#gosh i feel miserable

[nanna-mi]

We're back to is raining a fucking lot, I have a extremely difficult test which I didn't study for on the other side of the city and I can't skip-

[httpsnfwmbaby]

Why Shrike by Hozier is The Jayvik Song

In the past few days this song has carried itself through my room so many times that it can be practically heard in the walls even when it isn't playing. There isn't a song by Hozier that I do not love but I do have favourites, and Shrike has to be one of them. And given the fact that my hyperfixation on Jayvik has taken residence in the deep hallways of my mind, I was unable to stop myself from thinking of them while listening to this song. So, dear reader, enjoy my analysis of the song and my first contribution to Jayvik nation.

If you'd like to listen to the song as you read this I highly recommend the Live at Windmill Lane Studios version.

Shrike is a song conveying the story of someone who could never fully articulate the affection hidden within their ribcage to their lover. The melodic and gentle music stands as a contrast to the not so gentle imagery of the lyrics. And together they wove the tapestry of a love realised too late. That said, it is far from a gentle love - "hung like the pelt of some prey you had worn; by your grounded and giving and darkening scorn." But despite the darkening scorn of their lover, and the image of them as a hunter, they yearn for them, covering them with adoration - "your sharp and glorious thorn." And isn't that the essence of human existence (that is if you believe that everything is, indeed, about love - in any shape or form that it takes)? We love despite knowing that it might never be enough. We love despite knowing that love is a thorn that could impale us.

I couldn't utter my love when it counted Ah, but I'm singing like a bird about it now

The realisation of a love gone by sinks its teeth so deep it meets his very bones as he grieves the lack of affection bestowed upon his lover. All that is left is to wonder what to do with all this grief. Where to put it? Realising he can no longer keep it hidden inside his chest where it might bleed into his liver, he sets it free like a songbird.

Words hung above but never would form

The weight of affection that rests on one's shoulders is like a blanket of warmth. But a blanket is so easy to reshape unless it's carved out of stone. Lovers, like blankets, can also slip away from us if we are unable to convey the feelings we hold for them.

Like a cry at the final breath that is drawn

The realisation that crystalises too late. Already after their time has come to an end. It is the realisation that the sadness that now crawls its way into his existence leaves him hollow - a gosh of a person awaiting death so that he could be reunited with his lover once again, and perhaps for the first time in all its intensity.

Remember me, love, when I'm reborn As a shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn

These have to be some of my favourite lyrics ever written, for they sing of a love greater than romantic love. It is a love closer to devotion. A love that has loved, and has failed, and now it will spend decades yearning and starving - the same way a shrike will starve without its thorn. And despite it all, it is a love that survives like a prayer. It is the devotion that leaves slightly parted lips longing for a kiss. It longs to repent for its mistakes, and it vows to do so in the next life as well.

He knows his lover isn't perfect - a sharp thorn - but as he thinks of them now, he dresses them with light. A glorious thorn. He finds beauty in their flaws and their possible cruelty, for one cannot be without the other. Life is terrifying, so is beauty, and so is love. It is a testament to the fact that he doesn't see his lover as simply one or the other but as a possibility of everything they have ever been and could be to him as he can no longer think of them outside of his love.

Then when I met you, my virtues uncounted All of my goodness is going with you now

Meeting his lover has shaped him into the person he has become - it has filled him with virtue and goodness, for love makes us gentle. And far more often than not, it replaces the sun with a person as they become the sole source of all warmth. And once they are gone, that warmth leaves with them.

Dragging along, following your form Hung like a pelt of some prey you had worn

Here the uncovering of the darkness of his lover takes a firmer shape. Dragging after his lover. Following wherever they want him to go like a prey that has succumbed to its hunter. And unable to move on, hung like a pelt on his lover. With this imagery he paints himself as the victim of their hunt. While the role of his lover as the hunter stands undeniable, he plays the role of the one who remains unmoving in his love far too late of his own accord.

I fled to the city with so much discounted Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now Back to the hedgerows where bodies are mounted

The urgency of fleeing to a crowded place and burying oneself in the words of countless others rather than constantly grieving so much. The return to his lover - flying free of all past regrets in this new shape that he has been reborn into. To the hedgerows where bodies are mounted as a shrike who relies on its thorn not only to survive but also to fully live.

I was housed by your warmth, thus transformed By your grounded and giving and darkening scorn

Here again he praises his lover's warmth, among others, for transforming him for the better. However, there is also much imperfection to his lover as there was much imperfection to his love. Like a gathering of storming clouds, a profound feeling of disdain hangs above him, thus diming the warmth his lover had previously carved within him.

Remember me, love, when I'm reborn As a shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn

Despite it all, the affection he has for his lover is of such intensity that he will carry it into his next life. And then he will live as a shrike to their thorn. They will no longer have to seek each other out. There will be no time or place for longing or fear or aching of past mistakes. Even if tomorrow isn't certain, a shrike only needs its thorn.

And is this any different from the story of Viktor and Jayce? Viktor, much like the lover in this song, has been the one to show Jayce that he can take the path that leads him to the magic he has always dreamt of. He showed him that despite the dismissive reaction of everyone, there is someone who believes in his dream. When the world has failed him and drained him of his light, Viktor was the one to relight the fire of his ambition - becoming the pulse Jayce could hold onto instead of succumbing to the shrieking of his doubts. And he was also the one to remind him of the goodness of his intentions. It seems natural then that, when Viktor was taken away from him by death herself, Jayce could only think with a mind clouded by emotion. For how can one stay tender and true to his word with blood staining his hands? When faced with the fact that Viktor could be taken away from him, Jayce was unable to cling to principles - willing to go so far as to bring him back no matter the cost. There is no clearer declaration of selfish love than this. But something is wrong. When Viktor awakes the betrayal is stronger than Jayce’s longing, and so he leaves. It is too late. Jayce has realised his love, as it truly was, once his lover has already been destined to be taken away from him. Viktor leaves, and Jayce waits. One is selfish as he brings his love back, the other selfless as he leaves his love behind. A shrike and a thorn. And then Jayce is thrown into the alternate universe where he becomes prey haunted by the ghosts of the glorious evolution and observed by another version of his lover. Despite all his heartach, he drags himself up to meet him and he devotes his life to amend the mistakes of the past as well as the ones he has yet to let happen. It might have been his selfishness that has caused all this, but it is his selfless devotion that saves them both. And as he holds Viktor through his grief in their final moments together, as he presses their foreheads together, he is not worried for what is about to come next. Even if tomorrow isn’t certain, a shrike only needs its thorn. 

