#i know it’s not the best but it’s made with love

[egophiliac]

still rolling around on the ground over the contrast between Jack and Mal. it's so...🤌🤌🤌

[kissforyouu]

too much ☆

pairing : sugar daddy!jungkook x fem!reader

genre : smut , fluff

warnings : sugar daddy x sugar baby relationship , implied age gap (reader 20s, jk 30s) , size kink, BIGGGG DDDD (9 inches) , choking , groping , d riding , daddy kink , hickeys , slapping , creampie , panty sniffing , use of petnames (angel, doll, baby, sweetheart) , he talks u thru it , squirting , anal penetration , slight dacryphilia , he gets off to her orgasming , the whole point is he’s too big for her

Today was the day.

You’re so determined to do it. You can do it. Yes, you can.

You were fully prepared, laying on your sugar daddy's expensive ass master bed, wrapped in white lace like a little present for him to unwrap. You looked as if you were a sweet angel fallen into his room filled with all things black and the only thing light being the white walls. And the little parts of you you'd leave hanging around. like makeup, books, clothes, etc. etc.

Too excited, that's what you were. but also nervous, in a way, but you had one goal for tonight. And that was to fit your sugar daddy's cock inside and ride him.

There was a very evident size difference between the two of you. Him being 6ft tall already gave it away, but to add to the list you stood at 5'2ft. He was big in every possible area you could think of, even his cock was massive. fuck. His palm could easily cover your asscheek perfectly without any flesh slipping out. He was a tall successful man with broad shoulders and a muscular body. Thick thighs, big arms—everything you liked in a man.

In addition to that, he was rich. So so rich that he offered you to be his sugar baby. You both met at the mall. So excitedly you went through all the cute dresses you could wear, but definitely not afford. You were still in college. No further explanation needed.

“Ah! this, er, maybe that? don't know!” You were on facetime with your friend, reviewing all the cute dresses you would buy if you had the money. Delusional!

“Nah, nah, nah, the purple one with butterflies would look so good on you!” Your friend squeals, making you squeal back. You might be making too much noise in ths store, but you didn't care.

“You know what would look good with this dress? a cute cardigan and I’d pair this up with some gold hoops."

“Hmm, sounds really pretty”, your friend answered.

“Wish i had the money though...” there was a pout formed on your lips when you look back at the prize tag.

Somehow, your friend ended up having to leave the call due to some work. You end the call, ready to exit the store with absolutely no bags whatsoever. But someone, a man, stops you.

And then he asks you the most out of the blue question ever.

“Want me to buy you that dress?”

That was how it all started. He offered you to become his sugar baby after a full day spent at the mall of him buying you random things. At first, you said no. But he gave you time to decide and also kept sending you gifts over and over. At the end, you agreed. To be fair, you expected him to be the most obscene, rude, horrid man ever. But he's actually...pretty nice. sweet. caring.

Your relationship was 50/50. All you had to do was to take care of that man emotionally, shower him with love which you'll gladly do and also have bomb ass sex with him and he'll pay off all your bills and buy you a shit ton of things in return. The sex wasn't even a topic brought up at first, he didn't need that kind of favour. Just needed a pretty baby to spoil who'll love him in return. The sex just happened on a random friday night. Ever since, you've been getting the best dick you've ever had in your entire life. But there was one problem.

He was too big.

And you were too small.

Sure, the sex was so good and he always made sure to make you cum at least twice each time. It was so good that you couldn't even count the stars rotating around your head each time you orgasmed. But one thing that always managed to bother you...was he satisfied? Because of the obvious size difference, it was hard to fit him inside. Most of the time you’d end up stopping him because it hurt. He won't even be fully in when that happens. Although he always reassured you that he's far more than satisfied with you, you still wouldn't buy it.

But today, you’re going to do it. Gonna make all of him fit inside and give him the orgasm he deserves.

You laid on your back with your eyes fixed on the pattern of the ceiling, feet kicking in the air as you mindlessly waited for him to return home.

But a flirtatious whistle catches you off guard. you immediately rise back up from the bed, eyes darting to the man leaning against the door frame looking at you with a smug look.

“Jungkook!” you squealed.

“Was wondering where you were.” He makes his way towards you.

“I was here.” you mumble.

“I can see...” he snorts.

He lifts you up to sit on the bed by his hands on your waist, then touching your bare stomach, right above the little lace skirt you were wearing.

“For me?” there's a little smug look on his face.

“Who else would it be for?” there’s a sly smirk on your face, batting your lashes as you spoke.

"hah, you little minx" he slaps your cheek with the back of his hand, soon cupping your chin and raising your head up.

"when did you buy this?" his thumb teasingly caresses your lower lip.

"mmm, last week. bought it when i went shopping with mina..."

jungkook snickers, thumb now poking in between your lips. instinctively, you open your mouth for him to easily slide his thumb in between. you let out a muffled giggle, swirling your tongue around his thumb.

you both had wide grins on eachother's faces, fully aware of where this was heading.

you choke on his entire thumb the moment he pushes it all in, his thumb and a part of his hand, stuffing your mouth full. with a little bit of drool slipping out of your mouth, you close your eyes with a hum, but jungkook pulls his hand out.

hurriedly, with a satisfied grin, jungkook begins to unbuckle his belt. but before he could move any further, you were quick enough to stop him, bringing confusion to his face.

"huh?"

"kook, the bed. get on the bed, please." you request.

jungkook raises his eyebrow as your unusual request, but still obeying. he removes his shoes first, then gets on the bed, legs spread and leaning against the headboard as he waits for your next move. you couldn't help but let out a small giggle, excitedly making your way to sit in between his legs.

jungkook, in the other hand, admist his confusion, still couldn't hold back the little smile that threatened to come out. let's just say...this relationship was more than just being a sugar daddy and sugar baby. for him, at least. he'd like to think so.

you push some of your hair back, brushing it along the way and letting it fall down your shoulders as you made yourself comfortable between his legs. pretty, jungkook thinks.

"what're you going to do?" he asks, voice as gentle as ever.

you let out a long hum, fingers struggling to open the zipper of his trousers. he was rock hard, so it was hard to get the zip down. ugh.

jungkook chuckles at your struggles, "want me to take it off for you?"

you shake your head in denial. no. you were gonna do everything tonight with no help from him. with the help of the strong mentality you've set on getting goal done, you manage to successfully pull the zipper off.

you sigh, relieved, but jungkook just laughs at you, almost mockingly.

"what?" you ask.

"nothing, baby, 'just love watching you trying to please me. you're gonna take my cock tonight? hm?" the corner of his lip curves up.

"hmmmm, yes" you're moaning.

jungkook snorts, as if he's not believing you. but he takes off his trousers and boxers, leaving his lower body bare. you're gulping while staring at his erect cock, finally free from the restraints of his white calvein klein boxers. he's already leaking precum.

you lean forward, taking his fat cock in your hands, giving it a few pumps. smearing the precum all over the tip, you use it as lube, pumping his cock again. it barely fits in your hands. you have to use both your hands to hold it.

your ass was up, back slightly arched as you took his cock in your mouth. a muffled moan immediately escapes you, as you slowly slowly take him in deeper in your mouth inch by inch. fuck, was it hard. suddenly getting the urge to cough, you quickly pull him off of your mouth and turn your head around to cough.

"shit, you okay, doll?"

nodding your head in embarrassment, you take hold of his cock again to leave kitten licks all over it. you begin by licking the tip of his cock, swiping your tongue over the small alleyway of his cockhead several times. jungkook hisses at the feeling, eyes droopy. happily, you're licking all over his shaft as if it's your favourite ice cream.

you lick a long stripe up his shaft again, then circling your tongue on the dent in his cockhead. pulling away to spit on his cock, you rub your saliva all over the base with both your hands, then taking his cock in your mouth again.

you sink it down your throat further, slobbering all over his cock, saliva gushing out of your mouth and covering his cock full. his hand instinctively lands on the back of your head, caressing your hair and giving your scalp a subtle massage.

you were so beautiful, he thought.

slowly, you move your head up and down his length, sucking his cock in your mouth. his cock repeatedly hits the back of your throat, causing him to let out a few grunts from here and there. he was surprisingly very vocal during sex. and that just got you even wetter.

"mhm, that's right. taking my cock well, huh? taught you good?" his free hand taps your cheek, feeling his cock against your cheek. your cheeks were hollow, your face felt hot. it was obviously heating up, and so was your pussy. jungkook's hand leaves the back of your head to touch your other cheek, both hands holding up your face now as you took him in your mouth. he grunts, releasing another breath.

you slurp up your saliva on his cock only to spit it back, swiping your tongue on his base. you bob your head on his cock, enjoying all of his moans to the fullest. his thumbs swipe over your cheeks repeatedly, wiping away the small tears that are falling down.

"bet you're soaking right now, hm? fhuck—i can imagine how pretty your panties look right now. drenched and sticking to your pussy? isn't that right, angel?"

you hurry to nod your head, still sucking him in your mouth. fuck, you were so cockdrunk. jungkook knew exactly how to get you riled up. the small touches and caresses, holding your face and hair, he knew you liked that. of course he did. he knew your body like the back of his hand.

"yeah?" he acknowledges your nodding, petting your head. you try to best to flash him a smile, moaning in between. "that's right." his palm lays flat on top of your head again as he pushes your head back down on his cock, his cockhead hitting the back of your throat again.

you're pretty sure it's gonna bruise there.

up! down! up! down! you go, warming his cock up by the insides of your mouth. your right hand is wrapped around the rest of his cock that you can't fit while the other squeezed his balls.

the harder jungkook pushed the more you gagged on his cock. it felt suffocating, but you knew jungkook would never do anything to hurt you. you're whining, clawing his thighs. your eyes rolled to the back of your head followed by a series of cusses coming from jungkook's mouth.

"ohhh, oh, hah, fuck, fuck." his head is thrown back against the headboard of the bed. he lets out a whiny little moan, spilling his load into your mouth. jungkook wipes away your tears once you slip his cock out of your mouth with a pop, reassuring you on how well you did.

"you did so well, angel. took my cock so good." he pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail to raise your head back up. you looked so fucked out just from his dick in your mouth. it was definitely a huge ego boost for him. as much as he loved seeing you pretty and dolled up for him, this look on you has got to be one of his favourites. naked, sweaty and fucked out from his dick. you were so pretty.

"hmm...", he groans, hand sliding up from your left breast to the back of your neck, pulling you on top of him so that you'd be sitting on his lap. "liked having a mouth full of cock?" he grins mockingly, left arm folded on his back as he rests back on it. you nod your head, eyes still closed. the man chuckles, wiping away the drool on your face and chest. he makes sure to wipe his hand on your asscheek also, then slapping it afterwards.

"good now?" he checks up on you.

"yes. all good." you flash him a toothy smile with a thumbs up. jungkook smiles, tongue poking his cheek. "c'mere." he pulls you closer by your waist and securely wraps his right arm around you. your cheek was resting against his peck while he caressed your hair, giving your scalp a few massages here and there.

jungkook trails kisses from the back of your ear down to your neck, darting his tongue out to lick some areas known to make you moan. "let me take care of you, doll."

your sugar daddy gently lays down your body on the bed, hovering over you quickly. he takes a moment to stare down at you, a stupid little smile brightening up his face. you raise your eyebrow, quick to pick up on that. "what? why're you smiling like that?" you ask.

"why not?" jungkook snickers, he pinches the tip of your cheek, thumb gently caressing it afterwards. you feel your cheeks heat up. leaning into his touch, you smile a little.

jungkook lifts you hips up, angling his cock with your entrance and you almost— almost forget your plan. immediately, you halt and place your hand on his chest with a shake of your head.

"why? something wrong?"

you nod your head, gently pushing the man back.

"what're you doing?" you shush him up with your index finger pressed against his lips and shaking your head. jungkook raises his eyebrow.

"i wanna ride you."

jungkook just stares at you as if you've just told him the craziest thing ever, eyes wide as well. stop. this is making you feel embarrassed. what if he just laughs at you?

"what, you're gonna ride me now?" jungkook couldn't help but laugh a little, but immediately shutting himself up when he sees the frown on your face. "okay, sorry, sorry."

"yeah, i am." your voice came out almost inaudible. you felt so small in his large presence. with his big eyes boring into yours, you feel put on the spot. like. like everyone's looking at you holding a mic to your mouth expecting you to talk.

the corner of his lip slightly twitches up, then he breaks into a smile. big hands land on your hips and effortlessly drags you closer to him, he then lifts your chin up, thumb swiping over your lower lip. "sure you won't hurt yourself?"

