slick heat, voice muffled. “You teased me all damn night. Now I’m gonna break you.” Your second orgasm hits even harder than the first, your vision going white as your back arches off the seat. Your fingers clutch at his soaked hair, holding on for dear life as the pleasure crashes over you.

Sylus doesn’t stop until you’re begging. And even then, he’s only just beginning.

You’re still twitching from your second orgasm when he pulls back, lips glistening with your slick. Sylus wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning like a devil, and climbs over you in the cramped backseat. His large frame barely fitting inside. His body cages you in, wet, massive, predatory and his cock is already hard again, thick and flushed, slick with your combined mess.

“You look fucked dumb already,” he murmurs, grabbing your chin and tilting your face up to meet his eyes. “And I haven’t even really ruined you yet.” He kisses you hard, messy, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. His teeth sink into your lower lip, possessive, brutal and then he lines himself up again, dragging his cock through your soaked folds, teasing your overstimulated entrance.

“You're gonna take it,” he growls, voice low and filthy. “Every inch. Again and again. Until you're crying and begging for me to stop, even then I’ll keep going.”

You try to respond, but it melts into a breathless moan when he thrusts in, hard and deep. The stretch is overwhelming, your body still so sensitive, and it makes your legs shake as your back arches off the seat.

“Fuck! Sweetie you're still so tight,” he hisses, gripping your hips and setting a brutal pace. “You were made for this. Made for me.”

His thrusts are unforgiving, each one slamming into your deepest spots, the sound of skin against skin obscene in the humid car. Rain still beats down on the windows, but it’s drowned out by your moans, his groans, and the filthy wet slap of him using you.

Sylus grabs your leg and throws it over his shoulder, folding you open as he pounds into you harder. "Look at you, such a mess. You like this don't you?" He growls as he slams into you deeper and harder with each relentless thrust which makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You try to answer, but your words break into cries, every nerve lit up, pleasure blurring into pain, into something addictive and overwhelming.

“You’re drooling,” he chuckles, his sultry, thick voice full of wicked delight. “Fucking ruined already.” He leans in, mouth hot against your neck as he bites down, sucking on the spot hard enough to mark. You whimper, and he sucks a bruise over your pulse.

“Gonna keep you like this,” he mutters against your skin. “Fucked dumb and full of me.”

You’re sobbing now, helpless, overstimulated, your body jerking with every relentless thrust. Sylus shows no mercy. He drives into you with unyielding force, hips slamming against yours, the obscene wet smack of it echoing through the fogged-up car.

“Shhh,” he coos mockingly, hand cupping your face. “You can take it, baby. I know you can. Look at you… a fucking mess just for me.”

He leans in, sliding his fingers into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue until you gag. You suck on them obediently, eyes glazed with pleasure, drool spilling past your lips.

“That’s it. Good girl. Filthy little thing.” He groans, thrusts growing more erratic, deeper. “You love this, getting used like a toy. Crying on my cock.”

You moan around his fingers, tears streaming down your cheeks as another orgasm builds. Your whole body clenches, trembling under him, overwhelmed beyond logic. Sylus watches it all, your ruined expression, your twitching thighs, your tears and he looks proud. “You’re perfect like this,” he murmurs, voice almost reverent. “So perfect when you’re broken and bruised by me and my cock.”

His free hand slides between your legs again, fingers finding your overstimmed clit. You scream, raw, high, wrecked as another orgasm hits, your entire body convulsing beneath him. He fucks you through it, never slowing, eyes locked on yours. “One more,” he whispers, sweat dripping down his temple. “Gimme one more, sweetie. I know you can.”

Your muscles are jelly, your mind a blur of white-hot need and surrender. Your cunt spasms around him, pulling him deeper, tighter. And then he groans, long and low and slams into you one last time, spilling inside you again. Hot, thick, possessive. He doesn’t move. Just stays inside you, buried to the hilt, your bodies tangled, chests heaving, rain still whispering against the roof.

The silence after is deafening. Sacred.

His hand brushes your wet cheek, thumb stroking tenderly. “You did so fucking good,” he murmurs, voice soft now, reverent. “My good girl.” He doesn’t pull out. Not yet. Just gathers you close, lets your head fall against his chest, your bodies still trembling, sticky, aching.

You’re full. You’re claimed. You’re safe.

In the back of that car, deep in the woods with the rain tapping like a lullaby, you don’t need words. Just the weight of him, the heat of his body, the warmth of his breath against your hair.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers again, kissing your forehead.

And he does.

Always.

[satoruhour]

very gojo-coded‼️ like if there’s one thing mans cannot do it is keep his hands off you

a/n: UR BRAIN >>> / tagging @jabamin @osaemu @hyomagiri :3

warnings: i guess reader is a little shy in this? fem!reader, a little teasing, use of ‘mama’, pet names, humping, fingering, lovesick gojo, unprotected sex, p -> v sex, creampie / breeding kink, multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

“baby—” you’re quick to retract your statement when you catch your boyfriend trying to relax after a long day of fighting curses, but he’s more holding his head in his hands and just taking a moment in silence for himself. the television only does more than what it’s intended for by providing an annoying canvas of background noise but he’s just too content with finally being back home that he doesn’t care.

he reached home when you were in the shower, a little surprised he didn’t try to teleport himself into the cubicle itself, but you think it’s because he’s exhausted; maybe he needs a little . . de-stressing. gojo hums at your resigned call and doesn’t turn to face you, but you know he knows that you’re surely naked and dripping under your towel, meekly holding a bottle of moisturiser and hoping you wouldn’t have to take another shower with the actions that’s sure to occur.

“what is it, sweets?” gojo asks, head tilted back along the edge of the couch, but he finally tries to turn his head toward you, smiling a little when he sees your figure freezing from the night’s breezes.