[scarletspider2the2ndpower]

Chasm: Curse of Kaine (Vol. 1/2024), #3.

Writer: Steve Foxe; Penciler and Inker: Andrea Broccardo; Colorist: Brian Reber; Letterer: Joe Caramagna

[greyfeu]

:)

[cheerfullycatholic]

Today was bad and it was mostly my doing 🥲 hopefully tomorrow is better, my nephew's getting baptized!

[tatoasting]

Party success, had lots of fun. Made plans with a couple of people for this weekend too! Now I'm recovering by smoking & playing Fallout 3 & I feel so content <3

[xiaominho]

Can we please please pleaseeee have a whole week with like 10° to 15°C less. PL E A SE

[sspiderj]

'if you don't participate in this you'll regret it' hey can we stop acting like high school is amazing and consider that a lot of people don't enjoy being there and don't feel safe there?

[st7rnioioss]

WHEN BSF!CHRIS CAN'T KEEP HIS HANDS AND THOUGHTS OFF INEXPERIENCED!READER ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

˚𝜗𝜚 warnings... grinding, smut, p in v, unprotected sex (don't do this!!), kissing ˚࿔ notes: i'd like to say beforehand this is a little further into their relationship! I'll add more background stuff later<33

chris was restless. he continued to toss and turn in your bed, finally settling on his side, one arm slung around you waist while gently tugging you closer to him, pressing your back flush against his chest while you were sleeping peacefully.

he tried to doze off, he really did. but sleep seemed like the furthest thing away when he laid there, listening to your soft breathing, as the only currently audible noise, feeling the way your chest rose and fell under his touch.

his mind was running a million miles an hour, and he couldn’t get it to stop. it was dirty, wrong thoughts—about you. his best friend since.. well, for as long as he could remember. it had become something more usual, but this time he couldn’t control it.

you’d always been attached to the hip, but never once had he thought about you like this. never had he wondered what you’d look like naked, vulnerable under him.. okay, maybe a few times, but never to this extent. you'd only gone as far as him showing you how to finger yourself properly, where he took over the job because he couldn't resist.

how would you react to his touch? would you reach for his hair? his arms? would you grab the sheets instead? what did your moan sound like?

the real question was why on earth he was having these dirty thoughts about you. you were the sweetest girl he’d ever laid his eyes on, so sweet it gave him a toothache whenever you’d innocently bat your eyes at him, begging him to go get ice cream with you.

gosh, make it stop, he thought to himself, groaning when he snaked his other hand down to try and ease his rock-hard cock, which only seemed to make it worse, hardening even more under his own touch.

he didn’t know what to do, and only to worsen his panicked state, you started turning, his arm momentarily slipping from your waist when you faced him.

your eyes were thankfully still shut, lips in a soft pout from the pillow pushing them together. the sight didn’t help either. nothing helped him ease his raging hard boner. you laid there, so pure, unknowing of his sinful thoughts while your peaceful, gentle look only made the tight restrain in his boxers worse.

sleep was out of reach by now, his hand desperately trying to relieve his aching cock with a groan by carefully rubbing his palm over the bulge—but then your eyes fluttered open. he stared down at you with widen eyes, almost in disbelief that he’d been caught somewhat rubbing himself through his pants, but you didn’t seem to notice right away.

“are you okay?” your soft voice was heard. “you seem restless..” yeah, his constant tossing and groaning woke you up, but not enough to fully comprehend the situation chris was in.

“i- i can’t sleep. that’s all,” he whispered back, blinking rapidly while your eyes scanned his face, roaming every feature you were so familiar with.

speculating about his somewhat unsure answer, your eyes made their way down his chest when he let another whine slip, noticing the way his palm pressed against his groin, and you immediately felt ten times more awake than you were before. heat rushed to your face, before your eyes met chris's desperate gaze.

“oh..” you quipped, suddenly hyper aware of every movement of his, every desperate groan you’d heard behind you just moments prior now making much more sense.

“p-please, just- just let me.. let me put it in,” chris pleaded miserably, letting his free hands knuckles brush over your reddening cheek, his touch gentle as ever.

“chris- no, we can’t..” your answer only made his dick harden, though it seemed fucked up. you were so damn innocent, a prude even. you’d always avoided the topic of sex, not daring to go down that path ever. but he knew that when it came to him, you could bend the rules. “please- i’ll make it quick, i’ll just put the tip in. it hurts so fucking bad,”

but something about the situation caused you to turn curious. chris begging for your touch, begging to let him do something about his hard erection, to touch you.

“okay..” attentively, you turned around to lay in your previous position on your side, chris's hand slipping from the front of his shorts, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

“thank you, thanks- thank you,” he babbled, his clammy hands making their way to the elastic waistband of your sleep shorts, slowly pushing them down your thighs, until they pooled around your ankles, that you continued to gently kick off.

“i promise i’ll be careful, just the tip..” his breath fanned across your neck, making a soft gasp slip from your lips.

your eyes were wide open and lips parted when he hooked his hand under your thigh, gently lifting it to spread them apart, carefully placing your leg back down as if you were made of fragile porcelain.

“o-okay..” you spoke quietly, your breath hitching when his finger made contact with your panties, gently tugging them to the side. “already so wet f’me..” his voice was husky against your ear, lips grazing the sensitive skin as his thumb slowly ran between your slick folds, a weak moan falling from your parted lips.

you were driving him insane, already dripping for him, and it only took a couple right touches and words. oh, how bad he wanted to keep showing you how to feel good, let alone be the first one to. he'd already gotten his fair share on that part.

you’ve never been more nervous, but yet you felt safe with chris pressed so close up against you. it was chris after all, he’d never do anything to hurt you, plus, he was always so gentle with you whenever it came to stuff like this. your hands tugged the stuffed animal you usually slept with to your chest, nuzzling your nose into the neck of the teddy, the soft material under your fingertips easing your mind a little.

“i’ll be gentle, angel.. no need to worry,” he whispered, one of his hands maneuvering his shorts down mid-thigh, along with his boxers, the other one gently running down the side of your face, tugging a few strands of hair behind your ear.

he wrapped his palm around his cock, fisting his cock with a lewd moan, before bringing the head of his cock to your entrance.

“i’ll put it in now.. it’s just the tip, don’t panic..” he mumbled, pressing a reassuring series of kisses to the side of your neck, feeling you nod. “go- go ahead..”

those words was all he needed, gently smearing his sticky tip down your soaked folds, before pressing it forward, watching it disappear inside of you.

