#energy and pure elation)"

[syluslovies]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ What are the boys’s favorite positions? ੈ✩‧₊˚

We all know, no matter the position, they love fucking you full and thorough, any way you’ll let them have you. But everyone has their favorites.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿ ︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

For Rafayel, it’s cowgirl. He gets to look you in the eyes and witness the way your pretty little face scrunches in pure euphoria- he gets to wipe at the drool that drips down your chin due to your cock-drunk expression. All of this whilst he has the ability to feel your tight little pussy massage his dick like it was born to do so, letting you take control of the speed of your bounces. It’s a win-win-win, really.

Now, call Zayne old-fashioned, but he loves missionary with you. He gets to stare at your visage, a sight he’d never thought he’d see again, in complete awe and love. He can memorize every freckle and mark adorning your face whilst pleasuring you in new ways- over and over again. Best of all- he gets to make out with your soft lips whilst stuffing you full, fucking both your mouth with his tongue and your cunt with his cock. He’s able to keep you truly satiated like this.

Xavier loves doggystyle. With the extreme amounts of golden retriever energy he exudes, it was basically destined. He’s like a puppy in every way, and that doesn’t change in the bedroom. With doggy, he can lean over you, warming and shielding you with his bigger body whilst jerking his strong hips against your ass, fucking slutty little “uhs” out of you. He can whine and beg in your ear for that sweet creamy cunt like it’s a treat (it absolutely is a treat for him).

Sylus isn’t content unless you’re in his arms, which is why standing carry has to be his favorite. When his whole world (you) is in his arms, he’s content. when his whole world is in his arms and cumming on his cock, he’s elated. Simple, really. He’s naturally protective and possessive of you (to an excessive level) and this position elevates these instincts tenfold. It’s animalistic, the way he bounces your small body on his cock as if you were nothing more than a fleshlight, growling sweet nothings. “I’ve got you princess, gonna bounce you just like this ‘til you gush all over… I’ve got you…”

[reidmarieprentiss]

Textual Tension

Summary: You accidentally send a very suggestive text to your awkward coworker, and he replies...

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut (18+), fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, awkward tension

Word count: 6.1k

a/n: has anyone ever sent a sext to the wrong person?? i've only ever sent them to my friends on accident and for that i am so thankful

main masterlist

Additional warnings: oral (fem receiving), mild breast play, soft dom spencer

You sit on your bed, the soft glow of your phone illuminating your face as you type out a rather suggestive message to the person you've been casually hooking up with. A smirk tugs at your lips as you hit send, confident that the message will hit its mark. 

I've been thinking about you… Can't stop imagining what I'd do if you were here right now. I want to feel your hands all over me, the way you’d make me moan… Let’s make fantasy a reality?

But within seconds, your heart stops as you realize the terrible mistake you've just made.

You’ve sent the message to Spencer.

Spencer.

Your coworker. The brilliant, kind, and awkwardly charming genius who you’ve always had a friendly, professional relationship with. And, of course, the one who has been harboring a massive, secret crush on you. A fact that, unbeknownst to you, has led to countless daydreams and wishes that you might feel the same.

The blood drains from your face as you stare at your phone, horrified, praying that somehow the message didn’t actually go through, or maybe, just maybe, Spencer won’t read it and will simply delete it. But you know better—Spencer is meticulous about everything. Of course, he’ll read it. You’re absolutely mortified, every worst-case scenario flashing through your mind.

Meanwhile, in his apartment, Spencer is settling down with a cup of tea, ready to dive into the book he’s been reading. When his phone buzzes, he picks it up absentmindedly, assuming it’s just a work-related message or something mundane. But as he reads the words on the screen, his eyes widen in shock, his breath catching in his throat.

His thoughts run wild, heart pounding as he rereads the text, each time wondering if it could possibly be real. Could you, the person he’s admired from afar for so long, actually want him in the way he’s secretly yearned for? The idea is intoxicating, and before he can second-guess himself, he responds with a message that matches your energy, his pulse quickening at the boldness of it.

Wow… I didn’t know you were into me like that. I’ve been thinking about you too. If you want, we can definitely make that happen.

The moment you see his reply, your stomach drops. You can't believe this is happening. You’re completely mortified, your mind spinning with the implications. How could you ever face him again? You don’t respond, the fear and embarrassment paralyzing you, leaving you in a state of panic.

The next day at work, you’re a bundle of nerves. Every step you take towards the bullpen feels like you’re walking to your own doom. When you finally arrive, you try to act normal, but the tension is palpable. You can’t even bring yourself to make eye contact with Spencer, every interaction feeling like it’s laced with the humiliation of last night’s mistake.

Spencer, on the other hand, is caught in a whirlwind of emotions. At first, he’s elated, thinking that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance you were into him. But as the day drags on and you remain distant, the excitement turns to confusion, then a sharp sting of rejection. Did he misread the situation? Was it all just a mistake? He’s left feeling awkward and exposed, unsure of where he stands with you now.

—

The tension between you and Spencer had become a nearly tangible thing, a thread pulled taut between the two of you, ready to snap at any moment. At first, your glances in his direction were purely out of necessity—quick, fleeting looks to gauge his mood, to see if he was as affected by this as you were. But as the days passed, those glances became more frequent, more lingering.

It started innocently enough. You’d look over and notice how effortlessly his hair seemed to fall into place, the soft waves framing his face in a way that made him look almost ethereal. You’d never paid much attention before, but now you couldn’t help but admire how it suited him, how it added to his charm.

Then, it was his forearms. You’d catch him pushing up the sleeves of his button-down shirt, revealing the sinewy strength beneath the fabric. There was something about the casual way he did it, the way the muscles in his arms flexed ever so slightly as he worked, that made your heart skip a beat. It was such a simple thing, but it had a profound effect on you, stirring something deep within.

And then there was the way he licked his lips when he was focused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he concentrated on whatever task was in front of him. You couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to have his attention focused solely on you, to feel the intensity of that gaze as he looked at you, not with confusion or uncertainty, but with desire.

The more you noticed these little things, the more conflicted you became. This was Spencer—sweet, brilliant, and awkward Spencer. The idea of seeing him in a different light had never really crossed your mind before, but now… now it was all you could think about. The memory of his bold response to your accidental text played on a loop in your mind, taunting you with the possibilities.

What if you responded? What if you stopped overthinking everything and just… saw where it could go? The idea terrified you, but it also excited you in a way you hadn’t expected. There was something thrilling about the thought of exploring this new dynamic, of seeing if there was something more between you and Spencer than just a shared workspace.

You found yourself daydreaming about it, wondering how he would react if you sent him a message, if you matched the energy of his reply. Would he be as nervous as you were, or would he surprise you with a confidence you hadn’t seen before? The thought of it made your pulse quicken, a flush of warmth spreading through you.

But with the excitement came doubt. What if this was a mistake? What if you were reading too much into things, and responding to his text would only make the situation worse? The fear of making things awkward again, of possibly ruining your work life further, held you back. Yet, the thought of doing nothing felt like a missed opportunity, like you were letting something potentially amazing slip through your fingers.

As the day dragged on, you found it harder and harder to focus on your work. Every time you saw Spencer, every time you noticed another little detail about him that you hadn’t before, the urge to reach out grew stronger. It was like there was a tug-of-war going on inside you, with one side urging you to take the risk and see what could happen, and the other holding you back out of fear.

Finally, as the workday was winding down, you made a decision. Maybe you were overthinking this—maybe it was time to just go for it and see what came of it. After all, Spencer had responded positively, hadn’t he? There was a chance, a real chance, that he felt something for you too, something more than just a workplace friendship.

Sitting on your couch with your heart pounding in your chest, you pulled out your phone, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you debated what to say. You didn’t want to be too forward, but you also didn’t want to be vague. After a few moments of contemplation, you typed out a message, your hands trembling slightly as you reread it.

Hey, about that text… Maybe we should talk. Or… you know, not just talk. If you’re still interested.

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, your heart racing as you watched the message deliver. There was no going back now.

The rest of the evening was a blur of anxiety and anticipation. You couldn’t stop thinking about what his response might be, what it could mean for the two of you. When your phone finally buzzed with a new message, you hesitated for just a moment before opening it.

I’m definitely interested. Let’s talk… or not just talk, whenever you’re ready.

The words were simple, but they held so much promise. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you read them, a mixture of relief and excitement flooding your senses. This was happening. You and Spencer were about to cross a line, to explore something new and thrilling.

Just as you were contemplating what to say, how to navigate this sudden and unexpected turn in your relationship, another notification lit up your screen.

Come over? Now?

The message was short, simple, and completely electrifying. It sent a jolt through your system, leaving you momentarily speechless. The implications of it were clear—Spencer wasn’t just thinking about this; he was ready to act on it, to turn this accidental confession into something real and immediate.

Your mind raced as you considered what to do next. Just minutes ago, you were agonizing over whether or not to even respond, and now he was inviting you over, as if the decision had already been made. The sheer boldness of his message left you breathless, your heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement.

You couldn't help but imagine what it would be like—showing up at his place, the air thick with the unspoken tension that had been building between you all day. The thought of being alone with him, of crossing that line from coworkers to something more, sent a thrill through you.

You took a deep breath, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. This was a pivotal moment, and whatever you decided now would set the course for what happened next.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of internal debate, you typed out a response, your heart racing as you hit send.

I'll be there in 20 minutes.

—

You parked outside Spencer’s apartment building, your heart racing as you took a deep breath to steady yourself. The 20-minute drive had been filled with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions—excitement, anticipation, and a lingering thread of uncertainty. You weren’t entirely sure what to expect when you arrived, especially considering how different Spencer had seemed over text compared to how he usually was in person. The Spencer you knew was shy, adorably awkward, and hesitant when it came to personal matters. But his texts had shown a side of him that was bold, confident, and unafraid to take charge.

As you approached his door, your nerves started to get the better of you, but there was no turning back now. You lifted your hand to knock, hesitating for just a moment before finally letting your knuckles rap against the wood. The seconds that followed felt like an eternity, your mind racing with possibilities of how this night could unfold.

When the door finally opened, you were taken aback by the sight that greeted you. Spencer stood there, shirtless, the soft glow of his apartment’s light highlighting the lean lines of his torso. He wore nothing but a pair of low-hanging gray sweatpants, the waistband slung low on his hips, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the defined muscles and trail of hair beneath. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d run his hands through it moments before opening the door, and his eyes, usually filled with a mix of curiosity and gentle kindness, now held a smoldering intensity that you had never seen before.

For a moment, you couldn’t find the words, your breath catching in your throat as you took in the sight of him. This wasn’t the Spencer you were used to—this was the man who had responded to your accidental text with a confidence that had both surprised and intrigued you. The awkward, hesitant Spencer you knew seemed to have taken a backseat, making way for someone who knew exactly what he wanted.

And what he wanted, it seemed, was you.

He leaned casually against the doorframe, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips as he watched your reaction. There was a heat in his gaze, a silent challenge that dared you to step inside, to see just how far this newfound confidence could take him.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m glad you came.”

You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts, but the sight of him standing there like that—so effortlessly confident, so unapologetically enticing—made it difficult to think of anything but the rush of desire that was quickly building within you.

“Hey,” you managed to reply, your voice a little breathless. “You… uh, look different.”

Spencer’s smile widened slightly, his eyes never leaving yours as he stepped aside to let you in. “Well I should hope so,” he said, his tone teasing, but with an underlying seriousness that sent your heart racing even faster.

You stepped inside, feeling the warmth of his apartment wrap around you as the door clicked shut behind you. The atmosphere between you was charged, electric, every moment filled with unspoken possibilities. Spencer moved closer, his presence almost overwhelming in its intensity. The scent of him—a mix of something clean and masculine—filled your senses, making you even more acutely aware of the heat radiating from his skin.

“I’ve been thinking,” Spencer began, his voice soft yet steady, as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “About what was said...”

Your breath hitched at the light touch, your skin tingling where his fingers had just been. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, afraid that your voice might betray just how much his presence was affecting you.

“I don’t want this to be awkward,” he continued, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “But I also don’t want to pretend that nothing’s changed… because it has.”

He was right—everything had changed. The air between you was thick with tension, with the unspoken acknowledgment of what you both wanted but were too nervous to voice. And yet, here he was, standing so close, shirtless and confident, laying it all out in front of you.

Taking a deep breath, you finally found your voice. “So… what happens next?”

Spencer’s lips quirked up into a small, almost mischievous smile. “I think that depends on what you want.”

His words hung in the air between you, a challenge and an invitation all at once. You could feel the pull, the magnetic attraction drawing you closer to him, and in that moment, you knew there was no turning back.

With a boldness you hadn’t known you possessed, you stepped even closer, your body nearly brushing against his as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “I want to find out what happens when we stop pretending.”

The last remnants of hesitation melted away as Spencer’s smile turned into something more—something hungry and determined. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips descended on yours in a kiss that was anything but hesitant. It was fierce, consuming, a release of all the tension that had been building between you.

As his hands roamed your back, pulling you closer still, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you had only begun to scratch the surface of the side of Spencer Reid you were about to discover tonight.

The world around you blurred as Spencer’s lips moved against yours, his kiss deepening with every passing second. Time seemed to lose all meaning as you lost yourself in the warmth of his touch, the taste of his lips, and the way his hands gripped your waist with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine. It felt like you had been kissing for an eternity, and yet when he finally pulled back, you found yourself gasping for breath, your mind spinning, and your body aching for more.

Spencer’s eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, filled with a heat that made your pulse quicken. Without saying a word, he took your hand, his grip firm yet gentle, leading you down the hall towards his bedroom. The anticipation thrummed in your veins, every step heightening the tension between you. But just as you reached the doorway, Spencer suddenly stopped, turning to press you against the doorframe. His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, trailing kisses that made your knees weaken and your breath hitch.

You barely had time to process the sensation before he pulled back again, a playful gleam in his eyes as he gently but firmly guided you into the bedroom. With a swift motion, he pushed you onto the bed, and you bounced slightly, a surprised giggle escaping your lips. The unexpected shift in his demeanor—this newfound confidence, this playful dominance—left you both intrigued and a little off-balance. You’d known Spencer as the quiet, reserved, and somewhat shy genius, but this side of him was something entirely different, and you couldn’t help but be captivated by it.

As you lay there, still trying to wrap your head around this change, you found yourself blurting out a question that had been lingering in the back of your mind. “Do you do this a lot, Reid?”

Spencer chuckled, the sound low and deep, sending a ripple of warmth through your body. He shook his head with a smile that was equal parts reassuring and teasing. “No, not ever really,” he admitted, his voice soft but steady, as he reached for your ankles and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, positioning himself between your legs. His hands rested on your thighs, the warmth of his touch seeping through your clothes, grounding you in the moment.