“need you to moisturise . .” you mumble, padding over to him before plopping yourself down in front of him. he welcomes you with open arms, wanting to just have you in his embrace for a little while and you fall right into his sweet talking trap. you like it, though, the sweet nothings he tells you as he easily adjusts your body against his larger one, not caring one bit that the shower droplets wet his uniform.

“c’mon, turn your back toward me,” you murmur a soft okay, sucking in a breath when he peels away the towel from your skin. you sigh softly when you feel his nose along your neck, taking in your fresh scent of strawberry shampoo and body wash while his hands massage your shoulders, down to your shoulder blades and to your sides where you jump from the ticklish sensation.

you burn when satoru laughs against your skin, “relaax, sweetheart.”

you’re unaware but gojo tries his best to untangle the knots you’ve developed over the years from endless training and brutal missions, hands working magic on your lower back now as his thumbs continually move over the base of your spine.

“you’re so tight, here.”

“a-ah . . don’t say that, satoru,” you’re anything but innocent, but it is a little upfront the way your boyfriend never fails to talk dirty in entirely mundane situations. while you’re used to it, your body still tenses from the lewdness and suddenness of it; you’re at a loss for words and you melt in gojo’s arms.

“why?” he presses his front into your back, mouth going back to your neck to try to distract you from the actual thing he’s supposed to be doing. with each kiss along your jaw, he can only feel himself get harder. “it’s cute seeing you so shy like this.”

“satoru.” it comes out shaky, “the moisturiser.”

“okay, okay,” he laughs, using his hand to turn your cheek for a small kiss, humming into it, “i’ll get to it, mama.”

the both of you are only trying to play the part — you, the clueless one receiving a moisturising job at the places you can’t reach on your back. gojo, the ever-loving boyfriend who drops everything to help you. he giggles again when you yelp at the coldness of the liquid before he starts to spread it; he does his job dutifully, at least, rubbing it into the far ends of your shoulders right to the centre where you struggle. like earlier, he takes pride in his larger hands, rubbing and squeezing at your back as he massages the moisturiser in.

“anything else you need me to help ya with?” the voice behind you surprises you again, arms now gliding along your sides to wrap around you, “maybe . .”

“are you really gonna make me say it—”

gojo giggles into your hair, an innocent action if it wasn’t for the hard-on pressed into your lower back, “it’s only fair i would want my shy baby say what she really wants, it’s always a treat.”

“i’d— uhm,” words sometimes have a hard time leaving your mouth, but even so, the way you tenderly turn around and push him to the sofa all have a scared edge to it. being with gojo made you open up more, but you don’t think your shy disposition has any problems. plus, your boyfriend finds it cute.

your hands make quick work of his pants, pulling away the belt and zipping it down, before you’re palming his bulge softly. he hums at the relief, his encouraging hands all gentle on your arms while you remove his underwear slowly. gojo looks like you’re the most beautiful as you climb on him, freshly showered and back full of sweet-smelling moisturiser, and plop yourself onto his lap. your pussy’s already fairly dripping, small moans leaving both your mouths when your cunt meets with the underside of his cock.

“at least take me out to dinner first,” satoru jokes and laughs even harder when he sees the pout on your face, “c’mere, you.”

before you know it, your hips are already grinding down on his front while he crashes his lips into yours. while his hands are placed on your ass, kneading it and helping you, yours are simultaneously removing his jujutsu uniform, fingers in perfect muscle memory from the many, many times you found yourself making out after gruelling missions. you have to pull away against your will when his hands leave your ass, doing the work yourself as he removes the uniform one arm hole at a time.

“i’ve only rubbed your back and you’re already soaking,” he whispers against your lips once he’s unclothed, lips chasing yours as you only press yourself deeper into him.

“and you’re already hard,” his eyes express pure glee at your words, letting you grind your cunt into his now dripping shaft. you can feel him twitch at the way your folds fit nicely along him, hands periodically squeezing your waist when you move your hips back and forth.

gojo has the luxury of sucking on your neck when your head tilts back at the tantalising feeling, clit bumping against his cock in all kinds of friction while you hump him, fingers losing themselves in his stark white hair that you love so much. tugging and pulling on it, there’s a plethora of sensations that only heighten the lewd situation; your nipples rubbing against his chest, his fingers stealthily playing with your hole, his teeth marking your skin.

“’toru—” you moan into open air, body arching into his hold as he hums in response, bringing your mouth back to him for a rough kiss. you can feel his fingers enter you gently while he swallows your sounds, his own hips also chasing ecstasy against your needy clit. “s’good . .”

one arm tight around your waist and the other pumping his fingers in you, you’re overwhelmed when he starts curling them in your cunt, making you whine out at the spot he’s found. everything about gojo drives you crazy, and it’s clear you do the same to him from the way his length twitches again under you.

“you’re so tight, baby,” he murmurs into the kiss, eyes struggling to stay open from the way you grind against him and push your ass against his digits. you’d expect a smart comment about him saying the exact same thing as earlier but he’s too lost in pleasure to give a shit, “can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

you whimper at the blatant filthiness of his words, pulling away and hiding your burning face in his neck while he only chuckles softly, cut off by a grunt when you clench around him.

“need you to cum, princess,” his fingers reach deeper than any of yours, spreading you and getting you ready for his dick. your hips are working overtime, grinding the most that you can to feel something, anything against your bundle of nerves. paired with the grunts of satoru in your ear and the slickness of your pussy, you can feel yourself getting closer to your climax until— 

“f-fuck . . shit,” gojo’s eyes are squeezed tight when you continue to hump the underside of his shaft while he spills all over himself, fingers faltering while he continues to cum all over himself just from your grinding, a breathless laugh escaping him when all your face held was surprise, “this is what you do t’me.”

the twitch of his cock sends you hurling over the edge as you cum over him as well, thighs closing around him and the grip on his shoulders only strengthens while your cum drips down his fingers  — the declaration of the strongest sorcerer being weak only for you was something you didn’t take lightly, and yet you’re in wonder everyday how it came to be. you let out a surprised shriek when he carries you swiftly, a small question of sofa or bedroom? posed to you before you silently point to the room.

it’s all loving laughter about the abandoned towel, or him walking with his trousers halfway down his legs as he princess carries you there, messy kisses shared before you’re both plopped down and your face is smushed into the pillows (“don’t wanna mess up my moisturising job, now, do we?”).