“holy- holy fuck..” he groaned between gritted teeth, his fingers gripping at your hip, a weak gasp elicited from your mouth. “oh, chris..”

your moan was silenced from the soft teddy in your arms, eyes fluttering shut at the slow intrusion, letting whines fall from your lips.

chris nearly lost his mind when he felt your walls squeeze around his tip—it took every fiber in his body not to stuff you full of his cock, not to completely ignore your previous, innocent words and start fucking into you.

“gosh- chris..” you whined, nails digging into the soft fur under your hands.

you could practically feel the desperation seep out of him from behind you, his throbbing dick just aching to be inside you.

“m’sorry angel, sorry.. i can’t hold back, please say something-“ chris's voice was strained with despair, his fingertips digging into your bare hip, smoothing his palm over your thigh.

“it’s- its okay..” you whispered, words somewhat muffled, but coherent. he was thankful almost, mumbling continuous praise and ‘thank you’ into your ear, smoothing his palms down your sides, under your top.

it sure was okay, he could tell. you were drooling around his tip, only making it easier to slide right in—which he did. holding tightly onto you, leaving kisses down your neck and back, he pushed his cock further inside of you, slowly.

“h-halfway, baby.. you’re doing so good,” he husked, his heart pounding in chest as he stilled his movements for a minute, allowing you to adjust.

you couldn’t keep quiet, eyes rolling to the back of your head while they fell shut, biting down onto the plush toy to restrain the moans. yet, pornographic whimpers slipped from your gritted teeth from the painful yet delicious stretch, making chris's head turn to mush.

“fuck.. you’re so perfect,” he hissed, sinking his length in until he was fully sheathed inside your heat with a sigh of relief.

blubbered moans fell shamelessly from the both of your lips as he slowly rutted against you, a hint of pain striking through you as you adjusted to his size.

you knew it was wrong. so, so wrong. friends didn’t do this, they really didn’t. what was gonna happen after this? would you just go to bed and wake up just usually tomorrow, just treating it as a favor?

but even though, you never wanted it to stop. his soft touch, lips continuing their work on your lower neck, stuffing you full of his cock when he rolled his hips.

“does it hurt?” he purred, his hot breath mingling on your neck, making a slight shiver run down your spine.

“no… chris, it feels- feels good,” you breathlessly whimpered, gripping the plush animal between your arms as if your life depended on it, listening to the dirty squelching of your pussy, basically drooling onto the soft material between your lips.

he only nodded, feeling your walls flutter around his cock, clenching and squeezing the life out of him. your back arched just slightly when he hit a specific spot within you, moaning loudly into the stuffed toy.

“y-you’re doing so well.. so beautiful,” he cooed, the praise going straight to the pit in your tummy, feeling the tension tighten as your teeth nibbled on the soft plushie.

“oh- oh my god..” without any warning, the waves came crashing over you, your chest heaving while your grip loosened on the soft plushie in your arms.

“jesus christ,” he panted, his slow but rhythmic thrusts continuing, until he reached his climax as well.

“shit- i’m gonna come,” he barely got to say, before the ropes of white spilled inside of you, letting out a shaky breath at the release of tension. you felt limp in his hold, your face growing hot, and heart racing with lidded eyes.

“thank you, thank you angel,” his breath hitched as he slowly pulled out. his pink lips left repeated kisses to the side of your face, listening intently to your breath regulating gradually, the pants turning back to the soft breaths he’d been listening to just moments prior.

you let a small smile break, nuzzling your nose back into the teddy bear to hide your blushing face, as if your back wasn’t turned to him. “it’s fine…”

his fingers danced across your waist, making their way to your hip, giving it a gentle pat as a dazed smile settled onto his lips.

“come on, pretty.. we gotta go pee,”

more bsf!chris x inexperienced!reader

𝜗𝜚˚࿔ notes: none:3

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© ST7RNIOIOSS est. 2023

[twinkletfout]

Overstimulating Choso is the best thing everr!

He had his head thrown back, his eyes tightened shut, brows frowned as he tried to sit upright but failing miserably, he could feel all the strength in him leaving as he peaked his orgasm. You were watching everything, the way he bit his lips when you take him so deep inside your throat, how his thighs tremble when you tease below the cockhead, the place he loves the most. You giggle when he calls out that it's too much. "Im gonna cum, baby! imgonncum, imgonncum,"

you looked up at him from below, from in between his thighs, your big wide eyes drinking down each and every expression that flashes across his face as you gave faint kisses down his shaft till his balls, as you continued stroking him. "Shhh, i got you, hmm?" You hummed, feeling his abs tense up, breathing heavily "baby, fuck-,, im cummin'!" His hips thrust into your hand as the first rope of cum hit on your lips, his eyes were completely shut, the creases on his brows evident.

And you? You watched him. You pussy tinkled and clenched at that erotic sight of your boyfriend feeling good because of you. As the last drop of cum dripped down, his hips instinctively thrust into your hand, as he slumped down on the bed. But before he could catch his breath, your grip on him tightened, stroking it up and down hard. His eyes shot up, looking down at you. His thighs started trembling uncontrollably

"wait- hah- fuck! I already came! Baby i cant!—" his hands came up to stop your hand from moving it, wrapping around your wrist. "Please..!- mmn!" His hips jerked up when you suddenly went down on him, swirling your tongue around, bobbing up and down. You could feel yourself getting even more wet at the loud whimper he let out. When you looked up at him, tears pricked his eyes, pouring down his cheeks. You quickly let go as you got up in worry, "cho, im sorry, are you—"

"dont stop." He said, while the tears were still dripping down his face. Your hands found his cock again but this time you sat on top of him as you kept on stroking him behind you, could feel him throbbing against your ass. His teary eyes met yours, as he leaned in for a kiss, capturing your lips as he moaned into your mouth, "fuck-" he muttered. "Im cummin again, ma" and gosh he did, it throbbed and twitched between your ass cheeks before he erupted, painting your ass with his cum, as it dripped down to mix with your slick.