“Call me Spencer,” he added, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, his gaze locking onto yours with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. There was something intimate about the way he said it, as if this wasn’t just about physical attraction, but about letting you see a side of him that no one else had. 

Your heart skipped a beat at the request, the simple act of calling him by his first name in this context making the moment feel even more personal, more real. 

“Spencer,” you repeated, the name slipping from your lips like a secret, a promise. His smile widened, a spark of something almost wicked flashing in his eyes, and you realized that you were about to discover a side of him that you’d never imagined existed.

Spencer leaned in, his hands sliding up your thighs, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “I’ve been wanting this for a long time, you know. I just never thought…” He trailed off, as if realizing that words weren’t enough to express what he was feeling. Instead, he captured your lips with his again, his kiss searing and insistent, as though he were making up for lost time.

Spencer's hands, warm and steady, slowly trailed up your sides, his fingers grazing the soft fabric of your t-shirt as they moved. When he reached the hem, he hesitated, his touch gentle but deliberate as he curled his fingers around the edge. He looked up at you, his expression a mix of desire and tenderness, but there was something else too—a careful consideration, a need to ensure that you were just as willing as he was.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. The intensity of his gaze held you captive, his eyes searching yours for the reassurance he needed.

For a moment, you were too caught up in the heat of the moment to respond, your heart pounding in your chest. The way he looked at you, with such raw want and yet so much care, made it hard to think clearly. You nodded quickly, your eyes wide with anticipation, but Spencer didn’t move.

His grip on your shirt tightened slightly as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “I’m going to need you to use your words, sweetheart.”

The way he said it—his voice rough, almost gritted out with barely restrained desire—made your head spin, the sheer force of his need for you sending your pulse into overdrive. There was a command in his tone, but also a gentle reminder that this was your choice, that he needed to hear you say it.

You swallowed hard, your voice catching in your throat as you tried to find the words. The air around you felt thick with tension, every second stretching out as you stared up at him, the look in his eyes making it impossible to deny him—or yourself.

“Ye—yes, please,” you finally managed to say, your voice a little breathless, but full of the same want that you saw reflected in his eyes.

Spencer’s eyes darkened with satisfaction at your response, a small, almost predatory smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he began to lift your shirt. The fabric slid up your torso slowly, the cool air of the room hitting your skin as he revealed more of you. He took his time, savoring the moment, his eyes never leaving yours as he pulled the shirt over your head and tossed it aside.

For a brief moment, you felt exposed, vulnerable under the weight of his gaze. But the way Spencer looked at you, with a mixture of awe and hunger, made all your insecurities melt away. His hands roamed over the newly exposed skin, his touch both soothing and electrifying, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with sincerity and desire, as he leaned in to press a kiss to your collarbone, his lips lingering against your skin.

You had forgone a bra that night, thinking nothing of it when you slipped into your comfy clothes after a long day at work. After all, you hadn’t planned on anything like this happening. But now, with Spencer’s hands on you, his eyes filled with something that looked a lot like awe, you found that you didn’t care in the slightest. If anything, it added to the intimacy of the moment, the rawness of it, making you feel closer to him than you ever thought possible.

His touch was slow, deliberate, almost as if he was savoring every moment, every reaction he elicited from you. His fingers brushed over your skin, exploring you with curiosity and desire, as if he was trying to learn every detail, every response, to what he was doing. When his hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, you couldn’t suppress the soft gasp that escaped your lips, your body arching towards him instinctively, craving more of his touch.

“Spencer…” you breathed, your voice barely more than a whisper, but filled with so much emotion that it felt like a confession. There was something in his name, in the way it rolled off your tongue, that made the moment feel even more intimate, more real. It wasn’t just a name anymore—it was a declaration, an acknowledgment of what was happening between you, of the connection that was quickly forming.

Spencer’s eyes flicked back up to yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race even faster. There was something almost primal in the way he looked at you now, a hunger that was barely restrained, but also a tenderness that made your chest tighten with emotion. He leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this… how long I’ve wanted you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting to the sheer weight of them. It wasn’t just lust in his voice—it was something deeper, something that made you feel cherished, desired in a way that you hadn’t felt in a long time. The realization that Spencer had been holding back, that he had wanted you for so long, made your heart swell with emotion, your need for him growing even stronger.

He kissed you again, his lips capturing yours in a way that was both gentle and demanding, his hands continuing their exploration of your body. Each touch, each caress, was filled with passion and care, as if he was trying to show you just how much you meant to him without needing to say the words. And with every kiss, every brush of his fingertips, you found yourself falling deeper into the moment, your own desire for him becoming overwhelming.

You reached up, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing to feel the heat of his body against yours. The way he responded, the way his hands gripped you tighter, as if afraid to let go, made it clear that he was just as lost in the moment as you were. There was no more hesitation, no more awkwardness—just the two of you, finally giving in to the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

Spencer’s hands were warm against your skin as he gently laid you back on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he hovered above you. The intensity in his gaze was almost overwhelming, his pupils blown wide with desire, but there was something else there too—curiosity, maybe even a hint of vulnerability. His fingers trailed down your sides, the touch sending shivers through your body as he slowly leaned in, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your chest.

“Tell me, Y/N…” His voice was a low murmur, filled with an edge of something deeper, as he kissed his way down your chest, taking his time, savoring the feel of your skin beneath his lips. “Did you think about me too?”

The question hung in the air, making your breath hitch as you squirmed beneath him, the sensation of his kisses igniting a fire deep within you. Your mind was spinning, every nerve in your body on high alert as you felt his breath ghost over your skin, his lips moving lower, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

“I did,” you admitted, your voice a little breathless as the confession slipped out. It was the truth, after all—you had thought about him, more than you ever wanted to admit. The idea of Spencer, sweet, awkward Spencer, being the one to push you to this point had always been a secret fantasy, buried deep within you. But now, with him here, in this moment, it was no longer just a fantasy—it was real.

Spencer’s lips curved into a smirk against your skin as he reached your hip, his teeth nipping playfully at the delicate flesh, making you gasp. The sensation was a mix of pleasure and surprise, and you couldn’t help but arch your back slightly in response. His hands moved to your shorts, his fingers hooking into the waistband as he tugged them down slowly, teasingly, his eyes flicking up to meet yours as he did.

“That text wasn’t for me though, was it?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement as he watched your reaction. The smirk on his face was something you’d never seen before—confident, almost cocky, as if he knew exactly the effect he was having on you.

You froze for a moment, your heart skipping a beat as the realization hit you. You hadn’t expected him to catch on to that detail, but of course he had—Spencer was nothing if not observant. The thought that he knew the text wasn’t meant for him, but was still here, still wanting you, made your pulse quicken even more.

“Uh, no, it wasn’t,” you admitted with a whine, the words slipping out before you could stop them. There was no point in lying—not when he was looking at you like that, his gaze full of heat and understanding. “But I’m glad I sent it to you,” you added quickly, your voice filled with sincerity and a hint of desperation.

Spencer’s smirk softened into a small, almost tender smile as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your navel. “Maybe your subconscious wanted you to,” he suggested, his voice low and smooth, each word making your head spin. The idea made you dizzy, the thought that some part of you had always wanted this, had always wanted him, even if you hadn’t fully realized it until now.

“Uh huh,” you breathed out, your voice floaty and airy, your mind clouded with desire. The sensation of his lips on your skin, his hands on your body, was intoxicating, making it hard to think clearly. All you could focus on was the way he made you feel—alive, wanted, and completely lost in the moment.

Spencer’s fingers continued to work on removing your shorts, sliding them down your legs with deliberate slowness, his eyes never leaving yours. There was something almost worshipful in the way he touched you, as if he was savoring every second, every inch of skin he revealed.

As he finally discarded your shorts, leaving you completely exposed to him, he took a moment to just look at you, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and admiration. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned in to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

The words made your heart swell, a wave of warmth washing over you as you reached out, your fingers tangling in his hair. There was nothing left to hide now, nothing left to hold back. This was exactly where you wanted to be—where you were meant to be.

“Do you always skip out on bras and panties, Y/N?” Spencer’s teasing comment sent a ripple of laughter through you, the sound mingling with the rapid beat of your heart. The playful banter between you only intensified the electric connection that was already sparking between you both. His bite on your inner thigh was both a tease and a promise, igniting a fire that made every nerve in your body come alive.

“N–no, only at home,” you managed to scream out, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. The combination of his touch and the vulnerability of the moment made it impossible to hold back any longer.

He chuckled, the sound deep and resonant, echoing softly in the room as his fingers continued to explore your skin. “But you didn’t put any on before coming over?” His tone was light, yet there was an undeniable edge of desire that underpinned his words.

You took a moment to catch your breath, the playful challenge in his eyes urging you to respond. “Are you–are you complaining?” you asked, your voice wavering between breathless laughter and the growing urgency of your emotions.

Spencer shook his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Not at all, although–” His sentence was cut short as your hands found their way into his hair, pulling him fully into you. The sudden, decisive movement left no room for hesitation, and the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, entwined in each other’s embrace.

“Oh my god, Spencer, just shut up,” you laughed, the sound filled with a mixture of amusement and desire. “Put your mouth to use.”

His response was immediate, his lips finding your core with a fervor that matched the intensity of your own longing. The way he ate you out was everything you had been waiting for—passionate, deep, and downright filthy. His hands left their place on your thighs, tracing the contours of your body with a reverence that made you feel both cherished and desired.

As he sunk his mouth deeper, sucking your clit into his mouth, Spencer guided you gently but firmly onto the bed, the softness of the sheets a stark contrast to the heat that radiated between you.

“Spencer,” you moaned, the name slipping out like a sacred vow, sealing the moment between you. His response was a dirty smile, his mouth shining with your juices, making your pulse throb.

He paused for a moment, just enough to look into your eyes, “You’re fucking delicious,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “I’ve wanted to taste you for so long.”

As Spencer’s mouth continued to work its magic on your core, a whirlwind of sensations overwhelmed you. Each touch, each stroke of his tongue, sent waves of pleasure radiating through your body, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything but the intense feeling of being completely consumed by him. The way he moved, so skilled yet so attentive to your every reaction, left you breathless, your hands clutching at the sheets as your head swam in a sea of ecstasy.

But amidst the pleasure, a fleeting thought crossed your mind—how close you had come to letting this moment, this incredible opportunity, slip through your fingers. You couldn’t believe that you had almost dismissed the idea of responding to his bold text, that you had almost let fear and hesitation keep you from experiencing this side of Spencer. A side that was confident, passionate, and utterly devoted to your pleasure.

How could you have been so close to missing out on this? On him? Spencer, who had always been there, quiet and thoughtful, had somehow managed to unlock a part of you that you hadn’t even known existed—a part that craved the connection and intimacy he was now offering with every caress of his lips.

You let out a soft moan, your hips arching towards him as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level. The sounds you made only seemed to spur him on, his grip on your thighs tightening as he pulled you closer, his tongue working with a precision that left you teetering on the edge. Every nerve in your body was alive, the world narrowing down to the feel of his mouth on you, the heat of his breath against your skin.

“Spencer,” you gasped out, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. It wasn’t just the pleasure he was giving you—it was the realization that this was Spencer, the man you had known for so long, who was now showing you a depth of care and passion that you had never imagined.

The way he responded to your every movement, the way he seemed to know exactly what you needed, made you feel cherished in a way that went far beyond the physical. It was as if he was attuned to your very soul, using his touch to communicate something deeper, something that had been building between you for far longer than either of you had realized.

As you felt the tension within you coil tighter and tighter, ready to snap, you couldn’t help but marvel at how easily you had fallen into this moment with him. All the hesitation, the uncertainty, had melted away, leaving only the pure, unfiltered connection between you and Spencer. A connection that had been there all along, waiting for the right moment to be brought to life.

And now that it had, you knew you could never go back to the way things were. Spencer had opened a door to something new, something beautiful, and you were ready to step through it with him, no matter what the future held.

With a final, skillful flick of his tongue over your clit, Spencer sent you tumbling over the edge, your body trembling with the force of your release. The world around you seemed to dissolve into a haze of pleasure and warmth, your mind barely able to process the overwhelming sensations that flooded through you.

As you came down from the high, Spencer’s hands and mouth softened, his touch becoming gentle, almost reverent, as he coaxed you through the aftershocks. When he finally pulled back, he looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and tenderness that made your heart skip a beat.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with a sincerity that left no doubt about how much this moment meant to him. He crawled up the bed to join you, his body pressing against yours as he captured your lips in a slow, languid kiss, allowing you to taste the remnants of your own pleasure on his lips.

You smiled against his lips, a sense of contentment and excitement washing over you as you whispered, “I’m glad I’m here too, Spencer. So glad.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[dragon-ascent]

A reminder that Zhongli canonically forged weapons during times of war; in other words, he's an expert blacksmith. Of course, he only used his prowess in smithing weaponry out of sheer necessity - and now that Liyue is at peace, he no longer needs to craft such powerful munitions meant purely to vanquish.

So, he now chooses to forge things for you.

The jade ring you wear was actually personally fashioned by Zhongli's own hands - he wanted his proposal to you to be perfect, after all. His smile while carefully shaping the ring was full of hope and love, and he was more than elated to reap the reward as you happily accepted becoming his beloved partner.

He likes to craft you special jewellery imbued with adeptal energy, so that no matter how far apart you may be, he'll always be able to sense and protect you. (That, and you'll always be elegantly fashionable. Only the prettiest for his darling.)

When you once complained to him about how frail your paper bookmarks were, he presented to you a few days later a beautiful bookmark of handmade steel. Its intricate patterns detailing stories of their own were enough to bring any bookworm to their knees.

A lot of his other gifts are handmade too - the man who once crafted swords, bows, and spears now makes you exquisite candle-holders, little sculptures of you and him, heart-shaped trinkets with your initials, and even gilded flowers that will never wilt, a symbol of his everlasting devotion.

You can find him on a free day out at the smithy, sweat illuminating his bare golden-veined arms, biceps flexing with each precise strike of the metal as his eyebrows slant in concentration. The melodious clang! of his hammer upon his handiwork is both tender and powerful.

This god, once a blacksmith for war, has now become a blacksmith for love - and he would have it no other way.

[lxndonorris]

his lucky charm - Lando Norris

Y/N x Lando Norris Theme: Smutish, light touching you're Lando's lucky charm for qualifying x word count: 1440+ taglist: @game-set-canet gif by me open for requests, reader or ships welcome :)

The bustling Suzuka circuit hums with anticipation as the Japanese Grand Prix approaches its crucial phase—qualifying. Dressed in the vibrant Mclaren team shirt and cap, courtesy of Lando's team, you find yourself standing in the heart of the Mclaren garage, surrounded by the familiar hum of engines and the frentic energy of race day preparations. 

