#buy air exchangers

[ultracomfortguelphca]

Air trapped within the four walls of your home is of low quality and inhaling the stale air poses various health hazards to the inhabitants. Thus, improving the quality of the air you breathe is crucial for you and your family member’s well-being. Tap for more info!

[icewindandboringhorror]

currently at That Point which occurs once every few months where one briefly begins pacing around the house teary eyed contemplating selling their own organs or becoming an online scammer or getting on anxiety meds so you can bear the risk taking required to be a hitman or so on and so forth.... why must everything so Expensive... Surely all would be healed in life if only I had one big plate of lasagna and a simple loan of $40,000 ... auoughhh....

[nexus-nebulae]

the human body needs to be less susceptible to stomach fuckups. what do you mean i can't leave the house today or get any work done bc my tummy hurt a little too much for a bit too long

[corkinavoid]

Thank you, @aceinacorner, for this gem:

You are the inspiration for

DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage [pt. 3]

[<- part 2 | part 4 ->]

Duke narrows his eyes.

He swears Tim was not in the Cave just five seconds ago, and yet, in the brief moment when Duke wasn't looking, he just materialized out of motherfucking aether. Smelling like Chinese food and holding a chicken skewer that looks so good that Duke's mouth waters.

"Can I have a piece?" He asks, the divine smell of food overriding the urge to ask 'where did you get it' or 'how did you get here'.

Tim nods, smiles, and hands Duke the whole skewer before going for the elevator.

Is it Duke's hallucination, or is he really humming something as he goes?.. Actually, that doesn't matter. The chicken tastes even better than it smells, and Duke is perfectly willing to keep his mouth shut in exchange for food.

You don't talk with your mouth full, after all.

~☆~

Cass watches Tim over the table. She hasn't heard him coming into the dinner room - no steps in the hall, no rustle of clothing or breathing. It's like the boy has somehow appeared right in front of the door out of nowhere before entering.

What's more, he seems obviously not hungry, picking at his food with an absent, if a bit dreamy, expression. Granted, Tim always picks at his food, but Cass can see the difference between 'Tim's mind is busy with a new case and therefore too distracted to eat' and 'Tim already had dinner elsewhere and is too full to eat now'.

The bags under his eyes are also not as dark as they usually are. Come to think of it, Cass hasn't seen him in a bad mood for a few weeks now, which shouldn't really be that strange, but it's Tim. The smallest of inconveniences can put him in a bad mood.

Tim notices her looking and raises an eyebrow.

Cass blinks and goes back to her plate. Whatever is keeping her brother happy, it deserves her full approval.

~☆~

Jason is... not so sure as to what is happening.

He did notice that Tim was really chill lately, but this is going a bit overboard.

"Did you spike it with arsenic, Replacement?" He asks, suspiciously looking the offered cup of coffee over without taking it. Tim - surprisingly, actually - doesn't react to the nickname in the slightest, instead giving Jason a deadpan look. Then, he brings the cup up to his mouth, takes a sip, and hands it back again.

Okay, well, that proves no arsenic, at least. It's still very weird. Tim doesn't just buy coffee for people, and he especially doesn't buy coffee for Jason.

"Am I going to owe you something for it, or what?" He asks, slowly reaching for the cup. Tim sighs.

"No. It's just a drink - my boyfriend loves it, and I think you'd like it as well," he explains with a shrug, and Jason is honestly too befuddled to ask about anything. Including the boyfriend part.

No, but since when does Timbers have a boyfriend? He sure hadn't mentioned anything about it to any of the others.

The drink turns out to be not coffee but something else, tangy and thick, and when Jason takes the lid off, it's green like Mountain Dew.

It does taste great, though, and later Jason considers asking Tim for another one. He hadn't had anything better in ages.

~☆~

Damian strikes through the last one of the training holograms, breathing heavily. And yet, just as the 'simulation complete' message pops up in the air, he hears a step behind him.

He turns around faster than a lightning, and-

Finds Timothy's neck at the tip of his katana, with his hands up in surrender.

"What are you doing here?" Damian sneers, lowering his weapon, and Tim swallows. Not because of surprise or fear, though, he clearly had some half chewed up food in his mouth.

"Inaccurate drop off," he says, looking Damian straight in the eyes, "I was aiming for the main floor."

He smells of Indian food and spices, and Damian almost sneezes.

"What do you mean 'aiming'?" He demands, but Drake just waves him off, heading towards the elevator up.

"No worries, I'll do better next time," he shoots a smile over his shoulder, "See you on patrol!" And with that, the elevator doors close after him, leaving Damian alone.

Drake has always been strange, but this is too much even for him.

Not that it's Damian's business. He huffs and starts the simulation over again.

~☆~

If Dick didn't witness it with his own two eyes, he would have never believed it. Alas, he did, and even though the swirling green vortex has already disappeared like it was never there, Tim, whom the strange portal just spat out on the floor of the Cave, is still here.

"What the fuck was that?" He nearly yells, and Tim looks up, a face of perfect innocence.

"What was what?" He returns the question, and Dick can't find the words to explain, so he just wildly gestures to the place where the portal has been less than five seconds ago. Tim blinks, "Oh, that. That was my date."

Dick chokes on his breath.

"Your date?" He parrots, hoarse and breathless, and Tim nods, like there's not a single thing wrong with anything that has just happened. "Since when do you go on dates? Wait, I thought you were engaged, you said it was cheating to date anyone else, even if you didn't know the spouse, you said-" he cuts himself off, feeling his own face slowly falling and his stomach sinking down in horror. "No. No, don't tell me."

But the shit-eating grin on Tim's face is already proof enough.

Dick clears his throat. Takes a deep breath.

Seeing that Tim is still in one piece, and, well, that he did just casually come out of a magic portal in the middle of the Cave, it's probably safe to say that it's not the first time.

And, judging by the mirth in Tim's grin, it's also safe to say he's been rather enjoying it.

Dick releases one long, loud breath and forces a smile on his face as well.

"So, how is it?" He asks, trying in vain to sound light-hearted, not suspicious. Tim's smile gets wider, and there's a glint of excitement in his eyes now, which Dick considers a good thing, all in all.

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask."

~☆~

Bonus Scene (that somehow turned out longer than I planned)

~☆~

"Where's Tim?" Bruce asks when all the rest of his kids are already seated around the table for breakfast.

"At Danny's, probably," Steph shrugs before digging into the waffles on her plate. Bruce frowns.

"Danny's?" He asks. He hasn't heard that name before. Is that a friend of Tim's?

"Drake's paramour," Damian clarifies, not bothering to look up from his own food, and Bruce's mind comes to a screeching halt. He blinks stupidly, looking around the table and sincerely hoping it is some sort of a prank, but Cass smiles and nods, and Dick has an expression of pure exhaustion on his face, and Duke is huffing a snort of laughter at him for it.

"Since when-" Bruce starts, but he is suddenly cut off by a glowing circle that appears just a few feet away from them all.

It grows quickly, morphing into a vortex, a green and ominous tear in reality big enough for a person to walk through, hanging in the air a few inches over the ground. The space around it feels staticky somehow, and the color is too bright to look at directly, and it definitely doesn't belong to their dining room. But before Bruce is able to say another word or do anything at all, Tim steps out of it, his hair and clothes ruffled.

"Oh, fuck," he mutters upon seeing them all, and turns around, sticking his head into the vortex just as it starts to close. The vortex pauses.

Bruce is almost too stunned to move.

His kids don't share the sentiment, though, most of them not paying the portal any attention at all. Bruce would have reprimanded them for the poor awareness of their surroundings if he didn't notice how Damian simply glanced up at it before going back to his food.

They saw the portal. They just didn't deem it dangerous. For some reason.

Tim's face comes back out, and he turns to Bruce. His expression looks different than before: a bit smug, a little mischievous, and just a tad bit nervous.

Then, another head pops up through the surface of the portal. A boy - or at least they look like a boy - with snow white hair that floats in the air and bright, almost neon blue eyes. His skin is far too pale for him to be human, and- he has freckles that look like constellations.

For some reason, that's the part that makes Bruce finally resign to the fact that this is just how his life is. With breakfasts interrupted by green portals and otherworldly boyfriends - because who else might it be, really - before he even had his morning coffee.

"Hi!" Said otherworldly boyfriend grins and waves his hand. "I'm Danny, Tim's fiance," he introduces himself, and Bruce conjures the last scraps of his scattered mind to smile and nod back.

"Good morning, Danny. I'm Bruce." He has no idea what else to say; it seems like a bit late for shovel talk, but a bit early for welcoming speech.

"Would Young Master Danny care to join us for breakfast?" Alfred's calm, but still slightly amused voice comes from the door. Bruce turns to look at the butler with a sense of exasperation - is he really the last one to learn anything in this house? - but the man seems... well, not surprised, at least not on the surface. But his grip on the pitcher of orange juice is just a little too tense for him to have been in the know all along.

Danny turns to him and smiles nicely - his teeth are also way too sharp for a human - before shaking his head, "No, sorry, I was just dropping Tim off."

"For God's sake," Tim rolls his eyes, "Just put on some pants and come out, I refuse to suffer through this alone."

Dick chokes on his toast. Steph gasps, her eyes snapping between Tim and Danny in delight. Cass snorts and kicks her under the table. Damian groans.

"Spare me from the details of your personal life, Drake. Need I remind you that I am thirteen," he narrows his eyes.

The constellations on Danny's cheeks shine just a bit brighter, and Bruce has no idea what that is supposed to mean, but his guess is along the lines of embarrassment. Especially when the boy completes it with rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"You mean to tell me that, at thirteen years old, you don't know what sex is?" Tim deadpans, running a hand through his hair in a useless effort to smooth it and taking his seat at the table. Dick's coughing fit comes back with renewed force.

"We didn't-" Danny starts, still kind of hovering midway through the portal, but Damian pays him little attention.

"I do. Yet, I prefer my mind free of the knowledge when it applies to you."

"I want all the details, though," Steph pipes up, looking at Danny from her seat, "Can you, like, sprout tentacles or something, because I know for a fact Tim likes that kind of-"

"Steph!" Tim yells at her, face red, and then turns to Danny, who suddenly has a very interested, if a bit mischievous, look on his face, "Don't you dare."

"Yeah, okay," Danny snorts and disappears back in the portal. Bruce half-expects it to close after him, but the vortex stays.

Which probably means the boy - the King of Infinite Realms, Keeper of Unseen Worlds, Eyes of the Universe - is going to be right back.

After he puts on some pants, supposedly.

Bruce watches Tim rub his face in frustration while Steph giggles and elbows him in the side, and sighs. This is so not how he expected this morning to be.

[pucksandpower]

Paddock Princess

Formula 1 (literally half the grid) x Vettel!Reader

Summary: when the drivers find out that you’re planning to have a baby all by yourself, they offer to help out by playing sperm roulette … the results are surprisingly wholesome

The buzz of excitement fills the air as the paddock comes to life on a sunny morning. Drivers, team personnel, and media representatives mill about, but there’s a palpable sense of anticipation among a particular group of racers gathered near the Ferrari motorhome.

Max leans against the sleek red structure, his eyes darting around nervously. “Has anyone seen her yet?” He asks, his voice tinged with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Charles shakes his head, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Not yet. But she should be here soon, right?”

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” Lando chimes in, bouncing on his toes. “It’s like something out of a movie.”

Carlos nods in agreement, a grin spreading across his face. “A very strange movie, but I’m here for it.”

George glances at his watch, his brow furrowed. “She’s usually here by now. You don’t think she’s having second thoughts, do you?”

“No way,” Oscar says confidently. “You know her. Once she sets her mind to something, that’s it.”

Lewis, standing slightly apart from the younger drivers, offers a reassuring smile. “Oscar’s right. She’s one of the most determined people I know. If this is what she wants, she’ll see it through.”

Logan, the newest addition to the group, shifts nervously. “I still can’t believe you guys talked me into this. My mom would freak if she knew.”

Alex pats him on the shoulder. “Relax, mate. It’s all anonymous, remember? Besides, think of how happy she’ll be.”

Fernando, leaning against a nearby barrier, nods sagely. “Exactly. We’re doing this for her, because she deserves it.”

Lance, who’s been quiet until now, suddenly straightens up. “Heads up, guys. I think I see her coming.”

The group falls silent as you approach, your press pass swinging from your neck and a warm smile on your face. “Morning, boys,” you greet them cheerfully. “Why do you all look like you’re up to something?”

Max clears his throat, trying to sound casual. “Us? Never. Just, uh, enjoying the nice weather.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. And I suppose you’re all gathered here by pure coincidence?”

Charles steps forward, his charm on full display. “Can’t we just be happy to see our favorite reporter?”

You laugh, the sound lightening the mood. “Alright, alright. I’ll play along. But seriously, what’s going on? You’re all acting weird.”

The drivers exchange glances, silently debating who should speak first. Finally, Lewis takes the lead.

“We heard about your decision,” he says gently. “About wanting to have a baby.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Oh. I didn’t realize ... I mean, I only told a couple of people.”

Lando grins sheepishly. “Word travels fast in the paddock. Especially when it’s about you.”

You look around at the group, a mix of emotions playing across your face. “Okay, so you know. But that doesn’t explain why you’re all acting like you’re planning a heist.”

Carlos steps forward, his expression earnest. “We want to help.”

You blink, confusion evident in your eyes. “Help? How?”

George takes a deep breath before plunging in. “We’ve all agreed to donate sperm. To give you options, you know?”

Your jaw drops, and for a moment, you’re speechless. “You ... what?”

Oscar jumps in, his words tumbling out in a rush. “We know you said you were thinking about using a sperm bank, but we thought, well, why not use someone you actually know?”

“And trust,” Alex adds quickly.

You look around at the group, your expression a mix of shock, confusion, and something that might be amusement. “Let me get this straight. All of you,” you gesture at the assembled drivers, “want to donate sperm so I can have a baby?”

They nod in unison, and you can’t help but laugh. “This is ... I don’t even know what to say. It’s incredibly sweet, but also completely insane.”

Fernando steps forward, his expression serious. “We know it’s unconventional. But you’re important to all of us. We want to support you in any way we can.”

You shake your head, still trying to process the situation. “I appreciate that, truly. But guys, this is a huge decision. It’s not just about me having a baby. One of you would be a father.”

Max nods, his face set in determination. “We’ve thought about that. A lot, actually.”

“And we’re okay with it,” Lando adds. “Whatever level of involvement you want, we’ll respect that.”

You look at them, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Wait a minute. How exactly would this work? I can’t exactly pick one of you. That would be ...”

“Awkward,” Lance finishes for you. “We know. That’s why we came up with a plan.”

Logan, who’s been quiet until now, speaks up. “We’d all donate, and then the clinic would mix the samples together.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “So it would be like ... artificial insemination roulette?”

Carlos grins. “Exactly! That way, no one knows who the father is. It could be any of us.”

You shake your head, a disbelieving laugh escaping you. “This is absolutely crazy. You know that, right?”