"yes, daddy. not gonna hurt." jungkook chuckles at the nickname, finding it amusing. you both never really used the name daddy, just once or twice. although, you can't deny how the nickname gets you feeling sort of...thrilled? aroused? jungkook could say the same.

"daddy, huh?" he clicks his tongue.

you nod your head with a small hum, raising your body up to sit on your knees. "lie down, please."

jungkook listens to your request with a teasing smirk on his face. hah, you wanted to fuck that smirk off of him soooooo bad. he lies down on the bed with two pillows supporting his back and makes himself comfortable. he raises his eyebrow watching your puzzled expression, trying really hard to read your face. his legs are spread, fat cock rock hard and leaking that precum you love so much. you gulp down the drool that was already pooled up in your mouth, eyes darting between jungkook's eyes and his cock.

"what're you waiting for? come fuck me, girl."

and you do.

gliding yourself over his muscular thighs, you settle yourself on top of him, your thighs on each side of his waist. you avert your gaze down to his massive cock, twitching with pre cum leaking from the tip, impatiently waiting for you. you take a long deep breath before raising your body over his thighs, then angling your pelvis over his cock. wrapping your hand around his base, you teasingly rub the tip on your folds. jungkook tugs on his lower lip as your pussy twitches against his tip, both your juices slightly mixed with eachother. you raise your hips up again and this time, a string of wetness appears connecting your hole and his reddened tip.

"fucking nasty. you're soaking." jungkook couldn't help but reach out to touch your pussy one more time. you groan once his thumb harshly rubs on your clit while his fingers sunk into your pussy for a moment. he pulls them out before you could even enjoy the feeling, ending it with a slap on your clit. "go on. get on this dick."

jungkook was such a slut.

the moment you finally sink yourself in, or try to, both of you let out a soft gasp, taking in how genuinely tight it felt.

"god, kook...mh", your chest heaved up and down as you balanced yourself, still not fully sunk in his dick yet. you move your hand down there to spread your pussy lips a little further apart, then pushing yourself down a little further.

jungkook stayed silent watching you struggle for a few seconds before deciding to step in. "you okay? want help?" his fingers caressed from your waist to hips, trying to soothe you. you whine, frustrated, ugh—

"i can't. can't do this—mh, too big!"

you give up.

jungkook clicks his tongue, clearly disappointed. he shakes his head, disapproving your decision. "come on, baby. 'know you can do this. you're a hardworking girl. it's okay."

"no, no, no, ahh, can't." you shake your head in denial.

"tsk. no. you're gonna do this. slap my thigh if it's too much, m?" a tear escapes your eye as you finally agree to proceeding to pursue your initial goal. jungkook decides to lend a helping hand by rubbing your clit in various patterns slowly to get you wetter and make it easier for you. "better not cum."

"hmm...", you moan out.

with your throbbing clit being rolled in between the tip of the big man's fingers, you sink your hips down his much bigger dick, eyes widening at the newfound sensation.

"SHIT— oh, mm!" his tip hit your g spot, causing your entire body to tremble a little. the action makes jungkook laugh cockily, his lips forming into a mocking pout.

"gonna cum already? my dick only had to get in? you're that needy?" he slaps your cheeks lightly. you give him nothing but a small enticing glare. jungkook groans and taps your hips as a signal for you to get moving.

your knees buried deep into the bed sheets, you steady yourself before guiding your hips up and down slowly. honestly, it hurt. your walls were so mushy and tight, firmly gripping the base of his cock.

"ah, loosen up, angel. if not, you'll make me cum just from that tightness—shiii."

you try to loosen up your pussy hole, relaxing your entire body but ugh, you just can't do it. with a whine, you continue thrusting yourself downwards on his cock. jungkook adjust himself to you fully— your pussy felt soooo full. so fucking stuffed. his tip reached your womb. you didn't even know having him this deep could be possible. it hurt so bad, yet it felt so good. jungkook's hand reaches behind your back to grab the flesh of your ass and mold it into his liking, slapping and pulling on the flesh.

by now you've learnt how to sit on his dick fully inside. and now, you're doing to fuck it.

"h-haaa—" a breathy moan surpasses through as you begin riding his dick, your walls tightly squeezing in his fat base. your moves were slow and careful, careful trying not to hurt yourself too much. it already hurt so bad, no—burnt. your pussy felt as if it was burning, overwhelmed by the size of his dick. you squeeze your eyes shut, suddenly remembering why you've never tried fully taking him in. cause your cunt was too small! and fuck! does it hurt!

still, you try, brushing away the second thoughts. the skin slapping noises grew louder each thrust as you let his cock hit deeper and deeper areas. jungkook was in pure ecstasy. the most attractive woman he's ever seen (he would never never reveal that to you) is riding his dick. he loved every second of it.

his hands cup your tits through the sheer fabric of your skimpy lingerie, thumbing your nipples hard. he could feel your nipples grow harder, he just could. which drove him crazy. jungkook's thumbs swipe on your nipples, swirling the bud around too. the bridge of his nose brush against your collarbone as he leans his face closer to your neck, whispering sweet nothings.

"i fucking love watching you struggle like this." you grip onto his wrist tightly, twisting it around with your nails digging deep into his skin and probably creating scars. thankfully for your wet slick, it progressively got easier for you to slide up and down.

"take this off. mm, now." his fingers toyed with the straps of your skimpy ass top, tugging on the fragile material and pulling on it. you groan, hurriedly taking off the annoying ass top and throwing it away to let it land on wherever.

you breasts were fully bare for him, big and juicy, nipples hard as fuck. you were such an eye candy. he loved—liked everything about you. so fucking hot. he could go insane.

your jaw falls open, shoulder pushed back and chest popped out as you rode his dick. such a pornographc sight. your tits bounced along with each of your jumps. puffy clit rubbing against his pelvis with each thrust of your hips, his dark pubic brushing against your clit, creating some sort of friction as well. fuuuck.

jungkook caresses your hips, fingertips also dancing across your asscheeks, bringing you a relaxing feeling amidst the heavy workout you're putting yourself through. you slam yourself onto his dick, pussy quite literally splitting into two. you've never fucked someone this hard. this is so crazy, you're actually taking him— you gasp, letting yourself feel out his dick fully.

fuckfuckfuck you could feel his dick tightly smuggled inside your chubby cunt, feeling out the tight clasp of your walls as you literally squeezed him shut. shit, you're scared he wouldn't be able to pull out even. you're squeezing him that tightly. you hold onto his broad shoulders, long manicured nails digging into the skin, probably—most probably leaving marks. you inhale in the musky scent he always has once he gets back from work. you loooveeee it.

"please, i—literally—like, fawwkkkk jungkook!" jungkook hisses, hands messily searching for the discarded dirty panties on the side of the bed. he finally finds them and brings them upto his nose to take a long sniff out of it. a looongg nasty sniff. "you're so dirty, daddy."

his eyes drift from the dirty material to yours in a second. he quickly dropped it off and snakes his arms from under your thighs to hoist you up the bed. you squeel in surprise, arms immediately wrapping around his neck for stability. jungkook looks at you from below, big doe eyes glistening at you as you stared back. you giggle a little once you feel his hand slap your asscheek and grab it again.

jungkook leans forward to envelope your lips in a sweet kiss. you sigh in content, kissing him back passionately as your tongues swirled on eachother. you both were eating out eachothers face so good. moving your heads rhythmically in sync while your nails scratched his back real good. you exchanged saliva, head tilting to various sides as you shared a sloppy messy kiss. so fucking hot.

"mmh, put it in...", you try to reach behind your back and grab his dick but jungkook beats you to it, swatting your hand away. he grips his cock, squeezing the red tip with a hiss. "inside me, daddy." his mind feels fuzzy as he slides his dick inside you again. this time, it enters pretty easy, much easier than before. well, since you're well lubricated and all. you both moan in sync, shoulders dramatically falling down as he fills you up again. you hug his muscular body, gliding up and down his dick once again. second time feels much better than last. shiiiit.

"you're so big. i—" you sigh deeply, whole cunt swallowing his fat dick. "hm, it slips in so easily now." you grunt into his neck, trying to adjust yourself. "yeah, cause you're slippery as shit."

"c'mon, sweetheart." he pats your back as you start over, again. you begin riding his dick once more, this time gripping onto the head of the bed and his head. "you know you're doing so good, yeah? never been more proud of you." you could feel the bone of his nose poke your neck as he inhales your sweaty scent in. jungkook presses tiny kisses all over your neck, down to your collarbone. little kisses all over your collarbone. little hickeys forming all over your collarbone ૮꒰ ⊃ ⸝⸝ ⊂ ꒱ྀིა

yeah you know what, maybe you overestimated yourself. fuck does this hurt. did your pussy get smaller or what. you were squeezing him so tight. so fucking tight.

"koo— haaarrd... 'm struggling." you grunt into his neck.

"lemme take over, then."

"wha—no. i'm fucking you." you refuse his offer quite literally right away.

"you're barely holding on. can't even keep my dick inside without moving around. hm?" he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, squeezing your cheeks together mockingly. he treated you as if you were a feeble little being who couldn't even complete the simplest task.

nothing simple about this dick.

he made sure his dick was perfectly tucked inside, ready to absolutely break you apart on it.

your pussy suddenly starts pulsating, clenching around his dick repeatedly. jungkook lets out a gruff moan, palm slapping against your waist.

"stop fucking clenching. you gonna cum, yeah? is that what this is?"

"mmmhm, i don't want to cum." you break into a whine into his shoulder. "'s okay, just let it out on me, yeah?" he sneaks his arm in between you guys and sticks his thumb out on your very swollen clit. you flinch once he starts rubbing your clit, and in no time, you cream his dick.

"fuck, no, i—i don't want to cum yet." you punch his arm and bite his shoulder, agitated that he just had to make you cum. "i wanted to make you cum first. fuck you." "too bad. i barely even moved."

"are you making fun of me?"

"maybe."

you tug on his hair and bite his arm as revenge.

"i haven't cum yet. did you forget?" he pulls on your hair.

"you know that i wanted to ride you." you huff,

"and you did."

"barely." you roll your eyes, snuggling closer into him, face nuzzled into his neck.

"yeah, my bad my dick's too big."

"you're so over the head."

"okay, but we both know i'm right."

"my vagina is burning."

jungkook pinches the top of your ass and flips you over so that you'd be laying on your back. the sudden movement catches you off guard as you yelp in surprise.

"ow! that hurt."

jungkook doesn't respond to you, but slowly, carefully, pulls his dick out of you. he's still rock hard. you're not surprised.

"you said you wanted to make me feel good, yeah?" he caresses the side of your face, moving away each and every hair sticking to your face. gentle kisses all over your face, cheek, nose, eyes—he suddenly stops, the eye contact between you two breaking the moment he looks away. your breath hitch, there's a tingling feeling all over your body, it felt like the tip of a feather gracing over your face.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Mhm.”

Jungkook squeezes the fat of your belly with a soft kiss on top and suddenly—he was so sly with it too—enters his dick inside your cunt again. “AH!”, you yelp out due to the sudden waves of pain and pleasure sent right from your swollen fucking pussy.

“Come on, girl, take it. I know you can—haah.”

He plunges his dick deep in you with a hard thrust and immediately going at it. He didn’t stop. No he did not. Jungkook rutted into your wet cunt like an animal in heat, desperate to hear the high pitch moans coming out of your swollen lips.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, back arched and gasps left your lips repeatedly. It hurt so bad. Your pussy was fucking burning. It hurt so bad that it felt so good. He’s never done this before. He’s never probably been inside you fully. You swore to the heavens above that your cunt was already torn apart. There was no way.

“Jungkook—mmhphhhhhhhhhttttt!!! It hurts so much! Stop, ah, fuck!”

You raise your legs up, slinking them around his toned sweaty fucking torso. Jungkook grabbed a handful of your meaty thighs, using the fat for support to cling onto you more.

“Please! Stopstopstopstop it hurts so much!”

You didn’t actually want him to stop. You would’ve used to the safe word if so, you and him both knew that very well.

Jungkook grunts in annoyance with a slap on your ass to shut you up.

“Shut up and take my fucking dick. You wanted this. Finish what you’ve started. Take my fucking dick like you said you would!”

He was so big.

“You’re a big girl made for taking big fucking cocks like mine, yeah?”

Without a warning, his palms slap against both your asscheeks before hoisting your entire body up into his arms. Jungkook had you on top of his thighs, carrying your entire weight on his arms as he thrusted from below. His thrusts were so harsh and aggressive with the intention of only wrecking your pussy apart. You were bounced on his cock like a ragdoll. He used you for his pleasure, letting his cock mold the insides of your pussy to the perfect shape that'll fit him always.