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

@spring-cosmos I SAW YOUR ASKS AND THERE IS NO NEED TO WORRY I HAVE BEEN THERE <3

[takes1]

Can you do needy kenma smut????? Plzzzz

needy!kenma can't keep his hands off of you

this was incredibly fun to write lmao, just some nasty, feel-good stuff here

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / established relationship / fluffy smut / whiny!kenma / cuddly!kenma / so much PDA / kuroo wants to third / tired!kenma / cuddlefucking / dacryphilia / switchy!kenma / subby!kenma / kenma begging a lot / cumming inside / f!rec oral / passionate sex / kenma loves head scratches / 2.8k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. requests OPEN

Nekoma was walking away with a laborious and well-fought win against their last opponent of the day. It was a lengthy, painstaking endeavor to watch-- let alone to play it all. With months of experience under your belt, you were prepared for Kenma to be tired.

Yet, as he stumbled up to you, hot and wet and miserable, a shocked chuckle drifted past your lips.

"Mmnh-! Thank Goood," He moaned into the comfort of your shoulder and let himself collapse onto you.

The unbridled sound startled not only you, but got the attention of his teammates, still trying to find their partners or family in the crowded and noisy halls.

You wavered under so much weight at once and took on a staggered stance, having completely underestimated his exhaustion just by the look of him.

"C'm'over t'night-," He begged, right away.

He spared no time to talk about the game, his condition, or to say hello.

"Kenma-!"

You half-laughed at his theatrics and his desperate tone. It wasn't rare for him to be grabby or gropey after a game, but this was explicit stuff for an environment so public. He also wouldn't let up on how much he was leaning on you;  although he wasn't a big guy, his dead weight wasn't something you weren't equipped to carry.

"Please b'by," He blubbered against your neck; it turned into a big, wet kiss, and a very intimate whisper, "I need t' hold you..."

A fretful sound stayed shared between you, against his shoulder, before you pushed him off to stand on his own. He quickly sunk to the floor.

"Oh my gosh-," You hauled him right back up, eyes darting around for explanation and found Kuroo, "Is he okay?"

Finally given a strong reason to tease, Kuroo shrugged, leaning closer to your height. He was inspecting him to see if he was at risk for something serious, but found nothing other than his friend's shitty stamina to blame.

Kuroo stood back up, a fake sincerity in his face and to his words, "Hm...Looks like he just needs some T&A."

"You're not helping," You snapped, adjusting under Kenma as he yawned against your hair.

He only snickered at your plight.

The team was supposed to go out for a victory meal, courtesy of their Coach, but Kenma refused to attend if you weren't invited. He refused to do a lot of things, including getting his hands off of you, even when formally told to do so. It was only because Kuroo was their Captain, and held a special fondness for the two of you, that you were vouched for and allowed to be there.

It put you in a tough position. You planned to bring it up to Kenma when he wasn't so useless.

He held you in a vice grip, all bent over, cheek atop your shoulder, the entire ride there. You were stuffed in the corner of the car, suffocated by his body, the addictive smell of his sweaty uniform under a hoodie you brought for him. He flat-ignored every single attempt to talk from the rest of the team, so you took up the mantle of answering for him, if it was needed.

"He's fine- he's just tired," Was one you found yourself repeating at least four times.

But you weren't exactly sure if that was the only thing ailing him. He wasn't usually this bad after a match.

"Carry me?" He begged.

"Baby, you know I can't do that."

He slid like a liquid out of the car, into the restaurant, onto booth seat next to you- practically on top of you. Kuroo trapped the two of you in from the outside and you were once more, squished against a wall.

His leg wrapped around yours, his head returned to your shoulder, arm around you, a groany sigh in his throat.

Kenma was usually very touchy, too touchy- in most cases- but this was a brand new extreme.

"Can we just go home?" Was a question for both you and Kuroo.

You pressed a long, loving peck to his temple, your fingers reached into his hair to scratch his scalp, reassuring.

"No, you need to eat something first."

You tried to stifle your reaction to his hands gripping the table. His eyes were scrunched tight at how fucking good that new manicure felt.

The weight of his head was crashing into your palm, something too close to a whine at the top of his throat.

Your hand was back in your own lap. He leaned towards the absence, dizzy in the aftermath.

The uncontrollable blush crept into every nook and cranny of your face and it only grew in intensity at Kuroo's curiosity and amusement.

"That feel good, buddy?"

"Shut up," Was in a strained mumble.

He accepted the bowl Kuroo built for him as an apology. He ate gradually, much slower than the rest of the team. While most of the guys worked on seconds, thirds, even fourths, Kenma was lucky to finish what he got the first time.

It was good enough.

As promised, it was straight home after the little dinner celebration. You were able to spend the night last-minute, under the excuse that it was late and you were scared of public transportation in the dark, alone.

The thought that he might feel better after a meal and a shower was proven to be just as wrong. He walked out of the bathroom in just his briefs.

Taut, toned and a little tacky to the touch. His fingers scratched at his smooth belly, like he was still hungry.

You set your phone down and slid to sit on the edge of his bed.

"D'you feel any better?"

Now that you were alone, you were much more receptive to his afflictions. He rubbed his hair partially dry, threw the towel on his gaming chair, and collapsed at your feet.

Kenma stuffed his face in your lap, arms wrapped strong around your legs. He took a sobering breath in, but it did nothing to calm himself down.

"Aaah, you smell sooo good-!" He seethed, fingers filling with your soft thighs.

Kenma's affinity for your scent rivaled that of an animal.

He stole long, messy kisses, right at the top of your thighs, spreading your legs further apart- you squirmed at the tingly sensation, but he gripped you tight.

From here, you had a nice view of his lean and chiseled back. You dragged your nails over it, slow and steady circles, as he sighed and grew heavy in your lap.

His kisses grew slower and distracted, but he didn't stop trying to nuzzle in closer to your sex.

"Missed you..." He mumbled.

His admission buzzed through your clothes, inspiring a strong twitch. He grinned.

Palms sliding under your legs, he knocked you off balance to your elbows and shuffled closer, fingers hooking to pull your clothes off until you were completely bare.

When he got this way, he never wanted to talk much. He couldn't hold a conversation for shit when he was hard, so you were limited with what you could get out of him.

If he felt fine enough for this, he must have been okay the whole time.

"So this was all you needed," You muttered to yourself, grumpy about his behavior for only a moment.

The sloppy kiss against your pussy was all the apology you needed.

You relaxed with a whine and slid back onto his sheets. The wet sounds of him eating you gave you butterflies, no matter how often he did it.

"Ooh-, fuuck," You moaned.

The way he pleased you, regardless of method, was always a slow, sleepy endeavor. He carried a kind of dirty ease about it, never struggling to meet your eyes during the raunchiest parts.

He shot his tongue out far to lap at your needy entrance, slow back up to your clit with a kiss, his stare never wavering from your face.