Lewis steps closer, his expression gentle. “Maybe. But we all care about you. We want you to be happy, and we know how much you want this.”

You look around at the group, taking in their earnest expressions. “I don’t know what to say. This is ... a lot to process.”

George nods understandingly. “Of course it is. We don’t expect you to decide right now. Just ... think about it, okay?”

You nod slowly, still looking a bit dazed. “Okay. I’ll think about it. But guys, this is a huge thing you’re offering. Are you sure you’ve really thought it through?”

Alex speaks up, his voice calm and reassuring. “We have. We’ve talked about it a lot, actually. We know it’s not a decision to make lightly.”

“But we’re all in agreement,” Oscar adds. “If this is what you want, we want to help make it happen.”

You take a deep breath, looking around at the group. “I need some time to think about this. It’s ... a lot to take in.”

Max nods, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder gently. “Take all the time you need. We’re not going anywhere.”

As you turn to walk away, still looking a bit shell-shocked, the drivers watch you go with a mix of hope and anxiety.

“Do you think she’ll go for it?” Lando asks, nervously fidgeting with his sleeve.

Charles shrugs, his eyes still following your retreating figure. “I don’t know. It’s a big decision.”

“We’ve done our part,” Fernando says sagely. “Now it’s up to her.”

The group falls into a contemplative silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the potential consequences of their offer.

Several days pass, and the paddock is abuzz with speculation. The drivers have managed to keep their offer under wraps, but your contemplative mood hasn’t gone unnoticed.

You find yourself cornered by the group once again, this time in a quiet corner of the paddock after qualifying.

“So,” Max says, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. “Have you, uh, given any thought to our offer?”

You look around at the expectant faces surrounding you and take a deep breath. “I have, actually. I’ve thought about little else, to be honest.”

The tension in the air is palpable as they wait for your decision.

“I’m still not sure this is the right thing to do,” you begin, and you can see their faces fall. “But ... I can’t deny that the idea has a certain appeal.”

Hope blossoms in their expressions, and you can’t help but smile at their eagerness.

“Before I say yes,” you continue, holding up a hand to stave off their excitement, “I need to know that you’ve all really thought this through. This isn’t just about me having a baby. One of you will be a father, even if we don’t know which one.”

Lewis nods solemnly. “We understand. We’ve talked about it a lot, believe me.”

“And you’re all okay with the possibility of having a child out there that you might never know is yours?” You press.

They exchange glances before nodding in unison.

“We know it’s not a conventional situation,” Charles says. “But we’re all willing to accept whatever comes of this.”

You look at each of them in turn, searching their faces for any sign of doubt. Finding none, you take a deep breath.

“Okay,” you say finally. “If you’re all sure about this ... then yes. I’d be honored to accept your offer.”

The reaction is immediate and overwhelming. Cheers erupt from the group, and before you know it, you’re engulfed in a group hug.

“This is going to be amazing,” Lando exclaims, his face lit up with excitement.

“You’re going to be an incredible mother,” Alex adds, his smile warm and sincere.

As the excitement dies down, practical considerations start to surface.

“So, how do we do this?” Oscar asks. “Do we all just show up at the clinic or ...”

You can’t help but laugh at the mental image. “I think it might be best if we handle this discreetly. I’ll talk to the clinic and set everything up. They can give you instructions on how to make your ... contributions.”

George nods, looking relieved. “That sounds like a good plan. We don’t want this getting out to the media.”

“Agreed,” you say firmly. “This stays between us. No one else needs to know the details.”

The group nods in agreement, and you feel a wave of affection for these men who are willing to go to such lengths for you.

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” you say, shaking your head in wonder.

Fernando smiles, his eyes twinkling. “Believe it. In a few months, you could be on your way to motherhood.”

The reality of the situation starts to sink in, and you feel a mix of excitement and nerves. “This is going to change everything, isn’t it?”

“Change can be good,” Carlos says, giving you a reassuring smile. “And you won’t be alone. We’ll all be here to support you.”

You look around at the group, feeling overwhelmed by their support and affection. “Thank you. All of you. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for this.”

Max grins, lightening the mood. “Well, naming the kid after me would be a good start.”

The group erupts in laughter, and you roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Nice try, Verstappen. But I think we’ll be steering clear of any names that might give away paternity.”

As the laughter dies down, a comfortable silence falls over the group. The magnitude of what you’ve all agreed to hangs in the air, but it’s accompanied by a sense of excitement and possibility.

“So,” Lance says, breaking the silence. “I guess the next step is to set up appointments at the clinic?”

You nod, feeling a flutter of nervous excitement in your stomach. “Yeah, I’ll get that sorted out and let you all know the details.”

“And then ...” Logan trails off, looking a bit overwhelmed.

“And then we wait,” Lewis finishes for him. “And hope for the best.”

You look around at the group of men surrounding you, each one ready to potentially become a father for your sake. It’s an unconventional situation, to say the least, but as you take in their supportive smiles and excited eyes, you can’t help but feel that you’re embarking on something truly special.

“Well, boys,” you say, a smile spreading across your face. “I guess we’re really doing this. Let Operation Make A Baby commence.”

***

The hospital waiting room crackles with nervous energy as eleven Formula 1 drivers pace, fidget, and attempt to distract themselves. The air is thick with anticipation, and every time the door opens, heads snap up in unison, hoping for news.

Max runs a hand through his hair for the hundredth time. “How long has it been now?” He asks, his voice tight with tension.

George checks his watch. “About six hours since we got here. But labor can take a while, especially for first-time mothers.”

“I still can’t believe this is really happening,” Lando says, his leg bouncing incessantly. “One of us is about to become a father.”

Charles nods, his eyes fixed on the door. “It’s surreal. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and find out this was all a dream.”

“Not a dream, mate,” Alex says, patting Charles on the shoulder. “Very much real.”

The door swings open, and a nurse steps out. The drivers collectively hold their breath, but she merely smiles apologetically and heads down the hallway.

Carlos groans. “This waiting is killing me. How are we supposed to just sit here?”

“We could place bets on who the father is,” Logan suggests with a nervous laugh.

Lewis shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We agreed we wouldn’t try to figure it out, remember?”

“Lewis is right,” Fernando says sagely. “What matters is that the baby and the mother are healthy.”

Oscar nods in agreement. “Exactly. We’re all in this together, regardless of biology.”

Lance, who’s been quietly observing until now, speaks up. “Do you think she’s scared? I mean, we’re all nervous wrecks out here, and we’re not the ones giving birth.”

The group falls silent, contemplating Lance’s words. It’s a sobering thought, reminding them of the magnitude of what’s happening just beyond those doors.

“She’s strong,” Max says finally, his voice filled with admiration. “Stronger than all of us put together. She’ll be fine.”

As if on cue, the door swings open again, and this time, a doctor steps out. The drivers scramble to their feet, forming a semicircle around her.

“Gentlemen,” the doctor says, a smile playing at her lips. “I’m happy to inform you that both mother and baby are doing well. It’s a healthy baby girl.”

A collective cheer erupts from the group, followed by a flurry of hugs and backslaps. The tension that’s been building for hours finally breaks, replaced by jubilant relief.

“When can we see them?” Charles asks eagerly.

The doctor holds up a hand. “The mother is resting now, but she’s asked to see you all in about an hour. She wants you to meet the baby together.”

As the doctor leaves, the drivers look at each other, a mix of excitement and nerves on their faces.

“A girl,” Lando says, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “We have a daughter.”

“She has a daughter,” Lewis gently corrects. “We’re ... well, I’m not sure what we are exactly.”

“We’re family,” Fernando says firmly. “All of us and the little one.”

The next hour passes in a blur of excited chatter and speculation. Finally, a nurse appears to escort them to the private room where you and the baby are waiting.

As they file into the room, the sight that greets them renders them momentarily speechless. You’re propped up in the bed, looking tired but radiant, cradling a tiny bundle wrapped in a soft pink blanket.

You look up as they enter, a soft smile on your face. “Hey, guys. Come meet your daughter.”

The drivers approach cautiously, as if afraid they might break the spell. You adjust the blanket, revealing a tiny face with rosebud lips and a button nose.

“She’s beautiful,” Max breathes, his eyes wide with wonder.

“She’s perfect,” Charles adds, his voice choked with emotion.

You beam at them, your eyes shining. “Want to hold her?”

After a moment of hesitation, Lewis steps forward. With practiced ease, he gently takes the baby from you, cradling her carefully in his arms.

“Hello, little one,” he coos softly. “Welcome to the world.”

The other drivers crowd around, each wanting a closer look. As Lewis passes the baby to Carlos, the scrutiny intensifies.

“Is it just me, or does she have Max’s nose?” Lando asks, peering closely at the tiny face.

Max leans in, his brow furrowed. “I don’t see it. But those ears ... they look like yours, Lando.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Boys, she’s about one hour old. I think it’s a bit early to be playing guess the father, don’t you?”

The drivers have the grace to look sheepish, but their curiosity is far from satisfied.

As the baby is passed from driver to driver, the observations continue.

“She has a strong grip,” Alex notes as tiny fingers wrap around his thumb. “Definitely going to be a racer.”

“Look at those long eyelashes,” Oscar marvels. “Those have to be from Charles.”

Charles preens a bit at this, while the others roll their eyes good-naturedly.

When it’s Fernando’s turn to hold the baby, he studies her with a thoughtful expression. “You know,” he says slowly, “I think she has your smile.”

You raise an eyebrow. “She hasn’t even smiled yet.”

He shakes his head, a mysterious smile on his face. “Trust me. I can tell.”

As the baby makes her way back to you, the drivers settle into chairs around the room, their eyes never leaving the tiny bundle.

“So,” George says, breaking the comfortable silence. “Have you thought about names?”

You nod, looking down at your daughter. “I have, actually. I was thinking ... Nessa. It means miracle. I thought it was fitting, given how she came into our lives.”

“Nessa,” Logan repeats, testing the name. “I like it. It’s beautiful.”

The others murmur their agreement, and you feel a wave of relief. Naming a baby is hard enough without having to consider the opinions of eleven potential fathers.

“Nessa it is, then,” you say, smiling down at the sleeping infant.

Lance, who’s been quiet until now, speaks up. “Can I ask ... how are you feeling? About all of this, I mean.”

You take a moment to consider the question. “Honestly? I’m overwhelmed. Excited, terrified, grateful ... all at once. But mostly, I’m just in awe. Of her, of this whole situation, of all of you.”

The drivers exchange glances, a mix of emotions playing across their faces.

“We’re the ones who should be in awe of you,” Carlos says softly. “You’ve given us an incredible gift.”

“He’s right,” Max adds. “No matter which one of us is her biological father, we’re all going to love her. And you.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Thank you. All of you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

As if sensing the emotional moment, Nessa chooses that moment to wake up, her tiny face scrunching up as she lets out a wail.

“Oh boy,” Lando says, his eyes wide. “That’s quite a set of lungs she’s got there.”

You laugh, adjusting Nessa in your arms. “Well, she is a paddock baby. Got to make herself heard over those engines somehow.”

As you soothe the baby, the drivers watch in fascination. It’s clear that despite their earlier bravado, the reality of a newborn is a bit daunting.

“So, uh, what happens now?” Oscar asks, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

You look up from Nessa, who’s settled back into sleep. “Well, we’ll be here for a couple more days. After that ... I guess we figure it out as we go along.”

Lewis nods thoughtfully. “We’ll need to work out a schedule. Make sure you have support, especially during race weekends.”

“And we’ll need to baby-proof our garages,” Alex adds. “Can’t have her crawling into a stack of tires.”

The conversation turns to practical matters — childcare arrangements, safety considerations, and how to balance their racing careers with their new roles as ... well, whatever they are to Nessa.

As they talk, you can’t help but marvel at the scene. Eleven of the world’s most elite drivers, discussing diaper brands and the merits of various baby carriers with the same intensity they usually reserve for tire strategies and aerodynamics.

“You know,” you say, interrupting a heated debate about the best brand of baby formula, “I think Nessa might be the luckiest baby in the world.”

The drivers pause, looking at you quizzically.

You smile, looking around at each of them. “She’s got eleven of the most dedicated, passionate, and competitive men in the world looking out for her. Plus, she’s guaranteed to have the coolest bring your parent to school day ever.”

The room erupts in laughter, the tension of the day finally breaking.

“Just wait until she’s old enough to drive,” Max says with a grin. “We’ll have her in a kart before she can walk.”

“Oh no,” you groan, though you’re smiling. “I’ve created a monster, haven’t I?”

“Eleven monsters,” Charles corrects with a wink. “Don’t forget, we’re all in this together.”

As the laughter dies down, a comfortable silence falls over the room. Nessa sleeps peacefully in your arms, blissfully unaware of the extraordinary circumstances of her birth and the unique family she’s been born into.

Fernando breaks the silence. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “in many ways, this little one embodies the spirit of Formula 1.”

The others look at him curiously, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Think about it,” he continues. “She’s the product of competition, of pushing boundaries, of taking risks. But she’s also about teamwork, about coming together for a common goal. Just like us on the track.”

The drivers nod, considering Fernando’s words.

“Plus,” Logan adds with a grin, “she’s already got a better sleep schedule than most of us during a race weekend.”

Another round of laughter fills the room, and you feel a surge of affection for these men who have become so much more than colleagues or even friends.

As visiting hours come to an end and the nurses start to shoo the drivers out, there’s a reluctance to leave. Each of them takes a moment to say goodbye to Nessa, promising to return soon.

Before they go, Lewis gathers everyone into a tight circle around your bed.

“I think we need to make a pact,” he says solemnly. “No matter what happens, no matter how our careers go or how life changes, we stick together for Nessa. She’s part of all of us now.”

The drivers nod in agreement, their faces serious.

“For Nessa,” Max says, placing his hand in the center of the circle.

One by one, the others follow suit, until all eleven hands are stacked together.

“For Nessa,” they chorus, and in that moment, you know that whatever challenges lie ahead, you and your daughter will never face them alone.

As the drivers file out, casting longing glances back at the sleeping baby, you settle back against your pillows, exhausted but content.

Looking down at Nessa’s peaceful face, you whisper, “Welcome to the world, little one. You’ve got quite the adventure ahead of you.”

And as you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but smile at the thought of the unconventional but loving family waiting just outside those hospital doors, ready to take on the world for the tiny girl in your arms.

***

The paddock rushes with activity as teams prepare for the upcoming race weekend. But between the usual hustle and bustle, an unusual sight catches everyone’s attention: you, pushing a stroller with a now six-month-old Nessa, surrounded by a protective circle of drivers.

Max hovers close, his eyes darting around warily. “Are you sure this was a good idea? Bringing her to the track?”

You laugh, adjusting Nessa’s sun hat. “Max, she’s been coming to races since she was born. This is nothing new.”

“Yeah, but now she’s old enough to attract attention,” Charles points out, cooing at Nessa as she gurgles happily.

Lando nods in agreement. “People are starting to ask questions. Did you see that article in Autosport last week?”