"I'm not letting this pussy go now. Hah", he rocks your body upwards again, letting you fall onto his. you cling onto his body for dear life, arms wrapped around his neck, breasts bouncing in front of his face. you could feel his balls slap against your ass repeatedly. they were wet, slimey and sticky. he spread the stickyness on his balls everywhere, constantly reminding you of the fact that he was deep inside you now. like, finally.

"da-ddy! i can't believe you're fucking me like t-this."

you close your eyes tight, your nails gripping onto jungkook's scalp as you let out a scream.

"please, oh my god, oh my god, OH MY GOD! i'm g'na- HAAH!"

jungkook recognizes the familiar high pitched sound you make, hand sneakily rubbing your puffy clit again. and as a cherry on top, he spreads your ass cheeks apart and sneaks his thumb in between to penetrate your neglected tight little hole. he rubs your hole and inserts the tip of his finger in, repeating the process after. You were so tight down there, considering the fact that you were still an ass virgin. He always said he was gonna take your ass sometime, but you always said no. This was your first time. Fuck.

The finger in your ass caught you off guard as you let out a shriek, your asshole immediately tightening at the sensation.

“Jung…hah. My ass—hhnmpht!”

He shushes you up with a kiss and got into work, rubbing your swollen little clit with his right hand and finger your tight asshole with his left hand, all while his cock absolutely ruined you from below.

“Stop! Too much! Too much! Too much!”

You slobber all over his shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably as your entire body shiver and crumble against him. You didn’t have to tell Jungkook once, he knew you were just about to cum.

“Cum, baby. Let go. You’ve done amazing.” He fastens his pace on your clit, giving you just enough simulation.

“Ah! I’m g’na pee! FuckfuckfuckfuckSTOP!!”

You let out one more loud cry before aggressively trembly. Your pussy is so used and swollen and your ass hurts so much. Fuck. It didn’t take that long till your pussy starts squirting angrily. Your eyes widen, back arching as you let your pussy take full control of your body.

Jungkook pulls out of you for a brief moment to let you squirt wherever. His hand never left your clit though, continuing to rub at an increased speed. Your pussy convulses aggressively, squirting on everything and everywhere. The sheets behind you were fully drenched with your squirt and so was his dick, that was right under you.

“I’m sorry I’m making a mess all over your bed,” you cry into his shoulder, completely overwhelmed with everything that’s happening.

You’re still squirting. You don’t know if you’re actually squirting or just straight up pissing yourself on him. This was so embarrassing. Your face was so red. This is so humiliating fuckfuckfuck.

“I’m so”—you choke,“—embarrassed. Ahh, I’ve ruined everything.” You cry out, covering your face with your hands. Jungkook understood that this was an intense moment for you. You’ve squirted before, but never this hard. He soothes you by bringing you into his embrace, tracing patterns on your back to help you calm down.

You choke on your tears again. You were crying so much. You’ve never cried this much during sex before. As concerned he was for you, he was starting to admit he liked that sight. He liked it when you were crying out for him.

You let out the last bit of squirt on his cock, drenching him fully. Jungkook’s cock twitches, it’s angry head starting to let out spurts of cum.

Fuck, he couldn’t believe it. He was cumming. He was cumming so hard from just watching you orgasm. He was getting off to your orgasm.

“Fuck. Shit. Oh my god”, Jungkook groans. He throws his head backwards, letting his cum spurt out as you squeezed his balls. There was a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead as his face changed into various expressions as he emptied his balls into your mouth.

You made sure to put your mouth on it and let his cum fall right onto your tongue, just how he liked it. And you also made sure to swallow it all, just how he liked it.

You were still getting off of your high as well, body still crumbled against his.

“It’s okay, babygirl”, Jungkook coos into your ear and soothingly rubs your pussy slowly with your palm till you calm down.

“It stings”, you whine.

“Hmm, I know, baby. Take a deep breath.”

You obey him, taking a deep breath as he wiped off your tears. You sniffle. Your pussy was still throbbing and hole gaping. Fuck. You’re gonna stay stretched like this for a while. He ripped you apart.

“My gorgeous girl. You did so well.” He presses a kiss to your temple. “I can’t believe I fucking came to you squirting”, he chuckles.

“I wanted you to cum in my pussy.” You whine, spreading your pussy lips apart once again.

“I know. But this is more than enough. You know I get off to your orgasms.” He swats your hand away.

“Let her rest.” Jungkook leans down to press a kiss to your swollen worn out pussy.

You cry out, scooting closer to him.

Jungkook then picked you up, took you to the bathroom, made you pee, and brought you back to bed after changing the sheets.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

What?

[lyricthecat-12]

I urgently needed to talk about the last scene between Sonic and Shadow in the third movie, because I think what they did is simply beautiful. 🥹💙❤️🖤

Before Sonic 3 came out, there was debate over who would be the one to change Shadow's mind since at that point, there was no solid indication that Amy or Rouge would appear. I was a fan of the idea that maybe they'd have Jojo be the one to remind Shadow of Maria's wish, since she was an established character from the start and fits the profile like a cheerful, caring, and optimistic girl.

However, seeing that in the end they made it so that Sonic was the one who talked to Shadow and convinced him to fight to save the world, surprised me and at the same time fascinated me infinitely more. Because they managed to make the change organic by connecting it with narrative elements that were also raised and developed from the beginning; Sonic's grief over losing Longclaw and his paternal relationship with Tom, making this moment something special and significant for both of them:

It is a moment of connection and understanding between two people who have lost the person who was once the most important in their lives, who loved them when no one else did and gave them a home,

That for a long time they had to deal alone with the pain and guilt of having been the trigger for their deaths but, as they emphasize in the film, While Sonic was able to find a family that would love him and help him get better and cope with that pain, Shadow was alone and the only person he interacted with after awakening, only manipulated him in order to fulfill his revenge.

Until this moment, where Shadow finally meets someone who not only knows his pain perfectly but has also learned to move forward and not let it corrupt him even in the most difficult moments, and who in turn motivates him to do the same.

All of this contributes fantastically to their connection, as it is no longer just that their personalities and ways of acting are opposite, but also the way in which their stories correlate and at the same time distinguish each other, creating a new and emotional parallelism between them: They are two sides of the same coin, two extremes that ultimately come together to bring out the best in each other.

Which is beautifully reflected throughout the final battle. Sonic and Shadow display effortless synergy, supporting each other, backing each other up, and even casually joking around.

A good reminder of the great chemistry and dynamism they used to have years ago. Unlike now that they make it seem like Shadow barely tolerates Sonic, before they both had a friendly rivalry where they respected each other, valued each other and helped each other without problem. And I'm really glad the movie brought back some of that dynamic and reflected it in such a natural and fun way, and I hope that continues for future SCU projects instead of sticking to the current direction.

And I'm not just saying this because I'm a fan of Sonadow, but because I genuinely believe that this is the most natural direction for their relationship after all this time.

[uglygirltrying]

insecure princess!reader x barbarian!ghost cw: angst, brief sexual mentions, bad writing, confusing ghost insecure princess!reader who has never had any suitors. her sisters overshadow her. her mother pities her, afraid that her daughter will never marry.

fortunately, due to an alliance that her father has made, she finally marries. he's a barbaric prince, shameless and perverted. mean and scary.

princess!reader who tries her best to make love kindle between them, to live the fantasy that she's always had. she rubs lavender oil on her neck, tugs one of her nightgowns straps down her shoulder, to be desirable like the women in paintings. her lady-in-waiting helps her make her hair silky, and her dresses pleasing to the eye. but you can't put lipstick on a pig.

the prince only has her from the back. it's a relief that he wants to make love to her, but at the same time it breaks her heart. she wants to have a face that he wants to look at.

the princess' anxiety only worsens when she notices that the prince's older brother keeps looking at her. she's not used to attention from men, she doesn't know how to interpret it. he might want to hurt her, show everyone just how disgusting she is. or maybe he laughs with his mates about her, just like everyone else. or maybe... he likes the look of her, maybe he'd like to tug her nightgown down and have her chest to chest. it's a stupid thought, she shouldn't entertain them and embarrass herself. and he's her husbands brother!! it's wrong!

then, one night during a feast, her husband's drunk antics drive her to walk away. she wanders the dark hallways of the castle, moonlight and candlelight illuminating the paintings on the walls.

the princess stops to look out of a window, a lone tear running down her cheek. it's an unending weight on her shoulder. she hates the presence of other princess', the prettier princess', they only remind her of what she isn't. knights don't fight for her, artists don't paint her beauty, and princes don't ask her to dance at balls.

a noise makes her jump out of her thoughts, she whips her head around to look down at the hallway. it's him. her husband's brother, ghost. he stands few feet away from the princess, looking her up and down.

"c'mon," he urges, his voice deep and rough. ghost nods, gesturing down the corridor, to the feast. before the princess can even respond, he has already turned around and began to walk back. but she doesn't follow.

the princess stays in place, looking down at the floor as she sniffles. why should she go back there? they don't want her there. the man in armor turns back around when he doesn't hear the princess following after him. ghost lets out a sigh, as he hears her sniffle. with couple of steps, he's standing in front of her.

"why do you cry, princess?" he mutters, reaching up and gently holding her cheek in his scarred hand.

"i hate him..." it's a silent whisper, lost to the silence of the cold castle. her face twists as she fights against more tears.

"walls have ears, and they will twist your words into treason," ghost says firmly, shutting the girl up before she can be her own doom. his thumb run over the bottom of her eye, wiping up the tears that spill. ghost sighs and leans down, pressing a small kiss between her eyebrows.

"sweet princess, you need to return to the feast... i cannot take you away tonight," he whispers huskily.

"take me away...?" she repeats, even quieter, her brows knitted in confusion.

"if i killed him, i could claim you for myself," ghost murmurs. he looks down at her, letting the princess ingest his words.

her eyes are wide in shock. kill? for her? that is the most romantic thing she's ever heard. is this what courting is? if so, then she only wants more of it. she can't tell if he's mocking her, but there's something in his voice that makes her stomach stir with excitement. the wine in his breath makes her consider for a moment that he's messing with her, but she also wants to enjoy the attention.

"h-how would you take his life?" the girl straightens her back, trying to sound more confident.

"i would slit his throat, as easy as slicing a warm pie," ghost says it as if it's nothing, his running along her cheek. "i could take you far away, we would live in a house by the sea and you could wear pretty dresses for only me to see."

her breath hitches, feeling that flutter in her stomach. jesus christ. her hands clutch onto her cute little dress as she squeezes her thighs together. now she regrets giving her virginity to that twig, when a man like this could've had it, a man who truly deserves her purity.

"now be a smart girl and return to the feast." ghost murmurs and turns to walk back to the feast.

what?

she quickly reaches forward, desperately clinging onto the man's arm, to keep him there. if she let's go now, he might just come across a wench or two and change his mind. "b-but you said that-!" she stammers, utterly confused by the change in the air. there's no one there for her. no one who she's welcome to. her heart aches. she thought that this prince wanted her. what did she do wrong? ghost scoffs, gently prying the girls hands off his forearm. "you think it’ll be like a story, a hero slaying the villain and sweeping the princess off her feet. but this is real life," his tone is suddenly colder, more detached. “you’re chasing something that will never be yours.”

her hands stay in the air for a moment when he pulls away from her, reluctant to let go. his words sting, dig in deep and leave a pit for her to collapse in. her hands fall down and settle over her stomach as she fidgets with them.

she opens her mouth to say something, but the words escape her. it all changed so fast. some wench must've bewitched him, taken him from her. why can't she have anything, not even a man who wants her?

he looks at her again, his gaze intense, unflinching. his expression hardens, though there’s still a part of him that almost looks regretful. and then, he just walks away.

the princess can do nothing else than stand in place and hold back tears. she's alone again. the moonlight makes her shaking hands look blue. did she misunderstand? did she wrongly assume the meaning of his words? or was she just so naive?

it hurts to think, and the thoughts themselves hurt even more. it'd better if she just went to bed. ------------------------------------

inspired by the fact that i'm ugly and never had a boyfriend

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ You test out a new lipstick

(Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Tartaglia)

Tw: smooches! Shield your eyes!

Oh, would you look at that, you bought a new lipstick. You just need to test whether it wears down quickly or leaves any mark. 

✧ Pierro is in a haste. You blurt out that you need a new lipstick once, and the next thing you know, he purchases several high-quality ones for you. Offering you swatches of colors, makeup removers, different shades, and lipstick textures, he observes with analytical admiration as you sit in front of a mirror and apply the lipstick carefully. 

One last step is missing – to try its imprint. The Jester is ready to reach for a napkin to let you try. But you only smiled. Before he can comprehend, your hand reaches to turn his head and gently guides him closer to your lips until you sweetly capture his. It’s not often that The Jester experiences a complete blank out, but when you deliberately trace your lips across his skin and start preparing his face with kisses, how else is he supposed to react? Hold in his hitched breaths? Not deepen the kisses to relish the ambrosia of your lips?