“fuuck yeah . .” gojo groans once he slips into you, hands holding onto your hips as he eases his cock inch by inch and you’re left to softly moan at the stretch. your hands scramble for sheets and pillows, already clamping down on his shaft like a vice and he hisses. “tryna snap my dick off?”

you giggle as you turn your head so you can at least see him, a drunk smile on your face as you take in your boyfriend: chest glistening from sweat and his usual unkempt hair looking even messier and his mouth dropped open at the feel of your wet pussy.

slowly, his hips set a pace once he’s bottomed out in you, thumbs digging into your lower back and having the opposite effect of his massage from earlier; it’s bound to leave some bruises, but the drag of your cunt along his cock is just too hypnotising. he grinds himself into you, tip just about brushing your g-spot so easily.

“pretty, pretty girl . .” satoru mumbles, eyes trained on you, he admires your silent noises and limp body rocking against the bedsheets before his eyes fall on your centre, a clear sheen of slick along your folds that shines under the moonlight, “with the prettiest cunt.”

the words, as grossly filthy as they are, warms your cheeks as he continues to speed up, hips driving into you so violently you wouldn’t think he loves so softly. his hands span your lower back, triggering your arch and accentuating your ass, mesmerised with how it jiggles each time his hips meet them. but one look back to you and he’s already saying moisturising job be damned because of the lovely curvature of your lips as they fall open in pleasure together with the rolling back of your eyes.

your boyfriend leans against your back, one elbow supporting his body while he just has to litter your nape with kisses as he continues to rail you. you’re blessed with his incoherent words, only making you wetter and more pliant for him. your hips start to move back against him, too, and your hands try your best at cradling his face.

“s’good, s’full, ’toru,” you mumble, eyes barely keeping open as his fat cock stretches you and sends you reeling with each brush of his tip along your spots, “love it s’much, love you.”

he coos at his baby, body flush against yours while he muffles you with his love and lust. and while satoru has stamina, your lower back begins to hurt and he lets you lower yourself down to the bed, grinning at the feel of the sheets that smell like him.

“you feelin’ better?” he smooths his fingers along your back, and he knows you nod without even looking at him because he just knows you that well, “well, good, ’cause—”

gojo re-enters you with one hand spreading you and the other guiding his cock into you, the position only emphasising your thighs and your ass and the squeeze of his length is too good. he pulls your cheeks apart just to look at how you take him, pussy spread to accommodate him.

“’cause you feel too damn good for me not to be in ya for even a sec.” he grunts as he pushes in and you only suck in a breath at it, wiggling your butt back into his for him to start moving. his eyes fixate on your tight cunt, lost in a trance as he starts up a moderate speed, but he makes sure to thrust all up into you.

“touch yourself for me, baby,” he mumbles out, groaning when you push your butt high enough for your hand to slip in. he can feel you rubbing your clit, eyes fluttering close from the overstimulating sensation that all that falls from your lips are satoru, satoru, satoru.

“just like that, that’s it, mama,” gojo watches your expression, hips stuttering at having witnessed your beauty in such a lewd place, “wan’ me to cum in you? hm?”

you unconsciously nod, more whines falling from your lips and babbles that just shows him how fucked out you are. “i’ll need my princess to cum first, though . .” and he takes over just like that: one hand next to your face and the other swatting your hand to replace the messy circles you’ve been rubbing into your puffy clit.

“want to feel her — fuckin’ hell — clench around me, want her to cum all over my cock,” he speaks through gritted teeth, slapping your pussy briefly and you cry out in pleasure, “can you do that, sweetness?”

your eyes scrunch in euphoria, “yes, yes, satoru—” every breath you take is a struggle and every word you speak is slurred, grasping onto his wrist for an anchor and try to angle your head, “w’nna cum, i’m gonna cum, baby—”

“’toru—!” you see white before you can feel it, tearing just a bit at the intense feeling and hiding as much as you can behind his wrist as his other hand increases his speed on your clit. it happens all too fast; the slap of his pelvis against yours and the clear, audible sound of your pussy dripping and the precise thrusts in how he rams into you.

“that’s it, there we gooo . .” gojo coos when you cum silently, little pants and mewls leaving your mouth as your body convulses around him. your cunt’s gripping onto his cock so harshly he has trouble moving but it’s fine considering the way he gets to see you come undone by his doing. you’re gushing all over him, a small squeal leaving you when he pinches your clit playfully.

he slows a little just to let you ride out your orgasm, clear in the way you continue to grind back against him but soon he’s picking it up again and you’re left to hold tight onto his arm as he uses your body to reach his high. your gummy walls were just too warm and gripping onto him so well, and when you’re holding so gently onto his arm, filling you up is all he can think about.

“gonna c—” a loud groan sounds out from satoru when his thrusts are interrupted by his orgasm; all it took was one involuntary clench from you to get him to empty himself in you, sensitive tip spurting ropes and ropes of cum deep into you as he paints your insides white, “take it. take it deep in ya, mama.”

you moan softly at the obscene words and later, at the obscene noises of how he pulls himself out of you and you can hear your mixed juices coalesce and drip onto the sheets below you. although, before satoru can make a funny joke or kiss you, you’re knocked out cold on the bed sheets.

“passing out on me?” is all is says with a laugh, turning you over and gives you a spare pillow to cuddle before he leaves you with a forehead kiss and a promise to clean you up just like you deserve.

[rose24207]

ROSEEEE DROP PART 2 OF “My dad’s an idiot” AND MY LIFE IS YOURS 😭😭😭😭 like girl the amount of times I’ve re-read it are not even funny nor healthy I’m BEGGING ‼️‼️‼️

The date, the spy and the evil wench

Summary: On your first date, Lucas tries everything in his power to ensure nothing comes between you and Lando, even if he has to get Jessica out of the way.