Your heart races just as fast with excitement as the Mclaren standing a few feet away from you as you watch Lando prepare for qualifying, his presence commanding attention even amidst the chaos of the garage.

You approach Lando's Mclaren, tracing its cold outline with your fingers, completely lost in your thoughts, when hands run along your waistline, pulling you back into a warm embrace. Right away, the familiar scent of Lando's cologne gives him away as he rests his head on your shoulder, humming right into your ear.

Turning around, you smile at the sight of him wearing his racing gear. A surge of admiration washes over you. The sleek lines of his racing suit accentuate his athletic physique, highlighting every contour and muscle beneath the fabric. He looks every bit like the confident and skilled driver that he is. 

His curls frame his face perfectly, adding a touch of youthful charm to his rugged appearance. The hint of stubble along his jawline only serves to enhance his allure, giving him an air of casual confidence that is utterly irresistible.

There is something undeniablely magnetic about seeing him in his element, his passion and determination shining through in every movement and gesture.

"How do you like my baby?" He tilts his head teasingly and lets his hand glide across the car as well, following your prior movements easily.

"Just as pretty as its driver." You smirk, a rush of warmth flooding through you as you trace your fingers lightly over his chest, feeling his firm muscles even though his suit.

Lost in the moment, you almost forget where you are, the world around you melting away as you stand in your own little bubble of intimacy. The scent of his cologne envelops you, a heady mixture of excitement and desire lingering in the air. 

With a tender kiss, Lando prepares himself for the challenge ahead, donning his helmet and gloves with practiced precision.

"Good luck." You say when he approaches you one last time before jumping into the car. With an appreciative nod, he climbs into the cockpit of his Mclaren, and you can't help but feel a surge of pride swell within you. 

With a headset in hand, you tune in to the team's communications, eager to follow Lando's progress. The voice of his race engineer crackles to life, providing updates and encouragement as he navigates the twists and turns of the Suzuka circuit.

With each lap, your heartbeat matches the rhythm of the roaring engines, and your breath catches in your throat as you follow Lando's progress with bated anticipation. And then, the moment of truth arrives.

"P3!" comes the triumphant cry over the radio, followed by Lando's own celebration—a moment of pure elation, a testiment to his passion and skill. The exhilaration in his voice is palpable as he giggles through the radio again; his joy infectious and uplifting. In that moment, you feel an overwhelming sense of happiness wash over you, knowing that you might have played a small part in his success.

As he emerges from the car, his face flushed with the thrill of earning part of the second row, you watch with admiration as he celebrates with his mechanics, his confidence and self-assurance radiating from every pore. And then he turned to you before taking his helmet and balaclave off, revealing a bright smile and his eyes filled with an unmistakable spark of affection.

With a swagger in his step, he approaches you, pulling you into him, relishing the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoing your own. Adrenaline and excitement surge through your bodies, binding you together in a shared moment of triumph.

"You're my lucky charm," he whispers huskily, his words sending a shiver down your spine. 

Blushing, you steady yourself against his frame while his hands are on your waist, holding you close.

You can sense a shift in his demeanor—the excitement of qualifying ignited a fire within him, and his touch feels more possessive and urgent than before. As you stroke his firm chest, you feel the tension in his muscles, his racing suit stretched taut against his body.

His breath is ragged against your ear as he whispers again, his voice even huskier and rougher with desire. "You have no idea how much I was thinking of you during the last lap. It made me so...hard."

You feel a rush of heat flow through you at his words, a delicious thrill coursing through your veins. You let your hand roam his chest once more before you let it wander down his body. When he bends his hip against the palm of your hand, his desire now firm against your touch, you let out a quick sigh, swallowing in a dry throat.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your hand on my skin, it drives me crazy."

"Lando." You growl, his words sending shivers down your spine. The intensity of his emotions radiates from his entire being; his desire is tangible in every glance, every touch.

But even amidst the intensity of your shared desire, there is a tenderness in his touch, a depth of emotion that transcends the physical.

"You're unbelievable." You stroke his chest again, and you feel the rumble of soft growls vibrating against your fingertips. You can't help but smile, delighting in the primal response elicited by your gentle touch. 

His reaction, however, only serves to fuel the flames of desire burning within your belly, igniting a passionate intensity that pulses between you.

"It's true, though." He purrs happily, and you run a hand through his hair, "I felt you so close; it was amazing." Feeling the soft strands of his messy hair beneath your fingers, you can't resist running your hand through it again and again, relishing the tousles feel against your skin. His hair, disheveled from the intensity of qualifying, only adds to his irresistible charm.

"So I helped you?" You breathe as you caress his cheek, tracing the contours of his face with gentle strokes. 

With a soft smile, Lando leans into your touch, his eyes reflecting the depth of his emotions. "You always do." He smiles warmly.

As your hand lingers on his chest, a mechanic's voice breaks through the moment, reminding us of Lando's obligation to attend the qualifying celebration with Max and Checo.

You feel a pang of disappointment at the interruption, wishing for just a few more minutes, but you know that duty calls him, and Lando earned the right to bask in the glory of his achievement alongside his fellow drivers.

With a reluctant sigh, you withdraw your hand, watching as Lando exchanges a quick glance with me, his eyes filled with an apology and a promise of more time together later. You nod in understanding, offering him a reassuring smile as he turns to follow the mechanic toward the others.

As you sit among the audience, watching the press conference unfold, your heart swells with pride, seeing Lando bask in the attention he so rightfully deserves. His confidence and harisma shine through as he fields questions from the media, his responses poised and articulate.

But amidst the flurry of activity, your gaze keeps returning to Lando, drawn to him like a magnet. And as your eyes meet, a silent understanding passes between you. 

You can't help but smile as you notice Lando's unconscious gesture, his hand drifting to his chest in a subtle yet unmistakable motion. It is as if he is reaching out for you, seeking the comfort and warmth of your touch even in the midst of the conference.

All of him is longing for one thing: you.

Then, a question from the press jolts him back into reality. His gaze falters as he struggles to recall the question, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

With a playful giggle, he apologized for his momentary lapse, his charm quickly winning over the crowd once more as he answers the question with ease.

But as he glances back at you, a mischievous twinkle dances in his eyes, and he can#t help but bite his lip. 

With a knowing smile, you return his gaze, your eyes filled with a mixture of love and desire., knowing that this is far from over.

[ninibeingdelulu]

"I missed you"

plot- he finally come back home CLICK ME

The empty house had felt suffocatingly hollow these past six months with Simon's absence.

Each day stretching into an agonizing purgatory devoid of his steadfast presence, his rich baritone rumble, the casual brushes of his sturdy frame against yours in passing...

But today, the emptiness at last lifted like a shroud of dread finally unraveling.

Today, Simon was finally coming home.

You busied yourself feverishly preparing his favorite dinner, fussing over every detail down to the pristine place setting - desperate to rekindle an atmosphere of long-coveted warmth and domesticity upon his return from the battlefield.

Nervous energy thrummed beneath your ribcage as you strained for the slightest herald of his arrival.

Then, the moment you'd been breathlessly awaiting finally graced reality - the unmistakable creak of the front door swinging wide accompanied by the measured cadence of those combat boots you'd know anywhere.

Whirling with a breathless gasp of pure elation, your gaze instantly drank in the familiar silhouette of your husband etched in the wavering daylight spilling through the entry.

Even beneath that ever-present ghastly skull mask, you'd recognize those powerfully squared shoulders and that signature languid prowl in an instant.

"Simon..."

His name slipped forth in a tremulous whisper misting with the first prickles of joyous tears blurring the edges of your vision.

In the next breath, you found yourself hurtling across the scant distance separating you - instinctively propelled into his outstretched embrace blissfully caging you once more in those unyielding arms corded with wiry muscle and sinew.

Your own slipped around his neck as you buried your face against the fever-warmth of his skin finally within reach again, gulping in heady lungfuls of his richly musky scent you'd been so painfully deprived of.

You barely registered his dexterous fingers working to hastily peel away the obstructing balaclava, desperate to reunite his lips with yours at last.

Only once that cloying barrier fell away did the first crystalline tears at last streak your flushed cheeks - overwhelmed by the sight of his beloved visage after so many months isolated behind the stark veils of that skull facade.

"Oh God, I missed you so damn much..." he rasped in that honeyed timbre reverberating straight down to your very marrow.

The reverent brush of his calloused palms cradling your face with the utmost gentleness somehow contrasted with the intensely smoldering ardor blazing in those grounding sienna spheres searching yours.

Unable to bear resisting a moment longer, you surged upwards and seized his mouth again in a searing, desperate kiss as if to physically reclaim the vital essence of his very being into your own.

Simon groaned into the searing exchange with unapologetic need - his powerful frame arching possessively into the swell of your curves as if intent on liquifying your very bones against his own.

"Never again..."

He growled the fervent oath between fevered brushes of your commingling lips.

"Not a single day goes by where I don't count down to the moment I can come home to you again. To see that smile...to breathe you in and feel that heartbeat against mine...it's the only thing that grounds my sanity on those desolate battlegrounds."

Chest heaving with emotion, you could only nod and clutch him nearer - your own fingers burrowing wantonly through those silken sable tresses with ravenous wonderment you still held the miraculous privilege to caress them once again after so many eternities torn apart.

Simon exhaled a shuddering breath, momentarily staggered by the unsurmountable tidal wave of affection and sheer relief to be encapsulated within your sanctuary once more.

Here, wrapped in your fearless devotion and profound reverence, his battered warrior's soul at last found the absolution - the inimitable tranquility - nowhere else could grant.

The scorched battlefields and merciless atrocities of the forsaken lands he traversed so frequently faded into insignificance next to the profound grace you embodied.

Merely bearing witness to the incandescence of your empyreal spirit glimmering behind those infinitely fathomless eyes was the only benediction Simon would ever need.

Until that inevitable summons to the clarion once more beckoned, commanding his return to the cursed shadows, Simon vowed to cherish every fleeting moment subsumed in your splendorous embrace - your ardor furnishing him the unbridled fortitude and singular anchor to withstand any depravity fate hurled towards him.

For your unassailable love and pride was the only talisman he truly required to confront the hellish devastations still lying in await.

That alone would be enough to see him safely through each arduous mile until the moment he could finally return to bask anew in your resplendence again...

[prince-of-pleasures]

Rosie-potion ask game:

Demon eggs, long birth

Have fun!

So many eggs... Too many...

Zira knelt before the fireplace on a plush fur rug, his tail lashing as he held onto the birthing bar in front of him for dear life. A storm raged outside, and lightning lit up the night sky. Now was not the best time to give birth; the nest he had made was upstairs, as were all of the supplies. That was where he was supposed to be in three weeks, but the eggs were coming now, and he couldn't make it up the stairs on his own as contractions wracked his body.

Gods, it hurt, but the stretch of his cervix as the first of the demon's eggs forced him open was pure bliss. His cock bucked and released a thick line of clear precum that coated the underside of his belly.

Too big...

His gravid stomach was big enough that it touched the floor, squishing his cockhead, massaging it every time the eggs inside of him shifted and pressed outward.

A small, desperate whine escaped his lips as they knocked against each other, and the first egg was forced harshly past his cervix and into his birthing canal. It was roughly egg-shaped, and ridged, around the size of a watermelon. He clenched around it, and his tail quivered as it pressed against his g-spot.

He was about to cum, and this was only the first egg. With a push, it left his cunt with a gush of slick, and he came hard, soaking his expensive rug in hot seed.

Too many...

More eggs came, stretched him open, and were pushed out. He used his tail to gather them behind him so he didn't crush them while he labored. It was a smooth birth to start.

Until they shifted again, and his belly rumbled in protest. He pushed, and another egg opened his cervix. How many was this? He lost count, his head was so fuzzy with lust and elation. The egg spread open his lower lips, but he could feel that it was still firmly wedged inside. How big was this one? Bigger than the last, surely, if it was crowning before even leaving his womb fully.

"Oh, gods, please..." he breathed. "Please..."

It felt so good, he felt like he was about to drown in pleasure. Another orgasm washed over him, but instead of pushing it out, it went the other way when he clenched down, back into his womb.

"No, no, no! Damn it!"

He tried again, but his energy was waning, his knees were locked up, and his thighs were sore from squatting. It stretched him open again, and again got stuck. He knocked his head against the birthing bar, frustrated, then pushed hard. It budged, but only barely. Barely was enough. All he had to do was make sure it was moving in the right direction, and he would be fine. His tail quivered again. He loved this. Eggs were absolutely one of his favorite things.

Thunder cracked just outside the far window, and he jumped. It was enough to knock the egg free, and it barreled down his birth canal and out of him, followed by a flood of slick, far more than before. The fur below him was absolutely sopping, and the thought that it was his juices that had soaked it so thoroughly only turned him on more.

He took a moment to breathe while his tail gathered the large egg with the others, and rested a hand on his sore belly. He felt around gently, pressing and rubbing. There were still so many inside of him. Dozens of demon spawn to be lain and cared for. How was he going to get them up to the nest? He didn't have time to consider it before the next egg lined up. He pushed hard, and multiple eggs were forced out all at once, one after the other. He came again, curling around his belly as his entire body tensed from the sheer force of it.

He was a mess. There was a sheen of sweat on his pale skin that shimmered in the firelight, his long white hair was drenched, too, and he was kneeling in a pool of his own liquids. He loved everything about this.

This was perfect.

[dark-and-kawaii]

your pregnancy ficlets are super sweet! How about Halsin finding out tav is pregnant 🥰

Halsin would/does make the best dad. When he was worried about the kids not getting a bedtime story from him I wanted to cry. I go feral for big ol’ guys with a soft heart, and he’s like the poster man for that.

༺ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐑𝐞��𝐞𝐚𝐥 ༻

♡ Halsin | Pregnancy - Fluff

In the midst of a small flower field, bathed in the golden rays of the sun, you sat in the forest. Halsin, in his bear form, approaches you silently, attempting to surprise you. But as always, you are keenly aware of his presence. Chuckling softly to yourself you continue plucking a pink flower, and with a playful tone you remark, "You'd have better luck sneaking up on me if you were a cat, you know."

Halsin nudges your back gently with his large furry head, emitting a low, affectionate grunt as he settles down beside you. Resting against his solid form, you're enveloped in a unique comfort only he can provide, afterall, it’s not everyday someone gets with a bear. Twirling the flower wreath you've been weaving, you muse, "I'm considering changing these to yellow blossoms, what do you think?" You glance at him, your look soft and affectionate as he cocks his head, ears perked, you know his bearish confusion was a silent compliment to your creation.