Suffice it to say, you are proud of the imprints on his pale skin. He seems even prouder, wearing them like a badge of honor, despite his stoic appearance.

✧ You asked Il Capitano to evaluate the new shade of lipstick you bought. Like any loving partner, the honorable Captain stated honestly that any hue suits you elegantly. Even if his knowledge of cosmetics is minimal, he felt delighted and proud of your looks.  

But that wasn’t the issue. Now you were standing in front of him, smiling menacingly.  

“What is it, my treasure?”  

You stepped closer.  

“Dear…?”  

You stepped even closer. Oh no, thought the Captain, he’s in danger. His pleas for reason and mercy went unheard. Instead, he faced a bigger battle—a battle that left his helmet not with scratches but with various imprints of your kisses. You stood triumphantly, happy with your lipstick and the numerous marks on his helmet and neck. 

Il Capitano lost the battle that day. 

✧ At last, Il Dottore mused to himself, the perfect hue of lipstick designed scientifically for you. You voiced your issue in finding a suitable shade of makeup for yourself, hence you asked none other than your beloved to find a logical solution. So he took matters into his own hands to find the best chemical solution and accurately create the best shade to match your skin. 

Naturally, it was a success. With his gloves stained in various colorful substances, he proudly handed you a slender tube with a delicate black cap from the table as if it were a casual concoction he could make on a whimsy. Hence, you thanked him and blithely applied it on the spot.

“Dottore, it turned out magnificently!” – you said as you looked into the reflection of your face. But when you turned to look at him, Dottore’s complexion went vaguely blank. “Hm, what is it? Isn't it good? You made it matte, too.” 

He silently stepped forward; even behind his black mask, you could sense his full attention zooming on the beauty of your lips. 

"Well, true... I formulated it to be stain-proof, so it won't smudge as you go about your day. However," - he hummed, his hand cupping your jawline warmly. "Every product requires assiduous testing. We could conduct a few tests of our own to ensure its performance. If I may," 

Of course, he would test it personally. Of course, he then captures your lips in a kiss, his hand on the back of your head, his touch an ardent mix of passion and desire. He explores your mouth, his tongue caressing yours with a fervor, wanting to test how long the lipstick will last under the pressure of his kisses. You should've expected this, as his other hand encloses around you to press you flush against him. 

"Ah... interesting. It's held up quite well. There's no transfer on your skin or mine, but I do think further testing is necessary."

“Enough, enough! That’s plenty of testing from you!” 

✧ Scaramouche dislikes shopping. It’s a hassle, truly. You requested him to accompany you on a leisurely stroll, oblivious of your trap to drag him to some quick shopping. Except this quick shopping turned into a full-blown shopping spree. The question is: was he here to accompany you or to pull you away from wasting all your Mora on fleeting indulgences?

“No, you don't need any more clothes. You have plenty of unworn ones.”

“No, we don't need any more plushies, your bed is already littered with them.”

“And no, you already had some snacks on the way here. Stop buying more!”

You couldn't escape his stern reminders, even if they were practical. However, there was still one shop you left as an ace up your sleeves. Before finishing today's trip, you encouraged The Balladeer to join you in cosmetics shopping. Your innocent smile spoke promises of letting him choose your new lipstick color if he so desired, and the allure of it caused him to halt. 

“... Me? Why must I choose? Can't you pick a simple color and call it a day, huh?” - Scaramouche feigned annoyance when, in reality, he quickly grabbed your arm and led you hastily to the boutique. “We'll quickly buy one, but don't get any ideas that we're staying here for any longer.”

Poor Harbinger; he didn't have to lie to himself so cruelly. The two of you stayed in the boutique for a long while, not because you were indecisive, but because Scaramouche suddenly took the matters with utter seriousness. Should he suggest a carnelian shade? It would match with his own red eyeshade. Or perhaps a darker one would suit your complexion? Especially if you decided to leave contrasting lipstick imprints all over his porcelain skin- 

Scaramouche shook his head. Your voice interrupted his train of thought.

“Um… Scara, sweetie? Could we decide already? We spent the whole day in this shop.”

“We'll buy all of them, then,” - he held up your face, his full focus on you as you timidly averted your gaze. “Here. Now let me help you apply it.” 

✧ Pantalone sat behind his desk, fingers intertwined thoughtfully. Silver glasses cast a shadow upon his already darkened gaze. His expression, unfortunately, was far from pleased. 

“L-lord Harbinger Regrator,” – the Fatui subordinate uttered. “It is with utmost sorrow that I must inform you that- that the cosmetologists you hired have not finished their work. They are still in the process of creating the products you requested.” 

The silence of the office was deafening. The Harbinger granted no mercy with his prolonged pause.

“... I commission the best cosmetologist in all of Teyvat, and they still dare to waste my Mora and time? Is this some frivolous matter for them?” - The Harbinger's hands sternly pressed against the table, his voice raised “My beloved requested a new lipstick! They deserve the best of the best, as soon as possible!” 

“Uh, honey… I am still here in the room.” - your voice interjected awkwardly. Indeed, it's true; you are sitting nearby, blinking in confusion. You waved at the Fatui subordinate to take it easy, signaling sympathetically that your partner was having another one of his ambitious episodes. 

“Honey, my love, this is no fleeting matter! I wanted you to get the highest, custom-made quality for cosmetics. You rarely ask for anything, but when you do, I can't just let you down!” 

“It's just lipstick…! I didn't even say what color or kind I wanted.”

“And that's precisely why you shall get all of them. You there,” - he signaled back to the subordinate swiftly. “Quick, send the letters to those cosmetic chemists to hurry up if they want to make themselves worth the Mora. Delays are not negotiable.”

With the Fatui worker scurrying away in a hurry, Pantalone sighed deeply before plopping down beside you on the sofa of his office. You patted his back, amused by his sudden precedence over something so mundane. 

“There, there, Pantalone. You know it's nothing urgent. It's just lipstick.”

“Not any lipstick. Your lipstick, darling! I need to see you don the most dazzling color on your lips.” He turned to gently trace his thumb across your jawline, his voice softening. “...The lips that should be showering me with kisses and leaving lipstick prints on my skin.”

You laughed heartily – “Oh, so that's what it's all about? You know, makeup or no makeup, I can still kiss y-”

You didn't register how The Harbinger's head bowed lowly in reverence. “I would pay you any amount of Mora for you to do so.” 

Pantalone truly knows how to blow up over the most bizarre things. Either way, as the weeks passed, the newly ordered cosmetics did arrive as instructed. How did people know? Because Pantalone didn’t shy away from flaunting the traces of your delicate lips on his neck and blouse. A testament to stolen kisses and intimate moments behind closed doors. His triumphant grin says it all. 

✧ Your ever-observant boyfriend, Tartaglia, noticed you mulling something over by the mirror. You seemed in deep focus, a new item in your hands as you inspected your visage. You tried on a new lipstick! 

Childe, being the endearing goofball that he is, complimented your new purchase with delight. You appreciated his knack for noticing even the smallest changes, even if you didn't directly tell him you tried on something new. All was well! 

Or was it? For beneath his easygoing smile, in the deepest recesses of his soul, Tartaglia was begging, crying, screaming. He wanted to hold your face in his palms and kiss you senseless. He wished to taste the sweetness of your lips until this adorable color of your lipstick was smeared on both of your faces. He wished to soak in the warmth of your pecks and kisses, dreaming for your touch to litter his face with imprints.  

Did he say all of that? Of course not. He kept beaming at you in adoration, his smile tender while his thoughts devouring. Yet, after days of wrestling with his unspoken desires, Childe devised a plan – a very, very subtle plan.

“Oh nooo,” - he lamented dramatically, leaning against the doorway with a hand draped theatrically over his forehead. “If only my beloved was here to bestow me some loving kisses, especially when they look so alluring in their new lipstick! If only!” 

You raised an eyebrow at Tartaglia’s shenanigans as if asking him: Really? What is this damsel in distress act? Nonetheless, luckily for the 11th, his oh-so-subtle hints hit the mark, because you happily cupped his cheeks and smooched them with fervor, feeling his warm skin under your lips as he chuckled.  

Needless to say, your lipstick didn’t stand a chance.

[norrisainz33]

golden || ls18

☆ summary: lance and his long term partner and actress, y/n, attend the golden globes

☆ pairing: lance stroll x actress!reader

☆ fc & warnings: zendaya & none

☆ a/n: shorter one bc i was inspired by zendaya and the big ring she was wearing last night hehe also lance has been moving me lately

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

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user1: tuning in for you only

user2: i can’t wait to see what you wear!!! you are going to shine like always

lance_stroll: my beautiful gorgeous girl

ynuser: my sweet precious boy

lance_stroll: hoping on the plane now! should be there in a few hours.

ynuser: wonderful! thank you for coming all the way out to la baby - i know things are busy for you these days

lance_stroll: you are always my first priority y/n/n and this is a big deal ❤️

ynuser: i am so lucky to call you mine lancey

lance_stroll: i’m the lucky one 😘

yourbff: i’m so excited for you my love

ynuser: and i’m so excited to see you soon 🫶🏻

user22: people died!!! (me i’m people)

chloestroll: yayyyy!!! you’re my favorite superstar!!

ynuser: chloe 🥹

user3: MOTHER!!!

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user2: the prettiest princess to ever princess

user8: when i show up to a who loves y/n most contest and ur there 🙄

astonmartinf1: make sure you send us all the pictures possible. can’t have our man stepping out without posting about it 😮‍💨

lance_stroll: don’t worry admin - you’ll get them before anyone else does!

user87: just casually showing up with bouquets and dior… oh to be a wag 😭

ynuser: reunited and it feels so good ❤️

lance_stroll: nothing beats being with you darling 🤍

user12: happy for you (i’m single and jealous)!

chloestroll: give my girl a hug for me

lance_stroll: you got it 😘

user9: your commitment to be at every event of hers is truly the sweetest thing

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yourbff: girl call me wtf

yourbff: DONT LEAVE ME ON READ IK YOURE JUSY GETTING YOUR HAIR DONE RN YOU CAN CALL ME

ynuser: CALLING NOW CHILLLLL

yourbff: OMG BESTIE IM SCREAING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS

ynuser: 😂😂😂😂 i can hear you all the way from la

yourbff: this is one of the best days of my life fr

ynuser: s a m e girl

estebanocon: mon ami what happened?

ynuser: lance will call you shortly my dear friend ❤️

lance_stroll: 🤭

ynuser: eeeeeeek i love you

lance_stroll: i love you to the moon and back

flavy.barla: cryptic? but also give your little puppy a kiss from me mon ange 😘

ynuser: are you and estie together? if so, expect a call sooooooonnn!!!! also puppy says they miss you

flavy.barla: omg yes we are together!

flavy.barla: y/n/n! i’m still crying im so excited for you two you have no idea

chloestroll: HEHEHEHEH

ynuser: sisssyyyyyyyyy

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user2: GORGEOUS????

user18: is it just me or are you showing off that ring in like a …… it’s more than just an accessory way

yourbff: how is it that everything looks perfect on you?

ynuser: stop ittttt 😭

flavy.barla: stunning, beautiful, perfect! not a single note

ynuser: thank you flavy 🫶🏻

f1gossip: now y/n/n…. is that what we think it is?

lance_stroll: genuinely speechless. how does one get so beautiful?

ynuser: lots and lots of makeup

lance_stroll: oh stop! its natural

user19: foaming at the mouth

madelyncline: begging you to style me. i wanna be like you when i grow up 😩

ynuser: your wish is my command 🙌🏻

user34: you never miss

user21: s2g that’s an engagement ring

mclarenf1: nice color dress 🤭

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f1gossip: actress, y/n y/l/n, attended the golden globes last tonight with long term partner and our very own, Lance Stroll, sporting a rather large diamond ring on her left hand. when asked by a reporter if the ring on her finger was an engagement ring, all she did was give a coy smile and a shrug before changing the subject. looks like wedding bells are ringing for one of our favorite duos!!

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user2: first of all - y/n is radiant. second of all - i’m so glad these 2 are end game i love them

user6: how lance bagged this baddie will forever be beyond me

user28: he’s a good man savannah

user12: happy for them (i’m crying my eyes out)

user44: a little commotion for the dress my god

user33: all i can think abt is how it’s papaya

user9: now that is a ROCK! making my partner take notes

user4: my shot is with y/n is now GONE

user22: what do i have to do to get myself a billionaire to give me the biggest ring i’ve ever seen in my whole life

user35: no fr asking for a friend

user11: no lance!!!! that’s MY girl!!!

user9: i’d put a ring on that too if i was him

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lance_stroll: had the best evening with the most beautiful girl to have ever graced a red carpet. thanks for having me goldenglobes and thanks to hugoboss for the magnificent suit.