You sucked in a breath through your teeth, your nails back in his hair, and bucked into his strangled groan.

"Did you have some good games today?" You managed to ask, sweet, teasing him.

Your thighs flinched, a whine coming forward, at his long, "Mmmmhmn..."

Hearing him beg for your touch, your body, your attention for hours left you craving him.

You knew he had a short battery for hard work, but he was flat out pathetic all evening. You had never seen him this needy, but it was a huge turn-on.

He met your gaze, leaning hard into your hand.

"You want this pussy?" You tested the waters with a taunt.

His face washed over with complete ease, his brow twisted up tight as he lifted his head from you. You were dripping from his chin.

"Please- yesyes'ys- please--,"

You shushed him- half because it was hot, half because of his family downstairs. You pulled him up by his hair and he rubbed his throbbing erection against you with a whine.

A hot, messy kiss failed to make him quieter, but you were able to at least muffle it.

From here, you could feel how shaky his shoulders were from the demand of the day. It didn't effect how quickly he pulled his cock out and sank into you, never once parting to look or to breathe.

The stretch he gave you was just right- you arched into him, legs bringing him in further.

His sleepy, obsessed gaze only grew harder to focus on as he started to fuck you steady and fast on the edge of his mattress, like he'd been waiting to all day, fantasizing about during every break.

And you lay there, taking him so well, adoring and comforting and supportive- just as you had been, giving up your time to cheer for him at his exhausting day of matches.

"Mmh-!" You whined as he straightened back up, his thumb rolling against your clit.

He was even fucking you with eyes. He wished he could turn you out after every practice, just to blow off steam. If he had your pussy to look forward to, it might motivate him to try a little harder, like Kuroo always joked that he needed.

The glossy, loving look you wore was too much. He grew huffy, tired- closer.

"F-uck," He cried, high and shaky.

His hand squeezed the lower half of your face with varying degrees of strength, as he could manage it. The way he stared down at you was loaded and layered. Somehow mastering the look of both submission and possession.

"You're- mmnh- ahh, you're soo pretty," His eyes rolled back, welled up, another unchecked cry at the back of his throat.

Tears started rolling down his wanton expression. He let you go so he could wipe them.

"Are you- ah-mmn, Okay?"

You reached your hand out to stall his hips. Thighs tired, but squeezing on him to make it harder, but he sniffled and shook his head. He didn't stop.

"You just-," Kenma sobbed again, coming forward to hold you, not forgetting to take the back of your knees with him.

Your shuddery mewl at the motion was talked over- the use of his bodyweight and this position stretched, tightened, your sore pussy around him.

"Feel s-o good."

He shoved his face in the nook of your shoulder, the water from his hair mixing with his tears, soaking the sheets and cooling you off. The struggle in his noise was impossible to distinguish between him crying and moaning.

The lewd sounds of him bottoming out in you had you on edge for a couple of reasons; there was no way his folks couldn't hear this, or least his shitty bedframe squeaking- but he was working you so close to finishing that you didn't dare tell him to be quiet.

"Can I--ah-!" He pulled away, breathy and flushed, his tears dried against his cheeks, "Cum- inside?"

The look, coupled with his deep, rough thrusts, left you speechless. You nodded, unable to form any string of words.

Kenma was all too spoiled- you never had the resolve to deny him at this point, when he needed to cum and asked you nicely. He was so deep, he was so good to you, he begged so well, you couldn't just let him pull out.

You knew you probably shouldn't rely on a little pill to keep this from turning into a big problem, but like every other time he filled you up, it could wait to be worried about.

Right now, you couldn't get enough. You needed it all.

The rhythm of his thrusts got so hard, so fast, you couldn't believe he was acting that tired earlier. You couldn't keep your noise down, and neither could he. So he sandwiched your thighs between you and leaned, even further, to kiss you through your climax.

"Mmn-h," He dug his nails into you, another pitched cry crashing against your sore lips.

Warmth filled you up, leaving you gasping, watching his face, at all the heat he fucked into your spasming cunt.

You were squirming for a while, breath uneven, little whiny noises in his ear, at how hot and sticky and heavy it all was, dripping slow onto the sheets.

His fingers steadied you, grounded you, slow, small, gentle little circles in your hair.

He loved how undone you were, how he could fill you up with just the right amount of dumb for a while if you let him.

Kenma sucked a few bruises into your neck while he waited for you to come down, softening inside but keeping himself buried, mindlessly. He was comfortable. No need to move.

"I'm okay..." You sighed, finally verbal again- he smiled at how cute you were.

He straightened with marked effort. You shared an overstimulated wince at the consequence of the decision.

Eyes closed, you let him slowly straighten your legs back out with a trusting exhale.

"I love you," He affirmed.

It was quiet, simple, and not the first. You brushed his cheek, studying his tear streaks with your thumb as he flopped on his back, next to you. He didn't need to say it out loud for you to know.

A little peck to his chin, "I love you, too."

You stretched, standing, to go clean up and get ready for bed. When you came back from the bathroom, you expected him to be on a game, or at least catching up on his phone.

He was lying just the way you had left him, but fast asleep. Some seize-like twitching confirmed it. He was out cold.

Kenma didn't make a fuss when you had to push him 90 degrees, to get his legs on the bed, and rolled him closer to the center. He quickly fell back asleep, if he had even truly woken up for all of it.

You had just snuggled up to his warm side, falling asleep to his light snoring, when his phone began to ring.

You still answered it straight away in a knee-jerk response, but that's how you knew he was in a deep sleep. He didn't stir at all.

Eyes back on the phone, you realized it was Kuroo and went to say hello.

Your body gave a hard flinch. You didn't realize it was a FaceTime and barely had a second to pan the camera away from anything too incriminating.

He studied, squinting at what he could see. It was just your face, your messy hair, and maybe an aftersex glow, if he looked hard enough.

"Hm. Is Kemma asleep?"

"Mhm," You panned to his sleeping form next to you, not careful enough to leave your shared skin out of it.

He giggled hard at the sight, the sound of him snoring. You heard the clicking of screenshots and grinned at the future grief Kenma would give you for letting it happen. When Kuroo was done, he sucked in a breath.

"Mmm, you did all that?"

You had to take another look at the screen to understand what he meant- if he meant it like that. He sure did. That low-lidded, mischievous smirk was unmistakable.

A roll of your eyes, "What about it?"

He seethed, scanning your pretty, sleepy features. He couldn't resist. "You want me to come finish you off?"