You sigh, remembering the speculative piece about Nessa’s parentage. “I saw it. But we knew this day would come eventually.”

As the group makes their way through the paddock, heads turn and whispers follow. The sight of eleven of the world’s top drivers fawning over one baby is certainly not an everyday occurrence.

Carlos leans in, speaking softly. “Maybe we should have come up with a cover story. You know, pick one of us to pretend to be the father.”

George shakes his head. “No, we agreed from the start — no lies. We’re all in this together, remember?”

“Easier said than done,” Logan mutters, noticing a group of journalists eyeing them curiously.

As they approach the Mercedes garage, Lewis spots a familiar face and freezes. “Uh, guys? We might have a problem.”

The others follow his gaze to see your older brother, striding purposefully towards the group. His expression is a mix of confusion and growing anger.

“Seb!” You exclaim, trying to sound casual. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Switzerland.”

Sebastian ignores your greeting, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene before him. “What’s going on here?” He demands, his gaze sweeping over the assembled drivers.

The group exchanges nervous glances, each silently hoping someone else will take the lead.

Finally, Fernando steps forward, ever the diplomat. “Sebastian, my friend. It’s good to see you. Perhaps we could discuss this somewhere more private?”

But Sebastian is having none of it. His eyes lock onto Lewis, who instinctively takes a step back. “Lewis?” He says, his voice dangerously quiet. “Care to explain why you and half the grid are hovering around my sister and a baby?”

Lewis swallows hard, looking to the others for support. Finding none, he takes a deep breath. “Seb, it’s not what you think. Well, it is, but also it isn’t. You see-”

“Lewis?” Sebastian explodes, his face reddening. “I thought better of you!”

The outburst draws even more attention, and you can see team personnel and journalists alike straining to hear what’s happening.

Lewis, caught off guard by Sebastian’s reaction, blurts out, “In my defense, I thought I would get to fuck her!”

A collective gasp goes up from the group, and you bury your face in your hands, mortified.

Sebastian’s eyes widen in shock and fury. “Tha- what? How would that make it better?”

Realizing his mistake, Lewis backpedals frantically. “No, no, that came out wrong! I didn’t mean-”

But Sebastian is beyond listening. He lunges forward, only to be held back by Alex and Oscar.

“Let me go!” Sebastian growls, struggling against their grip. “I’m going to kill him!”

Nessa, startled by the commotion, begins to cry. The sound seems to snap everyone back to reality.

“Enough!” You shout, your voice cutting through the chaos. “All of you, into the motorhome. Now!”

Chastened, the drivers file into the nearby Red Bull motorhome, with Alex and Oscar still keeping a firm grip on Sebastian. You follow, pushing Nessa’s stroller and trying to soothe her.

Once inside, with the door firmly closed against prying eyes and ears, you turn to face the group. Sebastian stands at one end, still glaring daggers at Lewis, who’s wisely put Max and Charles between them.

“Alright,” you say, your voice tight with frustration. “I guess it’s time we explained everything.”

Over the next hour, you and the drivers take turns recounting the story — from your decision to have a baby, to their unconventional offer, to Nessa’s birth and the months since. Sebastian listens in stunned silence, his expression cycling through disbelief, confusion, and finally, grudging understanding.

When the tale is finished, Sebastian slumps into a chair, running a hand over his face. “So let me get this straight,” he says slowly. “You,” he points at you, “decided to have a baby on your own. And you lot,” he gestures at the drivers, “thought the best solution was to play some kind of ... paternity lottery?”

Lance nods hesitantly. “When you put it like that, it does sound a bit mad.”

“A bit?” Sebastian laughs incredulously. “It’s completely insane!”

“But it worked,” Carlos points out, gently rocking Nessa, who has calmed down and is now contentedly chewing on his finger. “Look at her, Seb. She’s perfect.”

Sebastian’s expression softens as he looks at his niece. “She is beautiful,” he admits. Then, turning back to the group, he adds sternly, “But that doesn’t excuse the fact that you all took advantage of my sister!”

“They didn’t take advantage of me,” you interject firmly. “This was my choice. They were just ... supporting me.”

“By offering to impregnate you?” Sebastian retorts, his protective big brother instincts in full force.

George steps forward, his expression earnest. “Sebastian, I know how this looks. But we care about your sister. All of us. We just wanted to help make her dream come true.”

“And create the world’s most confusing family tree in the process,” Logan mutters, earning a sharp elbow from Lando.

Sebastian sighs, looking around at the assembled drivers. “I still can’t believe you all agreed to this. Do you have any idea what you’re getting into? The media frenzy when this gets out?”

Fernando shrugs philosophically. “Life is full of challenges. This is just another one.”

“Easy for you to say,” Max grumbles. “You’re basically past retirement age. Some of us still have our whole careers ahead of us.”

The room falls silent as the reality of their situation sinks in. The secret they’ve managed to keep for over a year is on the verge of exploding into the public eye.

“So what do we do now?” Oscar asks, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

You look down at Nessa, who’s drifted off to sleep in Carlos’ arms, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing around her. “We tell the truth,” you say firmly. “Or at least, as much of it as we’re comfortable sharing.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “And what exactly does that mean?”

Lewis, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet since his earlier outburst, speaks up. “We could say that we all agreed to help you have a child, but keep the details private. No need to mention the ... um, method.”

“You mean the part where you thought you would get to fuck her?” Sebastian growls, causing Lewis to wince.

“I really am sorry about that,” Lewis says sheepishly. “It came out all wrong.”

You shake your head, exasperated. “Focus, boys. We need a plan.”

Over the next hour, the group hashes out a strategy. They decide to release a joint statement explaining that you had chosen to become a single mother, and that the drivers, as your close friends, had offered their support. The exact nature of that support would remain private.

As they finalize the details, Sebastian watches the interactions with growing amazement. The way the drivers instinctively work together, finishing each other’s sentences and anticipating potential issues, speaks to a bond that goes beyond mere friendship or even shared paternity.

“You know,” he says finally, interrupting a debate about whether to use the phrase ‘unconventional family’ in their statement, “I think I owe you all an apology.”

The room falls silent, all eyes turning to Sebastian.

He continues, his voice softer now. “I reacted badly earlier. But seeing you all now, how you’ve come together for my sister and for Nessa ... it’s actually kind of beautiful.”

You feel tears pricking at your eyes as you move to hug your brother. “Thank you, Seb. That means a lot.”

As you pull away, Sebastian turns to address the group. “But let me make one thing clear,” he says, his tone becoming stern once more. “If any of you ever hurt my sister or my niece, you’ll have me to answer to. Understood?”

The drivers nod solemnly, a mixture of respect and residual fear in their eyes.

“Good,” Sebastian says, a small smile finally breaking through. “Now, who’s going to let me hold my niece?”

As Carlos carefully transfers the sleeping Nessa to Sebastian’s arms, the tension in the room finally dissipates. Watching your brother coo over your daughter, surrounded by the unconventional family you’ve built, you feel a sense of peace wash over you.

“Well,” Lando says, breaking the moment, “I guess the hardest part’s over. Now we just have to explain this to the rest of the world.”

Alex laughs, shaking his head. “Mate, I think that might actually be the easy part. It’s raising her that’s going to be the real challenge.”

As the group dissolves into laughter, discussing potential future scenarios (“Who’s going to teach her to drive?” “All of us, obviously!” “God help us all.”), you can’t help but marvel at the strange and wonderful turn your life has taken.

Looking around at the men who have become so much more than colleagues or friends — who have become family in the truest sense of the word — you know that whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them together. And really, with a support system like this, how can you possibly fail?

As the laughter and chatter continue around you, Nessa stirs in Sebastian’s arms, her tiny hand reaching out. Without hesitation, eleven hands reach back, each driver gently touching a finger or offering a thumb for her to grasp.

In that moment, watching the most competitive men in motorsport melt over one tiny girl, you know that no matter what the future holds, Nessa will never lack for love, support, or, undoubtedly, speed.

***

The sun beats down on the jam-packed karting track, the air thick with the scent of fuel and the buzz of excitement. Amid the crowd of nervous parents and eager young racers, one group stands out: eleven men, a mix of current and former Formula 1 drivers, clustered around a small kart where an eight-year-old girl sits, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and her face a mask of determination.

“Remember, Nessa,” Max says, kneeling beside the kart to look the girl in the eye, “smooth on the throttle, late on the brakes.”

Charles leans in from the other side. “But not too late, mon chou. You don’t want to lock up in the corners.”

“And watch your lines,” Lewis adds, adjusting Nessa’s helmet. “The racing line isn’t always the optimal when you’re being pressured.”

Nessa nods solemnly, taking in every word. “I know, I know. We’ve been over this a million times.”

Lando grins, ruffling her hair. “That’s our girl. You’ve got this, kiddo.”

Around them, other parents and children stare in disbelief. Whispers ripple through the crowd as people recognize the famous faces surrounding the young racer.

“Is that really Lewis Hamilton?” One mother hisses to her husband.

“And Max Verstappen!” The man replies, his eyes wide. “What are they doing here?”

A nearby father shakes his head in amazement. “I heard rumors about that kid, but I didn’t believe them. How can she have so many ... well, fathers?”

Meanwhile, you stand slightly apart from the group, watching the scene with a mix of pride and amusement. Your brother sidles up beside you.

“You know,” he says with a wry smile, “when I imagined my niece’s first race, I didn’t quite picture this circus.”

You laugh, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh come on, you love it. Besides, you’re just as bad as the rest of them.”

As if to prove your point, Sebastian’s eyes narrow as he spots Carlos making a last-minute adjustment to Nessa’s kart. “Hey!” He calls out, striding over. “What are you doing to her suspension?”

Carlos looks up, startled. “Just a small tweak. The track’s a bit bumpy on turn three.”

“It’s fine as it is,” George interjects, crouching down to inspect the kart. “Any softer and she’ll lose responsiveness in the chicane.”

“Actually,” Fernando chimes in, “a slight adjustment might help. But not too much, Carlos.”

As the debate over suspension settings intensifies, Alex notices Nessa’s growing nervousness. He kneels beside her, speaking softly. “Hey, little racer. How are you feeling?”

Nessa bites her lip, her eyes darting between her arguing fathers and the other young racers preparing for the race. “What if I let them down?” She whispers. “They’re all so excited.”

Alex’s expression softens. “Oh, Nessa. You could never let us down. We’re proud of you no matter what happens out there.”

“He’s right,” Oscar adds, overhearing the conversation. “We’re here because we love you, not because we expect you to win.”

“Although winning would be nice,” Logan quips, earning a chorus of groans and eye-rolls from the others.

“What Logan means,” Lance says, shooting a glare at his fellow driver, “is that we want you to do your best and, most importantly, have fun.”

Nessa nods, a small smile finally breaking through her nervous expression. “Okay. I’ll try.”

As the call comes for racers to take their positions, the group reluctantly steps back, allowing Nessa to maneuver her kart to the starting line. You move forward, leaning in to give your daughter a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Remember,” you say softly, “you’re amazing, no matter what happens out there. And we love you more than anything.”

Nessa beams at you, her earlier nerves seeming to melt away. “I love you too. And all my dads,” she adds with a giggle, looking at the assembled drivers.

As you step back to join the others, the atmosphere around you changes. The playful bickering and nervous energy give way to a focused intensity that you recognize from countless race weekends. Eleven pairs of eyes are locked on the small figure in the pink and white kart, second row on the starting grid.

The lights begin their sequence, and you can almost feel the collective intake of breath from the men around you. Green! The karts surge forward, and Nessa makes a good start, holding her position into the first corner.

“That’s it, ma princesse!” Charles cheers, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Hold your line!”

“Watch your inside on turn two,” Max mutters, as if Nessa could hear him. “There’s space if you need it.”

As the race progresses, the commentary from the drivers becomes a constant stream, analyzing every move, every overtake, every defensive maneuver. Other parents cast bewildered glances their way, clearly overwhelmed by the level of scrutiny being applied to what they had assumed would be a casual children’s race.

Midway through the race, Nessa makes a bold move, diving down the inside of the leader into a tight hairpin. The karts touch slightly, and for a heart-stopping moment, it looks like both might spin.

“Steady!” Lewis calls out, his body tensing as if he could somehow influence the outcome through sheer will.

But Nessa manages to control the kart, emerging from the corner in the lead as the other driver runs wide.

The group erupts in cheers, their earlier promises of “it’s not about winning” seemingly forgotten in the heat of the moment.

“Did you see that move?” Lando exclaims, practically bouncing with excitement. “That was pure Norris!”

“Excuse me,” Charles interjects, a proud grin on his face, “I think you mean pure Leclerc. That finesse under pressure? All Ferrari.”

“Oh please,” George scoffs good-naturedly. “That was clearly a Russell special. Calculated risk with perfect execution.”

As the friendly argument over whose racing style Nessa has inherited continues, Sebastian leans in close to you. “You know,” he says, his voice a mix of amusement and resignation, “I’m starting to think we created a monster.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, we definitely did. But look how happy they all are.”

Indeed, as you watch the men who have become your family over the past eight years, you’re struck by the pure joy radiating from them. Their focus is entirely on Nessa, their own achievements and rivalries forgotten in their shared pride for this little girl who has somehow become the center of their world.

As the final lap approaches, Nessa is still in the lead, but with another driver close on her tail. The tension among the group reaches fever pitch.

“Come on, Nessa,” Fernando murmurs, his eyes never leaving the track. “You’ve got this. Stay focused.”

“Defend the inside line,” Carlos advises, as if she could hear him. “Don’t give them any space.”

The last corner approaches, and the second-place kart makes a desperate lunge for the inside line. For a moment, it looks like Nessa might be overtaken at the last second.

“No, no, no,” Alex mutters, his hands clenched into fists.

But Nessa holds her nerve, taking a slightly wider line and using her momentum to slingshot out of the corner and across the finish line, just ahead of her rival.

The eruption of cheers from the group of F1 drivers drowns out even the sound of the karts. They jump, hug each other, and pump their fists in the air as if Nessa had just won the World Drivers’ Championship.

As Nessa brings her kart to a stop in the pit area, she’s immediately surrounded by her fathers, each clamoring to be the first to congratulate her.

“That was incredible, little love!” Lewis exclaims, helping her out of the kart.

“You drove like a champion,” Max adds, his face split by an enormous grin.

“I’m so proud of you, mon petit champion,” Charles says, pulling her into a tight hug.

The other parents watch in amazement as Nessa is passed from one racing legend to another, each offering praise, analysis, and suggestions for improvement in equal measure.

“I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” one father mutters to his wife. “How is this fair? That kid has a whole F1 pit crew!”

His wife shushes him, but nods in agreement, her eyes wide as she watches the scene unfold.

Meanwhile, you make your way through the crowd of excited drivers to reach your daughter. As you approach, the men part to let you through, their chatter dying down.

You kneel in front of Nessa, taking in her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “How do you feel, sweetheart?” You ask softly.