Genre: fluff, humor, little angst

Future!dad!Lando x future!mum!reader, time travel

TW: bullying, humiliating

A/N: LMFAOOO I love those kind of requests!! I hope you love it as much as I do!

P1

Masterlist pt. 2

The evening air was crisp as Lando stood outside the restaurant, nervously adjusting his collar for what felt like the hundredth time. He was dressed in his best shirt—something he had chosen specifically to impress you—and his hands kept fidgeting as he glanced around for any sign of your arrival. Despite his casual demeanor, he was on edge. He really wanted this date to go well.

From his hiding spot around the corner, Lucas watched with a mixture of amusement and pride. He had never seen Lando so flustered before. It was almost funny. He knew his "dad" was still a long way from being his actual dad—at least in this timeline—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t rooting for him.

“You’re good, mate,” Lucas whispered under his breath. He was genuinely rooting for Lando to pull this off. Even if it was kind of strange, seeing the man who would eventually become his father like this—so nervous, so unsure of himself.

As if on cue, you appeared down the street, walking toward the restaurant with a smile that could light up the world. Lando froze for a second, his eyes locking onto you. You looked even more stunning than he had anticipated, and the nerves in his chest began to multiply. He smiled awkwardly, running a hand through his hair as he caught sight of you approaching.

“Okay, Lando, you’ve got this,” he muttered to himself.

You finally reached him, and Lando’s heart skipped a beat. “Hey, you look amazing,” he said, his voice coming out a little shaky but sincere.

“Thank you,” you replied with a soft smile, your eyes bright as you took in his appearance. “You look pretty good yourself.”

Lando managed a chuckle, trying to shake off his nerves. “Thanks… You ready?”

You nodded, and with that, the two of you entered the restaurant. Lucas slipped from his hiding place, trailing behind at a safe distance, making sure he was in a good position to watch everything unfold.

Dinner went smoothly—at first. Lando was still a little jittery, but you seemed to put him at ease with your kind words and warm smile. He’d been so nervous that he kept stumbling over his words, but you found it endearing rather than awkward. He was trying so hard, and Lucas could see that you were starting to like him, which made his heart swell with pride for the man who, in another timeline, would one day be his father.

Lucas, however, knew that the night wouldn’t stay peaceful forever. There were always obstacles—particularly one very dangerous obstacle.

He caught sight of Jessica as soon as she entered the restaurant. She had a smug look on her face as she scanned the room, clearly looking for trouble. When she spotted Lando and you at your table, her lips curled into a satisfied grin. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was planning.

Lucas tensed, his hand instinctively balling into a fist as he began to move toward her. He had been waiting for this moment, knowing it would come sooner or later.

Jessica didn’t waste any time. She slammed her hands on the table, a coy smile plastered on her face as she leaned toward Lando.

“Lando,” she purred, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Funny, I thought you and I had plans tonight.”

Lando stiffened, his smile faltering for a moment as he glanced at you. His nerves were getting the best of him. “Jessica, I—uh—I’m with someone right now.”

Jessica barely seemed to register that, her gaze trained on you with a mix of disdain and amusement. “Oh, I see,” she drawled. “Well, it must be nice to have someone to settle for when there’s no one better around.”

The words hit you like a slap, and you visibly tensed, your eyes falling to the table in front of you. You had always been the type to take insults and suck it up, but something about Jessica’s attitude made you feel even more smaller than usual.

“You have a lot of nerve,” Lando said, his voice calm but laced with a sharp edge. “Maybe you should leave us alone.”

Jessica wasn’t having any of it. She leaned even closer to Lando, her hand subtly brushing his arm. “You don’t need that, Lando. You and I both know you’d be much better off with me. Why settle for someone who’s… well, less than perfect?”

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but before you could speak up, Lando spoke up, his voice firm. “That’s enough, Jessica. I’m not interested. You need to leave.”

Lucas, who had been watching from the shadows, felt his stomach churn with frustration. He couldn’t let this woman continue to bully you both, especially not when Lando was trying so hard.

Without a second thought, Lucas darted toward the table. He timed it perfectly, slipping between her and a passing waiter just as she reached for Lando’s arm. Her foot caught on his shoe, and with a small thud, she tripped, crashing into the chair in front of her with an unceremonious thud.

“Oof!” Jessica let out a sharp gasp as she stumbled and fell into the chair, a drink splashing across the table and onto her lap.

Lucas, pretending to be just another curious customer, immediately acted the part of a concerned bystander. “Oh! I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice dripping with fake sympathy. “I didn’t mean to get in your way.”

Jessica glared at him with venom in her eyes as she stood up, her face red with fury. “You little brat,” she hissed, her voice low and dangerous.

“You should watch where you’re walking,” Lucas quipped with a sly grin, offering her another set of napkins as he leaned toward her. “Here, clean up that mess.”

Jessica snatched the napkins from his hand, practically snarling at him before stalking off to the bathroom, leaving Lando and you to share an awkward but relieved look

Lando sighed in relief, glancing at you. “I’m sorry about her.”

You shook your head, a small sad smile playing at your lips. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing new.

Lucas, now back in the shadows, felt a quiet satisfaction as he watched the two of you. The night was going much better now that Jessica was out of the picture. He could feel the tension ease between you and Lando as you both returned to the conversation, and he felt a proud sense of accomplishment. His dad—well, future dad—was getting a chance to have this relationship, and Lucas was going to make sure nothing ruined it.

Later, as the meal came to an end, Lando walked you to the door of the restaurant, his nerves still lingering, but his smile genuine as he turned to face you.

“I’m really glad you came tonight,” he said softly. “I had a great time.”

You smiled warmly, the tension of the evening forgotten. “Me too. I’m glad we did this.”

Lando hesitated, his nerves creeping back again. “Maybe… maybe we could do it again sometime? I’d really like that.”