Your laughter is light as your fingers trace the fur between his eyes. "Yellow's quite the neutral choice," Halsin watches you, his gaze intent, absorbing every word you speak, “Hmm, or maybe I should do white instead, but that’s just- no. That’s a terrible idea.” He continues to listen, studying your expression intently, as if trying to decipher the message behind your words.

“If it's a boy," you continue, your eyes lingering on the wreath, "I don't think he'd appreciate all these shades of pink." Your gaze meets Halsin's, a playful glimmer in your eyes. "And if it's a girl, well, pink seems to be the only answer. But how am I supposed to know? I'm no seer." You raise an eyebrow, your eyes searching his face. Suddenly, his wide brown eyes illuminate, and in a burst of radiant energy, Halsin stands before you, transformed back into his glorious elven body. "Is it true? You spoke of the truth just now?" he asks, his voice filled with awe and excitement.

Joining him in standing, a smile spreads across your face, and you nod, uttering the words he longed to hear, "It's true, my love." Unable to contain his joy, Halsin bursts into laughter, engulfing you in his arms as he spins you around, expressing his elation in that moment of pure bliss.

Halsin's laughter fills the forest as he spins you around, his joy palpable in the warm embrace. "By the Great Oak Father!" he exclaims, his eyes shining with happiness. You both come to a stop, and Halsin cups your face in his hands, his expression overflowing with love. "Our love, our bond, will be forever sealed in this precious life."

The forest and flowers around you seemed to come alive with vibrant colors, the gentle breeze carrying the sweet scent of the blooms. It feels as if though nature is celebrating alongside you.

As the initial rush of excitement settles, Halsin lowers himself to one knee, holding your hand close to him. "My heart, I promise to be there for you and our child every step of the way. I will protect and cherish both of you with all that I am."

Tears of joy well up in your eyes as you meet his gaze. "And I promise to stand by your side, Halsin, as I always have.”

Halsin's grin widens as he rises from his knee, his eyes never leaving yours. "I have no doubt that we will raise a child who embodies both the strength of the wild and the wisdom of the druids. They will be surrounded by love, nature, and the embrace of the elements."

With hearts filled with excitement and anticipation, you and Halsin spend the rest of the day in the forest, basking in the joy of your upcoming journey as parents. As the sun sets, casting a mesmerizing glow across the landscape, you can't help but feel an incredible sense of gratitude for the life growing within you and the love that binds you both together.

[nayziiz]

One Night in Miami | LN4

Summary: An eventful night with a close friend turns Lando’s world upside down when he’s forced to confront his true feelings about her. As they return to normal, he cannot seem to forget their time together and neither can she. Will they find each other once again?

Pairing: Lando Norris x OC (Renn)

Warnings: Smut, a lot of angst, fluff

Masterlist

Chapter 4 - Austria 2023

The upgrades turned out to be more successful than Lando had anticipated. As the sun set on the 2023 Austrian Grand Prix, the paddock buzzed with excitement and disbelief. McLaren's gamble had paid off, and Lando Norris had ended the race in fourth place overall. It was a triumphant return to form, and the atmosphere in the McLaren garage was electric with joy and relief. Renn was there to witness it all, her camera capturing every moment. She had been hired by AlphaTauri that week to photograph Yuki Tsunoda and Nyck de Vries for promotional content, but her eyes frequently wandered to Lando. As the race progressed, her heart pounded with every lap he completed, every overtaking manoeuvre he executed with precision and skill.

When the chequered flag waved, signalling the end of the race, the crowd erupted in cheers. Lando had crossed the finish line in fourth place, a result that felt like a victory given the challenges McLaren had faced all season. The team's elation was palpable, and Renn couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for him. As the teams prepared for the podium ceremony, Renn made her way through the throngs of people to find Lando. She spotted him near the McLaren garage, surrounded by his jubilant team. He was beaming, the weight of the season's struggles momentarily lifted from his shoulders. She raised her camera, capturing the pure joy on his face, the moment of triumph that they had both desperately needed.

“Lando!” she called out, lowering her camera. He turned at the sound of her voice, and his smile widened when he saw her.

“Renn!” he shouted back, breaking through the crowd to reach her. Without thinking, he pulled her into a tight hug, lifting her off her feet. “Can you believe it? Fourth place! It feels like a win!”

“I’m so proud of you, Lan. You did it,” she laughed, her arms wrapping around his neck.

He set her down, his eyes shining with happiness.

“I couldn’t have done it without the team. And maybe a little bit of luck,” he replied.

“Don’t be modest,” she teased, poking his chest. “You drove like a champion out there.”

Their moment was interrupted by the McLaren team calling for Lando to join them for a celebration photo. He glanced back at them, then turned to Renn, his expression softening. 

“I’ll see you after?” he wondered.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” she promised.

While Lando joined his team, Renn returned to her work, but her mind kept drifting back to him. She captured shots of Yuki and Nyck, documenting their race day for AlphaTauri, but her heart was with Lando, celebrating his success. She couldn't wait for the day to end so they could share a private moment, away from the crowds and the noise. When the festivities died down and the paddock began to empty, Renn made her way to the McLaren motorhome. Lando had texted her earlier, asking her to meet him there. She walked through the quiet corridors, her anticipation building with every step. She found him in his driver’s room, still in his race suit, his hair damp from the post-race celebrations.

“You made it,” he said, his smile lighting up the room.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” she replied, closing the door behind her.

***

Needless to say, the celebrations of a good result ended up in a local club where the only people they knew were other drivers and their girlfriends. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and the energy was infectious. Lando was the centre of attention, his fourth-place finish giving him a confidence boost that radiated through the room. Renn watched him from across the dance floor, her heart swelling with pride and something deeper, something she was still trying to understand.

As the night wore on, they danced, laughed, and drank, losing themselves in the euphoria of the moment. Lando pulled Renn close, their bodies moving in sync to the beat of the music. The world outside the club ceased to exist; it was just them, the music, and the electric connection between them. The night progressed in a blur of laughter and movement, and before they knew it, things escalated, as had become the norm, to Renn’s hotel room. They stumbled through the door, their hands all over each other, lips locked in a fervent kiss. The urgency of their desire drove them, a familiar rhythm they had come to crave.

Lando kicked the door shut behind him, and they barely made it to the bed before clothes were discarded in a haphazard trail across the room. Renn’s back hit the mattress, and Lando was on top of her, his hands exploring every inch of her body. She arched into his touch, her breath hitching as he kissed his way down her neck.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with desire.

“Me too,” she breathed, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him back up to kiss her. 

The intensity of their connection was undeniable, a force that neither of them could resist. Their bodies moved together with a familiarity that only came from countless nights like this. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word spoke of a deeper bond, one that went beyond the physical. They were addicted to each other, drawn together by a need that defied logic or reason.

“Renn,” he groaned, his voice filled with a mix of passion and something more profound. “I need you.”

“I’m here,” she whispered back, her hands roaming over his back, pulling him closer. “I’m always here.”

They lost themselves in each other, their movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. The room was filled with the sounds of their lovemaking, the raw, unfiltered expression of their connection. It was a dance they knew well, a dance that left them both breathless and sated.

When it was over, they lay entwined, their bodies slick with sweat, their breathing ragged. Lando pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his hand tracing idle patterns on her back.

“Lan…” she mumbled as he cuddled her tightly, their bodies still entwined from their passionate night.

“I know, I know. Just a few minutes like this, please, Renn,” he pleaded, his voice a soft murmur in the quiet room.

“Just a few minutes,” she agreed, her hand moving to stroke his hair back as she watched his eyes. They fluttered shut a few times, fighting sleep, and she could see the weariness in his expression.

“I don’t want to go,” he whispered, his voice tinged with a vulnerability that made her heart ache.

“I don’t want you to go either,” she sighed, finally caving to embrace the moment with him. The intimacy of their position, the warmth of his body against hers, felt like a cocoon, sheltering them from the outside world.

“Let’s take a shower together, then I’ll leave, yeah?” Lando suggested, his hand gently tracing the curve of her shoulder.

“Yeah, okay. A shower sounds good,” she looked at him, her eyes softening as she nodded. 

They reluctantly disentangled from each other, their bodies protesting the loss of contact. Lando helped her to her feet, his hands lingering on her waist as they made their way to the bathroom. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow from the streetlights outside casting gentle shadows across the tiles. Lando turned on the water, adjusting the temperature before guiding her under the warm spray. They stood there for a moment, the water cascading over them, washing away the remnants of the night. Lando’s hands moved with tender care, lathering soap over her skin, his touch reverent and soothing.

“You’re gorgeous, Rennie,” he assured her, his voice filled with genuine affection.

Renn felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. She knew she wasn’t the prettiest girl in the world, with her dull hair, bony elbows, and meaty hips. But hearing Lando's affirmation made her feel beautiful in a way she rarely experienced. He saw more than just the physical aspects that often made her self-conscious; he saw the kindness and compassion within her, the parts of herself she valued the most.

After they had rinsed off, they dried each other with soft towels, the intimacy of the act deepening their bond. Lando wrapped her in a towel, holding her close for a moment longer before stepping back to dry himself. Once they were both dressed in comfortable clothes, they moved back to the bed, sitting side by side. The night had taken on a serene, almost magical quality, and Renn felt a peace she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Silverstone next week,” Renn stated as she watched Lando put on his sneakers. “You must be excited.”

“As long as the car keeps performing the way it did today, then yes, very excited,” Lando responded, a smile spreading across his face as he glanced at her sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I’ll be in the paddock with Red Bull, but I’ll be cheering for papaya all the way,” she told him, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Why Red Bull of all teams?” Lando grunted, his playful jealousy evident.

“My job, Lan, let’s not forget that I need to work too,” she reminded him. “It’s not like I’m going to be fawning over their drivers.”

“Max always liked you, though,” Lando continued, sitting down next to her on the bed.

“As a friend. I think Kelly would kill me if it was anything else,” Renn replied with a laugh.

“When will you be in McLaren’s motorhome for a change?” Lando countered, his tone more serious.

“When McLaren hires me as their photographer,” she retorted, but then she noticed the sparkle in his eyes. “Don’t you go pulling strings. I’m enjoying just being at the races when I can.”

“Fine,” Lando sighed again, though he couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice.

“Careful, Norris. Jealousy doesn’t look good on you,” Renn teased, nudging him with her shoulder.

“Can’t be jealous of something I can’t have,” Lando quickly retorted.

Renn studied him, unsure whether he meant a Red Bull seat or her, but she imagined he was talking about her. They were treading on thin ice with their casual friends-with-benefits escapade. She watched him get up and gather his wallet and phone before heading towards the door.

The many weeks of to and fro, leaving shortly after a bout of passion, had left Lando wanting more than just the sex. He wanted her companionship. He wanted the intimacy of cuddles and falling asleep together. Sure, he knew he wasn’t supposed to develop feelings for her, but he always had a soft spot for her. He just didn’t realise it until he had left her alone by herself every single time. It was no longer a question of whether he loved her or not because he did. It was a question of him admitting it to himself and sharing that with her or risking losing her altogether.

“We’re getting together on Thursday for dinner, kind of a tradition. The Quadrant guys and girls will be there too, if you want to come?” Lando asked, his tone hopeful.

“Oh, the dinner Max [Fewtrell] already invited me to?” Renn retorted, raising an eyebrow.

“I didn’t know if you would want to come, that’s why I’m only asking you now,” Lando attempted to explain, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I’ll see,” she responded, folding her arms over her chest.

Lando nodded, a hint of disappointment in his eyes, and saw himself out, clicking the hotel door shut as he left her room.

Renn stood there for a moment, processing the conversation. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go to the dinner; it was just that everything between them was becoming so much more complicated. She sighed, running a hand through her hair as she tried to push the thoughts away.

------------------------------

Taglist: @fionamiller123 @f1fantasys

[thursdayinspace]

I love the Millennium kiss for the way it is so gentle and happy and calm. There is no urgency behind it, it’s not a revelation, it’s not suddenly being hit with bottled-up feelings.

He looks at her and he loves her, utterly and completely. He doesn’t see the point of putting any walls up in this moment. He lets himself feel it because . . . because it’s what he’s feeling. There’s no “Oh god, I have to kiss her.” It’s: consequences be damned, this is the woman he loves and she’s right there next to him and his heart no longer sees the point of not doing this.

And she welcomes it so easily. There is barely a moment of surprise on her face. She’s ready. This is what they have always been to each other and there is no hesitation, no moment of “Okay, so this is happening now.” It just is. She has loved him for so long and in her heart she already knows that there’s no use denying it. If he leans in for a kiss, then yes, she’s going to kiss him back.

I love the way this kiss is done – the way all the sounds of the new year’s celebration fade into the background and the camera narrows the world down to only them, like nothing else exists. It captures the gentle energy of the moment so nicely. Because what has prevented them from doing this has always mostly been external factors, private and professional, but not emotional. But there are none here. They’re literally being faded out. It’s just them. It’s honestly perfectly done. Including the acting; you see them giving in to the moment, and I especially love the change of her smile after the kiss, going from “wow, this really happened,” to “did this really just happen?” It’s art. Everything about it.

This moment is not about being in love, it’s about loving each other. There is a difference. There is none of the fluttery excitement about being in love, the elation of it, the fantasy of what could be, the need, the straining towards each other. This is not their hearts jumping in their chests, their breaths hitching, their palms tingling with the need to reach out. This is quiet and soft. They already know. This is not “I need you like I need air,” this is not “I think of you every second of every day and miss you like crazy when I don’t see you for more than an hour.” This is “Did you know that I love you? Because I do.” This is “Nothing feels more right than being here with you right now.” This is exactly what they say to each other after the kiss: “The world didn’t end.” “No, it didn’t.”

It is not a storm. It’s the atmosphere of a gentle summer evening, nowhere to be but with each other. Life goes on, and it still will if they allow themselves to kiss, to admit that this is what they’ve wanted all along. Maybe, in a way, it is a revelation after all. It’s realizing that there’s no point in pretending.

They are truly happy in this moment. There is no doubt, there is no question about anything. This is who they are. This is pure and unfaltering love. Quiet, calm; the only motivation being that they want to. And that is what makes it so good: the only reason for it being “I can’t not tell you that this is the way I love you.” Of all their kisses, this is the happiest one. Their walls are down, and the world didn’t end.

[xileonaaaa]

Thinking of a lonely Sukuna who finds you entertaining…

Heien Era Sukuna x sorcerer!reader

Please refer to this if you are confused.

Sukuna’s cursed technique involves 2 types of slashes, cleeve and dismantle, and he can use them separately, or combine them.