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user18: we got a lance post before gta6

user22: missed him dearly

astonmartinf1: that’s our driver 🤩

user34: that old money hotness is real

fernandoalo_oficial: looking good!

ynuser: magnificent suit indeed 😍

lance_stroll: maybe i should wear them more often

ynuser: yes please 😩

user3: don’t think i didn’t notice the big ring on y/n’s hand. care to explain lance?

chloestroll: two of my most favorite people 🥹

user24: seething with jealousy

estebanocon: cleaned up real nice mon ami

lance_stroll: merci esteban 🤍

user28: i am down so catastrophically bad. i cant decide which one of you i want more

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ynuser: it’s all in the details

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landonorris: cool papaya dress

ynuser: it’s orange mate

landonorris: close enough! thanks for being a fan 🧡

user99: this is all but confirmation honestly

sabrinacarpenter: i think i might be in love with you

ynuser: well thank god the feelings are mutual 😭

user12: there’s not a single red carpet where you don’t devour

lance_stroll: you have one new really good detail

ynuser: i do yeah! someone special picked it out for me

lance_stroll: well they certainly did a good job

ynuser: the best job some might say!

mclarenf1: currently fangirling! don’t mind us

astonmartinf1: back!!! back i said!!! 🤺

user13: the squeal i just let out

flavy.barla: reject me so i can move on already 😭

ynuser: i have no interest in rejecting you!!! lets run away tg instead

estebanocon: only if lance and i can run away together without you then

flavy.barla: fine by me!

lance_stroll: wow 🙄

user88: my 2 favorite people just got engaged no one speak to me

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated 🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[cutielando]

my little engineer | o.p.

synopsis: in which Oscar falls in love with a McLaren engineer

a/n: based on this request! the timeline does not really follow the actual season, i just went along with what came to my head

my masterlist

The air buzzed with the energy of the Formula 1 paddock.

Even on a quiet Thursday afternoon, there was a constant undercurrent of urgency, the kind that kept everyone on their toes.

You were no exception to the rule.

As a McLaren engineer, your days were filled with analyzing data, fine-tuning setups, and making sure that the cars were in peak condition. The team’s fortunes often hinged on decisions made in rooms like the ones you were currently in, surrounded by monitors and endless cups of coffee.

You had been with McLaren for 2 years now, your main focus being on aerodynamics. The team had offered to hire you while you were still studying your degree, mainly because of how brilliant your mind was.

Your job was to squeeze every ounce of performance out of the car, translating theoretical possibilities and what-ifs into tangible speed and a sea of accomplishments.

Currently, you were busy reviewing wind tunnel data when a shadow fell across your desk.

Looking up, you saw Oscar standing there, a curious expression in his face. He was dressed casually, but the unmistakable sharpness of a driver’s focus radiated off of him.

“Hey” he said, his soft Australian accent cutting through the silence.

“Hi, Oscar” you greeted him, giving him a small smile.

“Do you have a moment? I wanted to ask you about the changes to the front wing design we made today” he asked, his eyes darting across your desk.

He could see that you were busy, but he couldn’t help himself. Ever since he had joined the team, he couldn't get you out of his head. He was impressed by your knowledge and experience at just 21, basically his age, and he found himself blushing and stuttering every time he would talk to you.

He was acting like a love-sick puppy.

"Of course, take a seat" you said as you gestured to the chair next to you, straightening up in your chair.

Despite only being in his rookie year, Oscar's performance had been nothing short of remarkable. And you also couldn't deny that you took a small, secret liking to the young Aussie driver.

"Can you explain to me, again, what changes we made exactly?" Oscar asked, having sat down next to you.

"Yeah, we've made some adjustments to the endplates in order to better improve airflow around the tires. It should help with high-speed cornering stability" you explained, pointing to the data on one of the monitors.

Oscar leaned in, his eyebrows furrowed as he took in what you were saying and what he was seeing on the screens.

"How does that affect the balance? Will it make the rear feel lighter?" he asked, scratching his chin.

"Slightly, yes. But we've made sure to compensate with some tweaks to the diffuser. It will feel different, but once you adjust, you should find it predictable and reliable" you explained.

He nodded, his expression thoughtful.

"I see. I get it now, thanks Y/N" he said, giving you a small smile.

You smiled back, patting him on the shoulder.

"Anytime, Oscar. Let me know how the car feels after FP1 and we can make some more tweaks if it's necessary" you said.

Oscar nodded and gave you one last smile before heading out. You watched him go, noticing the quiet confidence with which he held himself, even as he walked.

There was something about him that intrigued you, a mix of his determination to become the best and his calm, almost reserved personality and demeanor.

Something you definitely wanted to explore.

But for now, you shook the thoughts away, getting back to work before you could spiral into something else.

Into something more dangerous.

♡♡♡♡♡

Over the next few weeks, your interactions with Oscar became more and more frequent.

Whether it was in the garage, during debriefs, or even in the cafeteria, he often sought you out to discuss details about the car.

At first, everything was purely professional. Mostly technical questions, feedback on changes to the setup, and maybe the occasional joke to lighten up the mood.

But gradually, the conversations began to shift.

“So, how did you end up in F1?” he asked one evening, leaning against the workbench as you adjusted a model component.

You froze for a second but quickly regained your composure, a little surprised at the personal question.

“Well, I’ve always loved racing. My dad used to take me to local karting events when I was little. I wasn’t much of a driver, though, but I was really curious about the whole mechanism behind the cars. I got into university and McLaren hired me while I was still studying” you explained.

Oscar’s eyes lit up with interest as you spoke.

“Wow, you must have one hell of a brain, then” he said, making you laugh and blush.

You shrugged, not wanting to gloat.

“I guess they saw something in me, I don’t really know. I’m just grateful I have this opportunity” you said, giving him a smile.

He smiled back, his eyes twinkling.

“It’s good that we have you here with us. We wouldn’t get far without you” he said, his voice softer now.

“It’s a team effort, really, but thank you” you said, your cheeks now an angry shade of red.

Oscar smiled and nodded, and his eyes lingered on you for a second too long. You looked away, your eyes now focused on the task at hand, trying to hide the sudden flutter in your stomach and in your chest.

Damn you, Oscar.

♡♡♡♡♡

As the season progressed, the dynamic between you and Oscar continued to deepen.

He’d stop by your workstation far more often than was necessary, most of the times just to have a chat with you.

You found yourself looking forward to his visits, your butterflies being swarmed with butterflies whenever you would see him approach you. And even though you tried to keep things strictly professional, there were small, fleeting moments than hinted at just something more.

Like the time he brought you coffee during a particularly tough and difficult race weekend, completely taking you by surprise.

“Here, thought you might need this” he said, setting down the cup of coffee in front of you.

Startled, you raise your eyebrows, but smile nonetheless.

“Thanks” you said, looking down at the cup to notice that he had not only brought you coffee, but he brought your favorite type of coffee. “How did you know I like it black?”

Oscar smiled and shrugged.

“I pay attention” was the only thing that he said before he turned and walked away, leaving you staring after him.

Another instance was when he had caught you off guard with a genuine compliment after a tougher free practice session.

“You’re really good at what you do, you know. The car feels incredible because of you” he said, trying to comfort you after the tough debrief.

You’d brushed it off as you always did, trying to pass everything as team effort.

But the sincerity and gentleness of his voice stayed with you long after that.

Maybe a little too long.

♡♡♡♡♡

Monza.

It was during a rain-soaked qualifying session that the tension between the two of you reached an all-time high.

The team had completely gambled on a whole-new setup, a very risky one at that, and the stakes were higher than they ever were in the championship battle.

You were sitting in the garage with your headphones on, monitoring the data as Oscar ventured out on the slippery track.

“How’s the car, Oscar?” Tom, his race engineer, asked him over the radio.

“A bit twitchy, but it’s manageable” his voice crackled over the radio.

You leaned forward over the computer, your heart in your throat as you watched his sector times closely.

Even though the setup was still rocky, he was pushing hard, managing to find the limits and extract the most out of his lap times with every lap.

When the session finished and he crossed the line securing a spot on the second row, the whole garage erupted into loud cheers.

Everyone was hugging everyone, congratulating you on the proposed setup (a gamble, really) and how well it had played out in the end.

Oscar returned a few minutes later, drenched but grinning widely.

His eyes found yours almost instantly, and you couldn’t help but give him a wide smile back.

“Nice work out there” you said as he stopped in front of you.

“Couldn’t have done it without you” he replied, his voice warm and soft.

For a moment, the noise of the garage faded away into the distance, and it was just the two of you there, standing in the middle of the chaos.

Just the two of you.

Later that night, the team had decided to go out and celebrate the amazing qualifying session.

You found yourself sitting at the quieter end of the table with Oscar. The conversation between the two of you flowed effortlessly, moving from racing all the way to hobbies and childhood stories.

You learned that he loved cooking, had an embarrassingly extensive collection of movie soundtracks and missed the Australian benches.

“What about you? What do you do when you’re not making our cars faster?” he asked, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at you.

You laughed, taking a sip of your drink.

“Not much, to be honest. Work keeps me pretty busy. But I like hiking when I get the chance. It’s nice to unplug and just be with the nature for a little while, away from all the chaos and noise” you said.

He nodded thoughtfully, seemingly hanging onto your every word.

“Sounds peaceful. I haven’t hiked in a long time. Maybe I should start again” he said.

“You should. It’s a great way to clear your head” you said, your lips twitching into a small smile.

The evening stretched on, the line between you and Oscar becoming more blurred with each passing moment.

By the time you left the restaurant, walking side by side under the streetlights of Italy, you felt warmth in your chest at the feeling of him being next to you.

A warmth that had nothing to do with the wine you’d had.

♡♡♡♡♡

The slow burn continued as the season went on.

There were stolen moments in the garage, quiet conversations during long flights and shared smiles that spoke volumes. But neither of you made the step, neither crossed the line.

Not yet, anyways.

But the unspoken tension hung heavily in the air, growing stronger and stronger with each passing day.

And it all came to a head in Abu Dhabi, the final race of the season.

After a very hard-fought battle Oscar had managed to finish on the podium, his best result of the season yet. The team celebrated late into the night, the culmination of months of effort and sacrifice finally paying off.

You found yourself on the balcony of the hotel, the cool desert breeze brushing against your skin.

Oscar joined you a few minutes later, a drink in his hand and a soft smile on his face.

“Couldn’t handle the noise anymore?” he asked, leaning against the railing beside you.

“Something like that. It’s been a long season, I’m exhausted” you said, chuckling.

He nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

“It has. But I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done without you” he said.

You turned to him, your heart skipping a beat at the fire in his eyes as he looked at you.

“Oscar…”

“No, let me say this. You’ve been there for me through everything. You’ve pushed to be better weekend after weekend, supported me when things got tough and the car was shit. I don’t think I’d still be here if it weren’t for you” his voice was firm, like there was no room for you to contradict him.

“I was just doing my job” you said, your voice soft as your breath caught in your throat.

Oscar shook his head, determined to make you see exactly what he was feeling.

“It’s more than that. You mean more to me than just…this. I know we’ve got a million reasons why this wouldn’t work, but i can’t pretend I don’t feel this anymore” he said, his eyes boring into yours.

The vulnerability in his voice, the way he looked at you as if you were the only thing that mattered, all combined shattered every doubt you’d had.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped closer, your hand brushing against his softly.

“I’ve been trying to ignore it for months, but I don’t want to do it anymore” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips curved into a soft smile, and before you could overthink anything, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that felt as natural as breathing.

The world faded away, leaving only the two of you under the starry Abu Dhabi sky. Months of pining and unspoken tension culminated in a simple kiss, fireworks erupting into every part of your body.

When you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, a content sigh escaping his lips.

“So, where do we go from here?” you asked, your voice tinged with both excitement and uncertainty.

“One step at a time” he said, his fingers intertwining with yours. “As long as it’s with you, I’m happy”

And in that moment, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you’d face them together.

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[madamechrissy]

I'll look After You

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x fem reader (reader is a mom)

Summary: You longed to hear from Satoru, After an epic night hooking up in a club bathroom, sure you'd been strangers, but he has your number, he made you feel so special... but... he never contacts you again. Ten months later, you have a beautiful baby named Reign, with those exact blue eyes. You never saw him again, couldn't even find him, so now, you are living your life as a single mom. Messy bun, dark circles, exhausted, you run into Satoru one day, and he sees her, his baby girl, and sees you struggling, he knows then, you're what's been missing in his life.