You nodded, your smile widening. “I’d like that too.”

As you turned to go, Lando lingered for a moment, still smiling. Lucas watched from a distance, his heart swelling with pride. He had kept his secret. He had done his part. And for tonight, everything had gone right.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris, @dr3wstarkey, @hurtblossom, @ernegren, @esposamultifandom, @papaya-twinks, @darleneslane

[gracie-eilish]

the prettiest girl in the whole wide world🥹

this was requested, thank you for the request babydoll☺️

an: this is for all the besties who are letting billies hair grow on them! while i can’t not drool over billie for long, i did in fact cut my own hair recently so that when i blow dried it, it resembled hers specifically🫣 (like i pulled up the oscar’s photo at my appt. and everything😭😂) so i too will mourn the long hair, but likeeeeeee 🤭🤭🤭 billie’s too pwetty for me to mourn for too long!

alsooooo, i’ve been yappppppping about it all weekend on here but in all seriousness, i feel like she’s just really stepping into herself and getting more comfy with that, and if her hair is helping with that, then im the happiest girl in the world for her:) as a fellow 22/23 year old figuring herself out, i feel for her🥹

warnings: reader being a bittttt dramatic, sad billie for like two seconds, allusion to smut🫣, this story is not meant to be hating on her hair‼️ it’s just meant to be silly so pls don’t take it too seriously! not a warning but claudia’s in here! i don’t see enough of her in fics, so future mrs. finneas is here today!

It had been a long night of fun and incredible performances and you and Claudia were buzzing with anticipation waiting for your lovers to come out. Being the true rockstar girlfriends you were, the two of you had been sitting together towards the back in a little VIP section with the other performers families and friends.

“They’re gonna be playing on the same stage as him,” I stated in shock as Sting continued to perform. Claudia laughed at my starstruckness in agreement. Claudia being the vet rockstar girlfriend she is was used to the frequent celebs and living legends, while you on the other hand were still a little starry eyed.

Regardless, the two of you had been having a fun evening. But as their performance drew closer, you both looked nervous. You knew why you were nervous, but why was Claudia?

As Sting himself introduced your girlfriend and her brother, the crowd erupted in cheers, making you giggle in pride as everyone loved on them.

You looked over at Claudia and smiled before turning your attention back to the stage as Billie started to speak. But something caught your eye.

“Claud what’s going on with her bangs?” You asked with a small giggle, figuring it was from your girlfriend was scootering around backstage instead of running a brush through her long hair like you usually would before her tour shows.

Claudia continued singing along, having not heard you, or so you thought. Claudia pretended not to hear because she was one of the first to see Billie earlier today after she cut her hair. She knew I would love it, I was just a little startled at sudden changes no matter how small. And I was in love with her long dark hair, and everyone knew it. I always hand a hand running though it, and I was always the one braiding it before her shows.

As Billie continued to bless the crowd with her vocals on Wildflower, I was distracted for a second by the echoing backing vocals coming from the crowd, making me a bit emotional. But my attention went right back to her hair when I looked back at Billie.

“Claudia… did she cut her hair?!” You bumped her hip and looked at her with wide eyes. She turned to face you and nodded with an ambiguous look in her eyes. Did you love it? Did you hate it? She couldn’t tell.

“When did she do that??” You asked with a giggle, and Claudia sighed out a laugh herself. Of course your first concern was with her schedule. You knew today was a busy, fast paced day and could not imagine Billie having a second to breathe let alone get her hair done.

You looked back over at the siblings as they started their next song but now all you could see was her hair. The once pin straight, long layers, were now a textured mix of waves and shorter layers, with some more framing around her face. As Billie sang her heart out, your mind was conflicted.

You loved the long shiny hair… but this new look… was also kinda hot.

Claudia looked back over at you and saw that thinking look in your eye. She threw an arm around your shoulder and shook it a bit before leaning down to giggle and say,

“It’s just hair babes. And if it makes you feel better, I have zero clue what Finneas has been doing with his lately.” That sent you into a fit of laughter, both of you doubled down cackling. You then threw your own arm around Claudia’s waist as they started “Birds of a Feather”.

“I know, I know. I’m being a little crybaby. But I’m gonna miss the blowout!” You said with a dramatic pout.

The two of you danced around, pointing at Billie and Finneas as you sang along to the infamous song, before you were being escorted backstage by your security.

Your heart was pounding. How were you going to react up close? I mean god she’s so pretty, but what about the new style? You love her always and as her girlfriend love everything she does, so this was a new feeling for you. A normal one, but new.

The two of you flopped down on some couches in her dressing room waiting for the pair to head backstage. The clock on the wall seemed to scream at you with every tick. Your leg bounced and you stomach started to hurt. Why did you feel like this??

The feeling immediately passed the second the door opened, and your pretty girl walked through with a sheepish smile on her face.

“Babyyyyy!!!!” She cried out, walking straight to you with open arms. You giggled as she smothered you in a bear hug while pressing kisses all over your face.

“Hi my love!” You said quietly, leaning back to get a good look at her.

“So.. I cut my hair today.” She said in her infamous little voice, making your nerves dissipate immediately. You sighed with a warm smile at her. Yeah, you couldn’t stay conflicted for long.

“I noticed my love,” You threaded your fingers through the layers, your smile only growing.

“You’re thinking about me at the oscar’s last year aren’t you,” Billie said with a sad smile.

“Maybe! It looked so pretty that night, can you blame me?” You giggled, but your giggles softened when Billie’s giggles didn’t match yours.

“Hey,” you said, sitting her down on the couch, Claudia and Finneas had already went back to his dressing room leaving you alone.

“How did I react when I came home from school one semester to you with blonde hair?” You asked softly.

“You said you missed my green highlighter-ness,” she said with a chuckle. Remembering how silly I was acting. “But then you told me I looked like sleeping beauty,” she said with a blush.

“And how did I react when you chopped it all off?”