Sukuna has mastered RTC, meaning he can heal himself, and others! (He healed megumi during the shibuya incident.)

Imbuing a weapon with cursed energy just means to enhance its overall strength.

He isn’t a possessive maniac who calls you “Woman.”

➽──────────────❥

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

!RyomenSukuna who has been alive for longer than he can even care to remember.

!RyomenSukuna who is by no means a fool, and is not a force to be reckoned with. For he is, without a doubt, the king of all curses and curse users alike.

!RyomenSukuna who bears the burden of being infinitely strong, but lonely, and only has a mere servant by his side to keep him some form of company.

!RyomenSukuna who would often find himself aimlessly strolling through the charred remains of what was left of the once flourishing villages he’d burnt to smithereens.

!RyomenSukuna who was desperate for some form of entertainment, someone he could battle for at least a little while before they ultimately died. (Every lone sorcerer either tried to run from him, hide or wouldn’t even be able to get a single attack out. It was pathetic.)

!RyomenSukuna who felt your presence before he even saw you.

!RyomenSukuna who was rather displeased by how weak and pathetic you seemed, trying your absolute hardest to sneak around behind him by hiding yourself amidst the rubble and sut like he was some sort of sick joke.

!RyomenSukuna who scoffed before pausing in his walk to casually toss a cleeve back behind him, in your direction.

!RyomenSukuna who eagerly waited to hear the satisfying sound of your flesh hitting the ground, but when that never came, a menacing grin formed on his face.

!RyomenSukuna who tossed a few more cleeves your way, even tossing back a dismantle at one point, but still never heard the sound of your body getting split in half. He was sure you could handle him, right? After all, you survived the bud of his technique, so why not play with you a little?

!RyomenSukuna who spun around with haste to face you, and initially was a bit stunned at your utter beauty, having never seen anyone as ethereal as you before. However, he didn’t let his moment of awe phase him, and to the untrained eye, his bloodlust was the most apparent thing etched onto his inhumane features.

!RyomenSukuna who took his time sizing you up, his eyes widening as he felt your cursed energy suddenly surge. His smile increased ten fold when he realized you were actually stronger than you’d originally let on. He was going to have fun ripping you apart.

!RyomenSukuna who engaged in a ruthless battle with you, learning different things about you as you gave it your all against him. He noticed that you seemed to have some sort of limit on your cursed energy, and that quite literally was your downfall.

!RyomenSukuna who stalled, and blocked your attacks for as long as he could, halfassing you in the worst way possible.

!RyomenSukuna who eventually, just as he’d previously predicted, could feel your cursed energy start to dwindle, and he knew you were reaching that point where you’d be rendered powerless in a matter of seconds. He was curious to see what you’d do.

!RyomenSukuna who watched as you put some distance in between the both of you, before using RTC (reverse cursed technique), and pulling out some sort of interestingly shaped katana. He didn’t bother attacking you, far too interested in watching how you split your remaining cursed energy into healing yourself, and imbuing whatever was left over into your weapon.

!RyomenSukuna who had a smile of pure elation as he watched you charge at him, faster than the speed of light. He was absolutely livid.

!RyomenSukuna who thought that you were fast, but he was faster. Unfortunately, with the absence of your cursed energy, your basic movements had become repetitive, and without a moments notice, he ripped you clean out of the air, and slammed you down into the ground with so much force, a crater formed.

!RyomenSukuna whose initial feeling of elation faltered a bit when he didn’t see you moving. He took a step back, readying himself for another go at it, and hoping that you’d get back up. Hoping and maybe even wishing that this fight wasn’t over just yet.

!RyomenSukuna whose eyes widened as you surprised him yet again. He watched on in glee as you shakily pulled yourself to your feet, before raising your katana at him and glaring down your sword. The unwavering look of determination in your eyes is what set him off.

!RyomenSukuna who felt his non functional heart beat for the first time, in a long time. His sadistic grin returned to his face, and this time he charged at you first.

!RyomenSukuna who easily knocked you off your feet time and time again, and watched with awe as you kept on getting up, each and every time. He admired your determination, but one misdirected cleeve was all it took to render you immobile.

!RyomenSukuna who normally would’ve scoffed and walked away, found himself briskly walking over to your limp form in what one would call a rather “worried manner”. To him, he just simply wanted to know if you were still alive.

!RyomenSukuna who healed you himself, and, with about as much care a monster like him could muster, lifted you up into his lower arms.

!RyomenSukuna who ended up taking you back to his home, where he was the one to watch over you to make sure you recovered just fine.

!RyomenSukuna who was there to see those gorgeous eyes of yours flutter open, and bear the softest gaze anyone has ever shown him.

!RyomenSukuna who lost his train of thought the moment you started to sit up, and adjust yourself in the soft mattress he’d so kindly placed you on.

!RyomenSukuna who was taken aback at how polite and respectful you were towards him, despite the fact he’d almost killed you. (He seemed to forget that he was also the who saved your life???)

!RyomenSukuna who actually took a liking to you, even though you were in no way close to him in strength, nor did you share the mindset.

!RyomenSukuna who didn’t find himself becoming bored or annoyed the more you told him about your past and upbringing. In fact, he was always subtly nodding along, taking in your every word.

!RyomenSukuna who actually listened to you, and didn’t space out like he normally did whenever someone or something was talking to him. Whenever you seemed to get angry or frustrated at a certain topic, he would get frustrated too. Whenever you’d be happy about something, he’d let a little smirk find its way onto his lips. (It was almost like he mirrored your reactions.)

!RyomenSukuna who began to doubt his initial reason for bringing you back to his home, as the weeks went on. He ends up letting you stay anyway, because you technically did still serve a purpose to him. You were his form of entertainment.

!RyomenSukuna who never really spoke much around you. Usually opting to silently observe you while you trained, or just listen to you as you talked enough for the both of you. Besides, he figured he never really had anything interesting to say anyways. (His voice would only be heard when explaining anything dealing with jujitsu. Other than that, he was as silent as a ghost. The most you’d get from him were the head nods, and soft grunts to show his approval.)

!RyomenSukuna who found himself feeling a bit strange when you told him one night over dinner that you would be leaving soon, and that there was someone out there you wanted to get revenge on for wronging your family.

!RyomenSukuna who spoke up for the first time since he’d brought you back to his home to actually protest against you going out alone. He even volunteered to do the deed for you, to rid your hands of any blood, but you insisted, and he didn’t have it in him to fight you. He could never deny you of what you wanted.

!RyomenSukuna whose face remained neutral, as you waved goodbye to him, before setting off on your journey.

!RyomenSukuna who would never admit, even to himself, that he enjoyed your company, even if it had only been a few weeks.

!RyomenSukuna whose boredom quickly returned, and within a few days, he was back to his daily walks around the ruined village.

!RyomenSukuna who never really took the time to think about just how much your presence really affected him. Nowadays, he was easily agitated, and just as quick to blow a fuse at some of the most trivial things. He wasn’t his normal calm, and collected self, and it bothered him. It bothered him that you weren’t there with him anymore.

!RyomenSukuna who, deep down, feared that you would never return, and that he’d never get to hear your voice again, sweetly chirping away at whatever memories that came to mind. Giving him endless entertainment, something that he found himself desperately craving now.

!RyomenSukuna who never really dwelled in pointless things such as feelings. However, there were times when his restless mind would wonder about you, and if you were okay.

!RyomenSukuna who realized that he was at his calmest and most peaceful state whenever you were situated in his presence.

!RyomenSukuna who found that he just couldn’t fall asleep one night, and opted to take a midnight stroll through the forest to get some fresh air, to maybe even cleanse his mind of the slight worry he was feeling.

!RyomenSukuna who thought his mind was playing tricks on him when he could’ve sworn he saw your smaller form limping towards him from the treeline. After all, he was going on his 8th night of no proper sleep.

!RyomenSukuna who felt a part of him return when he realized that it was in fact you. He let you come to him, and due to the moonlight, he was able to see the horrific state you were in.

!RyomenSukuna who immediately healed you with a gentle touch, before ushering you into a warm embrace. It was the first time he’d ever done something of the sorts, and to be honest he didn’t hate it. He was just glad that you came back.

Glad that you came back to him.

[obriengf]

Jubilee || Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Summary: You find moments of clarity throughout your boyfriend's birthday. Words: 1.9k Warnings: totally added tay swift references - not really a warning (: Notes: despite the photo used in the banner, the reader is non-gender specific, non-race specific, etc.

April 8th, 1995 - Happy Birthday Stiles Stilinski ・❥・

You weren't sure what it was, exactly - maybe it was simply just how his eyes would widen with excitement, a childhood gleam that twinkled so exuberantly as he smiled. Or, it could be how his body jumped with so much positive energy, the balls of his feet built with springs as he bounded around with pure enthusiasm. Perhaps, it was really the way in which he couldn't stop talking, in absolute Stiles fashion, his mind and mouth running with stories and ideas and honest happiness. Selfishly, you would like to say that it was when he encased his body around yours and provided loving kisses with every 'thank you' during his never-ending expression of gratitude. Whatever it was, it made this time of year your favourite of them all. Nothing could beat celebrating your boyfriend's birthday.

His twenty-ninth year started with a tender peck - lips pressed to his cheek as they covered a freckled canvas, his skin warm as it remained settled under the morning sun that filtered through the blinds. It twitched from such a delicate sentiment and was followed by lashes dancing as the boy began to wake. He was so beautiful, and it prompted your heart to clutch in absolute awe.

His arm was heavy as it remained slung over your waist, despite pulling you closer to his chest in oblivious movements from his still-slumbered state. He hummed lightly against the shell of your ear, a sound of acknowledgement, wordless contentedness to the complacency you helped him feel. It made you kiss him again on the upturn of his nose and he groaned as it scrunched.

"Hi." You whispered so quietly, his caramel toned eyes fluttering once again as they tried to adjust to the morning light. Stiles smiled at you, completely loving with just a simple glance. A hum pushed past your lips, "Good Morning, handsome."

"It is now." He replied, so smooth, so swift. The truth embedded in such little words and encapsulated with sleepy raspiness.

Noses brushed as you giggled under your breath, your thumb rubbing gently under his eye, "And Happy Birthday."

He leaned into your touch as if it were moulded to fit his face, love exuberating from his features with ease, "Thank you, baby."

It was amusing to watch as Stiles shovelled his face with pancakes - the breakfast dish easily branded as his favourite, and seen quite evidently as he moaned loudly in satisfaction. The plate was stacked high and you knew that the sugar rush could potentially be catastrophic, but it was his day, and he deserved everything he desired.

An incredulous look was etched deeply into the furrowed brows and confused lift of Noah Stilinski's lips as he watched his son across the table. The coffee mug in his hand was teetering on the edge of lukewarm by now, but he couldn't tear his focus away. You'd think that after twenty-nine years, the man would be somewhat immune to the quirkiness of his son. Noah's eyes glanced briefly around your small kitchen space - an area where you and Stiles spent much of your time since you moved in together. He had always admired the varied elements representing you both and how easy it was for your lives to merge. It was as if soulmates were united, and this is how your beings were destined to be intertwined.

"You spoil him." Noah's deep voice broke through the silent chuckle you expelled toward your boyfriend, eyes managing to break free as they looked to the man beside you. Appreciation filled the small smile he shone your way and you couldn't help but release an elated exhale, your head nodding in agreement.

"I know." Your reply was simple but was spoken with the utmost adoration for Stiles, observing as a childish spark embodied him with joyousness; a light that took a while to finally settle within his heart after years of trepidation and great wars. A sigh pushed past your lips, "But he deserves it, all of it, after everything he's been through."

And you would give him the world on a silver platter if you could, but you knew that all Stiles truly wanted was to be content. He craved silly grown-up routines and times when he could relax without the threat of worry. He wanted to relive mundane moments from his teenage years that were short-lived due to monsters that lurked in the shadows. He yearned for endearment and safety and just simply knowing that you would be there every morning and night, curled up in his arms, loving him unconditionally. Stiles never asked for a lot, so days like today were ones you strived to make special. Because he deserved special, every last speck of it.

Noah snickered to himself, pride filling his chest as he looked between yourself and Stiles. "He deserves you most, ya know." His words struck a chord - one with melodic tunes, strummed hard enough to get your heart beating fast as a red blush pinched at your nose and cheeks. You reached across and placed a hand over his, your eyes bright as you looked at the older Stilinski.

"Thank you." That was all you ever wanted.

Stiles could work a room, especially when the buzz was centered around him. He had bounced across your living room several times by now, excitement filling his veins as he couldn't stop talking to the friends and family who came to see him for his birthday. You were standing off to the side, half listening as Scott was making conversation about his week at the Clinic - your focus was mostly on Stiles, admiring the way he was utilising his over-energetic nature and definite possible sugar hype from his breakfast. He had never looked happier as words flowed from him, a bottle of beer clutched between the fingers of his right hand as his left arm hung jovially over Liam's shoulders in deep narration.

"You're not listening, are you?" Scott spoke up, amused as his arms crossed over his chest and he leaned back casually against the wall.

"Sorry, Scotty." You offered a smile, apologetic tones seeping through and your friend couldn't help but shake his head as he returned your smile amiably. You took a sip of your own drink, making sure to turn your body slightly, attempting to provide full attention even though your mind still wandered whenever you heard your boyfriend's laugh. "I was, I just got a little distracted --"

" -- It's all good." He intercepted your explanation, a look of knowing putting you at ease. He knew well the effect that you and Stiles had on each other, for the most part, and how you were both connected so seamlessly by an invisible string that without fail drew you back to one another. It only made sense that a part of your focus would always be on him. "But kudos on the party. You definitely decked the place out, and Stiles seems to definitely be enjoying himself."

You hummed, eyes picking up the array of decorations that you so carefully placed only a couple of hours ago. "You know more than anyone that I'd do anything to just see him happy. After all, today is Stiles Day and honestly..." You trailed off, features already beginning to scrunch up as joviality shaped your words, "I think I like it more than Christmas."

You laughed, and Scott joined you. He agreed wholeheartedly as his hand splayed over his chest, head nodding and lopsided smile growing by the second.

It wasn't too long after when the crowd gathered around your dining table with Stiles perching at the head as he sat tall. The lights were turned off and the room became swallowed by darkness - building anticipation, creating an atmosphere of smiles and eagerness for the theatrics to follow. It was the sound of hissing that made ears perk and eyes swiftly track the source as it entered from the kitchen. You had gentle hands as his cake remained in your hold; silhouettes sitting against the walls from shoots of sparking fire that sat atop his cake. His gaze grew large, and the normal caramel tone of his eyes shifted to a glowing golden hue from the reflecting sparklers.