You were too used to his flirting and boundary-ignorance at this point. The best tactic you found was to ignore him.

"Bye, Kuroo--,"

"I'm kiddiiing! Kinda- Ah-hm, You're the best, byyye!"

VIP

@integers @yuchacco

my masterlist. my request box.

[nats-revival]

nsfw ! — thinking about ellie using a strap for the first time. shes just so star struck by it, yet so confused. “it looks so confusing. like, how to people even do this?” she’s looking at herself in the mirror while trying, or failing miserably, at putting the harness on. she was excited to use it on you to make you feel good but she also wanted to know how people figured these things out so fast.

when she’s finally put it on properly with your help, she lays you down. shes taking her time with kissing you all over, marking you up and prepping you with her fingers. her fingers felt heavenly inside of you, and you’re begging her to let you cum but she removed her fingers before you did.

naturally, you pout at her angrily. “relax. the best part has yet to come.” she pats your thigh before littering kisses all over your face. and gosh, does she go the extra mile with making sure you’re okay. “you just need to tell me if you really want this.. cause i dont wanna make you like, uncomfortable.” “im sure ellie, im super sure.” she’s asked you the same question about five times now, but in her defense, she didnt wanna hurt you. after more reassurance, she slides it in slowly as if she were testing the waters.

if her fingers felt heavenly, then the feeling of her cock inside of you was otherworldly. she lets you adjust to the size before moving slowly. you encourage her and she begins moving faster, finding her rhythm. “fuck— you look so pretty right now,” she mumbled, soaking up the sight of her strap going in and out of you. “you’re doing so good for me.” her praises added another layer to the experience that has you whining and moaning so pretty for her. once shes comfortable with the consistency of her thrusts, her pace was even faster. it wasn’t long before she had you cumming all over her strap.

she made a mental note that seeing you with her strap nestled inside you makes her feral. ellie knew she’d be doing this again.

astrids notes: gentle ellie 4 life!!!! im a wee rusty cause i dont write so much anymore so pls dont flame me. 😓😓😓 i kinda hate this but this has been in my brain for days i literally needed to get it out before i forgot.

[moonstruckme]

Hey! 👋🏼 Ty for taking the time to write such eloquent and inspiring fluffy works for us!

I'm a writer as well, and what I've read of yours (most of your marauders in the last 2 days 🫣) has scratched an itch I've had for inspiration! This is greatly appreciated!

I was wondering if you'd mind writing something for Gn!reader and poly!Wolfstar where one of them aren't well (a cold or flu perhaps?) and reader cares for them, convinced they won't catch whatever the other has. But, it inevitably happens anyway and then they're all miserable and help each other through it? Muggle AU or whatever you're comfortable with. :)

If not, no worries! I just love your writing style and it's refreshing!

Have a fantastic day!

Thanks for your request babe <33

poly!wolfstar x gn!reader ♡ 711 words

“Rem.” You kiss your boyfriend’s temple, trying to wake him gently. “Remus.” 

He hums, a tired, croaky sound. His face turns further into the pillow. 

“Sorry, lovely. Your soup’s going to get cold.” 

Remus cracks an eyelid. “Oi,” he grunts. “Get away.” 

You let out a breathy laugh, sitting up. “Gosh, you’re so sweet when you’re sick. Aren’t I lucky?” 

“You’re going to be sick too if you’re not careful,” he says, though he scoots into an upright position against the pillows of the bed once he sees the soup you’ve made him sitting on the nightstand. You pass it to him. “Thank you, love.” 

“Don’t mention it.” You lift your hand, brushing some hair aside to feel his forehead. “How’s your throat?” 

As if reminded to do so, Remus makes a gravelly throat-clearing noise before blowing on a spoonful of soup. “Better, I think.” 

You make a pitying sound, stroking your thumb over his temple. 

There’s a tsk from behind. You turn to find Sirius carrying in a cup of tea. He levels you with a reproachful look. 

“You’re begging to get sick.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’m not.” 

“S’what I told them,” says Remus. 

“I never catch the flu,” you defend yourself. 

“Just…” Sirius sets Remus’ tea down on the nightstand, taking you by the hips to pull you a few inches down the bed. “Let’s keep some distance from patient zero here. Not that I don’t love you,” he says to Remus with a saccharine smile, “because I do, but I don’t need to miss my work party on Friday because this one felt cuddle deprived.” 

“Totally understand.” Remus slurps his soup. 

You frown. “It’s nothing so wholly selfish as cuddle deprivation. If I wanted those, I could just get them from—” You’re cut off when a bit of phlegm gets caught in your throat. You clear it hastily. “From you.” 

Sirius’ eyebrows have inched upwards. “No, I don’t think you could. You’re catching it already.” 

“I am not,” you say, but you can’t help coughing a couple of times. “Sorry, there’s just something stuck in my throat.” 

Remus groans. Sirius pins you with a glare. 

“Get in the bed.” 

Unfortunately, despite Sirius’ best efforts, Friday morning finds all three of you sniffling and foggy-headed, each too warm to tell if the others have a fever. 

“Two blankets is plenty,” Remus reasons with Sirius. 

“I’m freezing.” 

“I’m sweltering.” 

“I’m going to make tea.” You haul yourself upright, dragging one of Sirius’ three requested blankets with you like a cape. 

“Oh.” Remus sounds hesitant. “I’m sorry, lovely, I ran us out of honey last night. I’ll go to the co-op.” 

You try not to let your shoulders slump too obviously with disappointment. Or to curl up on the floor, or to start crying, or any of the things you’d really like to do. 

“That’s alright,” you say. “I can just dissolve a cough drop in it. It’ll work the same.” 

Sirius whines. “Baby, that sounds pathetic.” 

“I’ll only be a few minutes.” Remus starts to rise. “We need more tissues anyway.” 

“No,” you and Sirius say at the same time. 

“The last time we let you go on an errand,” says Sirius, “we found you nearly passed out in the lift.” 

Remus’ already flushed cheeks turn a deeper pink. “I did have all the groceries, though.” 

“I’m calling James,” you announce. 

“No,” Sirius and Remus chorus. 

“Why not?” 

“Lily said if we got him sick, she was going to take Harry to her parents’ and leave us to take care of him.” 

“James invented the man cold,” Remus tells you, sniffling. “It would be awful.” 

“Fine, then I’ll go to the store.” 

“No, come here.” Sirius reaches for you, wrestling you back down onto the bed. His warm cheek presses to your clammy forehead. “I’ll do it, I’ll call James. We’ll just tell him to leave the stuff outside the door.” 