“You kinda giggled in shock and pretended to be mad, but you fell asleep with your whole hand stuck in my hair, scratching my scalp.” Her smile was growing now.

“And when you took away my beloved red roots?” You said with a theatrical groan, officially getting Billie’s smile back.

“You moped around for like days about that babe,” She said with a chuckle.

“I did not!!” You softly hit her shoulder, giggling at her very true statement, knowing how much you loved the red.

As her laughter died down, you pushed her bangs out of her eyes and held her cheeks before kissing her nose.

“And what do I always tell you after all that?”

Billie flushed furiously, something only you could do and took great pride in.

“Mmmm I don’t think I remember what you told me…” She said in her little voice, looking around goofily. “I think you need to remind me.”

“Well, I have always told you, and will continue to tell you, no matter what your hair looks like, you my love *cheek kiss* are officially *other cheek kiss* the prettiest *forehead kiss* most beautiful *nose kiss* more perfect *corner of her lips* girl in the whole wide world.”

Billie’s cheeks hurt from the combined flush and from how hard she was smiling.

“So…. you like it?” She said sheepishly.

“Ok duh, you look so fucking hot. You could wear a potato sack and I’d still be on my knees.” Billie cackles at your statement, pulling you onto her lap to hug you.

“Thank you lovey. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was doing this. The opportunity was there and I’ve been wanting to try something new with my hair lately, so I went for it.”

“Baby, you don’t ever have to apologize for something like this. If it makes you happy, and makes you feel good… and it makes you look this fucking hot, I’m all for it sexy girl.” Billie smiled before leaning in to kiss you properly.

Her hand rested on your waist while the other snuck down to your ass, squeezing lightly. Your hands moved from their spot on her shoulder up to her hair, threading through the layers and pulling lightly making Billie groan into the kiss.

She pulled away with a smirk, “Oh so you really like it,” she said before pressing a kiss to your jaw.

“Mmmm hmmmmm.” You nodded biting your lip, a sparkle in your eyes.

“You wanna show me how much you like it mama?” She whispered, her other hand snaking down to your ass.

You didn’t even have to speak, just one look from you going from doe eyes to ravenous and the two of you packed up and ran out of there so fast, where you inevitably spent all night showing her how much you love it.

As the two of you laid in bed later that night, Billie had her head resting on your bare chest, her hand on your tummy. She felt your fingers playing with her hair slow down and your breathing start to even out a bit, and making her smile… and then giggle at the feeling of your hand tangled up in her hair as it always was.

an: if you couldn’t tell, it’s grown on me al lot🫣🤭 she seriously could wear a potato sack and she’d still look so beautiful🤭☺️

[lyv-writes]

OKAYY WE NEED DAD!SPENCER REID‼️

okay so Reader is going out for the day for like a little girls day with her best friends and says bye to Spencer and the cute little toddler! Buttt then the toddler starts missing reader and Spencer isn’t sure how to handle it at first, but then he gets the hang of it! <33

AAAA this is so cute omg thank u for this!!! i hope i was able to do it justice <33

spencer reid x mom!reader

words: 1,395

warnings: none really! just spencer being a good step-dad to your daughter, fluff, baby crying, that’s it!! :]

୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

“Thanks again, Spence,” you say, pressing another sweet kiss to his lips before tugging your coat off the hook and making for the front door. “Remember, Lila is allergic to kiwi. And her bedtime is 8, no exceptions. She has to go to daycare tomorrow morning.”

You had spent the morning holding Lila, playing with her and soaking up her laughter as much as you could. Spencer knew you had never really been apart from her—going to work was one thing, but there was a guilt that came with taking the day for yourself. He watches with a fond smile as you ramble through the list that you had already repeated to him twice and does his best to reassure you, nodding along despite having already memorized it.

Pre-made food in the fridge.

Medical information on the fridge in case of emergencies.

Call if she gets too fussy.

“Oh!” You say, halfway out the door before turning back to Spencer, a smile gracing your face. “And don’t let her convince you to give her sweets after dinner. She’ll ask you for fruit snacks, all cute, then she won’t sleep and it will be hell in the morning.”

“No fruit snacks after dinner, got it,” Spencer said, following your line of sight to Lila sitting on her plush rug in the living room, toys surrounding her as she played. Your face softened, affection swimming in your eyes and he could practically hear the thoughts going through your head. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he gently guides your face back to meet his eyes.

“We’ll be fine,” he says, tone soft as your shoulders sag at the understanding behind his words. “You deserve to have a day with your friends. I think Lila can handle playing dolls with me for a few hours.”

His phrasing made you giggle, picturing Lila’s pouting face, wagging her little finger at Spencer when he takes something too literally, or doesn’t do it the way she wants. For some reason, Lila is never happy with the voices Spencer does, and after a year-and-a-half she still gets that same little pinched brow whenever Spencer holds a doll in his hand, high-pitched voice mimicking a princess’s until she yanks the toy out of his hand with a firm, yet cute, “No, ‘Penth.”

Without fail, hearing his name in her little voice makes his heart soar, pride filling his chest even if she’s scolding him, wagging her little finger as she says it. He’d always been hesitant at the idea of being a father, whenever he pictured his future that was always a blurry part, but now he couldn’t imagine not having you and Lila in his life.

Searching his face, you finally come to the conclusion that he’s being sincere and a bright smile covers your face. Spencer had come to terms a long time ago, far before the two of you were even dating, that he would do anything to make you smile. A sense of pride wells in his chest knowing that the smiles you give him are just for him, a special glint in your eyes every time.

Between work, and Lila, there was hardly any downtime to just relax. Your evenings were often spent wrangling Lila into bed, usually with Spencer if he’s not away for work. Spencer made it a point to be home in time to have dinner with both of you as much as he could, slowly getting involved in her night time routine. She was 6-months-old when you and Spencer began dating, and while it took some getting used to at first, Lila began reaching for Spencer with a giggle and a giddy squeeze soon enough.