Nessa’s face breaks into a wide grin. “That was amazing! Did you see when I overtook on the hairpin? And the last corner, I thought for sure he was going to pass me, but I remembered what Papa Fernando said about late apexes, and it worked!”

You laugh, pulling her into a hug. “I saw it all, baby. You were incredible.”

As you release her, Nessa looks around at the circle of beaming faces surrounding her. “Did I make you proud?” She asks, a hint of her earlier nervousness returning.

“Proud doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Sebastian says, ruffling her hair affectionately.

“You exceeded all our expectations,” Fernando adds with a warm smile.

“And trust me,” Lando chimes in with a wink, “our expectations were pretty high to begin with.”

As Nessa basks in the praise and attention of her unconventional family, a race official approaches, looking slightly overwhelmed.

“Excuse me,” he says hesitantly, “but we need to do the podium ceremony now.”

The drivers reluctantly step back, allowing Nessa to follow the official to the makeshift podium. As she takes her place on the top step, her face beaming with pride, you find yourself surrounded by eleven grown men, each looking as proud as if they had just won a world championship themselves.

“You know,” Oscar says softly, his eyes never leaving Nessa as she receives her trophy, “I think we might be in trouble.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, turning to look at him.

He grins, a mixture of pride and mock fear in his eyes. “If she’s this good at eight, can you imagine what she’ll be like at eighteen? We might be out of jobs.”

The group chuckles, but there’s a note of truth in Oscar’s words. As you watch Nessa on the podium, her small hands raised in triumph, you can’t help but wonder what the future holds for this extraordinary little girl with her eleven F1 driver fathers.

But for now, as the sound of applause fills the air and you see the pure joy on Nessa’s face, you push those thoughts aside. There will be time enough for worrying about the future later. For now, you’re content to bask in this moment of triumph, surrounded by the most unconventional and wonderful family you could have ever imagined.

As Nessa runs back to the group, her trophy clutched tightly in her hands, she’s enveloped in a group hug that threatens to lift her off her feet. And in that moment, watching the pure love and pride radiating from these men who have given your daughter so much more than just their DNA, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, Nessa will always have the strongest support system imaginable.

After all, with her fathers in her corner, how can she possibly fail?

[inthemiddleofmae]

morning embrace - paul mescal x reader

summary - paul comes home after a run to see you making breakfast

word count: ~670

a/n: someone might have watched gladiator ii and fell in love all over again with paul then wrote this instead of writing their uni essay...hmm i wonder who that is!! here's something short n sweet i wrote to make up for the serious lack of paul/lucius fics :(

the london sky was rosy and cloudy; it was 7am on a thursday and the sun was still in the process of rising. you had the perfect view of the city out of your kitchen window, and every time you cooked in here, you reconfirmed in your head that you and paul made the right decision buying the flat almost 6 months ago. though the two of you hadn't lived there for long, it was already home.

the radio was on, as usual, and was playing quietly in the background. the sizzling of eggs and mushrooms on the frying pan quickly overpowered the vocals of a song you couldn't quite recognise.

the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the last remnants of the lavender incense that you burned before going to bed last night. this was the first thing paul smelt when he came through the door, with a slight slam and vibration alerting you to turn around. it was then that the smell of breakfast hit him. beads of sweat trickled down his thick, slightly quivered brows - evidence of his long run through the park.

"morning, love," you greeted him, your voice barely coming through the bustle of the kitchen.

paul, still catching his breath, offered a contented smile. his eyes, however, showcased a hunger not satiated by the run alone. you smiled, looking into his eyes before turning back to the stove to gently stir the almost ready mushrooms.

paul approached you and you could feel his eyes on the back of your head. the smile on your face, still present, grew even wider as you felt his larger, sweaty presence lurking over you, taking a deep inhale of the aroma coming from the pan.

"smells amazing," paul murmured, his nose now pressing gently into the curls of your hair. his voice felt like a gentle caress against what was now the morning quiet, with all other sounds falling into the background, leaving only the intimate space you both shared.

"i aim to please - especially hungry runners." you replied, a teasing glint in your eyes.

though his chest was already lightly touching your back, a magnetic pull seemingly drew the two of you even closer together. paul's arms encircled your waist, and you quickly turned the stove off, for you had expected to be distracted now that you were in the arms of your lover.

“thank you.” paul whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to the nape of your neck, making you all flustered and warm inside.

as the aroma of the now finished breakfast continued to fill the air, you turned around in paul's arms to face him. your eyes met first in a silent exchange, then you tilted you head up so your lips could meet - a fusion of passion, the sweet taste of morning, and the slightly salty taste of his sweat.

your soft fingers traced gentle patterns on paul's ever so damp chest as the two of you embraced each other, savoring the rare, quiet morning together. with your busy 9-to-5 job and paul’s demanding acting schedule, moments like this didn’t come often. but with paul on a short break and you having taken a few days off, you were determined to make the most of it. the kiss deepened as the pair of you smiled into it and slowly swayed to the melody in the background.

“you stink, paul.” you whisper after he hesitantly breaks the kiss, both of you bursting into a soft laughter.

“fuck off,” he says playfully, his arms still around your waist. “how about i eat the beautiful breakfast you made me first, and then we can both get in the shower?”

“well i’m not gonna say no to that.” you say as you raise one of your hands and begin admiring his bearded chin.

with one last peck, paul releases his hands from your waist and reaches above you to grab two plates. you can't help but feel content.

[calumcxke]

CHOCOLATE MILKSHAKE

yang jungwon x fem!reader

SUMMARY: your rich boyfriend- who you never thought you would have a chance with- loves to spoil you. even with the smallest things.

WARNINGS: none just really fluffy and they’re both down bad for each other

wc: 1.9k

notes! this is mainly based on a dream i had about ricky from zb1 LMAOO so sorry if it’s a bit unrealistic and tooth-rottingly fluffy, this was also RUSHED, i know i usually write about txt but i’ve been on such an enhypen kick lately and i loveeeee jungwon

yang jungwon was rich. if that was even the right word for it.

with a prestigious father- who was rumored to be one of the reasons he got into snu- his whole family was loaded.

he walked around campus like he owned it. realistically speaking, he could probably buy it if he wanted to. everyone knew him. and his friend group. jungwon, jake, and heeseung were some of the most well known people at school.

you, on the other hand, were not. it’s not like no one knew you. you were known, just not popular. not like jungwon. you had friends, aka sunoo, soobin, and karina.

which is why it was a bit weird when jungwon had taken a liking to you. it wasn’t anything special at first. just small smiles exchanged in passing, but it was still enough to have you running off and telling your friends what had happened. they, of course, told you to make a move. you refused. that’s too scary. making a move on the most popular- and the hottest- guy in school? you would rather crawl into a hole.

you didn’t have to worry too much about making the first move, though. a few days later jungwon caught you at the end of class, falling in step next to you as he asked for your number.

you almost disintegrated into a puddle on the spot, masking your shock as you sputtered out a yes, putting your contact into his phone. you tried to ignore how soft his voice was, or how intense his eye contact was, or the way he smiled at you, or how cute his dimples were, or- you were down bad.

when you told your friends, they nearly lost their minds. karina was jumping around you, before sunoo concluded this called for a night out. you still think he just wanted an excuse to eat out. but alas, you spent the whole night making a plan. or, they spent the whole night making a plan while you sat there daydreaming about the dimple-y, cat-eyed boy who you had spoken to earlier that day.

it started out as just exchanging texts back and forth. you tried not to be awkward, but you always were with new people. plus, you were talking to yang jungwon. if things got awkward, you brought up school. lame, but it was the only thing you knew you had in common with him.

you don’t remember when, but the texts turned into calls, then late night facetimes. looking forward to calling him at night, checking your phone constantly with every notification. smiling when you saw his name pop up on your phone. then he asked to hang out.

in person.

you felt like a part of you glitched when he asked, his smile lighting up your phone screen in the dark. you said yes, obviously. what you didn’t expect was for jungwon to say he was on his way, asking you to meet him outside the library in ten minutes. you still said you would be there, immediately calling karina once you hung up, screaming to her about what was about to happen. she calmed you down, but she was just as excited as you.

you cleaned up as best as you could without looking like you were trying too hard, listening to karina’s advice on how to act before you were rushing out the door, shaking from the cold air whipping against you and your nerves.

the night was fun. you two spent it walking around, giggling with each other about stores you could think of. you learned even more about him. he went on a rant about how good aladdin was while you stared at him with an endeared look. the night ended with you two hand in hand, your fingers intertwined and arms swinging as he walked you back to your dorm.

you two stood outside your door awkwardly, you shifting your weight from foot to foot before telling him goodnight. with a surge of braveness, you were on your tippy toes and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. you watched the surprised look on his face that he replaced with a smile soon after, his cheeks turning a pretty pink.

you turned around to go back into your apartment before a hand on your wrist stopped you. you didn’t have time to process what was happening until you were being turned around and his lips were on yours. he pulled away with a shy smile on his mouth, his dimples poking through as he backed away, whispering a goodnight before he was walking off. you stood in a daze, unsure of how this was reality. you finally stuttered out a goodnight, entering your dorm calmly before you were jumping up and down with silent screams, immediately calling sunoo, soobin, and karina. safe to say they had to listen to you rant for about two hours.

that’s basically how it all started. to this day, two months in, there was only a handful of people who knew. jake and heeseung knew, along with your friends. your friend groups had meshed slightly, although you didn’t hang out much at school. at night and off campus were when you would all get together. you and jungwon in your own world, while everyone else conversed with each other.

right now, you were walking along the sidewalk, soobin, sunoo, and karina in front of you while you and jungwon trailed behind, fingers intertwined as you walked to your favorite shake shop. you had been looking forward to it since you woke up, imagining the cold chocolate shake invading your tastebuds throughout every lecture.

“what’re you gonna get?” you asked, turning your head to face jungwon, his eyes meeting yours as he thought.

“whatever you get,” he replied with a smile, his dimples poking through.

“don’t get what i get, get what you want,” you giggled, rolling your eyes at him playfully.

“i like chocolate shakes,” he spoke, your eyes widening slightly at his sentence.

“you remember my order?” you asked, your lips hanging open as you stared at him.

he laughed, turning his head away from you to face forward again, “it’s not like you haven’t been talking about it all day.”

oh. that’s right. you laughed awkwardly, mumbling out a ‘sorry’ as you looked forward again. he gave your hand a squeeze, laughing along with you. a comfortable silence fell upon you two, listening to your friends converse in front of you. there was no need to keep talking to fill the silence. just being around each other was enough.

your eyes lit up as your favorite shake place came into view, the light brown and orange shack standing on its own off of the sidewalk, four little steps leading up to the window where you placed your order. you smiled brightly, subconsciously picking up your steps as you dragged jungwon along behind you. sunoo laughed at the two of you, pointing you out to soobin and karina, who could only roll their eyes with smiles on their faces.

you skipped up the steps to the entrance, turning around to see your friends right behind you. you sent them a toothy smile, pulling out your wallet, “i’ll cover us today!”

you tried to ignore the smile jungwon sent you, or the heat that rose to your cheeks as you spun back around to greet the girl behind the counter, smiling brightly at her, “hi! can i get one- sorry, two chocolate shakes,” you paused as she put the drinks in, looking back up at you, “and then just whatever they want.”

you gestured to your friends behind you, stepping out of the way so they could place their orders. you bounced slightly on your heels, biting your bottom lip as you gave jungwon a cheeky smile, too excited for your shake to function properly. was it embarrassing to get this excited over a chocolate shake? probably. you didn’t care.

when everyone finished ordering, you stepped back up to the counter, pulling your wallet out of your bag and reaching for your card. you looked back up just in time to see jungwon leaning against the counter, sending you a cocky smile as he placed his card on the card reader, before turning his head to smile at the girl, taking the receipt from her.

your jaw dropped, a pout forming on your lips as you looked up at him, “i was gonna pay for it.”

he huffed out a laugh, squeezing one of your cheeks before shoving his card back in his wallet, heading to lean against the wall by your other friends, “it’s no big deal.”

you couldn’t fight the smile that was threatening to creep on your lips, you steps quickly catching up to him as you stood in front of him, “you didn’t have to do that.”

truthfully, you knew it was nothing to him. $40 was practically like a penny to him, it wouldn’t affect him in any way. when he said it wasn’t a big deal, it truly wasn’t. you still couldn’t help yourself from feeling bad when he bought stuff for you, though. you didn’t want to seem like the girlfriend that leeches off of her rich boyfriend.

“baby,” he started, a smile on his lips as he reached for your hands, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles as he continued, “i would buy you anything. no matter how many zeros are at the end.”

you didn’t know what to say back. your mouth opened and closed, his words effectively shutting you up as your cheeks turned a bright red. you didn’t expect those words to leave his mouth.

smirking at your flustered reaction, he continued, leaning closer to your face as he whispered, “whether it be two zeros,” he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, moving over to the other one, “three zeros”. another kiss.

he pulled back slightly, a soft smile on his lips as one hand left yours to grab your chin, tilting your head up to meet his, “six zeros.” he pressed his lips against yours, a soft, lingering kiss that had you reeling, his words making your mind spin.

when he pulled away, you couldn’t help the words that spilled from your mouth, “you would spend a million dollars on me?”

he simply laughed, pulling the hand he was still holding so your chest collided with his, wrapping his arms around you, “i would spend all my money on you.”

you smiled, snuggling your head into his chest as you whined, your cheeks burning, “don’t say stuff like that,” you mumbled out, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“why?” he asked simply, and you felt him shrug as he rested his head on top of yours before he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, “it’s the truth.”

and suddenly, the chocolate shake didn’t seem as important, nor did anything else around you. just spending this moment with jungwon, wrapped in his arms, practically surrounded by him, simply being there with him- was all that was on your mind.

all you knew was that he was as down bad for you as you were for him, and that somehow made you fall more in love with him, tilting your head up slightly to press a soft kiss against his neck before mumbling, “you have to let me buy you dinner tonight, though.”

he snorted out a laugh, wrapping his arms tighter around you, “yeah, right.”

[yurastarry]

screw that pillow— screw himself too!

saiki k. x reader

✦ — notes : i can't sleep without cuddling a pillow it feels so incomplete and empty and it irritates me ARRGGHHHHH

୨୧ cws : touch starved reader. fluff.

✦ — warnings : established romantic relationship. probably ooc saiki.

you and SAIKI planned to watch a movie at his house while having both of your favorite sweets at the same time.

saiki had just teleported to buy coffee jelly and your favorite desert at a convenience store.

you stared at the open window of his bedroom. it's a sunny day. the sunlight pooled through the window, giving your room a lukewarm ambience.

the birds chirped as the wind breezed in the room. the cool breeze was subtly brushing your face.

you inhale the fresh air, and relax for a bit as you bask in your lonesome.

that was when you realized that you were feeling tired and drowsy. your eyes were starting to close on you. your mind goes all the way back to monday; you remembered you didn't get enough sleep this week because of some class report that was super important for your grade.

you fight the urge to sleep and occasionally flick yourself on the forehead a few times to wake yourself up. it worked, but it didn't stay for long.

curses. it's getting hard to stay up. you wouldn't want to ruin a date, would you?