You placed the cake in front of Stiles before planting a tender kiss against the apple of his grinning cheek, your nose nuzzling into his favourite spot under his ear, "Happy Birthday, my handsome man."

The crowd began to sing, mismatched harmonies growing louder in the small space of your apartment. It was hasty as Stiles' large hands gripped at your waist, your body falling toward his own before he sat you in his lap. Legs dangled over his knees and it made you giggle against the curve of his shoulder. Stiles pecked your template before replicating your nuzzle, his nose dragging against your hairline, "I love you."

You watched as the sparklers danced patterns across his affectionate expression, completely mesmerised by him and the fortune you felt, before you smiled up at him, "I love you too. Now blow out those candles!"

It wasn't much different from your usual Monday night; the television played some reruns of comedies from the 90's, every light in the room was turned off except the dingy floor lamp beside the couch, and the coffee table was graced by Chinese takeout containers and leftover plates of birthday cake. Stiles slumped back against the soft cushions with his feet perched upon the table, socks cladding his feet as they moved in tune with the opening credits of an old sitcom. He was in complete comfort, only made better by your frame as it was situated under his arm with your head pressed to his chest and hands curled in the material of his t-shirt. His touch was absentmindedly dragging up and down your side with dancing fingers, the sentiment just barely felt as the movements remained delicate and featherlike.

"Today was amazing." He said so nonchalantly, voice hardly competing with the television as the sound remained low.

You burrowed yourself closer to him, tiredness beginning to takeover, "I'm glad."

Stiles grinned lazily, his lips puckered before pressing kisses down the expanse of your cheek as his nose trailed after them, "But this?Right now... full of cake and chow mein, us cuddling and watching Friends reruns... this is my favourite part. Without a doubt."

"But we do this practically every night." You mused, voice laced with humor and confusion before gently pulling away from him. Your brow was raised, but the puzzled expression across your features was captured with a smile.

"Yeah, we do, but... just knowing how much effort you put into making today the best birthday, it just makes it all mean so much more."

Your heart pattered, a rush of endearment and affection. It was loud and fast in your chest, but one would never have guessed from the quiet squeak of your voice that followed, "I only ever want the best for you."

"And all I ever want is you. Period."

The light from the television casted a blue glow as you leant forward, your arms encasing themselves around Stiles' neck as thighs straddled his own. The programme was long forgotten, and his face settled against your shoulder. You could feel him breathe you in as his own arms wrapped around to your back, his large splayed hands pushing your body further against him.

You kissed the crown of his head, fingers gentle as they tangled themselves in the loose locks of his hair, "Happy Birthday, Stiles."

[simp4wom3n]

Celebrity Crush

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Reader

Requested: Yes/No ~ request @meimei-a

Summary: Y/N has been simping over Jenna for years. What happens when Y/N finally gets noticed by her celebrity crush. (Y/F/M = your favourite movie) ~ Word Count: 2,190 ~ Warnings: swearing

A/N: Hello everyone!! Idk why these keep getting longer and longer but hopefully you guys still like them. Obviously because they are longer they take longer to write but my schedule has loosened so I have more time to write so hopefully the next one will be finished soon <3

Part 1 ~ Part 2

“And here to promote her new movie, the newest star of Hollywood, the amazing, and beautiful, Y/N L/N everybody!!” Jimmy announces with his iconic smile plastered on his face, his hand gesturing towards you as you walk out. Dressed in an extravagant pantsuit and heels, you wave to the audience as you make your way towards your chair. You greet Jimmy as you sit down, taking a moment to take in your first late night show, sat across from Jimmy Fallon, in-front of a large audience, cameras covering you on all angles. Sure you had done press before but this was something else.

Whilst you are undeniably nervous, the excitement of another ‘I made it’ moment overshadows any of your anxiety as you finally face Jimmy as the cheers of the audience diminish. “Welcome Y/N it’s amazing to finally have you on the show. How are you feeling?” he starts with a warm smile, instantly calming your remaining nerves. “Thank you so much for having me. This is definitely a dream of mine so a little nervous.” you explain, earning a nod from Jimmy. “I’m used to being in the audience so it’s still sinking in” you add, gesturing and glancing towards the audience, still unable to grasp the fact that your here.

“Well you have definitely earned it, I mean your incredible.” he commented, earning a chorus of cheers from the audience. A tight lipped smile of appreciation crosses your face as you reply, “Thanks Jimmy thats mean a lot”. “Now… your new movie Y/F/M, am I right in saying its your first lead role in a blockbuster film?” “Yes it is” you reply with a nod. “Now I know they are really strict on what you can say but is there ANYTHING you can tell us.” he asks with genuine curiosity in his eyes.

Despite wanting to go on and on about the movie and reveal every little detail you can, your director says otherwise meaning you can’t say a thing. “I hate to break your heart Jimmy but my lips are glued shut. All I can say is I’m really proud of it” you answer solemnly, giving both Jimmy and the audience a small smile of apology. “It’s annoyingly ironic. Like I have to sell a movie without actually talking about it.” The solemn look on Jimmy’s face is quickly replaced with one of pure elation as he leans back in his chair, letting out his signature laugh, instantly bringing a smile to your face. 

He took a minute to settle down before he moved on, “I had a feeling this would happen so I prepared a little game for you” he started with a mischievous look on his face. You matched his energy, playfully glaring at him, “Ok…” you replied with concern earning a chuckle from the audience. “So I had my team go through your twitter and try to find any common topics you talk about” At the mention of your twitter account you could feel your cheeks warm as you realise where he is going with this.

“Oh god…”. Despite having a decent following, you essentially used your twitter as a dumping ground for all of your opinions on films, actors, food, basically everything. Which also meant you tweeted a lot, and I mean a lot, about your celebrity crush. The breathtaking Jenna Ortega. You practically worshipped her. Your initial film reviews of her performances soon turned into you straight up thirsting over her, so much so you had been asked about it before in previous interviews. It was impossible to deny so you would always openly admit your crush, quite passionately if you might add.

“And it would appear there is one VERY prominent subject” he continued, attempting to hold back a chuckle after seeing the mix of concern and acceptance on your face. “Mhm” you hum as you rest your head on your hand, waiting for him to just say it. “Jenna Ortega”. There it was. You closed your eyes attempting to compose yourself as a smile grew on your face just at the mention of her. “So I thought we could take a look at a few of the more recent ones and you could explain them to us all”, he finishes with a look of satisfaction, knowing he had struck gold. “Really trying to expose me aren’t you Jimmy.”, you chuckle as you straighten your posture and face the screen, “Your lucky I’m passionate about this.” you add causing Jimmy and the audience to laugh.

“Ok first one”. A screenshot of a tweet you posted in January 2022, the day that ‘The Fallout’ premiered for streaming, came up on the screen. It read ‘Just watched ‘The Fallout’ for the first time. Jenna Ortega everybody🧎🧎🧎’. You chuckled as you listened to Jimmy read it out to the audience. “I mean it’s pretty self explanatory” you start, reflecting back on that day. “I didn’t get the chance to see it beforehand so I had been waiting for it to come to a streaming service and when it did… OOO Jimmy you have no idea.” you explain whilst the audience bursts out laughing and you just shrug your shoulders. “What can I say. Not only was her performance Oscar worthy but DAMN she looked good doing it.” you fall back in you chair with a massive smile on your face whilst they all cheer and laugh around you. 

“Ok ok next one” Jimmy says through his laughter. A new screenshot of a tweet from a week or so later, right after you had seen ‘Scream 5’, appears on the screen reading, “I’m not one for horror, but did I just binge the entirety of the Scream saga to see ‘Scream 5’ with Jenna Ortega? Absolutely. P.S it was so worth it”, Jimmy read it out as you and the audience laughed whilst your hand hid your massive smile. “Lets just say I would do anything to be able to watch her.” you say with a smirk on your face as you try to suppress your giggle. “I actually really don’t like horror that much. I hate jump-scares with a passion. I was also praying the entire time that Jenna’s character didn’t die. That was basically all I cared about.”

“Ok final ones” Jimmy states as he pulls up a tweet from only a few weeks ago from after you binged ‘Wednesday’ is one sitting. “Guys someone explain to me how Jenna played a literal psycho but was still incredibly attractive AND girlfriend material.” Jimmy read as he also pulled up another one from a few days ago, ”These bts photos from Wednesday… Someone take them away from me I need this girl as my girlfriend ASAP” you chuckle as he finishes reading them out. “I mean look I think we can all relate to a show being that much more enjoyable because an actor you love is it in right?” you question, looking at the audience who respond with nods and cheers “Right so when I saw that Jenna was playing Wednesday I legitimately counted down the days until it aired and I watched the entire show in one sitting” you finish with a laugh. “That first tweet was right after I finished it and the second one… I mean guys have you seen those photos how could I not be in love”

Meanwhile…

The Tonight Show was a show that Jenna frequently watched. She had been checking Instagram to see who would be appearing on the show when she stumbled across you. She noticed someone who she instantly found attractive, and their name sounded familiar although she wasn’t sure where from. ‘Y/N L/N…. where do I know you from’ she thought as she googled your name in an attempt to connect the dots. Browsing through your movies and tv shows, nothing seemed to trigger any realisation despite having seen some of them. ‘Weird’

Jenna set her phone aside, sat down on the couch, and took out her TV remote, turning it on and switching the station to start the show. Turning it on just as Jimmy announces you, she watches you walk out and her eyes widen slightly as her cheeks warm ever so slightly. You were gorgeous. She sat there speechless as she watched you smile and wave to the crowd, and she couldn’t help but smile with you as you sat in your chair.

If she was being completely honest with herself, she was entirely distracted by your beauty and hadn’t been listening to a majority of what was said, that was until she noticed you glaring at Jimmy. Snapping out of her trance, she listens to Jimmy explain the ‘game’ he wanted to play with you, something about looking through your twitter. ‘Wait have I seen her on twitter?’ Jenna briefly thought as he continued explaining. Her eyes shot open as she unexpectedly heard her name. ‘Wait what’, her ears immediately perking up, her attention now entirely on Jimmy.

As soon as the first tweet came on screen, Jenna’s mouth dropped open as she was suddenly hit with the realisation of where she had seen you before. She wasn’t one to frequent twitter, but whenever she did she would always notice a large amount of tags and tweets relating to you. The ones she had seen were just her being tagged in the comments of your tweets but she thought nothing of it and just presumed it was the fans messing around. She was obviously mistaken.

As you continued talking about your tweets and your love for her so openly on live tv, her cheeks burned as she sat there on her couch in pure disbelief. “How could I not be in love” is what you had said. That was all she needed to hear before she decided to binge almost all of your previous interviews, and to her surprise, and delight, you mentioned her in almost every one.

‘Holy shit’ she whispered as you wrapped up talking with Jimmy, saying your goodbyes and promoting your movie one last time. As she watched you stand she thought ‘fuck it’ as she reached for her phone, immediately opening instagram and going to her DMs.

Back at the studio…

You had just left the stage and were taking a moment to relax and think about how everything had gone. ‘I really just said that on live TV’ you thought to yourself as you chuckled and headed back to your dressing room to get changed and head home. The first thing you did was change out of your outfit because, despite how beautiful it makes you feel, your one and only real love—aside from Jenna—is an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. Once you had changed you grabbed your phone off the table and took a glance at your notifications, the number of which multiplied significantly since before the show. ‘Oh wow ok’ you mumbled as you scrolled through them seeing if there were any of significance.

You were about to put your phone down before a DM notification caught your eye, your breath hitching as you read the name. ‘Holy shit no way’. It was from fucking Jenna Ortega. ‘What the actual fuck… oh my god ok’. Deciding to wait until you got home to answer it, so you don’t seem too unbearably desperate, you grabbed your things and walked briskly to your car. As you drive along the quiet streets late at night, your mind is racing as all you can think about is her. ‘Oh my god does that mean she watched the interview?’ ‘I can’t believe she actually knows who I am’ ‘How am I going to respond to this oh god’. 

When you finally arrived at your apartment, you hurriedly got out of the car and made it to your floor before you almost crashed through the door with excitement. Not bothering to do anything else, you instantly collapse onto your couch and open you instagram, saying ‘Fuck it’ and opening the DM. “Hey cutie” it started, instantly making you blush. “I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to reach out to you. I would love to get to know you better so I was wondering whether you wanted to maybe get dinner with me sometime this week?? Absolutely no pressure but I would love to meet you in person :)” You sat there speechless for a moment. Jenna Ortega, your celebrity crush, wants to go out with you?!? ‘This is too good to be true’ you thought as your fingers hovered over the keyboard. You eventually decided to just go for it, “Are you asking me out on a date?? ;)” you typed quickly and sent before you could start overthinking it. 

You were shocked when it was read in just a few seconds, and you waited eagerly for her reply “How could I not ask such a beautiful girl on a date <3”. Here you were, on what you thought would be a regular day of press, instead being asked to go on a date by your celebrity crush. This was an ‘I made it’ moment on a completely different scale.

Part 2

[caitified]

secret

sabrina ionescu x reader

warnings:none

for the person who requested sabrina in a hidden relationship! hope it’s okay that they’re teammates.

the season had started with a promise, the new york liberty ready to make a mark in the wnba. sabrina ionescu, the team’s shining star, had quickly become a leader both on and off the court. but behind the scenes, there was another story unfolding—one that neither she nor you had anticipated.

from the moment you joined the liberty, you felt an undeniable connection with sabrina. it was the little things—the way she would catch your eye during practice, the subtle touches when you passed each other, and the shared laughter that echoed through the gym. you tried to keep it professional, knowing how intense the scrutiny of fans and media could be, but your chemistry was electric, making it nearly impossible to ignore.

“we should probably keep this on the down-low,” sabrina said one evening after a particularly long practice, the two of you sitting on the floor of the empty gym, legs stretched out in front of you. her hair was damp from sweat, and there was a softness in her eyes that made your heart race.

“i agree,” you replied, a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling inside you. “it’s just… hard, you know? pretending like nothing’s going on when it feels like everything is.”

sabrina smiled, reaching over to squeeze your hand gently. “i know. but we’ve got a season to focus on. the championship is our goal.”

as the weeks passed, you both navigated the ups and downs of the season, all while keeping your relationship a secret. you were always careful to maintain your distance during team events and practices, but the fleeting moments when you were alone felt like stolen treasures.

the liberty’s games became your sanctuary, the energy of the crowd and the adrenaline of competition a welcome distraction. still, you couldn’t help but notice the way fans began to piece things together. whispers of a connection between you and sabrina floated through social media, the occasional tweet or post speculating about your friendship. you both brushed it off, convincing yourselves that it was just fan speculation.