When your friends suggested a girl’s spa-day, Spencer was quick to encourage you to go. Having a toddler made it hard to have a social life, especially when your friends weren’t moms themselves. Lila had warmed up quickly to Spencer, which was the biggest relief, and it was hard to find a reason to say no when Spencer offered to babysit.

“She’s gonna be my daughter,” Spencer said, a fond smile on his face as the two of you spoke conspiratorially in the kitchen. “I already think of her as mine, I’d be happy to watch her for the day.”

Your heart swelled hearing his words, and you couldn’t help but say yes when he put it like that. Spencer, you, and Lila being your own happy little family was all you could ever ask for, and it meant more than Spencer could ever know that he had been so welcoming and understanding. He was a dream.

With a final glance at Lila and a sigh, you’re pressing another unhurried kiss to Spencer’s lips, that same lil dazed smile on his face that he got after every kiss, even after nearly 2 years. “Thank you, Spence. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies, pressing another sweet kiss to your lips, then your cheek, then your forehead—you were gonna be gone all day, he had to get his fill while he could. “Now go before you miss your appointment.”

With a final kiss, Spencer watches as you walk down the front steps, drive away, waiting until he can't see your car anymore before he’s turning around and closing the door behind him. When he looks up, Lila is already looking at him, eyes glancing between the door and him before her small voice is heard over the cartoon playing on the tv.

“Mama?”

“Mama went to the store,” Spencer cooed, lowering himself down to sit on the floor in front of her and her array of toys. “She’s coming back, don’t worry.”

“Mama s’ore?” she whispered in her small voice, her wide eyes blinking slowly at him before her lip began to tremble. It broke his heart to see her eyes, which looked so much like yours, gloss over with tears.

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” Spencer said, scooping her up in his arms. “She’s coming back for you. She’ll be here soon!”

With a sharp wail for her mom, the tears that had been welling up began falling in big drops, hands gripping tightly to the fabric of his shirt as she cried. Hurriedly, he began to bounce her in his arms, mimicking the way he had seen you do it countless times. He’s shushing her in a soft voice, whispering soothing words in the hopes that they’ll at least calm your crying.

Spencer wracks his brain, trying to sift through the information he had gleaned from the parenting books he had been reading for the past two years—he had started as soon as he came to the conclusion he would ask you out. Would showing her pictures of you work? He didn’t want to make things worse by making her miss you more, but maybe seeing your face would soothe her.

Transferring Lila to one hip, he fishes his phone from his pocket and opens the album of your photos, showing her various selfies, focusing on pictures he has of the two of you. After a couple of minutes her sobs quieted to sniffles and soon enough she was swiping through the pictures herself and giggling every time she saw your face.

With her swiping, it landed on a video, one he had taken of you reading a story to her before bed. At the time he had thought the voices you were using for the characters were so funny, hiding his own laughter behind his hand so that he could capture the sound of Lila’s giggles.

Spencer watches as she giggles along with herself, laughing at the way she reacts when you tickle her tummy. Spencer cant help the fond laugh the slips from his lips at the sight, bright grin tugging at his cheeks at your rosy smile.

When you arrive home that evening, only the kitchen light is on downstairs, the faint light from your bedroom guiding you as you softly push open the door. A warm smile paints your face as you slip your phone from your pocket, taking quite a few pictures of Lila, fast asleep atop Spencer’s chest, her favorite book lying next to his relaxed hand. His soft breaths rustle the hair at Lila’s scalp, her hand loosely gripping the edge of his sleeve as she sleeps.

Tip-toeing around the room, you shed your clothes from the day, slip on some pajamas before placing Spencer’s book on the nightstand. Slipping softly under the covers, you curl yourself around Spencer’s side, hand resting on Lila’s back as you fall asleep, comfortable with the people you love the most.

[lemon-slushie]

EPIPHYLLUM IS SO BACK ‼️‼️‼️‼️

My boinky

Her lore if u want it!

She’s the daughter/creation of millennial tree and sugar swan from an epiphyllum flower (the one on the back of her head, it’s a part of her body), but most of her magic comes from millennial tree, such as creating plant life and such(bring back Mary sues)

She created the beast yeast forest before it was used as a prison for the beasts, the forest was originally named the midnight star forest (Epiphyllums bloom at night and wilt at day) The forest was dense and beautiful with large trees that blocked out the sun and glowing spores that lit up the dim floor under the trees. As she continued crafting it cookies began visiting and soon inhabiting it.

- she spent years putting together her forest and caring for the life within it, it was quite the sight to see before the witches forced the beast prisons into it. The magic and chaos that seeped from the beast prisons greatly impacted her forest causing many of her creatures to become hostile, this also dampened her magic immensely

After the beast were added Epiphyllum did the best she could to defend her cookies and return everything to its original state but due to her magic weakening it was of no use, eventually all of the cookies who once lived there quickly evacuated, except for the new faerie kingdom ofc, and began warning all travelers of the evil in the forest

This quickly caused many rumors and tales that twisted the truth of Epiphyllums forest and caused it to become a sort of myth as years passed, the original name being lost to time and becoming known as “beast yeast” to anyone who heard of it

Epiphyllum was absolutely crushed, all of her work and care ripped from her, her forest was her pride and joy

- she specifically dislikes elder faerie because she’s envious of him. After all the destruction from the beasts he still has a lively and glowing kingdom, every time she sees it her heart aches for what she once had.

Years pass and Epiphyllum still roams the forest with her butterfly lantern because she still cannot bare to part with it, clinging to the hope she can fix it. She’s tried to get help from both her parents, and while it works temporarily it never stays. They cannot devote all of their time to a lost cause. But Epiphyllum still holds out hope that she can fix it and all of her cookies will return to her and life will go back to what it once was.

After years of loneliness something happens, White Lily finds beast yeast, and she is excited to be there. Happy to see all of the life in the forest. Epiphyllum is enthralled to see someone find the beauty in her forest once more, even with how much it’s fallen. She quickly befriends white lily, guiding her safely through the forest and chatting with her about everything she’s made. White lily is genuinely interested and happy to speak to her, Epiphyllum is over joyed.