.. or maybe you should go and get some shut eye for a bit. saiki's gone for a few minutes so you have some time to take a power nap.

you yawned, rubbing your eyes slowly. it wouldn't hurt, right?

yeah, it wouldn't.

you close your eyes, deciding to snooze for a bit. you grab a nearby pillow and cuddle with it, and the pillow smelled like saiki.

you slowly feel your drowsiness enveloping you, and immediately fall asleep.

saiki teleports back with a bag filled with coffee jelly and your favorite dessert, and sees your figure cuddling a plushie.

'figures, i knew they would be sleeping by now.' he rubs his eyes through his glasses. he's aware you hadn't had enough sleep this week, and the lack of sleep made you miserable.

saiki stared at the pillow you were hugging. he knew you were touch starved and absolutely hated it. he'd swat your hand away if you tried to pinch his cheeks, or if he was feeling petty, he'd teleport behind you if you wanted to surprise him a hug; he's not the one to like physical touch.

he's seen you cuddle plushies and pillows in your sleep and he took you as the type to become cuddly and clingy in your sleep, but why is he getting so worked up just because of a mere pillow?

'no, it's nothing to me. why would i get—'

then it hit him hard. saiki, an all knowing and powerful psychic, getting jealous because of a lousy pillow? absolutely foolish. he wouldn't feel like that at all!

this is something silly to be absurd about, and he felt preposterous; not only on that damn pillow but himself too, for getting so pissed at it for some stupid reason. screw that pillow— screw himself too!

a sigh escapes his lips as he sets the bag down at his table. he wouldn't mind spending the rest of the day sleeping in with you anyway, he's tired too.

he walks to his bed, carefully lying down as to not wake you up. the two of you are in close proximity and he becomes hyperaware with his surroundings, his mind racing with his thoughts.

it feels weird for him to be this close to you, even if you had exchanged kisses and hugs in the past, but you always initiated them. this time, he's the one initiating.

he reluctantly encircled his arm around your waist, pulling you close. he feels you shifting to snuggle up to him, your head leaning to his chest.

maybe this wasn't all too bad.

saiki closes his eyes and immediately felt lightheaded after, enveloping your warmth as he falls into deep slumber.

you're going to have to wake up to a lazy psychic after.

reblogs are appreciated! ♡

[saturnsorbits]

Secret Santa at the office where you jokingly tell your desk neighbour that you’d settle for a smiling Bakugo for Christmas…

Queue the Christmas party.

The soft hum of Christmas music floats through the air, layered under the gentle chatter and gossip that blooms from groups seated around glass topped tables with too many empty champagne flutes. Gifts are exchanged, some more well received than others.

Izuku buys Ochako a far too expensive necklace, that does the job of outing his crush on her so he doesn’t have to. Mineta buys Momo a G-String and is promptly escorted out with notice to report to HR come Monday. A new tie passes from Shoji to Tokoyami. A desk-weight set between Tetsutetsu and Kirishima.

You’re giftless so far and as Bakugo trudges down the stairs with his signature frown itching at his skin between his eyes - you expect to remain that way.

He strides towards you and stops short, before fumbling around in his pocket.

‘Bakugo, if you’re my secret Santa you don’t have to-.’

Swearing under his breath, he snatches the bright red bow from his suit pants and pins it to the shoulder of his shirt with a too hard smack. ‘You sure?’ He grins, flashing teeth and cocking an eyebrow. ‘Because I got you exactly what you wanted.’

[noharaaa]

𝐌𝐚𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧 & 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐠 (𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐱 !𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

Author’s Note: Disclaimer! This plot is not to encourage drug usage! Don’t do drugs people!

• Reader has no specific gender.

• Parody fic! This is all for jokes.

Enjoy Reading!

╰᭡⿴༘͜─𖧷̷۪۪᪇ ༘᪇𖧷̷۪۪⃟ꦽ⃟:: ᰰ۪۪꧇⿴༘⃕▦᰷᰷ᰰ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

Back in your more questionable days, Choi Su Bong was a frequent (and unforgettable) customer. He’d show up at the oddest hours, paying in cryptic compliments and half-finished rhymes while buying from your stash. You were just trying to make a living, but he treated every transaction like a chapter in some epic cosmic romance. He was the aspiring rapper who thought the universe revolved around him, and you were the unlucky drug dealer stuck listening to his "intergalactic" bars. You thought those days were behind you….until now, when fate (or bad karma) brought him crashing back into your life in the most ridiculous way possible.

part 2 ‖ 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

You thought you would never see him again. Not here in this neon nightmare of death games and psychopathic guards. But there he was: Thanos, in all his glory, with that fucking green jump suit that somehow made him look dumber than whatever way he already looked.

“Y/N,” he said, “Fancy seeing you here.”

You groaned. Loudly. “Of course, it’s you. The universe wouldn’t be cruel enough to allow me to escape this.”

“Cruel? Or destined?”

Yep. That’s right. Back when you were still deep in the game... no, not this death game, the other one, with the gangs and dealers and all of the cursed undergound deals you used to sell to him inthhe past. He wasn’t really ‘Thanos’ at that point. No, he was just Choi Su Bong, a wannabe rapper with a galaxy-sized ego.

And yeah, sure, he paid well (sometimes in bundles he claimed were from a “distant realm,” but who cares), but at the price of listening to him rap the ugliest bars you ever heard. You thought you were forever done with that life. But now?

Now, he’s here. In your face. In this game. While somehow managing to “flirt” in the most awkward, over-the-top ways imaginable.

“What on earth are you doing here?” you said, narrowing your eyes. “Your rap career flopped, or what?”

His exaggerated chuckle made a few of the other players look nervously in your direction, “The rap game couldn't handle me,” he said, “But I knew destiny would unite us again.”

“Destiny? Or that you can’t stay out of trouble?”

He ignored that. “Remember our late-night deals? The way we’d share whispers in the dark with secrets exchanged like precious jewels?”

Seriously?

You stared at him. “Thanos, I sold you weed.”

“Cosmic weed,” he corrected you with his finger held up, “And inspiration.”

“Uh, no? I sold you product … so you could get high and spit more of those garbage raps of yours.”

“I know you meant to say terribly brilliant raps,” he corrected one more time. “And now, here we are. Two fighters in this brutal game, bonded again.”

“I’m trying to survive. not write a duet with you,”

He grinned mischievously. “But survival is an art. And the two of  us? We’ll create a masterpiece together.

Before you could unload with all the insults bubbling in your  throat, Nam-gyu (Player 124) popped out of thin air and attached himself to Thanos like a lost puppy. “Hey, Boss! Who’s your friend?”

“Y/N,  meet Nam-su.”

“Nam-gyu.” Player 124 corrected.

Thanos corrected  himself, “Meet Nam-gyu. My… sidekick.”

Nam-gyu grinned. “Boss says I’ve got potential. What about you? Are you friends with him or something?”

You let out a heavy sigh. “Sure.”

The purple-haired boy added, his voice dripping with innuendo, “More than friends.  Kindred spirits. Partners in destiny.”

Nam-gyu’s eyes widened. “Whoa. That’s deep.”

“It’s delusional” you muttered.

Nam-gyu looked between the two of you. “So… is this like, a thing? You guys got history?”

Thanos smiled, the kind of smile that made you want to punch it off his face. “A cosmic connection, forged in the fires of ambition and—”

“If you say ‘destiny’ one more time, I swear I’ll throw you into the next game.”

Nam-gyu whistled quietly, leaning closer to Thanos. “Feisty much?”

“They’ve always had a fiery temper,” Thanos said, not even trying to hide his amusement. “One of the many things I admire about them.”

“Admire all you want,” you said, crossing your arms. “But if you think I’m going to partner up with you again, you’ve got another thing coming.”

He shrugged, utterly unfazed. “We’ll see, Y/N. We’ll see.”

You huffed, turning on your heel and walking away, hoping to find literally anyone else to align with in this twisted game.

And you knew, deep down, that fate (or your seriously bad luck) wasn’t done with you yet.

part 2 ‖ 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

╰᭡⿴༘͜─𖧷̷۪۪᪇ ༘᪇𖧷̷۪۪⃟ꦽ⃟:: ᰰ۪۪꧇⿴༘⃕▦᰷᰷ᰰ

Author’s Note: (Leave a like! Or reblog! I respond to anyone ❤️)

[muniimyg]

⋆꙳•❅ ksj: buy me presents ❆•꙳

in which you and your boyfriend, jin, do a gift exchange... you get him a new game console and he gifts you his credit card

series m.list // taglist

note: pretty intimate..... idk..... holy shit !!!!

warning: body worship, spitting, fingering, jin eats her ass and pussy ??? choking, raw sex, missionary, doggy, anal !!!! oc's legs are over her head at one point, and jin has a big cock (duh)

//

the christmas tree bathes the room in a soft, golden glow, its twinkling lights dancing over the crinkled wrapping paper scattered across the floor. the scent of cinnamon and pine lingers, weaving through the faint melody of holiday music humming softly from the speaker perched on the shelf.

you’re cross-legged on the rug, knees almost brushing seokjin’s, his gaze fixed on you with that familiar mix of curiosity and warmth. the final gift for him sits in your lap, its weight pressing into your palms, making your heart skip with a giddy kind of anticipation.

“okay, this is the big one,” you say, nudging the box toward him.

he eyes it suspiciously, his head tilting like he’s trying to solve a riddle without all the clues. “what is it?”

“just open it, jin,” you reply, leaning back on your hands, and biting back a grin.

he makes a show of inspecting the wrapping job first, his fingers tracing the perfectly folded edges. 

“you wrapped this, didn’t you?”

“obviously.”

“of course you did,” he mutters, shaking his head with an exaggerated sigh. “it’s too perfect. how am i supposed to rip this open?”

“you could just do it,” you tease, gesturing impatiently. “before i take it back—”

immediately, he starts peeling the paper. he’s careful at first, then impatient when the box beneath reveals itself. when he lifts the lid, the air between you shifts.

“no way,” he breathes, staring at the pristine, matte-black console nestled inside. “a PS5?”

“yeah. do you like it?” you ask, your grin widening as his eyes flicker between the console and you, disbelief written all over his face.

but then he spots the second item tucked beneath it, a signed copy of valorant with the unmistakable signature of ninja, his favorite streamer.

“you’re kidding,” he says, pulling the case out with both hands like it’s the holy grail.

“merry christmas!” you say softly, watching as his lips part, his expression stuck somewhere between awe and amazement.

“this is—how did you even—” he trails off, his thumb brushing over the sharpie scrawl. “ninja… how? h-how’d you do this?”

“turns out he’s not that hard to track down if you know the right people,” you reply with a shrug, trying to play it cool even though your chest feels warm from how happy he looks. “he’s pretty nice too. chill guy.”

“you talked to him?”

“yeah. he said you’re handsome.”

jin sets the case down gently, like it’s made of glass, and reaches over to grab your hands, pulling you closer.

“this is insane,” he says, his voice quieter now, like he’s still processing it all. “you’re insane.”

“in a good way, right?”

“the best way,” he says, squeezing your hands before letting go and reaching for the console again. “i seriously don’t know how i’m supposed to top this. thank you, love.”

he reaches for you. you kiss him softly and giggle against his lips. he doesn’t want to let go of you just yet. seokjin leans in again, kissing you more. 

laughing, you pull away and reach your arms out to him. 

“my turn!” 

seokjin reaches behind him and takes out his present. his fingers nervously trace the edge of the ribbon tied around the small box in his hands. he looks at you, then at the box, then back at you, and finally thrusts it forward.

“here,” he says, voice low and almost embarrassed. “merry christmas, love.”

you take it gently, the velvet box cool against your palms. the name cartier gleams faintly on the lid, and your heart jumps. you glance up at him, but his eyes are fixed on the floor, his knee bouncing slightly.

lifting the lid, you see it—a thin gold promise ring, the dainty diamond catching the glow of the lights. 

it’s beautiful, understated in a way that feels so seokjin.

before you can say a word, he shifts forward, his hand brushing yours as he lifts the cushion beneath the ring. 

“there’s, uh… also this,” he mutters, revealing his sleek black credit card tucked underneath. he groans softly, his ears burning pink as he stumbles through his explanation. 

“to be so honest with you… i didn’t know what else to get you. the ring—it’s been in my sock drawer for 2 months. i couldn’t think, i ran out of time, and… i’m sorry. your present was so much better than mine. i feel so bad—”

your fingers tighten around the box, a laugh bubbling out of you before you can stop it. “seokjin,” you say, shaking your head, “this is perfect. thank you so much, love.”

he blinks at you, a little uncertain, and you reach for his hands, tugging him closer until your knees bump. 

“seokjin, i love it,” you murmur. “i love you.”

he exhales, shoulders relaxing as a small smile pulls at his lips. he takes the ring with careful hands, holding it like something precious. 

“this isn’t just a christmas gift,” he says softly, slipping it onto your finger. his eyes meet yours, steady and warm. “it’s a promise. i promise to take care of you, to make you laugh, to be patient when you’re stubborn and to listen when you need me to... and i promise to give you a better christmas gift next year… and the year after that. the year after that… and the year after—”

“i get it,” you laugh. “you could give me a paper ring and i’d still love it.”

he rolls his eyes, partly because he knows you’re telling the truth and partly because it’s riddiculous that he’d ever give you a paper ring. come on. he’s fucking rich and the ideal provider man. a paper ring? he’s not here to play games—10 carat ring minimum for your engagement (which he’s in the middle of planning). 

seokjin takes your hand and slips the ring on your 4th finger. 

“it fits,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing lightly over the ring now resting on your finger.

“it fits,” you echo, the corners of your mouth lifting as you admire the delicate band.

the mall is bustling with last-minute shoppers, but none of it phases you as you tug seokjin along, weaving through the crowd with his hand firmly clasped in yours. he follows you willingly, even when you pause outside a lingerie store, the display mannequins clad in delicate lace and silk.

you glance back at him, your lips curling into a mischievous smile. 

“what do you think? should i?”

his eyes widen slightly, his ears already tinged pink.

“uh—yeah. yes. absolutely.”

you giggle, dragging him inside.

a few minutes later, you’re behind a curtain, slipping into the first set—a soft pink number that feels like it was made for you.

“jin,” you call out, peeking your head through the curtain. “ready?”

“more than ready,” he replies, his voice slightly strained.

when you step out, his reaction is immediate. his jaw slackens, and he leans forward, elbows braced on his knees as he takes you in.

“oh my god,” he mutters, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. “you’re—wow.”

you do a playful spin, the fabric fluttering lightly. “so? should i get it?”

“get all of them,” he says without hesitation. “max out the card. please."

seokjin fears he might cum too fast tonight.

you’re wearing one out of the literal twelve sets and he can’t breathe. as his fred chain dangles above you, he leans down to kiss you. before he does, he pauses.

his presence fills the space like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. his eyes that have you pinned. dark and searching, like he’s memorizing every detail of you, every breath you take.