CW: Going to be sweet and emotional, Satoru is a freaking doll, misunderstanding led to him not knowing (nothing is kept from anyone on purpose) Fluffy long oneshot where Satoru falls in love with reader and his little girl. Gojo being a dad and being cute! Will have smut at the end as all my oneshots do lol, so MDNI, and flashbacks to the original bathroom smut (will list all the warnings when it comes out!)

Preview below! Comment to get added to the taglist when it's out!! (Soon!!) <3

You often wondered about him, Satoru was his name.

As you look down at your baby girl, with her brilliant blue eyes while she’s cooing happily, giving you a gummy little grin, you wonder what he’d think if he knew about her. The random guy at the bar you gave your number to after hooking up in a bathroom, the guy who never called, the guy with no social media of which to speak. The guy you never, ever saw again.

Your baby’s father, the best thing that ever happened to you, surely, but also it was very difficult, being a single mom, you’d have to go back to work soon which you were dreading, spending sleepless nights up feeding, changing her. It had been a rough pregnancy, and a shocking one at that, people had questioned you over and over, some mentioned not having her.

But something in you knew you could do this, you could have this baby, you’re broke as fuck but she has all she needs, and she makes you so happy, but those eyes are unmistakable. No one has eyes like that, except her and her… well was he really her 'dad'? You wonder if he’d run ten million miles from you if he knew, or would he have been okay with it?

It’s odd that just a night of fun, alcohol and being on antibiotics created this amazing little girl, but you can’t be upset, not when she brightens your world. But you still ache at times, for her to have a dad, you hope you’re enough. You wonder about him though, the bright energetic man, the one that had made you feel more in one evening than anyone ever.

The last man you’d been with.

Yes, it’s been that long, Reign was two months old, so you’re damn near at a year, you say it’s because you’re so busy, but something deep in you knows that you felt something for him, deeper than the obvious physical. Something about how he looked at you, at how he laughed, at how he made you feel so special.

You assume it must have been some act, clearly, here you are, alone after all. You both only knew each other’s first names, it’s true, but he had that number. Maybe it wasn’t all you thought it was? Maybe he just was that sort of guy, the one that made women think they’re his everything with one of his kisses, maybe you were just too drunk, and he was too pretty.

You blink a bit, shaking the haze thoughts of him as you yawn a bit, exhausted from Reign keeping you up all night, her tummy had been hurting. You’re sleepily putting things in the cart, baby items, groceries, the essentials, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror above the produce, wincing then. You have a messy bun and are in pajamas, god help you if you ever wanted to meet a guy.

‘Oh hi, I have a baby with a random blue eyed dude from a bar, I’m broke as fuck, and I wear pajamas to the store. Wanna date?’

Yeah. That would go over well.

“It’s… it’s… you!?” You sleepily look up then, so exhausted you barely register the six foot three man for a moment, then suddenly it all hits.

He stares at you, those blue eyes, the eyes your baby has, wide now, his pouty pink lips dropped open. He’s just as gorgeous as you remember him, like it’s some dream, you feel weak then, chest rising and falling as your breaths come too quickly. He steps closer to you then, he hasn’t seen her yet, nestled in her little car seat on the cart, you’re panicking.

“Do you even remember me? Oh my god, that night my phone broke, and I had just got it, they couldn’t transfer the numbers! And I tried to look you up? But I couldn’t find you… and I never saw you… and then- fuck I’m rambling.” He laughs nervously, swiping his hand through his snowy locks. “Forgive me, please… what I mean to say is… Hi?”

“Hi…” Your baby whines then, and Satoru pauses, blinking and you move to the side then, he steps closer when Reign opens her eyes, grinning at him.

Satoru’s heart pounds in his chest, his entire world tilts on its axis, he was already so thrown off by seeing you again, the girl he hasn’t been able to stop thinking of, but now… he looks at you in shock, you look exhausted, but so beautiful, your eyes tear up then, he watches your shoulders slump, then he looks back at the baby, realization sinking in.

“She’s… is she… there’s no way…”

“She’s yours, I only hooked up with you for the past… year.” You manage to say softly, right in the middle of the fruit aisle, Satoru was finding out you have his baby.

“You did this alone?” He says then, blinking back emotions for a girl he barely knew, but who now has a part of him, a part he wants to know so badly suddenly, shocking him.

“I had no clue who you were, how to tell you, even if so, it’s not your responsibility okay? I take care of her just fine, I make it work.” Satoru’s heart breaks then, seeing how tired you are, seeing the endless baby items and cheap toilet paper, a cheap bottle of wine, is that all you get yourself?

You did this alone, you have his baby alone, altering your life while he’s living his just the same, partying with his best friends, working and living a luxurious life. Satoru was rich, and it’s clear his baby and his baby’s mother are struggling, and he’s here doing what? Could he have tried harder to find you!? Could he…

“We’re okay, you don’t have to worry. I’d never come for you for anything, I am happy being her mommy.” You say with a tired smile, reaching to touch her little chubby cheek, and Satoru has never seen anything so beautiful, the two of you.

He’s felt so empty for this year, is this what he was missing?

“Can I… please… can I know her?” He asks, gulping now, and you blink in shock, nodding quickly.

“I would love that.” You can’t stop your tears then, sniffling and shaking your head. “Please, let’s talk outside of the produce aisle?” You whisper, he nods quickly, unable to take his eyes off you, off his baby.

Coming sooon- based loosely on a request for @bunheadusa hehe, prob gonna be long I can't help myself.

perma tags- @alt--er--love @cuntphoric @seeing-stars-alt @nanasukii28 @labelt-san @makingtimemine @aldebrana @n1vi Perma Gojo tags: @chiyokoemilia @haruhatake @strychnynegirl <3

[dollishmehrayan]

# “THE WOMAN WAS TOO STUNNED TO SPEAK…” ── .✦ ( batboys w an unhinged!reader and blunt!reader )

a/n: this is from my little brain of mine , and I like to honor it for @kyriakis anywhoo I’m back and omg 1k?! Alsoo guys dw! I’m gonna do the event tomorrow && I’m gonna pick out some prompts I have organized, so i didn't forget okay but i just got a lot of DMs asking when I’m gonna do it for you guyss so yeah it’s gonna be tomorrow since I’m gonna re-edit + add some ideas of your guys votes!! Tags: (batboys x unhinged!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

He’s always caught off guard but loves it. Your bluntness is a breath of fresh air for Dick, who’s so used to diplomatic conversations. You say whatever’s on your mind with zero filter, and he’s like, “Oh, wow. Okay. I respect it.”

Hates it when you don’t hold back with him. He’s used to being the charming, funny guy who makes everyone laugh, but you hit him with a “That was dumb, don’t do that again” and his brain short circuits for a second. “You can’t just say that!” “Why not?”

Finds it hilarious when you wreck other people’s egos. You have zero time for anyone’s nonsense, and when someone messes up, you let them know. Dick’s in the background, trying not to laugh. “Do you not think before you speak?!…” He’s always acts so shocked but hey, he’s kinda enjoying it unless it’s aimed at him. (He can’t fight verbally for the life of him without saying some cringe shit)

Doesn’t even try to change you. Dick knows what he’s getting into, and he loves you for it. He’s never going to ask you to ‘tone it down.’ He actually finds your unapologetic attitude pretty hot.

He’s 50% worried you’ll get into trouble, 50% impressed. But in the end, he’ll always back you up, saying, “She’s just honest. Get used to it.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Finally, someone who speaks his language. Jason lives for the fact that you don’t care what people think. He loves how blunt you are, especially when you cut through the BS with the precision of a sharp knife.

Gets protective when people try to push your boundaries. If someone dares disrespect you, Jason’s the first one to step in. “You’ve got a problem with her? You’ve got a problem with me.”, “Jason that was so fucking cringey..”

Appreciates that you don't sugarcoat things for him. You’ll tell him exactly how it is, whether it’s about his attitude or a bad decision he made, and he respects it, it’s like the tt sound where “that’s when it hit me, it was the best idea I ever had..” but like this: “Not gonna lie, that was a terrible plan, Jay,” and he’ll just nod. “Fair.”

You guys have the most chaotic, weirdest conversations. It’s a mix of witty banter, ridiculous one-liners, and deadpan sarcasm. Other people can’t even keep up with the energy.

The idea of dating a ‘good girl’ never appealed to him anyway. He thrives off your unhinged energy. You’re unpredictable, and it keeps him on his toes, which he loves. “Yeah, you’re definitely not boring.” (Although the thing is he does love innocent people, like if you’re like gen clueless he wants preserve your innocence.)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim’s brain can’t keep up with you. Your blunt, no-nonsense attitude constantly makes him blink in confusion. One minute you’re casually roasting someone, and the next, you’re giving a straight-up critique of his latest plan. He’s learning that he can’t outthink you.

He admires your unapologetic honesty. Tim has a lot of internalized doubts, so watching you casually reject anyone’s judgment is a nice contrast. You don’t apologize for your thoughts, and it’s something he secretly admires.

Constantly second-guesses himself around you. Your sharp tongue makes him want to be as confident as you. He gets nervous about saying anything that might sound soft, so when he stumbles, you’re like, “What was that? I swear you just whispered something.” And he’ll blush hard, muttering an apology.

You both have a sarcastic sense of humor that others don’t quite get. You say something outrageous, and Tim will respond with the driest remark possible. People in the room often wonder if you two are joking or just genuinely a bit rude.

Not scared to call him out. When Tim’s too nice, you’ll be like, “You need to stop letting people walk all over you. Grow some teeth.” Tim won’t admit it, but that does motivate him to be a little bolder.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian is a bit taken aback at first. He’s used to people being respectful or like seeing him as kinda a role model, so when you come out with a “That’s dumb, don’t even talk to me right now,” he’s not sure how to handle it. He will stand there, blinking, while processing your bluntness. (He’s too stunned to speak 😞)

Genuinely respects your forthrightness, though. “I’ll admit, I have never met someone so… honest.” He starts respecting you even more, thinking you’re someone he can’t manipulate or charm easily.

Loves that you’re as stubborn as he is. If you’re determined about something, there’s no changing your mind. You’ll fight for your opinions even if it gets you into a heated debate. And Damian’s right there with you, arguing like it’s the most fun thing in the world.

Tries to match your bluntness. “You talk too much,” he says one day, and you immediately reply, “And yet, here you are, listening to every word I say.” Damian actually pauses for a second, impressed. “Right..”

Loves how you’ll shut down his critics with zero hesitation. Someone says something disrespectful to him, and you’ll be the first to shoot back, “He doesn’t need your advice, trust me.” He’ll give you a proud little smirk. “I like the way you handle things.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

At first, Bruce is a bit disconcerted by your bluntness. Bruce’s the kind of guy who expects people to be formal and classy, and you just come in with “This entire meeting is a waste of my time. I don’t care about any of this.” He blinks, then quietly admires your bravery.

Totally respects your unfiltered honesty. Bruce has had enough of the world’s games, so when you don’t bother to pretend or hold anything back, it’s like a breath of fresh air for him.

Secretly loves when you don’t play nice." He knows you're not afraid of saying what you think, and when you call him out on his brooding or overly protective behavior, he listens. “You’re right. I’m sorry for not trusting you more.” (He totally doesn’t have a tracker on your hair clip..🥰)

You both have moments of pure savage honesty that no one else gets. There’s no need for filters, and you’ll both exchange one-liners so dry that it leaves everyone else in the room confused.

Finds it endearing when you make his plans more interesting. “This is ridiculous. Why are we doing this again?” You snap at him in a room full of his board members, and he just gives you a look that says, “I’m never apologizing for you.”

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 10

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this. Labour.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 10 of 12!

“Breathe,” Victoria kept insisting.

“You are doing so well, Choupinette,” her mother cooed.

Colette was quite certain that she was going to die. 

At least it felt like it.

The pain was overwhelming. It didn’t feel like her body could take any more of it. The contractions were so strong and the pain was blinding in its intensity. She wasn’t certain if she could do this anymore.

“I can’t do this,” Colette choked out.

“Yes, you can,” Victoria insisted. Her voice was firm and steady. “You absolutely can do this. You’re already so far along, you just have to push. You can do this.”

"Just breathe," her mother said soothingly, stroking back her hair. "You are doing so well."

But she wasn’t doing well. 

She wanted Max. No, she needed Max.

She needed him so badly. She didn’t want to do this by herself. 

Colette cried out in pain as another very strong contraction hit her, clenching her teeth through it. "Max," she sobbed. "I need Max."

"I know," Victoria said, stroking her hand. "I know you do. But you can do this. Just a little bit longer, okay? It won’t be long now."

She didn’t want to do this without him. But what other choice did she have?