- She has spent that past years alone and working and to finally have someone who notices fills her heart. She’s happy. She takes white lily everywhere she can think of, her old villages, springs, flower fields, all of it. Maybe it was her intense loneliness but she falls quick for white lily, she loves how curious she is and how they talk for hours.

eventually white lily finds silver bell and goes the faerie kingdom, epiphyllum stays behind, still holding a grudge.

- Epiphyllum is sad to see white lily take more interest in the faerie kingdom but doesn’t say anything, she’s happy as long as white lily is. She occasionally enters the kingdom to check in on lily and talk to her and hang out but always returns to her forest, refusing to stay as the faeries are also quite awkward around her as in the past she lurked around their walls and would very rarely speak to elder faerie if he approached her first.

- When visiting white lily she noticed her bond with elder faerie had grown quite a lot, this only deepened her disdain for him, but once again she allowed it to slip by because white lily was happy

One day Epiphyllum entered the kingdom to see white lily but was stopped by elder faerie, telling her white lily had left to go the gathering of witches.

- Epiphyllum quickly becomes enraged, yelling at elder faerie for letting her basically walk into her own death. She doesn’t care what defense he has and quickly storms out and desperately searching her forest in hopes to find her before it’s too late but instead she finds nothing. She now truly resents elder faerie and blames him completely for the loss of white lily.

after dark enchantress is created and white lily is comatose in the faerie kingdom Epiphyllum can be frequently found at her casket. Elder faerie told her about the casket, as he felt it was wrong to not let her know since he knew she cared about her deeply. He’s tried talking to her since and offers to let her stay in the kingdom so she isn’t lonely. These only end in arguments as Epiphyllum cannot bring herself to forgive him and wants nothing to do with him or his ungrateful kingdom.

Then ofc white lily wakes up and the beast yeast story happens. Epiphyllum is ecstatic to see her back but hesitates as she watches her interact with pure vanilla and elder faerie, seeing how happy she is without her and the way she talks about pure vanilla hurts her. All she wants is white lily but she knows white lily needs more than her.

She sinks back into her forest and watches as it crumbles further from the magic of dark enchantresses creations and the beasts waking up and breaking free from their prisons

- Wind archer finds her after being sent to beast yeast and gives her a reality check, her forest is no longer hers and never will be again and staying there is wilting and killing her, she needs to leave or she can die having wasted her life on something that doesn’t exist anymore

- After a bit of denial she gives in and returns to the millennial forest where she goes into a deep rest to regain her power

[mountainficss]

HEHEHE HHHIII !!! just here to ask abt any thoughts with wonwoo fucking quickly before you guys have to get going somewhere, you just look so good he needs you right then and there😭💗 (ALWAYS WITH THE WONWOO THOUGHTS🗣️‼️)

- 🦈🦈🦈🦈

!! mentions of: unprotected sex, quickies

HIIII <3

and oh wonwoo would be so cute. he just wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off of you while you’re getting ready. he thinks you look stunning in everything you wear, and he’d love to just sit and admire you while you change into a cute outfit. would always give you the most heartfelt compliments before you both exit your apartment to go wherever you’re going.

one night you’d look extra gorgeous though, and he’d have trouble controlling his urges. wonwoo prides himself on having great self control, but when you show him your outfit for the night he’s done for. you both planned on going to a fancy restaurant for dinner that night, so you’d taken extra time to make yourself look perfect. you had slipped on a dress that you bought yourself, and it hugged all of your curves and accentuated your angles in all the right ways. this was wonwoo’s first time seeing you in this dress, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. he’d be completely entranced by how good you look, and he couldn’t resist the urge to grab you by the waist and pull you in for a needy kiss. you’d kiss back, his sudden actions catching you off guard. would mumble about how pretty you look, peppering your jaw and neck with kisses. “please let me feel you,” he’d choke, his hands sliding back to cup the flesh of your ass. “please.” you’d sigh, leaning into his kisses. “what about dinner?” you’d mumble reluctantly, fists clinging onto the fabric of his shirt. he’d slide his hands up to your hips, gently kneading as he sucks a small hickey onto your neck. “promise i’ll be quick. just need to feel you…”

you wouldn’t be able to resist sweet wonwoo :( so you’d let him use you how he wants. would let him press your front against the door, bunching your dress up from behind with one hand. he’d free his aching cock from his dress pants with no hesitation, pulling your panties to the side and dragging his length over your already soaked heat. he’d plunge in, the both of you groaning at the delicious stretch. you’d press your hands harshly into the door, fingernails clawing at the wood as wonwoo fucks you. the way his body presses against yours has your head spinning, and his rapid pace was already threatening to tip you over the edge. he’d still be kissing your neck and shoulders even as he pounds into you like a wild animal ;( wonwoo really is the sweetest, he always wants to make you feel loved even during a quickie. would mutter sweet praises against your ear, nipping at it between compliments.

“so fucking pretty…”

“can’t even control myself around you. you’re just too good.”

“love you so fucking much. god, you’re beautiful…”

his constant targeting of your sweet spot would send your orgasm crashing down on you, tightening around his erection and practically milking him dry. his hands would just aimlessly roam over your body, grabbing onto whatever they can reach. he’d pump you full of his cum as you mewl underneath him, still recovering from your high. he’d just let you lean into him and hold you close as you both try to catch your breath. might even carry you to the car if you pout at him enough ;) he’d drive you to dinner and have the most romantic date night with you all while his cum is leaking into your panties ;(

taglist: @imprettyweird , @jeonghanpill , @bangantokchy , @caratboy , @bewoyewo , @c-hanniehae , @wonvsmile , @haolovre , @aaniag , @writingbarnes , @dokyeomkyeom

[pensherosjourney]

ullmark @ sens pride night‼️🏳️‍🌈🥰