“you’re so…” his voice trails off, soft and low, like he’s lost the words somewhere between his chest and yours. his hand lifts, fingertips brushing the curve of your jaw, then settling there like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

you tilt your head up, heart thundering in your chest as his thumb grazes your cheek, his touch both gentle and deliberate. he leans down even more, slow enough to send shivers down your spine. 

“love,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a whisper of a touch, like he’s asking permission, like he’s afraid of what happens when he finally gives in. but then he does—closing the space between you, his mouth firm and soft all at once, his other hand slipping to your waist to hold you steady.

he kisses you like it’s the only thing he’s ever been sure of, his frame looming over you, protective and unyielding. his fingers tighten at your jaw, tilting your face just so, and when he deepens the kiss.

you grasp at his polo, bunching the fabric in your fists to keep yourself upright, and he makes this low, quiet sound in the back of his throat… it’s like the idea of you falling is too much. his lips leave yours for a moment, just long enough for him to rest his forehead against yours, his breathing uneven.

“you’re so perfect,” he whispers, his voice a little ragged, his thumb brushing once more against your cheek before his lips find yours again. “i love you so much.”

before you know it, he shifts, kissing you from your lips to down your neck. then, over your breasts. gently, he tugs on your new lace bra and reveals your breasts. he kisses them, finding your nipples along the way. sucking them, you let out a moan. 

then, he moves down. 

down to your stomach. 

down to your hips where he bites them. 

then, finally…

“all that lingerie shopping only for me to take it off of you, huh?” 

you giggle as he lifts your legs to get a better view of your pussy in the lace lingerie. he lets out a groan, admiring the way your body looks. quickly, he takes his shirt off and shifts out of his boxers. he’s totally naked now and you can’t help but admire his build. 

he’s so… strong. his body is so fucking lean and the way his muscle are carved makes it so difficult for you to not be soaking wet. 

and god… his cock?

his perfect cock. 

seokjin’s cock has to be the best one you’ve ever seen. actually, it’s the only one you’ve ever seen. you’ve been in a relationship with him since your early 20s and he was the one to take your virginity. when you talk about sex with your friends, you can’t help but feel sorry for them. 

not because their sex stories are mid… but because they don’t know how good you have it. how fucking good seokjin gives it to you. 

he always makes you cum first.

he’s good at foreplay—sometimes you cum so fast and hard that you sob. 

despite his size (which is an XL), he truly knows how to fuck. he’s so hot. all his mannerisms and the way he maneuvers during sex make your inside tighten and flip over. it’s almost indescribable how good he makes you feel during sex… just the thought alone of having sex with him gets you wet. to be in this position? underneath him, wearing the lingerie he bought you? 

you’re as wet as a fucking rain forest. 

and he knows. 

“so wet, love.”

“i know.”

“for me?”

“only for you.”

he smirks as he takes his cock and gives himself a few lazy pumps. he brings one of your legs over his shoulder and pushes the fabric to the side. he then drags the tip of his cock around your entrance. he taps on it and lowers his head to spit on your clit. jin takes a moment to massage his saliva into your clit, earning moans from you. 

“wanna play with you,” he mumbles. “but i… i can’t. you’re so pretty right now, love. can i just tell you that? you’re so perfect. i love the way your tits…” 

he pauses and caresses them. you get goosebumps. 

“they’re so plump. i love how they fit in my hands and… i love it when i stuff my face in them. so fucking perfect… and your neck,” seokjin’s hand trails up to your neck. he cups them, lightly choking you. “i love it when i wrap my hands around them. so dainty. so perfect for me…”

then, he cups your face and tuns his thumb over your lips. 

“pretty lips too… love it when they’re wrapped around my cock. love it when you kiss me and i bite them. i love how they feel agaisnt my skin… y-you’re… so fucking beautiful, love. your body is my favourite thing in this world. it’s my favourite gift. what did i do to deserve you?”

as you’re about to reply, you let out a small gasp as he pushes himself inside you. 

you squirm, trying to adjust to the sudden harsh push. his cock is hard and long, you feel it reach your guts. 

he stays still for a moment, lowering his body and kissing your neck. in your ear, he murmurs; “you okay?”

“mhm.. so big, love.”

“sorry,” he chuckles. “do you want me to pull out? i didn’t stretch you out… just… just wanted to be in you.”

“it’s okay,” you tell him, reaching to fix his hair. “can i have a minute, though?”

he nods with a soft smile. “of course, love. let me know when i can move.”

you nod and he continues to kiss your neck. he sucks on it, working on giving you a hickey. you try to relax your upper body and wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. the sharpness of his cock inside you eases for a moment and you take that as a sign. 

“ready,” you whisper. “softly please.” 

seokjin moans in response as he gently thrusts inside you. 

he plants his forearms around you and pushes himself in deeper. his chain dangles on top and you watch it, trying to distract yourself from the burn. soon, you adjust and begin to feel the pleasure. when you feel it, you wrap your legs around his torso. jin takes note and begins to fuck you faster. you hold onto him, unable to stop yourself from moaning and groaning. 

he grunts a few times, feeling your warm pussy tighten around him. 

“jin…”

“yes, love?”

“doggy?” 

you don’t have to tell him twice. 

seokjin pulls out and gets up from the bed. he stands on the edge as you get on all fours. you arch your back as he takes your lace pantie and tugs it to the side. he slips his cock back in and you let out a shaky moan. 

he begins to fuck you, his pelvis hitting your ass loud and fast. 

“this ass….” seokjin breathes in awe. he slaps it before squeezing it. “god, it’s so perfect. look at your curves… love, you’re so perfect. i want to buy every piece of lingerie the world has to offer. you need to be on display… you’re so fucking perfect, my love. oh fuck, i… wow, this ass is so fucking big, i wish i could—f-fuck. let me just—”

without warning, he pulls out and kneels. seokjin shoves his face in your ass and begins to eat you out. he digs himself under, running his nose through your folds and a little on your clit. next thing you know, he’s running his tongue all the way your asshole. you yelp. 

“anal?” he requests. 

“sure.” you breathe, “can you do the thing—”

without hesitation, he stands up and reaches for your neck. he grips it tightly, choking you with a good pleasure. seokjin then runs his hand through your pussy and spreads your wetness into the rim of your ass. he spits on his cock, spreading the saliva to make it more slippery. then, he shoves it inside. 

you breathe in the sharpness and pleasure. 

seokjin chokes you a little harder as he fucks your ass. 

"fuck. you're so tight... so fucking tight... i love you. thank you for letting me have this... love fucking your ass, love."

"mhmm," you moan. "feels so good... cock so big, jin. i love it."

then, you cough and he lets go. 

his hands move to your hips, holding them steady as he fucks you. your body follows and he watches in disbelief how lucky he is to have you. 

then, his fingers find their way to your clit. underneath, he plays with you. you throw your head back from how fucking good it all feels. he plays with your pussy, flicking, pinching, and fingering you. 

“selfish little thing,” seokjin hums. “you want it all, don’t you? you like it when i fuck you in the ass and play with your pussy. i choke you and you love it. i… i give you everything. i love to do this, you know? i love giving you everything.”

you moan at his words. 

then, you hear him pant and feel him fuck you harder. 

“f-fuck,” he stutters. 

then, a few seconds later, as you feel his dick twitch—he pulls out. 

not to cum. 

but to flip you over. 

he kisses you while his hands guide your legs to go over your head. he stretches you, and you almost sob from the way your pussy pulsates. aside from all the fucking positions and everything you two have done so far—he’s also fucking insanely handsome. 

his innocent face and soft features contradict so much of what he’s done to you tonight. 

he takes your hands and tells you to hold the position. wrapping your arms around your legs, he kneels over and spits in your pussy again. you watch as his saliva slips inside you. then, he takes his cock and runs the head over your pussy. he pushes the tip in and then takes it out. he drags it down to your ass, lifts you a bit, and does the same to your asshole. 

“which one should i fuck? i love both equally.” 

you pout. 

“my pussy, please.”

he smirks lazily. “so polite.”

then, he shoves his hard, thick, long cock inside your pussy. 

he pumps himself inside and out of you. his eyebrows furrow from the pleasure and you feel him stiffen on top of you. you clench your pussy as you feel it throb. he fucks you through the sensation. 

“jin…” you breathe. “i’m… i’m gonna cum—oh my g-god—”

he slaps your pussy. 

then, he fucks you harder. 

“can’t this pretty pussy take more?”

you pout at him. 

“i’m… i’m s-so close,” you let out a sob. “you’re so mean.”

he chuckles and lowers himself. he kisses you and swats your hands away from your legs. finally, you let them go and lay properly. his hands then roam your body as he kisses you. against your lips, he murmurs;

“sorry, sorry.. got carried away. i love you, ___. sorry, love.”

as he fucks you, you forgive him. “it’s okay, love.”

“love, you cum if you want.”

you shift and give him a tired smile. 

“but you said not to."

"don't listen to me," he huffs. "i lose my mind whenever i'm inside you."

you giggle and kiss him once. twice. and then a third time before suggesting; "soft, lazy, sloppy missionary? think i can last longer.”

seokjin chuckles and nods. he kisses the top of your head and wraps himself around you. 

“whatever you want, love. i'm gonna give you everything.”

[satellite-evans]

you don't have to be sorry

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Summary: Harry learns why you refuse to let him pay, uncovering your painful past.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: past abusive relationship, little angst, fluff

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

Harry had always found joy in giving. Growing up, even when he didn’t have much, he’d learned that the look on someone’s face when you did something kind for them was worth more than anything money could buy. That lesson had carried over into his adult life, especially once his career took off and his world expanded in ways he’d never anticipated. He loved surprising his family with impromptu vacations, treating his friends to dinners just because, and going the extra mile to make everyone around him feel cared for.

When he met you, he found himself wanting to do those little things even more. Your smile was infectious, your laugh a melody he didn’t know he’d been missing until you came along. You were so strong, so independent, and it only made him more drawn to you, your kindness, and your spirit. From early on, he’d noticed that you carried yourself with an ease that spoke of someone who’d learned to take care of themselves, and he admired it. You were thoughtful, always prepared, and fiercely capable of handling things on your own.

Still, that didn’t stop Harry from wanting to treat you. From the beginning, he’d try to pick up the tab here and there, take you out for meals he knew you’d love, or surprise you with little things—your favorite flowers, a new book he thought you might enjoy. But each time he tried, you’d flash that polite, unwavering smile and insist on paying your own way. It wasn’t just a gesture, either. It was firm, unyielding, and Harry quickly learned that it was one boundary you weren’t willing to compromise.

He brushed it off at first, thinking maybe it was just the way you were. And in a way, he appreciated your independence. He knew you’d never take advantage of his generosity, and that was part of what made him feel so strongly for you. But as time went on, he couldn’t help but notice the subtle ways you’d tense up when he offered to pay, how your expression would harden slightly when he’d suggest covering the check. It was almost as if his offers triggered something in you, something you seemed determined to hide but couldn’t fully suppress.

And so, he kept quiet, telling himself not to pry, to respect your independence. Yet, as the months went on, he found that it bothered him more than he wanted to admit. It wasn’t that he wanted to be the one to pay, necessarily—it was that he wanted to feel like he could express his love without it feeling like a violation. He wanted you to feel comfortable enough to let him in, to let him care for you in a way that didn’t make you feel trapped.

One evening in late autumn, he planned a special dinner. The two of you had been talking about going to this small bistro on the outskirts of town for a while. It was an intimate spot with candle-lit tables and soft jazz playing in the background, and Harry knew you’d love it. The idea of spending a quiet, meaningful night there with you had stayed on his mind for weeks.

The evening was perfect. The glow from the restaurant’s lanterns bathed the room in a warm, amber light, casting a soft radiance on your face that made you look even more beautiful than usual. Your laughter floated through the air as you both shared stories and exchanged glances, and Harry felt the gentle comfort of being in your presence, something he’d come to treasure more than he’d ever thought possible.

When the bill finally arrived, he reached for it out of habit, ready to do what he’d long hoped to: treat you to something special, just because he wanted to. But, as always, you beat him to it, your card already in hand, that same polite but unwavering determination in your eyes.

“Please, love,” he murmured, placing a hand gently over yours before you could hand the card to the waiter. “Let me take care of this one, alright?”

Your smile faltered just for a second, and he saw a flicker of something in your eyes—something that didn’t quite match the confident independence you usually displayed. It was a look of hesitation, one that seemed out of place for you, and Harry couldn’t ignore it any longer. The moment was brief, gone as quickly as it came, but it was enough to stir his concern.

As the two of you walked out of the restaurant, Harry held your hand, feeling the cool night breeze brush against your skin as you strolled down the quiet, lamp-lit street. His mind was still on that moment at the table, the look in your eyes that hinted at something more, something you’d been keeping from him.

He stopped walking, gently pulling you to a halt beside him, his fingers still laced with yours as he looked down at you, his eyes soft and filled with a quiet concern.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, his voice low, careful. “I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but… why don’t you ever let me pay? I know you’re independent, and I love that about you. But… it feels like there’s something more to it. Like you’re keeping something from me.”

You met his gaze for a moment, but quickly looked away, shifting under the weight of his words. He could see a hint of tension in your shoulders, the way your hand tightened slightly around his, as if you were bracing yourself against an invisible force.

“It’s… it’s not about you, Harry,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I hope you know that. This is just… it’s something I’ve had to do for myself.”

He nodded, encouraging you to continue without saying a word. He could see you struggling to find the right words, the weight of something unspoken pressing down on you, as if the memories you carried were too painful to release.

“My last relationship was… it was complicated,” you finally said, your voice wavering slightly. “My ex… he was controlling. It wasn’t like this—it wasn’t done out of kindness, or love. It was… it was about power.”

Harry felt his heart sink as he watched you, his own feelings of helplessness swelling inside him as he realized just how deeply those past experiences had affected you. His fingers tightened around yours, as if to ground you, to remind you that he was there, listening.

“He… wouldn’t let me pay for anything either,” you continued, your gaze distant as if you were looking back at a memory you’d tried to bury. “He wouldn’t let me work. He’d tell me it was because he wanted to take care of me, but it was… it was more than that. He made sure I depended on him for everything. And whenever I used his money, he’d remind me that I wouldn’t have anything without him.”

You swallowed hard, the pain in your eyes raw, the vulnerability in your expression stark against the mask of strength you usually wore.

“It was like… like every time I let him pay, he took a piece of me with it. I felt like I was losing myself, one little piece at a time.”

Harry felt a swell of emotions surge through him, a mix of anger, sorrow, and helplessness. He hated the thought of you going through that, hated the idea that someone had taken advantage of your trust, had tried to mold you into something you weren’t. The thought of someone treating you that way filled him with a protective instinct he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Oh, love,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he reached up, gently brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you went through that. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

The warmth of his hand against your cheek was grounding, soothing, a reminder of the safety you felt with him—a safety that was new, unfamiliar, and terrifying in its own way. You looked up at him, feeling the walls you’d carefully built around yourself begin to crumble, the armor you’d worn to protect yourself falling away under the gentle strength of his gaze.