A strangled sob escaped her throat as she clutched her mother’s hand desperately as another contraction hit.

“We’re going to need you to push now,” the doctor said firmly. “You need to start pushing with the contractions.”

Colette cried out in pain as she tried her very best to push like they were telling her to. The pain was blinding in its intensity. But it hurt. Gods, it hurt more than anything that she had ever experienced. It was like her body was about to rip itself in half.

"You’re doing so well," her mother cooed.

"Keep Pushing."

Another strangled scream escaped her. "Max," she sobbed. "I need Max. I need him. I can’t do this.”

Victoria stroked her hair. "It’s almost over, Colette. It’s almost over. Just a little bit more," Vic promised her. 

Colette wanted to give up, she wanted to give in. She wanted the pain to end. But more than anything else, she just wanted Max.

Another scream was torn from her, a ragged cry of pain as a particularly severe contraction tore through her. She was certain that she wasn’t going to survive this. The pain was too severe.

"Keep Pushing."

"Keep Pushing."

"Push, Push, Push"

She didn’t understand how they expected her to keep going. She could feel herself flagging, she was so exhausted.

The room was a blur around her, dark spots dancing at the corner of her vision. The sound of her own screams echoed in her ears, the pain almost overwhelming. She thought she was going to pass out.

She heard the door open.

A small part of the pain-hazed part of her mind registered the sound. She thought she was hallucinating. Surely that wasn’t the sound of the door opening. Surely she was just losing her mind under the excruciating strain.

“That took you too fucking long,” Victoria snapped. Colette would have smiled, if she hadn’t been currently in the middle of pushing. Max's familiar voice echoed in her ears, and for one sweet second, the pain all but vanished.

And then he was there.  Her heart jumped and a small sob escaped her. Max. It was really Max. He was there. He was right beside her.

Dry lips pressed against her sweat slick forehead. “Liefje.“

He was there. He was really there. 

"Max," she sobbed out. "You’re here. You’re really here."

"Of course I am," he said shakily. He pushed back her sweaty hair from her forehead. "You didn’t think I was going to let you do this without me, do you?"

She wanted to tell him that, in all honesty, she had thought exactly that. If he hadn’t shown up, she would have had to do this without him. But she was too exhausted, and in too much pain to form the words. All she could do was clutch at his hand, desperately clinging onto him like a lifeline.

Max immediately threaded his fingers through hers, holding her hand tightly. "I’m right here," he soothed. "I’m not going anywhere.” He was giving her something solid to hang onto. 

“Another push,” the doctor encouraged.

With Max holding her hand, Colette gave one last, desperate push.

She was certain that she was going to pass out. She didn’t understand how she was still conscious. The pain was mind-numbing in its intensity. "Once more,” the doctor said firmly. “I can see the head. Just one more push.”

Colette whimpered, her breath coming in short sharp sobs. "I can’t,” she cried in exhaustion. "I can’t."

"You can,” Max said fiercely. “You are the strongest goddamn person I know, and if anyone can do this, it’s you. Just one more push, come on, liefje."

His grip on her hand was so tight, it was almost painful, but that brief moment of pain was worth it. Feeling Max's presence beside her, holding onto her so desperately with his fingers threaded firmly through hers, it was the only thing that gave her the last little bit of strength that she needed.

With a long, ragged scream, she gave one last push, pouring everything she had into it.

She could hear Max beside her, talking to her soothingly, but the words were all blending together. Her senses were slowly fading. "Push, you can do it, you’re almost done." The words were coming at her from all sides now, swirling and echoing amongst the darkness of her hazy vision, and it was all she could do to grip Max’s hand, and listen to the sound of his voice.

And then it was over.

The searing pain suddenly stopped. 

For just a moment, everything was quiet. 

A cry cut through the sudden silence

The sound echoed around them, small and shrill and so very loud in the stillness of the room. A choked gasp of relief escaped Colette as she slumped back against the pillows, utterly exhausted.

"There you go," Max murmured, gently wiping back the hair from her forehead. "It’s over, it’s over now. You did so well, liefje. You’ve done it."

She wanted to speak, to say something to him in return, but her tongue was so heavy in her mouth it would hardly form words. Her mind was still a blur of exhaustion, relief and adrenaline. All she could muster was a small whimper as she felt his hand gently stroking her hair.

The sound of the infant’s cries rang out again, more strongly this time. “Here,” the doctor said, sounding a little amused. “Let’s get that little girl on maman’s chest.”

Through the haze, Colette felt an immense amount of exhausted relief, as the doctor carefully placed a small, wiggling bundle on her chest.

The baby was beautiful. Small and new and perfect, and Colette felt like the very breath had been knocked out of her. All the exhaustion and the pain was suddenly entirely worth it as she cradled the tiny baby in her arms.

"Hello, bébé," she breathed softly, the words coming out as a whisper. “I thought you were going to be a boy,” she choked 

A broad smile covered her face as she gently stroked the downy soft tufts of dark hair covering the baby’s head. The small, tiny, perfect little fingers wrapped around her own, and Colette’s heart felt so full it felt like it was going to burst.

"I was right," Max said, the words somewhat choked. His voice sounded almost strangled, and she didn’t need to look to know that there were tears running down his face.

Colette looked up at him then, taking in with a mixture of affection and amusement how utterly awestruck he looked. He was crying openly, tears running unashamedly down his cheeks.

“We did it,” she told Max.

“We did,” He said, his voice still choked with emotion. “She’s so beautiful.” Max sounded utterly wrecked.

Colette couldn’t help but share his feelings as she looked back down at the baby in her arms. The small infant had opened her eyes for a brief moment, revealing the most vividly blue eyes that Colette had ever seen. “She got your eyes.”

“And your hair,” Max said, reaching out a hesitant hand to touch the soft dark locks on the baby’s head.

The baby gave a little gurgle, waving her tiny hand as if to reach out for his fingers. “Hello, mooi meisje,” he said softly, his voice still sounding a little choked, as the baby tried to wrap her fingers around his own.

"She's absolutely perfect," Colette whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from the tiny, perfect bundle of joy in her arms.

"Just like her mother," Max said, his voice hoarse. He stroked his finger down the baby's soft cheek, the most gentle of touches.

***

In the end…he made it with minutes to spare.

He couldn’t describe the relief that he felt when he finally burst through the door, to find Colette in the midst of giving birth. He had been so terrified that he wouldn’t make it in time.

And now here he was, sitting beside her on the bed, their daughter in her arms, safe and sound and utterly, utterly perfect.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of them both. Colette was beautiful, despite looking utterly exhausted. Her face was pale and slick with sweat, but she had never look more lovely.

And their daughter… Their daughter was perfect. Tiny, and new, the sweetest thing that Max had ever seen. He gently ran his finger down her soft, plump cheek, marveling at the sheer fragility of her.

And he couldn't stop crying. This was his family. His.

They had hoped so desperately for so long, and now there was their little girl. And she had been worth it. Worth all the heartbreak.

His eyes stung and his throat was constricting, but he couldn't help it. He knew he must look a mess, tears running unashamedly down his face and throat choked up, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered. They were here, and safe, and together.

He looked down at the baby’s tiny, perfect face, her closed eyes, her nose. She had Colette’s hair, and his eyes, and Max thought that if it was possible to die of love, he was dangerously close to that moment right there.

He reached out a shaking hand to touch his daughter’s tiny fist, his own hand dwarfing hers. She opened her eyes again for a brief second, and he could have sworn that she smiled at him for just an instant.

The tears ran more freely down his face now at that thought. His daughter, his little girl, his precious perfect baby, smiled at him. It might have just been a trick of his own overjoyed emotional state, but right then, Max was convinced that it had been a real smile.

"She's perfect, liefje," he whispered, his words coming out a little choked. "She's so damn perfect.”

"Dad, you want to cut the cord?" the doctor asked him.

The question seemed to take a moment to register in his hazy emotional state, but when it did, Max’s breath caught in his chest for a moment. And then just as quickly, he nodded mutely.

In a daze, he reached for the small pair of scissors that the midwife handed over to him, cutting the umbilical cord under her careful supervision.

He was in a daze, even when they took his daughter from Colette to check her over and bath her. "Stay with her," Colette told him softly. "Go on."

Max nodded, unable to find the words to answer to her. He stood up on slightly shaky legs, watching as the midwife took his daughter over to the small bassinet and started to check her over.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of his baby, tiny and perfect and theirs. All the years of trying, all the hope and the heartbreaks, and now there was their little girl, safe and sound.

He got to watch her be bathed and then swaddled right into a soft pink swaddle that he knew he himself had bought because Colette kept insisting that it was a boy...and then he finally got to hold her in his arms and cry some more, because she was perfect.

He cradled her small, tiny form in his arms, his fingers trembling a little as he gently touched the soft downy skin of her cheek. Her weight was barely anything at all in his arms, and for a moment, terror gripped his heart. Was he holding her too hard? What if he hurt her?

"You aren't going to hurt her," Victoria said suddenly and he stared at his sister that sat down next to her. "You aren't. I promise you. Babies aren't as breakable as they look," she teased him softly. "Congrats, Maxie."

Max nodded, a little startled. He had honestly forgotten that his sister was even there, the arrival of his baby girl had taken up most of his attention.

"Thanks, Vic," he managed, his voice still choked. 

He looked down at the baby in his arms again. They had wrapped her tightly in the pink swaddle that he himself had insisted on months ago. He had been so sure that the baby was a girl. And he had been right.

He wouldn't have cared either way, but...he had been right.

"She's perfect," he whispered, his eyes burning.

Victoria smiled, watching him with a softness in her eyes that Max wasn't sure he had seen before. “You’re a father,” she said simply. “How does it feel?”

“Like my heart’s going to explode with pure happiness,” Max admitted, looking back down at his daughter in his arms. “Like I can’t breathe. Like I’m dreaming. I don’t…I don’t know how to describe it.”

"Welcome to the sleep deprivation community that is parenthood," Vic joked softly. "You are going to be the best father," she told him.

It made him choke up. That absolute certainty with which his little sister said that, a hand on his shoulder. "You are going to be the best father to her," Victoria promised him fiercely.

Fresh tears welled up in his eyes as he looked up at his sister. “I’ll do my best,” he managed to say, his voice a little choked. “I’ll do absolutely anything for her, for both of them. Anything in the world.”

They didn't often talk about their childhood...about all the things that had gone down...the long drawn out screaming matches they could remember before their parents had divorced and the separation that came afterwards...

They didn’t like to talk about it. It was one of those things that they usually just skirted around, because when they brought it up, old feelings and emotions came up with it. And the fights weren’t pleasant to remember...

But in that moment, Max felt a profound sense of relief. For the first time, he was glad those fights had happened, because if they hadn’t…he and Vic wouldn’t have the relationship they had now, and he wouldn’t have learned, from all of the pain and heartbreak of those fights, what not to do. He never wanted his daughter to grow up like that. He never wanted her to feel the pain of a broken family like they had.

And he knew that he would do absolutely everything in his power to prevent that from happening. He and Colette would keep their family tightly together and protect and love their little girl with everything that they had.

No matter what.

A fresh wave of tears welled up in his eyes at the thought of that. "I don't ever want her to grow up like we did, Vic," he managed to say, the words still a little choked. "I don't ever want her to feel like we did."

"She won't," Vic assured him, her voice still soft. "Because you're going to be a great father. She'll grow up feeling loved and wanted and safe. I know that, Maxie."

His throat felt as if it was slowly closing up. "Thanks, bink," he managed to say, his voice cracking. "It means a lot. I..." His eyes stung, and he swallowed hard. "I couldn't ever thank you enough for being here. For being with us."

For coming even when he handn’t asked…for somehow knowing without being told what they needed.

His sister just smiled at him, her blue eyes, so similar to his own, sparkling. "She’s my niece," she reminded him. "You're not getting rid of me. I'm going to spoil her rotten, you know that?"

"You are going to have fierce competition, Victoria" Pascale said softly.

He looked up to where Colette's mother was tucking her own daughter back into the bed, fussing over her. Colette looked better than she had before, freshly showered, still exhausted, but no longer...no longer looking like she was going to faint any minute.

Colette was already sitting up, even though she would be in pain for a while, a testament to her usual stubbornness.

"Maxie." Colette didn't need to say more than that, as he stood and crossed the room, safely putting their daughter back on her mother's chest.

He sat on the edge of her bed, careful not to jostle her too much. "Hey," he said softly, wrapping an arm gently around her shoulders. "How are you feeling, liefje?"

"I'm okay," she said softly, resting her head weakly against him. "Sore. Tired. Happy. Went through 6 hours of labour, only to give birth to your and Charles' clone," she said drily, making her mother laugh.