“it’s just a coincidence,” sabrina said during a team dinner, her eyes darting around the table to make sure no one was listening. “people are just looking for drama.”

“yeah, drama that we’re feeding them by sneaking kisses in the locker room,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. sabrina chuckled but her smile faded as she looked around, still wary of being caught.

as the season progressed, you both put your all into every game, the chemistry on the court translating into victories that fueled your determination. but with every win, the scrutiny intensified. fans were quick to capture your interactions, posting clips of sabrina’s lingering glances or the way you leaned in to whisper something during huddles.

“i think they’re onto us,” you admitted one night, sprawled across your bed while sabrina sat next to you, scrolling through social media. “look at this thread.” you pointed to your phone screen, where fans were dissecting every little thing.

sabrina sighed, her brows furrowing. “we’ll figure it out. right now, we just need to stay focused.”

but as the championship game approached, the tension was palpable. both of you could feel it in the air, a mix of excitement and anxiety. the liberty had made it to the finals, and everything was on the line. in the locker room before the game, sabrina caught your eye, her expression serious.

“no matter what happens tonight, just know that i’m so grateful for you,” she said, her voice low but full of emotion.

“me too, sab,” you replied, a smile spreading across your face. “we’ve come this far together.”

the game was intense, each possession filled with adrenaline. the crowd roared, the atmosphere electric as the liberty fought for the title. as the final seconds ticked down, the arena erupted into cheers, and you jumped up, pure elation coursing through you.

after the final buzzer, sabrina was mobbed by her teammates, but all you could think about was her. as she broke free from the celebration, she scanned the crowd until her eyes found yours. in that moment, everything else faded away. sabrina rushed over, her face glowing with joy.

“we did it!” she shouted, pulling you into a tight embrace. you could feel the warmth radiating from her, and for the first time all season, you didn’t care about the whispers. you leaned in and pressed your lips against hers, the kiss filled with all the passion and secrecy you had held back for so long.

the world around you blurred into a haze of cheers and confetti, but in that moment, it was just you and her. when you finally pulled away, the realization of what you had just done sank in. the fans around you had witnessed everything, their phones capturing the moment that would ignite the rumors into a full blaze.

“well, there goes our secret,” you said with a nervous laugh, your heart racing as you glanced around at the wide-eyed fans.

sabrina’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “let them talk,” she said confidently.

the celebration continued, and as the team gathered for photos, you and sabrina stood close together, her arm draped protectively around your shoulders. you felt free, ready to face the prying eyes of the world, with the person you loved most.

as always, thanks for reading. leave me some requests!

[lxndonorris]

a special day at Monza - Charles Leclerc

Y/N x Charles Leclerc Theme: Smut after winning at Monza, Charles wants to celebrate with you x A continuation to this x word count: 4400+ taglist: @game-set-canet @cloud-55 @pitstopreality-f1 open for requests!

Charles has done it. He won the Monza Grand Prix in spectacular fashion, crossing the finish line just ahead of the Mclaren after outsmarting them with his strategy.

The crowd erupted into thunderous cheers, the sea of red flags waving high as Ferrari triumphed once again on home soil. It was a beautiful moment, the kind of victory that left an indelible mark on anyone who witnessed it.

From down below, you watched him, your heart swelling with pride as the Italian national anthem played. Charles stood on the top step of the podium, his expression a mix of joy and relief. You saw him let out a long sigh, as if the weight of the world finally lifted off his shoulders.

The tension he carried throughout the weekend melted away in that single moment. He was beaming, his face flushed with adrenaline and pure elation.

As the champagne bottles popped, Charles and the other drivers sprayed each other with wild abandon. He looked incredible, absolutely phenomenal, standing there in his special black Ferrari suit, the carbon fiber aesthetic gleaming under the podium lights.

He was in his element, a winner among winners, and he knew it. That self-assured grin played across his lips as he took it all in.

After what felt like an endless stream of interviews, photos, and celebrations, you and Charles finally escape to his private quarters. You step into the room, taking in the luxurious interior, while Charles speaks to his assistant, telling them he needs to change into fresh clothes. 

As soon as the door closes behind them, leaving you alone, Charles lets out a quiet, almost boyish celebration—a little "yes" under his breath, his fist pumping the air.

You can't help but smile as you approach him from behind, your fingers grazing the damp fabric of his racing suit. He smells intoxicating, a heady mix of sweat, champagne, and the faint remnants of his cologne, the scent still clinging to him after all the podium chaos.

"How do you feel?" You ask, your voice soft as you trace the curve of his back, your hand trailing down the line of his spine.

Charles turns to face you, his hands immediately finding your waist, pulling you in close. His eyes sparkle with a kind of raw, unfiltered energy, the high of his victory still coursing through him.

You steady yourself against his chest, feeling the silky fabric underneath your palm.

"It's... it feels so good," he breathes, his voice low and thick with emotion. "We... I needed that, so much."

You can feel how much he is relishing this moment—the way his grip tightens on your waist, his need to ground himself in something familiar, something physical.

His racing suit clings to his skin, soaked through with champagne, but still, the fabric feels so good beneath your fingers. His chest is firm, his body exuding strength and exhaustion in equal measure, yet he seems more alive than ever, buzzing with energy.

Charles' hair is tousled, messy from the helmet and hours of racing, and his face is flushed from both the effort and the celebration. He looks beautiful—raw, powerful, and still full of passion. But there is something else in his eyes now, something more primal.

As you run your hands over his chest, he leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek.

"You remember the photoshoot?" He asks, his voice dropping an octave, thick with teasing.

You nod, recalling how you teased him, how close he has been to losing control. It drove him to push himself, to go all out in the race, all for this moment.

"You told me to be patient," he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Did I do good?"

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel the heat rising between you. His eyes are darker now, filled with something more than just triumphant—they are clouded with desire, a need that has been simmering beneath the surface, now unleashed after the intensity of the race.

As your hands roam lower, tracing the firm lines of his abdomen and then lower still, you feel the unmistakable evidence of his arousal, straining against the damp fabric of his suit. 

He groans softly at your touch, his hands moving up your sides, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sends goosebumps racing down your arm.

"Charles," you whisper, feeling the tension rising between you, your breath catching in your throat as his hands slide further down your hips, pulling you even closer to him.

You feel every inch of him through the fabric, and the way his body responds to yours makes your heart race.

His lips hover just inches from yours, and you can feel the heat radiating off him, the mix of sweat and champagne adding to the heady atmosphere.

"This... is what I wanted," he murmurs again, his voice low and husky. "To celebrate with you... properly... like this."

His words send a wave of heat through you, and you can't resist the pull any longer.

Your hands roam over his body, feeling the firmness of his muscles through the soaked suit, the fabric clinging to him like a second skin. Charles is all yours in this moment, and you can feel how much he wants this—how much he wants you.

He leans in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that is hungry and full of need, the tension between you finally snapping.

The intensity of the moment, the high of his victory, the heat of your desire—it all blends together in a whirlwind of sensation.

As you pull apart, the heat still lingering between you, Charles' eyes gleam with mischief. His voice drops into that familiar, teasing tone.

"I still can't believe you made me wait; how badly I wanted you then," he smirks, letting his words sink in before adding, "I want you even more now."

The way he looks at you, the hunger in his eyes, sends a wave of desire through your body. He leans in closer, and in a teasing voice he asks, "Do you want to help me change?"

It's clear from the look on his face what he is really asking, and you feel your heart race in anticipation.

Without saying a word, you reach out, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his damp racing suit. Slowly, you trace the patterns of his suit to the zipper before pulling it down inch by agonizing inch.

His eyes follow your hand, the tension in his body rising with every slow movement of the zipper.

When it finally reaches his waist, you feel him exhale deeply, as if releasing the last bit of control he had left. The tight, soaked red Nomex shirt underneath is revealed, clinging to every contour of his body, leaving nothing to the imagination. 

His breath hitches as you drag your fingers over the damp fabric, feeling the ridges of his abs and the strength in his pecs.

Charles peels the upper half of his suit down easily, leaving the vibrant red Nomex on display for you. The shirt is plastered to his skin, highlighting every muscle, every curve. 

You can't help but reach out again, your fingers moving slowly yet firmly over his chest, his arms, and his biceps. His body responds immediately, muscles flexing beneath your touch as he lets out a deep, satisfied growl, his lips parting with each breath.

He is still buzzing with adrenaline, his body on fire from the high of the race and the intense emotions of the day. 

You can feel it in the way his muscles tense and relax under your fingers, the way he sighs with each stroke, his body betraying just how much he is still running on that post-race energy.

His nipples are visible through the tight fabric, and as you brush over them with your thumb, Charles lets out a deep groan.

You lean in closer, your voice soft but teasing. "Do you like that?" You ask, knowing full well the answer.

He nods slowly, his eyes locking onto yours with a longing that sends shivers down your spine. His scent is intoxicating, stronger now—sweat, champagne, and the raw, musky scent of him, intensified by the closeness between you.

Every breath feels electric, the tension in the air growing thicker.

Without breaking eye contact, he casually slips out of his shoes, all while running his hands over his own body, his fingers lingering over the bulge in his suit. He strokes himself slowly, teasingly, knowing full well the effect it has on you. 

His gaze never leaves yours; the confidence in his posture and the way he moves is undeniable.

You can't resist the temptation any longer.

You bite your lower lip, feeling the heat building between you, and you reach out to stroke his arousal. The fabric is soaked, clinging tightly to his body, and he lets out another growl as your hand moves over him.

His hips push forward into your touch, and the sound that rumbles from deep within his throat makes your pulse quicken.

You tease him lightly, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "You seem pretty worked up," you say, your voice full of affection but also amusement.

His eyes darken, and a growl escapes him again, the sound low and deep. 

"You have no idea," he replies, his voice rough with desire, his hands gripping your hips as if to steady himself.

The tension is electric; each touch, each glance makes it harder to resist the pull you both feel toward each other.

Charles is on edge, his body responsive to every move you make, and you feel just how badly he wants more.

"I loved watching you drive today," you whisper, your voice soft but filled with admiration. "Every corner, every lap... you were incredible."

As you speak, you let your hand trail over his chest again, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath the thin fabric.

You know how much he loves hearing the praise, how it fuels him, and you feel his body react, his muscles tensing at your words.

His breath hitches, and you hear his accent slipping through more than usual—that familiar richness in his voice that always comes out when he is horny.

It makes your heart race every time, the way his words sound so much more intimate, more raw, in moments like this.

Even though you both already know the effect you have on each other, he leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek, his stubble lightly grazing your skin, and sending a shiver down your spine.

"I need you so much," he murmurs, his voice low, rough with desire. 

Charles grinds his hips against the palm of your hand, the pressure building, making it impossible to ignore how much he craves your touch, craves you.

His words are heavy with longing, and you can feel just how on edge he is, his restraint slipping with every passing second.

You bite your lip, teasing him further, your fingers brushing over the bulge straining against his racing suit. He groans, his body pushing into your touch, desperate for more.

You grab his length firmly, feeling the heat through the damp fabric, and he lets out another low growl, his hips grinding into your hand in response.

His entire body is relishing the sensation, every breath deep, every movement deliberate as he soaks in the pleasure of your touch. His fingers dig into your hips slightly, pulling you in even closer, as if he can't stand to be apart from you for even a moment.

As you stroke Charles' arousal, you can't help but recall the earlier teasing during the photoshoot. The way his body was on the verge of release, his mind flooded with desire, yet he was patient.

Holding back for you, for this moment. He has done well, he's been nothing but good.

"You were such a good boy back then," you murmur, your voice dripping with affection and amusement as you run a hand over him, feeling the heat radiating through the fabric.

At your words, Charles whimpers softly, his composure slipping for just a second before he tries to regain control, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

You can see the effort it takes him to hold back, to stay grounded in the teasing instead of giving in to the desire that is still growing.

After a moment, you step back from him, creating a tantalizing distance between you. 

You walk over to the sofa in the middle of the room, letting the silence stretch, knowing that he is watching every movement you make. Sitting down slowly, you cross your legs and lean back, gazing at him with a playful smirk as you motion for him to join you with a teasing curl of your finger.

Charles runs a hand across his face, brushing back the damp strands of hair that fell into his eyes. His other hand stayed firmly on his bulge, pressing down as if to contain his arousal, but the way his fingers flex shows just how much he is enjoying the pressure.

There is a hint of swagger in his step as he makes his way over to you, his eyes dark and hungry, but with that same playful glint.

When he reaches the sofa, Charles climbs on top of you with a slow, deliberate movement, his body hovering over yours. You lean back, sinking into the plush cushions, letting him take control of the space between you. 

His presence feels all-encompassing, his body warm and powerful above you, and you feel the tension crackling in the air.

You reach up, tugging the edge of his damp red Nomex shirt just enough to slip your hand underneath. His skin is warm to the touch, slightly damp from sweat and the remnants of the race, but impossibly smooth.

He sighs deeply at the sensation of your fingers brushing against his bare skin, his body reacting instantly.

"Your hands are cold," he breathes, his voice a playful complaint as he leans down closer to you, his breath hot against your neck.

But even as he says it, you hear the enjoyment in his voice, the way his body shudders slightly at the cool contrast of your touch against his heated skin.

You smirk up at him, refusing to stop. "You'll get used to it," you reply, your tone just as teasing as you drag your fingers up the length of his torso, feeling his muscles tense and contract under your touch.

Charles groans softly, his head dipping closer to yours as his body presses down against you. The weight of him feels perfect—a mix of strength and desire, his form enveloping you.

His eyes flutter shut for a moment as he breathes deeply, clearly reveling in the feeling, in the attention you're giving him.

"You have no idea how hard it is to wait," he murmurs, his accent thick as he opens his eyes, locking his gaze with yours.

There is a fire in his eyes, a desire that has been simmering all day, and now it is dangerously close to boiling over.

His lips hover just inches from yours, his body taut with anticipation. The teasing, the tension—it all makes the moment even more electrifying.

Charles wants more, and you feel the pull, but part of you enjoys keeping him on edge, savoring every second of his longing.

His hand slips down to your waist, gripping you firmly as he adjusts his position slightly, pressing the arousal against you again. You feel the heat, the urgency, but still, you tease, your fingers playing over his skin, moving slowly and deliberately, letting the moment stretch.

"Patience... just a little longer," you whisper, echoing the words you told him during the photoshoot. And just like before, you see the way they affect him—the way his muscles tense with the effort of holding back.

Charles lets out a low groan, his head dropping to your shoulder as he breathes deeply, his self-control clearly hanging by a thread.

But he loves it—loves the tease, loves the chase, loves the way the tension between you only makes the eventual release all the more intense.