“I didn’t want to feel that way again,” you murmured, your voice barely more than a breath. “When I finally left, I promised myself I’d be independent, that I’d never let anyone have that kind of power over me again. I didn’t want to feel… trapped.”

Harry listened, his heart breaking for the pain you’d carried alone for so long. He wanted nothing more than to reach into those memories and erase every moment of hurt, to go back and shield you from the scars that man had left behind. But he knew he couldn’t change the past. All he could do was be here, fully and completely, for you now.

He pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a warm, protective embrace, as if his presence could somehow shelter you from every painful memory, every scar that still lingered. You felt yourself relax in his hold, the tension in your body melting away as you allowed yourself to simply be, to feel safe, without fear.

He held you for what felt like an eternity, his hand gently rubbing your back in slow, comforting circles. Finally, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your shoulders, his gaze filled with a tenderness that took your breath away.

" I'm sorry." You said in a whisper, almost unhearable to him. Almost.

“ Oh lovie. I’m here for you,” he said softly, his voice a gentle promise. “You don’t have to carry this alone. You don't have to be sorry. I’ll never make you feel that way, I promise. You’re safe with me.”

The sincerity in his words touched something deep within you, and for the first time, you felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could let go of the past. You took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders as you allowed yourself to lean into his warmth, to trust in the quiet strength of his presence.

“Thank you, Harry,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of gratitude and relief. “I don’t think you know how much this means to me.”

He smiled, brushing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as you continued your walk down the quiet street. The world around you felt different somehow, softer, brighter, as if the warmth of his love had transformed the cold night into something beautiful.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Harry glanced at you with a playful grin. “You know, I was thinking… if you keep insisting on paying for everything, I might just have to start charging you a fee for dating me.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh really? And what would that fee be?”

“Let’s see… one home-cooked dinner a month, plus unlimited cuddle time, and maybe a few spontaneous trips to the ice cream shop,” he replied, feigning seriousness with a cheeky smile.

“Sounds like a bargain, but you might want to raise your rates. I’m a high-maintenance girlfriend,” you shot back, a playful glint in your eye.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “High-maintenance? lovie, I don’t know if I can handle that kind of pressure.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll throw in a free consultation on how to keep your wallet healthy. You know, just in case you want to save up for our future yacht,” you teased, your tone light.

“Ah, yes! The yacht. I’ll need a solid financial plan for that one,” he said, nodding dramatically. “Maybe we should just start a joint account: ‘Harry and Y/N’s Fund for Epic Adventures.’”

“Only if I get to choose the adventures,” you countered with a grin.

“Deal! Just promise me one thing,” he said, suddenly serious.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“Promise you’ll never stop being you—independent, sassy, and always ready to take the lead when it comes to dinner bills,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

You laughed, feeling your heart swell. “Oh, I won’t! But fair warning: you’ll always be my favourite plus-one, even if you are a bit of a freeloader.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Freeloader? I’ll have you know, I bring a lot to this relationship—like charm, good looks, and the occasional serenade!”

“Okay, you’ve got a point there,” you conceded, shaking your head with a laugh. “But just wait until I hit the jackpot. You won’t know what hit you when I start treating you!”

With laughter and lightness in the air, you both continued your walk, the future feeling bright and filled with promise, all while playfully nudging each other along the way.

[pearlymel]

✩ CW: SUGARDADDY!NANAMI, fem!reader, fluff, MDNI unprotected soft sēx, lowkey breeding kink. basically he pays you to spend time with him. overall felt soft writing this.

Nanami watches you tilt your head up, your smile full of childlike wonder as you observe the snowfall. The snowflakes that are as white as your coat.

"You wanted to see me because of the snow?" You ask, your eyes meeting his.

A rare smile graces his lips, and the sight makes his heart feel inexplicably lighter. "Mhmm," he replies, his voice deep yet somewhat soft. "You like the snow, don't you?" He brings the wine glass to his lips and takes a small sip, his gaze flickering over you, from head to toe. The way the snowflakes dance in your hair, your bright eyes, the way you were smiling as if enjoying this time with him… All of it adding to your beauty.

He looks unbothered by the chill in the air, and the snow that gently falls on his shoulders melts on contact. He sets down his glass, his eyes still fixed on you.

His gaze drops to the cup in your hands, his eyes lingering on the steam rising from the hot liquid. "Hot cocoa?"

Wine and hot cocoa, what a match.

“Better than wine in this weather, don't you think?”

Nanami's lips curve into a half-smile at your response, finding your practicality endearing, "I suppose you're right," he nods slightly, the sound of the falling snow blending with the soft hum of the city. "Sometimes it's not about alcohol—it's about what feels nice." He watches you with a slightly fond look, continuing to enjoy the way the snow dances around you like tiny, frozen stars.

The quiet settles between you two like the snow falling around you. He’s not one to fill silences—he’s much more comfortable listening. But still, he can’t ignore the nagging feeling that this time should be different.

“Kento,” the call of his name immediately grabs his attention, “why.. do you always have to buy something expensive for me whenever we meet? I'm perfectly content with you paying me in exchange of my time.” your question is something he didn't expect you to bring up, but he can understand anyway, you're always grateful for the little things, even when you always deny his gifts because they're too ‘expensive’.

His fingers tighten around the stem of his wine glass, and you notice. He’s silent for a beat before he responds in a murmur, "Because I want to."

He doesn’t elaborate right away, his eyes flickering over you, and away, as if he’s considering his words. He seems lost in thought, though he’s struggling to articulate something.

Your fingers glide along the cup holder of your hot cocoa, relishing in the warm in provides for your palms, “you should find a wife for yourself,” you tell him, honestly. “It's better than wasting your money on this…”

But Nanami nearly scoffs at your suggestion. As if it's that simple.

"And who'd want to marry a sorcerer?" He retorts dryly. "One day, you will wake up in the middle of the night to find me gone. Off hunting a cursed spirit, or fighting. Maybe not coming back." His jaw tightens "It’s not that simple." He continues, taking a larger sip of his drink to buy himself some time.

"I..."

He doesn't finish his thought, his tongue suddenly feeling like lead in his mouth.

And you understand, so you don't press on further.

"Maybe I'm just not the type." He finally speaks before he looks away from you, staring at how the snow has taken over the city.

You want to almost apologize for killing the mood but another question pops in your head that you just can't resist but ask.

“Kento,” your sweet voice that calls his name, again.

“Why did you decide—I mean, why are you doing this with me?”

The arrangement between you.

The answer was simple, "You’re the only good thing in my life... right now.”

You chuckle, "I find that hard to believe. Are there not any good people where you work at?”

"Most of them are idiots or brats. Or both."

“Mm,” you take another sip of your hot drink that started to cool down, “does anyone know…”

“No.” Quick to answer, again. “Embarrassed?” You ask jokingly.

And Nanami's brow furrows at the question, "Embarrassed?” he repeats, "More like protective." he mutters under his breath.

His lips purse in thought, before he continues, "I don’t like sharing.”

“… protective?”

“Of course I’m protective," he mutters, his voice low. "What we have..." He trails off, his words suddenly failing to find the right way to describe this thing between you two. Instead, he lets out a frustrated sigh. "You’re special. I don’t like the idea of sharing that.”

You feel like you should close this topic for now, and you push your sleeve up to take the time from your wrist watch.

He doesn't have to ask, it cue to leave. And Nanami always walks you home whenever you meet somewhere close to your place.

You both walk along the snow trail on the side walk, leaving your footprints behind, Nanami follows beside you, his hands also shoved in the pockets of his coat as well as yours.

His gaze flicks from the children playing in the snow, the old friends chattering and laughing as they catch up on life, to the couples walking by hand-in-hand.

“You like kids?” Nanami blinks at your question, his focus shifting back to you. For a moment, he almost looks embarrassed to be caught staring too long at a few children singing and laughing as they drown in the snow.

“Yeah,” he replies gruffly, his eyes flickering to the group of kids before looking back at you. He’s silent for a few moments before speaking again. “I like kids...” he says slowly, as if he’s testing the words on his tongue. “Not a lot, but I like them.”

You giggle, the sound warm and light, and his expression softens. He can’t help but be taken in by your carefree attitude. It's a side of you that makes him even more drawn.

He keeps walking as he glances at you, watching as you rub your chin against the scarf wrapped around your neck. He almost wants to reach out and touch you, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he clears his throat before asking, "are you warm enough?”

You stop walking, “wanna hold my hand?”

“… do you want me to?” he asks slowly.

………..

It doesn't take long until your hand is interlock tightly with yours, his hand enveloping your own in his pocket.

He really doesn't want to let go.

The journey passes in relative silence, the only sound is the crunching of snow under your feet. Nanami doesn’t say anything, his mind seemingly preoccupied.

Finally, he speaks, “Are you really gonna go home, once we get there?”

You raise your eyebrows, “what does that mean, Ken?”

He gives your hand a squeeze like he doesn’t want to acknowledge this moment is going to end.

“You know exactly what I mean,” he says in a low tone, “Are you just going into your apartment and go to sleep, like usual? Or are you... gonna let me invite myself in?”

It always leads back to this after the cute meet ups.

Nanami's hands are all over you as soon as you’re inside. He backs you up against the wall without a word, his body pinning you against it as his lips find yours.

His kisses are slow but hungry, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his hands roam around your curves while slowly letting your coat drop on to the ground, and you huff out.

“You're getting my white coat dirty—”

"I'll buy you a new one,” he instantly responds his breath hot against your skin. “But right now, all I care about is you, and getting you out of these clothes.”

He groans as your fingers run through his hair, his body pressing against you further, desperate to close the tiny distance that’s between you.

“Stressed?” You pant softly, and his only response is a low growl, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he kisses you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth and making your head spin.

“You know I am,” he mutters gruffly in-between kisses.

It doesn't take long until your beneath him on your bed, taking his time worshipping your body—this time he notices how your arms cover your face just when his hands were sliding up and down your sides down to your stomach.

“I know what you're thinking,” he whispers, and the gentle tug at your arm makes you want to peek at him, “don't. Let me see you.” He gives your forehead a peck and you frown, he's being too loving.

“You don't have to take your time doing this, i can take it.”

“but i want to take my time with you.” He says bluntly, “do you not want me to?”

You shake your head, and a half smirk curls up his lips, “good.”

He noses right between your tits, giving them soft kisses which makes your teeth catch at your lower lip.

The minute the tip of his flushed cock nudges right into your cunt, pushing in, you both groan in relief.

Fuck was it a stretch even when you were just taking in his tip.

“Tell me if you don't want it anymore,” he reminds you, every single time.

Only when you nodded and wrapped your legs around his waist did he start to move, pulling out slowly before pushing back in while rolling one of your nipples to distract your fluttering walls from tightening too much around him.

He sets a gentle rhythm, each thrust deep and deliberate, taking his time, groaning as he watches his cock disappears into you before leaving you again and again.

Meanwhile you—you looked drunk on him, your worries pushed away as your head is rolling back and your ruined glossy lips part when he thrusts deeper into you.

“Nanam—” he squeezes your hip before kissing a mole from your body, “did you forget my name already?”

You pout, your fingers reaching to stroke his blond strands, “Kento,” you sigh breathlessly and his lips envelope yours—you’re even more breathless now.

“Ken—” you try speaking, only to be muffled by his passionate soft kisses that honestly just makes you feel a little bit loved.

He lifts your body a bit, his hands sliding down to take a feeling of your ass, giving them a squeeze before sliding up to the back of your thighs as he increases the pace of his rolling hips.

Was he fucking you or making love to you? There was definitely a difference between the two.

“Sweetheart,” the petname he only ever calls you in bed, it rings in your head, and it makes you clench tighter around him which makes him huff.

The rare raw feeling of his girth inside you makes you even warmer, you can almost feel every nerve throbbing and twitching. “i will pull out, don't worry—”

“No,” you stop him, and he seems confused.

“Cum inside.”

Bold.

“Oh, fuck me—” he pants before pressing your thighs down until your knees reach to your ears and you gasp when starts pounding into you like there was no tomorrow, you would stop him anyway if you felt uncomfortable, he trusted you on that.

But with you moaning and whining for release, he can only almost roll his eyes back as he holds it in for a minute just to get a more feeling of you.

“Kento, I'm not going to run—”

You don't know that, he doesn't know that. This is temporary, what if this was the last time you both get intimate together?

Oh, Kento would rather work overtime than end this.

“B-be my wife—” He almost whines when he comes right on the spot, the prettiest moans elicits from your throat as you cum with him, quite literally milking and squeezing every drop of his seed right inside you, making sure not to waste any.

And he's panting heavily into your neck, he's done for.

You stare down at his buried face onto your skin, noticing how his ears have gotten redder, “Ken, did i hear you right?”

He doesn't respond, and only rubs at your stomach slowly. Maybe… it's only a matter of time until it sticks, then this ’arrangement’ doesn't have to end.

[requiemforthepoets]

señor ginger 𖦹 CS55

PAIRINGS: carlos sainz x female!reader

SUMMARY: just you, carlos, your daughter gabriela, and her señor ginger.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, named daughter, food (gingerbread cookies), typos, and few gramatical errors

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hiii. as you all know, i’m taking a break and been practicing to write in my own pace, but i can’t help but post something christmas related one shot! so this is the first one—a carlos one shot! also, i’m working on the my series as well, hoping that i get to finish and post a new part before 2025. i’ve been writing whenever i get ideas, but i’m taking my time as well so i can’t wait to post it soon. i’ve managed to write a few for lando, but i’m 50/50 about it lol. as for the requests, it will be vvvv slow but i’m working on it too. i hope you’ll enjoy this one!

The crisp Swiss air welcomed you as you strolled through the mall with Carlos, your fingers entwined with his. The polished floors reflected the warm glow of holiday lights, and soft carols played faintly in the background, adding to the cozy atmosphere. Ahead of you, Gabriela bounced with uncontainable energy, her little boots tapping against the tiles. Her curls bobbed with her movement, and every now and then she would turn to you both with a wide grin, her excitement evident in her sparkling eyes.

“Mamá! Papá! Look!” she exclaimed, pointing toward a quaint bakery adorned with festive decorations.

The window display showcased an array of intricately designed gingerbread men and tiny, colorful gingerbread houses, each one of them looking like they belonged in a fairytale. Without waiting for a response, Gabriela darted forward, her tiny hands pressed against the glass as she peered inside.

“Careful, cariño.” Carlos called out, voice laced with amusement and mild concern.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, and you exchanged a knowing smile before following her. When you reached her, Gabriela spun around to face you, her cheeks flushed from all the excitement.

“Mamá! Papá! Can we buy one? Please?” she pleaded, her wide eyes impossible to resist.

“Okay, which one do you want, solntse?” you asked softly. She pressed a finger to her lips, scrutinizing the display with all the seriousness of a child making the most important decision of her life.