“You know he’s going to want to come in,” says Remus, though he reclines against the pillows again with a relieved sigh. 

“Yes, well.” Sirius sets his lips to your temple. “Better to risk a whiny James than one of you keeling over on the sidewalk, I suppose.” 

“I did not keel over.” 

“Hush, darling. You’re growing delirious.”

[ellesreids]

warm reception — s. reid

you finally meet some of spencer's colleagues in an unconventional way. very heavily implied towards earlier seasons reid.

──── ୨୧ ────

It's been an exhaustingly busy day; the team was working a local case, meaning no long-distance traveling was required, but that didn't make the case itself any easier. They weren't very close to a solid profile, and it felt like the unsub's MO changed with every attack.

The most recent has been at a university not far from headquarters, a young woman found dead inside the main quad. It was also the same university you went to, and if that wasn't already enough to unnerve Spencer, you not answering his calls were close to pushing him over the edge.

Spencer feels like he's been on his feet the whole day, and he feels like he hasn't been much help to anyone with his mind wholly preoccupied by his concern for you. He wondered if you were safe, if you were the one that discovered the body, if you were maybe close to the victim.

The team had some of the victim's friends and other witnesses brought in for questioning, and while they were busy with that, Spencer had been quietly working on the geographical profile to try and pinpoint where the unsub might strike next. His attention is drawn from the map in front of him when he hears his name called, only to find you standing next to Morgan, seemingly making your way from one of the interrogation rooms.

He drops everything curtly before making his way to you, quickly giving you a once over, and once he sees no visible damage, he calms down a bit. It doesn't completely eliminate the nerve wrecking anxiety, but it gives him some peace of mind that you atleast hadn't been hurt.

"Hey, are you okay? What are you doing here?" he rushes out, not really giving you time to process his questions. "I'm okay," you breathe, sparing him a small smile you hoped looked somewhat reassuring, "I wasn't at the crime scene, I was only brought in for questioning because I was one of Kathy's long term lab partners. Nothing serious I suppose," you add, sparing Morgan a look, who was still standing next to you and silently observing the scene unfolding infront of him.

"I'm sorry, you two know each other?" he asks, looking at you and then Spencer with a raise of his eyebrows. You nodded once his eyes were on you again, suddenly shy under his questioning gaze. "We're dating," you said with a small smile, watching as the shock took over Morgan's whole face, from his eyebrows shooting up into the sky to his mouth hanging slightly agape at your words.

"Dating, huh?" he asked, watching as you nodded again. "Well, how come you never told us you had a pretty girl waiting for you at home, Reid?" he asked, attention back on the now furiously blushing young man. "It's— it's fairly new," he stuttered, trying his best to look collected, and failing miserably. "I was going to tell you, eventually."

Spencer was right, the two of you had only been dating for a little less than two months, and as selfish as it may sound, he was planning on keeping you to himself for a little longer. Morgan shook his head in understanding and slight disbelief, a gentle hand coming up to pat your back. "Well, it's nice to finally meet pretty boy here's girlfriend, even under the circumstances," he said, and you hummed in agreement, giving him a warm smile.

"Are my ears deceiving me or did I just hear you refer to this young lady as Reid's girlfriend?" a bubbly voice came seemingly out of nowhere as Penelope appeared next to Spencer, curious eyes drifting over to you and Morgan. "You heard right," he smiled, "this is—"

"Penelope Garcia," she interjects, shaking your hand, and you notice how everything about her is so vibrant. From her prettily painted nails, to the colorful frames of her glasses and the many statement pieces that adorned her, like the bows and the chunky jewelry. She was like the embodiment of sunshine.

"Gosh, you're gorgeous! It is so nice to meet you, even if I'm just now finding out about you," she said, side eyeing Spencer, who looked like he was on the verge of passing out. "We should totally go out for drinks some time though, a formal introduction is way overdue," she added very matter-of-factly.

"I agree," you smiled, already taking a liking to her sweet and bubbly personality. "I'd love to hang out and get to know Spencer's colleagues."

"I'm already excited!" she said, bracelets chiming as she clapped her hands together. "Oh! We should have a girls night! You'll love Elle and JJ, we could—"

"Okay, I think we should give these lovebirds some space, babygirl. You can plan your girl's night some other time," Morgan chirped in, already throwing his arm around Garcia and leading her away. "You'll be okay seeing her out, right Reid?" he asked and Spencer nodded, already leading you to the door with a hand to the small of your back.

"They seem nice," you said, once you were out of earshot, hovering around the exit not yet ready to leave yet. "They are nice," Spencer smiled before his face morphed into an unreadable expression. "I hope you don't think I was trying to hide you from them," he spoke softly, "I really was going to tell them about you when the time was right."

"I understand," you smiled, squeezing his upper arm affectionately, "I am glad I finally got to meet them though. Some of them at least." He smiled at that, nodding as if deep in thought. The flurry of movement behind him caught your attention, making you giggle to yourself at the sight. "I think you're needed back at your desk," you said, prompting Spencer to turn around swiftly, scared that it might be Gideon or Hotch waiting for him. It wasn't, but it was a group of very curious agents gathering around his desk in hopes of catching another glimpse of the mystery girl.

You recognized Penelope, who seemed to be in the middle of telling a very interesting story to the blonde and brunette ladies that stood either side of her. The brunette's eyes caught yours, her sparing you a shy smile at being caught before she was swiftly dispersing everyone away from Spencer's desk and back to their respective stations.

"I'll see you tonight," you said, bringing Spencer's attention back to you. When you saw the coast was clear, non of his colleagues in close range anymore, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, watching the way his ears tinged pink almost immediately, making you smile. He only nodded in reply, giving you a tight lipped smile and seeing you off with a small wave which you returned eagerly.

[kiyawritesforf1]

PADDOCK PROPOSAL

Nothing just two cutieeesss being cuteee 🥰🥰✨✨

Pairing : Carlos Sainz x Wife!reader

You’ve just finished a long day of pre-race preparations in the Williams garage. The hustle of the paddock has settled into a hum as teams make their final checks, drivers prepare to head to their cars, and family members and friends mingle around, catching up in between the madness of race weekend.

You and Carlos are standing near the pit wall, chatting with a couple of engineers about car setups. Your 3-year-old daughter, Isabella, has been playing with Lando’s son, Theo, while their parents work. It’s not unusual for the kids to run around in the paddock, giggling and causing a ruckus as everyone else prepares for the race.