You run a hand down again, between his legs, across his length and smile. "You're nearly there, huh?" You tease, the smirk on your lips growing as he leans back slightly, giving you a full view of the desire burning in his eyes.

He lets out a low groan in response, his frustration mixing with pleasure.

Gently, you reach up and caress his cheek, your thumb tracing the edge of his jaw. His skin is warm beneath your fingers, and you see the tension in his expression, the way his body is aching for a release.

Your fingers trace his jawline, through his stubble, and across his lips. They are soft, warm as you trail their outline gently.

He swallows hard, his gaze shifting between your hand and your eyes.

"I think you've been patient enough, don't you think?" You tease, pressing down softly on his lower lip so they part slightly.

Without a word, Charles leans down and captures your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. The intensity of it sends shivers through your body, his lips soft but demanding as they move against yours. 

You respond immediately, your fingers sliding over his chest, feeling the taut muscles flexing beneath the tight fabric.

He tastes of champagne and something sweet, his scent intoxicating, pulling you deeper into the kiss.

As your bodies press closer, you feel one of his hands move down to the waistband of your jeans. His fingers work deftly, unbuttoning them with ease, and the sensation of his touch makes you giggle softly against his lips.

He smirks at the sound, the playful energy between you only adding to the excitement of the moment.

You embrace his touch, letting him continue, your body responding to the way his hands move over you. His kisses grow deeper, more insistent, and you can feel the heat radiating from him, his need palpable in the way he touches you.

Your hand finds its way to his back, sliding beneath the shirt to feel the smooth, damp skin there, and Charles shudders slightly at the contact, a soft moan escaping him.

"Give me a moment," he asks as he pulls away from you, his breathing still heavy.

You nod, your eyes never leaving him as he gets off you and stands beside the sofa. He reaches for the zipper of his racing suit and, with deliberate slowness, slides it down the rest of the way, the fabric falling to his thighs.

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch the material drop, revealing his tight red fireproof underpants beneath. The fabric clings to every inch of him, outlining his arousal unmistakably, and he grabs hismelf, his eyes dark with longing as he gazes at you.

For a moment, he simply stands there, letting the tension build before he takes his shirt and pants off in one smooth motion, leaving his body gloriously exposed, save for the fitted boxers that hug his muscular frame.

The sight of him takes your breath away—his skin still glistening from the race, muscles defined and flexing slightly as he moves. 

He looks perfect, and the way he watches you, knowing the effect he has, makes it all the more intoxicating.

Charles smiles faintly, stepping closer and reaching for you, his hands warm as they slide under your shirt. In one fluid motion, he helps you lift it off, leaving you in your bra from your waist up. Effortlessly, he unhooks it, and you watch it slide off your skin, leaving you bare.

His eyes linger on your skin before he climbs back on top of you, pressing his body against yours. The heat of his skin against you is electric, and for a moment, you simply grind against each other, the friction sending shivers down your spine.

Charles lets out a low, breathy moan as he moves against you, and you can feel his arousal pressing harder, making the anticipation all the more unbearable.

Your heart races as he reaches down, his hands steady and sure as he pulls your jeans and underwear down, one after another, exposing you completely.

His touch is both gentle and insistent, and your body responds to him instinctively, craving more. He shifts for a second, his own boxers sliding down as he removes the last barrier between you. 

Your eyes take in every inch of him—his beautiful body, toned and flushed, every muscle defined. 

Then, with one fluid movement, Charles positions himself above you again, his gaze locking with yours. There is a moment of stillness, the world narrowing to just the two of you, the desire heavy in the air between you.

And then, with a deep, breathy sigh, he slips inside you, your bodies finally coming together in a way that feels inevitable and perfect.

The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure, relief, and pure connection. Charles groans softly, his forehead resting against yours as he moves, his breath ragged with need.

You move together, slow and deliberate at first, savoring the moment, every sensation heightened by the buildup of tension. His hands grip your hips firmly, and you feel the heat of his body against yours, his skin damp and warm as he rocks into you.

Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through your body, and the way he moves—so focused, so in tune with you—makes it all the more intense.

"God, you feel so good," he breathes against your ear, his voice rough and filled with need. His accent slips through again, that familiar sound making your heart race even more as he presses deeper, his body moving in perfect rhythm with yours.

You hold on to him, your hands roaming over his back, feeling the flex of his muscles as he moves.

Every inch of him is perfect, his body responding to yours in a way that feels almost instinctive, and you can feel the passion between you building, growing with each movement.

Charles' breath is hot against your skin, his moans growing louder, more desperate, as you lose yourselves completely in the moment.

As your bodies reach their climax together, the intensity of the moment leaves you both breathless. 

Charles collapses gently on top of you, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath, face flushed with exertion and satisfaction. He kisses you softly, his lips tender against yours, his hands slowly caressing your cheek, still lost in the afterglow.

You feel his hand move to your chest, his touch light and affectionate, and you mirror the gesture, your fingers tracing along the defined muscles of his chest, feeling the warmth and strength still pulsing beneath his skin.

After a moment, you separate, both of you still catching your breath. You reach for your underwear and jeans, slipping them on slowly, your mind still replaying everything that just happened, savoring the memory.

As you finish dressing, you glance over at Charles, who is standing by the cupboard, already pulling out a fresh pair of clothes.

He grabs a clean pair of boxers first, sliding them on effortlessly before following up with his jeans.

You can't help but admire the view, watching him as he moves with that natural grace, his body so familiar to you yet always captivating. Your gaze lingers on him, and he notices, a playful smile spreading across his lips as he catches you watching.

"Like what you see, huh?" he teases, his voice low and full of amusement.

He runs a hand deliberately across his chest, tracing the muscles with his fingers before letting his hand slip down to his crotch, making sure you notice his playful little act.

You smile at his teasing, the way he always seems to know exactly how to make your heart race.

"I do," you admit with a smirk.

Your eyes drift to his racing suit still lying on the floor; the fabric crumpled where he stepped out of it. The sight brings back memories of earlier—how stunning he looked in it, how much you admired him.

"You look so beautiful in that suit," you add softly, gesturing to it.

His expression softens at your words, a flicker of appreciation in his eyes.

Without saying a word, he approaches you, closing the distance between you. His hands are gentle as he helps you clasp your bra, his fingers brushing against your skin as he adjusts the straps.

Once he is done, he steps back slightly and reaches for one of his black Ferrari shirts, the one he had worn earlier in the day, and hands it to you with a warm smile.

"Here, wear this," he says, his voice low and affectionate. You can tell he loves seeing you in his clothes; the way the shirt hangs loosely on your frame, a reminder of how close you are.

And you love wearing his clothes, especially when he recently wore them, due to his cologne, his unique scent, clinging to the fabric.

As you pull the shirt over your head, you catch the way he is still looking at you—the same playful yet adoring gaze that always makes your heart skip a beat.

"You really think I looked that good in the suit?" he asks, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You nod, your eyes meeting his. 

"You looked incredible, Charles," you reply honestly. "You always do. But something about that suit... it's like it was made for you."

He chuckles softly, clearly pleased with the praise.

"Well, I guess I have to keep it then, for you," he teases before leaning down to pick up his discarded clothes from the floor. You join him, helping gather pieces of his racing attire, folding the suit carefully in your hands.

Together, you tidy up the room, both of you moving easily around each other in the comfortable silence that comes from knowing someone deeply.

After you finish, Charles comes up from behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

"You know," he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. "I think winning today wasn't even the best part of my day."

You smile, leaning back into his embrace.

"Oh? What was the best part then?"

He kisses your cheek softly, his lips brushing against your skin.

"This. Being with you."

[sahonithereadwolf]

My nation put together this Tsalagi language children's show ...

as an language learning tool and it's just the cutest thing on the planet. I don't think I can explain the feeling of not only seeing your culture on screen and the language used in the way it is, but also... like to see these characters and what their wearing and it feels immediately familiar. Like I know who these people are immediately.

It's definitely made me not feel as alone in some of the stuff I make given how I see the same sorta notes and characters resonate here. If anything it’s made me want to create more. I'm bristling with energy. Just seeing my people out there. Being cool and in motion.

It’s just pure cozy elation. This would have meant everything to me as a kid.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Brainrot and possibly crack-ish thought that I spent too much time thinking about: The Forge of Solus works a bit too well, and now everyone who has been a Prime has been revived. The Fallen, who through some miracle, also ends up on Earth and dragged into family shenanigans. In short, pure chaos with all the Primes.

Heck yeah, this could go a thousand and one ways and I could even make it angsty if I try. I love this.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Optimus had not expected to be saved. He was dying and he had largely accepted that fact as the Allspark welcomed him. However when the Forge of Solus Prime repaired him, he felt something else be dragged along back to his fallen form along with him. He was not sure what it was when he woke in his new frame, but something felt... off. He did not question when he flew to Darkmount and collected his team after driving his foe back, but once his team was settled in Hanger E, he was absolutely certain there was something wrong. Ratchet already wanted to do a scan on Optimus after his near death, but when the Prime came to him in minor terror, the medic all but tripped over himself to get scans completed.

The team ended up gathering around to watch as Optimus had his scans taken, and they were all shocked and in awe at what they saw.

Within Optimus's spark chamber were fifteen small sparks, each fluttering around Optimus's lovingly. They were tiny, still developing, and yet had none of the unsettled energy of sparks in need of a host. It was... unsettling for Optimus, largely because he never felt any spark ignite within him, nor had he taken on the role of surrogate for a mech waiting on a frame to inhabit. He knew the Matrix had creation capabilities, but he had not at all expected it to be so extreme. Ratchet chalked it up to the Forge possibly causing the Matrix to use some of its power to ignite newsparks, but deep down Ratchet, Optimus, and the rest of the team did not believe that at all. Sparks do not come from nothing, nor do they come from a frame transfer totally stable. The newsparks within Optimus were far too controlled and powerful to be the result of the Matrix, at least in theory.

There was brief discussion of extinguishing the newsparks, but that idea was shut down the moment Optimus registered familiarity amongst the lives that orbited his own. He did not understand entirely, but they felt like family. And so the Prime opted to keep them, but to the dismay of Ratchet and the combined confliction of the team. Ultra Magnus was ready to accept the young without a moment's hesitation. Their people were lacking in numbers as it was, they needed every life they could to ensure their kind did not join countless others in extinction. Arcee, Bulkhead, and Wheeljack were largely neutral, if a little worried about getting enough energon for fifteen new lives. Smokescreen and Bumblebee were elated at the prospect, if concerned over taking care of more young bots in such a dangerous situation. Ratchet refused to state his opinion and focused on making sure Optimus got enough energon to support himself and his charges.

Things went well enough for a few months after the matter. The children were not alerted to Optimus's state and only commented on the situation when they noticed the team taking more hits for the Prime than usual. But with time, the newsparks grew more demanding and needed frames. In turn, since there were no protoforms to be collected, Optimus needed more energon to prepare to make protoforms himself.

That was when things got tight. Optimus needed more, regardless of his stance on the matter. The team needed to find more energon for him and continue the fight. Rations grew smaller and Optimus grew more and more agitated with receiving greater quantities. Just as things were reaching a breaking point however, something unusual happened. Optimus grew mad with the team for their offering of more energon. He could see that they were tired and he knew the limits of his frame. He could go a few cycles without, especially with how strong the newsparks were. There was debate and anger over the situation, leading an argument that ultimately ended with Optimus emitting an EM field flare that synced up with a pulse from his spark. It didn't seem to do anything at first. The team were startled, but that was all.

Then, two weeks after the fact, an object of Cybertronian origin came careening into Earth's atmosphere, landing in the middle of Alaska of all places. The team quickly hurried to investigate and were promptly met by a mech who towered over all of them, even gaining a solid head on Optimus when he came through. Covered in black and red accented plating, the mech wielded a deadly looking blaster and vaguely reminded the team of Megatron. He bore no factional marks, he carried no sign of any allegiance, but after a while of standing and staring, the mech spoke.

"Thirteen, I sensed your distress... along with the calls of our kin. Where are Solus and the others? I know they are near."

It took a long klik for Optimus to figure it out while the team reeled, but once it settled, he almost choked in pure shock. Megatronus, the Fallen Prime stood before him and evidently believed that Optimus somehow had the other original Primes with him. There was a great deal to unpack in his singular statement, but Optimus did not deny the Fallen access to Hangar E to explain. The team were given to explanation as to who the Fallen was and were only given the name of Megatronus to work with. But it did not take long for things to make sense as the Fallen Prime spoke with the current Matrix bearer.

"You carry them within you? Fifteen sparks... it should not be possible." "And yet it is. I did not know they were Primes, but they felt familiar."

"They will need frames, and you do not have enough energon to produce them."

"Yes, but we are doing what we can-"

"You require protomatter and energon. There is no need to play with words Thirteen."

"Then you are correct."

"I will get you what is required for their survival. In turn, I wish to play a part in Solus's development in order to... make up for my prior mistakes."

"..."

"..."

"That is acceptable."

Confusion radiated from all of the Autobots as the Fallen nodded like nothing happened and promptly fragged off again, not to be seen for another three months while Optimus patiently waited and explained exactly nothing. But of course, not being fools the team started to put things together. Ultra Magnus worked with Bulkhead to create a conspiracy board while the rest of the team collectively tried to not think about the deeper implications of Optimus being called 'Thirteen' and supposedly 'carrying all of them within himself'. So when the Fallen returned with stupid amounts of energon and surprisingly healthy amounts of protomatter, the team opted to not look a gift horse in the mouth, especially considering Optimus seemed calm.

The team shut up and watched as soon enough, Optimus had his fill of energon, received protomatter injections, and within two additional weeks, vanished into his room and did not emerge. The team hovered around nervously for days on end while the Fallen watched human TV shows without a care in the world. It went on for about a week, with Ratchet nearly busting down the door in fear for his leader before Optimus quietly stepped out of his room with plenty of small sparklings in his arms and on his frame.

Ratchet: Optimus, what are those?

Optimus: These are my sparklings. Nominus, Nova, Guardian, Sentinel, Solus, Prima, Quintus, Vector, Micronus, Amalgemous, Nexus, Alchemist, Onyx, Alpha Trion, and Liege Maximo.

Arcee: Sir with all due respect, what the absolute frag-?!

Megatronus: Finally. Now let me see the reincarnation of my beloved.

Fifteen small sparklings, each looking startlingly similar to their namesakes all clung to Optimus as if he were a jungle gym. the Prime simply smiled with all the patience in the world and offered up the one who carried Solus's name with a happy sound. Fifteen sparklings, fifteen sparklings who looked like fallen Primes of times long gone by.

There was no way this was going to end well.