“That one!” she declared finally, pointing to a gingerbread man decorated with a bright red scarf and tiny buttons. “He’s the prettiest!” Carlos chuckled, stepping forward to open the bakery door for the two of you.

“Prettiest? You mean handsomest, no?” he teased, ruffling Gabriela’s hair as she followed you inside.

“No, Papa!” Gabriela giggled, shaking her head. “He’s pretty! Look at his scarf!” she insisted, her tone firm as she held her ground.

The warmth of the bakery enveloped you, carrying the scent of cinnamon and freshly baked bread. A friendly staff member approached with a bright smile.

“What a lovely family,” they said, their eyes softening when they looked at Gabriela. “And what a gorgeous little girl!”

Gabriela beamed at the compliment, standing a little taller, face pressed on the glass counter, her breath fogging the glass slightly as she examined the colorful array of gingerbread men.

“I want the gingerbread man with the red scarf, please!” she said confidently, pointing at her chosen treat.

The staff member chuckled, carefully retrieving the gingerbread man and wrapping it in delicate parchment paper. “Good choice! He’s one of our favorites too. Do you like gingerbread, sweetheart?”

Gabriela nodded enthusiastically. “Uh huh! He’s my new friend!”

“Such a little sweetheart,” the staff member cooed, her eyes twinkling as she looked at Gabriela. “Enjoy your gingerbread man, sweetheart.”

“Thank you!” Gabriela chirped, voice bright as she accepted the bag with both hands. She then turned back to you and threw her arms around you, hugging you tightly. “Merci, Mamá! Merci, Papá!”

“Okay, you’re welcome mi amor.” Carlos replied warmly, brushing a stray hair from her forehead. He stood and handed his card to the staff member, who smiled and nodded as she completed the transaction.

“Have a wonderful day!” the staff called as you exited the bakery, Gabriela skipping happily ahead of you with her prized gingerbread man in hand.

Outside, Gabriela twirled in delight, singing a little song she had improvised on the spot. “Gingy is my friend, gingy is so sweet, he has a red scarf, and shiny little feet!”

You and Carlos exchanged glances, both of you barely suppressing laughter as her song grew more elaborate.

“She’s quite a songwriter.” you said, leaning into Carlos as you walked side by side again.

“She’s something else.” Carlos murmured, slipping his arm around your waist.

“Well, she definitely takes after you.” you teased, earning a playful nudge from him.

Gabriela spun back towards you, holding the gingerbread man up as if introducing him to you both. “His name is Señor Ginger! Isn’t he cute, Mamá?”

“He’s adorable,” you agreed, crouching down to admire the little cookie. “And I think he’s lucky to have you.”

Gabriela beamed before running back to Carlos. “Papá, do you like Señor Ginger?”

Carlos scooped her up effortlessly, holding her close as she giggled. “I think Señor Ginger is the luckiest gingerbread man in the world,” he said with a grin. “But you know what’s even better than gingerbread?”

“What is it, Papá?” Gabriela asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

He leaned closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “When Señor Ginger gets to meet a glass of milk.”

“Papá!” Gabriela’s laughter rang out again as she wrapped her arms around Carlos, her excitement bubbling over. “You’re very silly!”

Gabriela kept babbling about Señor Ginger with a mix of giggles and how he’s the best gingerbread man ever, her endless chatter filling up the air. Watching her with happiness, Carlos pressed a quick kiss to your temple.

“This is the best kind of day, no?” he murmured, eyes lingering on yours.

You smiled, your heart full. “It really is.”

Later that night, the dinner was peaceful. The soft hum of conversation between you and Carlos, and clinking of plates and silverware filling the air. Gabriela finished her meal faster than either of you, she pushed her plate away, and wiped her mouth with her napkin with a satisfied sigh, legs swinging beneath her chair. She then looked up at you with those wide, sparkling hazel eyes.

“Mamá,” she began sweetly, voice carrying a note of hope, “can I please eat my gingerbread man now?”

“Alright, but you have to be careful not to make a mess, okay?” you said as you stood up to retrieve the gingerbread man from the counter.

“Okay, Mamá!” Gabriela’s face lit up as she wriggled in her seat, eagerly waiting for her treat.

You returned with the carefully gingerbread man, sitting back down beside her as you carefully opened the festive packaging.

“Here you go,” you said as she squealed in delight, then the cookie on her plate, and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Make sure you use your plate to catch the crumbs, so we don’t have any little ant trails later, alright?”

“Yes, Mamá. I promise!” she said, her tiny hands gently cradling the gingerbread man before taking her first excited bite.

You watched as she chewed happily, legs swinging under the table, and humming. Carlos leaned in, with his arms crossed on top of the table, his gaze fixed on Gabriela.

“Is it good, princesa?” he asked, voice soft and curious.

“Yes, Papá!” she nodded enthusiastically. “It’s a very yummy cookie!” Gabriela held up the gingerbread man proudly, but you couldn’t help noticing something.

“Solntse,” you said, trying to keep your voice light, “who are you eating?”

“My gingerbread man,” she said matter-of-factly, holding the cookie up for you to see. The head of the cookie was already missing, a clean bite taken out of it.

“Oh no! Señor Ginger!” you exclaimed dramatically, putting a hand over your mouth in mock surprise. “He doesn’t have a head anymore!”

Carlos, catching on to your game immediately, glanced at you with a knowing look, his lips twitching as he tried his best not to laugh. Gabriela looked down at her cookie, brows furrowing slightly as she began to process your words.

“Awe, bye bye Señor Ginger,” you continued, tone playful. “Señor Ginger doesn’t have his head anymore. Solntse, who ate Señor Ginger’s head?” you asked, voice filled with mock seriousness.

Gabriela’s lip began to tremble as she stared at the headless cookie in her hands. Her big, round hazel eyes started to glisten with unshed tears.

“Mamá…” she whispered, voice breaking. Carlos couldn’t hold back a quiet chuckle, shaking his head softly.

“Don’t cry, mi amor,” he said, leaning in closer to her. “It’s food, remember? Señor Ginger is supposed to be eaten.”

You leaned forward, voice gentle but teasing, asking her, “is the cookie good, solntse?”

She nodded slowly, lips still trembling as a tear slid down her cheek. Gabriela did not answer, she just bit into the cookie again, her small sniffles tugging at your heartstrings.

“Then why are you crying, mon chou?” you asked softly, reaching over to brush her cheek.

Gabriela didn’t respond, her eyes fixed on her plate as she took another careful bite, her little fingers clutching the gingerbread man tightly.

Carlos’ voice was soothing as he tried to comfort her. “Hey, it’s okay, mi amor. Señor Ginger is happy in your tummy now. He’ll give you lots of energy so you can play tomorrow, okay?” he wiped the tear mark stains on her cheeks. “No more crying, princesa.”

She sniffed again, glancing up at him with wide, watery eyes. Gabriela nodded, finally calming down enough to take another bite, though her pout remained.

“Can Mamá have a bite?” you asked as you leaned in, reaching a hand toward her plate.

“No!” she declared firmly as she pulled the cookie closer to her chest, eyes narrowing protectively.

Both you and Carlos burst into laughter, the sound echoing throughout the room and melting away Gabriela’s remaining tears.

“I guess Señor Ginger is all hers.” Carlos said, grinning at you as you shook your head in amusement.

[r0-boat]

MC and the seven Demon concubines Headcannons

Instead of taking a human lover, You had other tastes in men.

You're so busy trying to really your kingdom you sometimes forget how loved you are! Your lovers are happy to remind you.

Satan

Satan is your military Commander, a force to be reckoned with in battle. But you're the only one who can tame him, (or make him worse). Using your body or letting you use his body as a stress relief, He's more than happy to fuck the stress right out of you.

Even though he is a demon, you can't help but worry for him when he goes out to fight Your battles for your kingdom. He writes to you often and brings gifts from war. He tells you not to worry about him since you always do, even when he cannot see you. And when he gets home, he will make it up to you ;)

Satan frequence the training grounds where he can practice all sorts of weapons as well as the barracks where he spars and chats among his soldier and Conrad's at arms. If you ask he is more than happy to train you in combat. There is nothing cuter than you're serious face as your hand grips a sword tightly in your hand.

If you manage to beat him in combat, his eyes will stare blankly at the sky, lying on the ground. He's never been so turned on in his life. He'll take you right then and there caring little for how many soldiers in his army see. To his knowledge the soldiers are smitten with you as whis will be a great reminder that you are his.

Mammon

He was yours from the start. The arrogant demon is so confident to win and buy your attention. As the richest, wealthiest man in the world, He knows his assets, and he's proud of them. Your kindness and humbleness not only confuses him but makes him fall harder. Your personality is just as beautiful as your face and body and you are made to be spoiled.

He worships the ground you walk on and peppers every inch of your body with his lips. Despite having a kingdom You still hold so little to your name. Mammon has known Kings and queens that have the rarest riches in the realm. But you give everything you have and to your kingdom and that kind of generosity attracts him like a moth to a flame.

Mammon is not only the devil of greed but also a successful businessman and merchant. Traveling across the realm to collect more riches and do business with other kingdoms. He showers you with gifts about 10 times a week. Or at least tries most the time you politely decline his generous gifts and it takes him a lot of effort to make you accept what you deserve.

At least you accept his pleasure in bed, when he greedily tastes you with his tongue like a starving man. Fucking your body like he owns it. You already own his.

Leviathan

Your fiance in an arranged marriage. She tells you over and over again that This marriage is only to join your kingdoms in an alliance and you agreed since he offered Not only your independence from his kingdom and yours but also his unwavering support.

Leviathan is starting to regret not joining your kingdoms as you gain more concubines and more rivals to your love He wished he could have just became emperor.

Unbeknownst to you, he's loved you for a while now, But having never experienced this emotion And the fact that you are still technically a rival kingdom, His feelings for you are complicated. Leviathan's followers and devoted subjects constantly stir the pot just so they can have their beloved emperor to get more excuses to be with you more.

Another way to air out the weight in his heart is to write love letters from a "secret admirer"

Beelzebub

The wandering eldest prince to the throne of his kingdom ran away since he hated work leaving his best friend Bael his "brother" to run the kingdom for him. When he traveled to your kingdom he fell in love with not only the great food but the beautiful scenery and the nice people. Finally contacting his "brother"He struck up a deal. To become your concubine in exchange, you would help protect his kingdom.

The Sly Prince wanted this to be a business only transaction but of course he had to fall in love with you over time. When he isn't traveling to other kingdoms, He is by your side.

He travels to other lands, writing letters to you and sending you gifts And when he comes back, he talks greatly about his travels and wants you to come along on his next trip.

Beelzebub is is a bad influence on you. To him all you do is work, work, work, and he tries to coax you into spending the day with him. If you've never been out the palace before he will have a good time trying to dress you up in disguise so the two of you could frolic out of the palace walls.

Lucifer

Was once the eldest son of a powerful empire now kicked out for his arrogance and pridefulness, he is a powerful paladin night with a talented gifts of healing. He treats the sick and wounded. Now he is building his own paradise Kingdom filled with all kinds of people from all different walks of life.

He met you one one day you felt ill from a deadly disease. The people in your court begged Lucifer to help and they do anything... He didn't understand his feelings then when his heart felt lighter, and he felt as though he couldn't breathe. When his eyes gazed upon you're sleeping form he was transfixed. Something about you pulled him toward you. Something about you He must have.

For healing you He asked for your hand. He does not need your power or your people. Since he could grow that himself. It is you he wants and you he shall get.

Even though he is technically your concubine Lucifer and you see each other on equal footing. Lucifer wants you to choose him, But he is still busy growing his kingdom. So the two of you are right often. When he does visit, he acts as though he's your knight in shining armor. Kissing your hand and standing by your side as if to protect you.

Belphegor(+Beleth)

He thought becoming your concubine would be a hassle. He was only doing this for the good of his own kingdom. But that opinion quickly changed when he actually got his first taste of you. Now he's obsessed So obsessed that His "advisor"Now wants you.

If it wasn't for the fact that you're so far away and he needs to still keep an eye on his subjects and kingdom he would not hesitate to live in the cozy chamber you prepared for him when he does stay.

You're such a diligent and hard worker so passionate to better your kingdom All he wants to do is support you, (by sleeping in bed supporting you in spirit)

But you can't help but notice Beleth His advisor had been eyeing you more recently. Maybe he wants you just as bad. His advisor looks more like his knight he probably is to

Asmodeus

You're not sure how you scored an audience with The king from one of the most feared kingdoms on the map. A kingdom known for its lack of laws. With impenetrable rock walls and a thick iron gate being heavily heavily guarded. The Kingdom feels more like a prison than a home. Perhaps that's why most people end up going if they have nowhere to go.

Asmodeus had everything handed to him and he wonders why you're different. He wonders why you hesitate to fall to your knees... He's puzzled by the fact that he actually has competition to compete with.

You're not sure why he's fond of you so. He brings you mountain of gifts some you don't even want to open and many many steamy love letters. It has been a painfully long time since he wanted someone so bad before.

He's fine with being your concubine for now as long as he has in your bed he is But even then that will soon to be proved not enough as he continues to crave for more and more of you.

[moo-blogging]

I want to have a slow love with Levi.

Like sitting at the end of a noisy wedding, people dancing and singing at the top of their lungs. But here we are, sitting side to side against the furthest wall. I rest my cheek on his left shoulder. My right palm in his left, fingers intertwined. My left grabs his upper arm, gently running my nails on his shirt. We are smiling as we watch these people living their best lives. Weddings are truly magical. People were crying emotionally at the beginning of the event, but partying hard at the end of it. No words are exchanged between us but we feel the same relief and relaxation.

Or taking a crowded train on a Tuesday evening. I sit squeezed between office people in their suits, with a bag of groceries we just bought at a nearby grocery store. Levi is standing in front of me, shielding me away from the moving crowd. He's holding onto the handle with one hand and another tugged in his pants pocket. He looks so handsome in a button up light blue shirt and grey pants. We are flirting with each other silently, blinking and winking and rolling eyes and lifting eyebrows and smiling uncontrollably. And when it's at our stop, I'd stand up and tell him, "dinner at my place? I'm alone tonight," and wink at him. He would smirk and follow me off the train. We might leave a random college boy dumbfounded.

Or walking home after a long day at work, and it's raining outside. Levi would pick me up with an umbrella. We would take the longer route because he understands how cold air helps to clear my head. We would stop by a convenient store, buying some snacks or a warm drink or a donut if they still have it. We'd wait at the traffic light, watching the stationary red man turn into a moving dancing green Egyptian. Levi would make sure to look left and right even as we cross the road, in case for any vehicles beating the red light.

Or a beautiful day off morning doing laundry together. Pulling the sheets off the bed. Removing all the pillow covers. Putting the pillows and blanket under the sun. Levi would beat the mattress for dust, and change it to the other side to even out the pressure on the mattress. I'll cook soup that lasts till dinner. The house will smell like soup, detergent and tea that day. And at night, the pillows and blanket smell like the sun.