You can hear their laughter even as the roar of the engines fills the air. Isabella and Theo have become fast friends over the past couple of years, often seen holding hands and whispering secrets, though their conversations mostly consist of giggles and playful nonsense.

And then, just as you and Carlos are about to finish up, you feel a tiny tug at your leg.

You look down, expecting to see Isabella grinning up at you, as usual. Instead, she holds out her little hand, beaming with pride.

“Mamá, mamá, look!” she says, her voice filled with excitement. You kneel down, her big eyes sparkling as she opens her palm to reveal a dazzling diamond ring. You blink for a moment, stunned, before breaking into a giggle.

“Oh my gosh, what is this, little one?” you laugh, trying not to laugh too loudly.

Isabella is practically bouncing on her heels, eager to show you her “treasure.” “Theo gave me this! We’re going to get married! Like you and daddy!” she exclaims, holding the ring up proudly.

At that moment, Carlos walks over, his brow furrowed in concentration as he chats with one of the engineers. His eyes soften when he sees Isabella, but when they land on the ring she’s holding, a flicker of concern crosses his face.

“What’s this, amor?” Carlos asks, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. His eyes go straight to the ring, then back to Isabella.

You can’t help but laugh. “Carlos, it’s just a little toy ring—Theo’s ring from his mom. They’re just playing around.”

But Carlos isn’t laughing. He’s staring at the ring as if it’s a bomb about to go off. You can see him fighting to keep his composure. His hand unconsciously tightens around his clipboard, his eyes narrowing.

“Who gave you this, Isabella?” he asks again, his voice dangerously calm.

Isabella, blissfully unaware of the growing tension, looks up at him with a huge grin. “Theo, daddy! Theo is my boyfriend, and we’re going to get married and live together!”

Carlos freezes. His jaw clenches. He looks at you as if asking for some kind of confirmation that this is all a joke. But the twinkle in Isabella’s eyes and the innocent excitement in her voice make it clear that she’s completely serious about this “engagement.”

You can’t help it. You burst into laughter. You cover your mouth, trying to hide your amusement, but it’s no use. The sight of Carlos’s face—a mixture of confusion, shock, and maybe just a little heartbreak—is too much to handle.

Carlos looks back at you, his protective instincts kicking in. “I... I just... What do you mean, ‘boyfriend’? The boy is *English*, Y/N. English,” he mutters, clearly in a state of disbelief.

You laugh even harder, trying to stifle it. “Carlos, it’s just a game! They’re three and five years old. They’re pretending, cariño.”

Carlos’s gaze is fixed on Isabella and Theo as they happily dance around, oblivious to his internal panic. He watches, his hands crossed in front of him, his protective nature taking over.

“An English boy,” he repeats, as if it’s some kind of tragedy. “Does he know how to make a proper *paella*?” He shakes his head, more concerned about the boy’s culinary skills than anything else. “*Muy educado*, I’m sure. But does he know how to make a real *tortilla española*?”

You almost choke on your laughter. “Carlos, seriously?”

Carlos looks back at you, his face trying to maintain some sense of dignity. “He has no business giving my daughter a ring. And what’s this ‘marriage’ talk? She’s three!”

Before you can respond, you hear Lando’s unmistakable laugh from a few feet away. You turn to see him, casually leaning against a nearby workbench, his arms crossed with an infuriatingly smug expression plastered on his face.

“Well, well,” Lando says, stepping into the conversation like a man who’s enjoying every second of Carlos’s discomfort. “Looks like the wedding is already in the works. I mean, the kids have made up their minds, right?”

Carlos shoots him a glare, but Lando isn’t phased in the slightest. He walks over, his grin widening. “Theo’s already got the ring. What are we waiting for? Should we start planning the *boda*? I can handle the RSVP.”

Carlos turns his full attention to Lando now, his arms folding across his chest, his lips pressing into a thin line. He’s trying so hard to maintain composure, but it’s obvious that Lando is enjoying every minute of this.

“You think this is funny, Lando?” Carlos growls, though there’s a hint of amusement in his voice despite the tension.

Lando shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m just saying, Carlos... Theo’s got great taste. He’s got the ring, he’s got the moves. I mean, Isabella is already the most beautiful girl in the paddock, so I think they’re off to a good start.”

Carlos, now fully frustrated, glances at you for support. You can’t help but laugh again, shaking your head. “Carlos, it’s adorable. Theo’s a *kid*. They’re just playing. And if they do end up together, it’s not like we’re going to stop them, right?”

Carlos looks at you with that familiar look—half-exasperated, half-smiling. “I just don’t know if I’m ready for this. I mean, an *English* boy? What if he starts teaching her the wrong things?”

Lando, ever the cheeky one, leans in with a grin. “You mean like how to *drive* a Formula 1 car? Yeah, that would be a shame.” He laughs at his own joke, clearly enjoying Carlos’s discomfort.

Carlos lets out a heavy sigh, trying not to show how much the whole situation is bothering him. He looks at Isabella, who’s spinning around with Theo, both of them laughing in delight. His expression softens just a little.

“Well,” Carlos mutters, looking at the ring in Isabella’s hand, then back at Lando, “I suppose if the boy knows how to make a good *paella*... I’ll consider it.”

Lando raises an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Looks like we’re one step closer to a paddock wedding.”

Carlos looks at you, his protective nature slowly fading into reluctant acceptance. “I’ll let them play... for now.” He pauses, glancing back at Isabella and Theo, a small, resigned smile on his face. “But no *paella* until he’s learned the basics.”

You step closer to Carlos, smiling softly as you place a hand on his arm. “Carlos, she’s growing up, and someday she’ll find someone who’ll treat her right, whether they’re Spanish or English. And for now... let her have this.”

Carlos, still a little unsure, watches Isabella, who runs over to him with her tiny hands outstretched. “Papa! Look at my ring! Theo gave it to me! We’re getting married!”

He smiles, albeit reluctantly, and takes the ring from her hand, gazing at it for a moment before looking back at you with a deep sigh.

“You’re right, Y/N,” he says quietly, his voice softening. “But I’m not ready to give her away just yet.”

Lando chuckles in the background, clearly relishing the moment. “Don’t worry, Carlos. We’ve got plenty of time before the big day. I’ll be sure to save you a seat at the wedding.”

And with that, Carlos gives Lando a look that could melt steel, but there’s no hiding the soft smile on his face as he hugs Isabella close.

Maybe, just maybe, he’ll come around to the idea of his little girl getting married someday—*just not yet*.

---

**End.**

---