Max smiled faintly, resting his head against hers. “Charles?” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"She does look awfully similiar," Pascale agreed.

Max gave a small laugh, glancing back down at the baby. He supposed there was a resemblance, if one knew what to look for. “She’s not a clone,” he countered, a note of mock offense in his voice. “She’s a perfect mix of us.”

"With what I am pretty certain is Charles' nose," Colette said drily.

Max laughed faintly, reaching out to gently touch the baby’s tiny nose with his finger. It narrowed just so at the tip… “Maybe,” he conceded thoughtfully. 

His daughter stirred faintly at the contact, a small noise coming from her mouth that sounded a bit like a grumble. Max smiled at the sound. 

“And I’m pretty sure she’s just as stubborn as her mother,” he teased Colette.

She reached up to lightly smack his hand, but her smile was fond. “Like you aren’t just as stubborn,” she retorted.

Their daughter took that moment to complain loudly for once and Colette shifted her slightly, unbuttoning her pyjama top.  At least one thing went down with absolutely no fuss whatsoever. A few minutes later, their daughter had greedily nursed, burped and was back to slumbering quietly. 

"Are the three musketeers still outside?" Colette asked.

“They are,” Max confirmed, brushing a strand of hair back from Colette’s face. He had all but forgotten about Colette’s brothers.

"Get them," Colette said softly.

Max smiled. "All of them?" he teased. He knew that was exactly what she had meant."All of them," she nodded.

[moonnight-reader]

I used to chase people in my lives craving for affection and validation. To be honest, it is exhausting and depressing for me. So I only reach out to those who I know can give me the love I deserve and forget those people who threw away my love for them. This has been one of the best decisions I have ever made because it made me happier. I do hope it continues to be this way. Let go of anyone that doesn't deserve your love. You are valid and I love you. 🩷

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗚𝗢𝗟𝗗𝗘𝗡 𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 oscar piastri x girlfriend! reader (fluff) fic summary . . . Oscar Piastri can't help but gush about his girlfriend in every interview, effortlessly weaving you into his conversations with pride and admiration

( main naster list | more of oscar piastri ) ( requests )

Oscar Piastri had a habit—one that everyone in the paddock noticed almost immediately. He couldn’t stop talking about his girlfriend. And not just in the offhand, casual way people might expect, like a passing mention here or there. No, when Oscar talked about you, it was like flipping a switch. His entire demeanor softened, his eyes lit up, and his words came tumbling out with an earnestness that left no room for doubt: he was absolutely, irrevocably smitten, and he made sure the world knew it.

It started innocently enough during an interview early in his rookie season. The journalist had asked about his study habits for learning new tracks, expecting a typical response about simulator hours or reviewing footage. But Oscar, with that easy grin of his, took a completely different direction. “I mean, I’ve seen how my girlfriend studies for her exams, so this should be pretty easy,” he said with a playful shrug. Then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he added, “She’s top of her class, by the way.” The pride in his voice was palpable, his expression glowing with admiration. The journalist couldn’t help but chuckle, already mentally jotting down notes to find out more about this mysterious academic powerhouse who clearly had Oscar wrapped around her finger.

And that was just the beginning.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

During a fan stage Q&A, he managed to take things up a notch. A young fan asked how he stays calm under pressure, and Oscar didn’t even need a moment to think. He leaned into the mic, his face lighting up in that boyish, unfiltered way of his. “Oh, that’s easy. The other night, my girlfriend—she’s a top athlete, by the way—was prepping for this big event she had. Watching her manage everything so smoothly kind of puts my little race stress into perspective.”

The crowd’s reaction was immediate: a mix of cheers, laughter, and a collective ‘aww’ that made Oscar’s cheeks flush faintly. He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, like he hadn’t just melted half the audience’s hearts with a single sentence. The sincerity in his tone was undeniable, and the moment was all the more charming because it was clear Oscar didn’t think he was doing anything out of the ordinary. He was just telling the truth, proud and in awe of you as always.

But even then, he wasn’t done. “Honestly,” he added with a laugh, “if I handled pressure half as well as she does, I’d be unstoppable.” It was a line delivered with such casual reverence that it didn’t just make the fans smile—it left them convinced that Oscar Piastri wasn’t just a rising star in Formula 1; he was also a contender for the title of world’s best boyfriend.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Then there was the time he was caught on McLaren’s YouTube channel, unabashedly gushing about how much he loved going shopping with you. It started as a casual behind-the-scenes segment—just Oscar and Lando killing time between commitments. But when the topic of hobbies came up, Oscar’s eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas.

“No, seriously,” he began, animatedly waving his hands as Lando looked at him like he’d lost the plot. “She’s got this incredible eye for things. Like, we’ll walk into a store, and she’ll just pick something up and instantly know it’s perfect. I don’t even know how she does it.”

Lando, ever the mischief-maker, raised an eyebrow. “And what’s your contribution to this magical shopping experience?”

Oscar didn’t miss a beat. “I…carry the bags,” he said with a proud grin. “It’s a good system.”

Lando snorted, muttering, “Golden retriever boyfriend,” under his breath, fully expecting Oscar to deny it. But Oscar, in his usual laid-back way, just shrugged and smiled wider. “I mean, if the shoe fits.” The clip went viral almost instantly, with fans agreeing that if there were ever a category for Boyfriend of the Year, Oscar was already a shoo-in.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Then, there was the time during a press junket when a reporter asked him about his organization skills. The question was meant to highlight how drivers juggle their packed schedules, but Oscar’s response was anything but rehearsed.

He laughed, a warm, self-deprecating sound that filled the room. “Honestly, I would’ve been doomed yesterday if my girlfriend hadn’t reminded me about something I forgot. She’s the organized one in the relationship. I just…drive cars fast and hope for the best.”

The room burst into laughter, a few reporters exchanging amused glances at his candidness. But Oscar just grinned, his expression softening with the unmistakable fondness that always seemed to creep into his voice when he talked about you.

“It’s true,” he added with a shrug, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to openly admit just how much he relied on you. And that was the magic of Oscar Piastri—his genuine, unabashed love for you turned even the simplest of conversations into something that felt warm and unforgettable.

Even in the most casual conversations with fans, you always managed to find your way into the spotlight through Oscar’s words. Like the time a fan brought him a book about racing during an autograph session. He accepted it with a warm smile, flipping through the pages for a moment before looking up. “Oh, my girlfriend loves reading,” he said, almost absentmindedly but with so much fondness it felt deliberate. “She’ll probably finish this before I do and then give me all the highlights. Saves me time.”

The fan giggled, clearly charmed, while the rest of the queue exchanged knowing smiles. It wasn’t just what he said—it was how he said it, like mentioning you was the most natural thing in the world. And for Oscar, it was.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Then there was the post-race interview after one of his toughest performances. He’d started the race in a dismal qualifying position, clawing his way through the pack to secure points in a way that left commentators breathless. By the time he reached the interview pen, his suit was damp with sweat, and exhaustion painted his features. But even then, the familiar warmth of his smile made an appearance as he approached the mic.

“You know,” he began, his voice still catching its breath but steady, “I think a big part of getting through today was remembering something my girlfriend told me.” His words were met with curious expressions from the reporters, who leaned in just a little closer. “She’s amazing at staying positive no matter what, and she’s always reminding me to focus on what I can control.”

He paused for a second, his gaze drifting toward the camera as if he was speaking directly to you. “So, yeah, this one’s for her.”

The sincerity in his voice left no room for doubt. This wasn’t just an offhand mention or a fleeting thought. You weren’t just his girlfriend in name or title—you were his anchor. The way he spoke of you wasn’t just endearing; it was grounding, a reflection of how much you truly meant to him. 

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

One of the sweetest displays of Oscar’s affection unfolded during a behind-the-scenes McLaren vlog. The team had been filming some candid moments during a break, and the camera panned to Oscar sitting in a corner, scrolling through his phone. His expression was soft, his lips curved into a barely-there smile. Then, as if remembering something, he nudged Lando, who was lounging next to him.

“Oh, look, my girlfriend,” Oscar said, holding up his phone. His voice was tinged with a quiet kind of excitement, like he’d discovered a hidden treasure he couldn’t wait to share. The camera zoomed in just enough to catch the sparkle in his eyes as he looked at the photo. “She sent me this earlier. Isn’t she gorgeous?”

Lando let out an exaggerated groan, flopping dramatically against the couch. “Mate, you’re insufferable,” he muttered, though the amused grin on his face betrayed him. “Do you ever stop?”

“Not when it comes to her,” Oscar replied without missing a beat, his smile growing wider as he looked at the picture one more time before carefully locking his phone.

The clip went viral within hours of the vlog’s release. Fans couldn’t get over how sweet—and utterly smitten—Oscar was. Comments flooded in, praising his open adoration and dubbing him the “ultimate golden retriever boyfriend.”

But for those who knew him, this was just Oscar being himself. No matter where he was or what he was doing, you were always on his mind. And he made sure everyone around him knew just how proud he was to call you his. Whether it was your achievements, your quirks, or simply the way you lit up his life, Oscar never stopped finding ways to weave you into the conversation.

It wasn’t just about the words he said, though. It was the way he said them—with genuine admiration, unwavering pride, and a love so pure it could light up the entire paddock. His tone softened when he spoke about you, his expression grew warmer, and his smile turned just a little brighter.

If Oscar Piastri was the golden retriever boyfriend the world had come to adore, then you were undoubtedly his favorite human, his everything, the one who made all his happiest stories worth telling.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The atmosphere was electric at the Yas Marina Circuit, the tension so palpable it could’ve powered the floodlights. It was the last Grand Prix of the season, and everything was on the line for McLaren—the Constructors' Championship title hung in the balance. Among the sea of orange and black, you stood out—not just because you were there to support Oscar Piastri, but because you radiated an energy that seemed to magnetize the young driver to your side.

From the moment you both arrived on Thursday for media day, fans couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast in your personalities. Oscar, always reserved and thoughtful, seemed content to let you take the lead, his quiet confidence complimented by your vibrant presence. When a fan asked how you two had met, you lit up with a mischievous smile.

“I adopted him when we were in school,” you said, glancing fondly at Oscar, who was shyly smiling at the ground. “I guess he just stuck to my side.”

Oscar, standing beside you, squeezed your hand in his as he chuckled. “Well, it’s hard not to stick to you. You kind of pull people in.”

Throughout the weekend, Oscar was a picture of quiet affection. Whether it was holding your hand, wrapping an arm around you, or resting his chin on your head during quieter moments, his touch was constant. Fans caught glimpses of him whispering things to you that made you laugh, your bubbly personality clearly rubbing off on him in the best ways.

When race day arrived, the stakes were high, and Oscar’s nerves were evident. But even after a dramatic first-lap collision with Max Verstappen that caused him to spin out and drop down the grid, you were still cheering for him like he’d just secured pole position.

By the time the checkered flag waved, McLaren had done it—they’d secured the Constructors' Championship. Despite Oscar’s rocky race, you were beaming with pride as he pulled into the pit lane. Seeing your smile waiting for him made every frustration of the day vanish from his mind.

After the podium celebrations for the team, a surprising transformation unfolded. Your extroverted energy seemed to seep into Oscar as if he’d caught your enthusiasm like a contagious laugh. Gone was the usual quiet and composed Oscar. In his place was a driver buzzing with excitement, grinning from ear to ear as he darted around the paddock.

He didn’t just take pictures with the team; he orchestrated them like a director at a photo shoot. “Lando, get over here! And grab that trophy!” he called, dragging his teammate into a chaotic group photo. When Lando least expected it, Oscar grabbed a bottle of leftover champagne and sprayed him without mercy, laughing so hard he had to lean on you for balance.

“You’re ridiculous!” you teased, wiping the champagne splatter off your face.

Oscar grinned wickedly. “Oh, am I now?” Before you could react, he turned the champagne on you, spraying it in a gleeful arc. You squealed, half-laughing, half-shouting as the fizzy liquid soaked your hair and clothes.

“Oscar!”

He set the bottle down and pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your cheek as if that would make up for it. “You look even better drenched in champagne,” he said, his voice warm and teasing. His giggles, boyish and utterly unguarded, filled the space between you.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile as you ruffled his hair. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

The two of you stood there in the middle of the celebration, drenched in champagne and surrounded by the joyous chaos of the team. Oscar looked at you, his face softening. “I couldn’t have done this without you, you know. Even when it’s rough, you make it all worth it.”

You smiled up at him, brushing a stray lock of hair out of his face. “And I’ll always be here, no matter what.”

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hiii! Could you please write some hurt comfort hero and villain? Where it has a “who did this to you” vibes! Thanks! No pressure if you don’t want to!

"You look..." The villain's gaze travelled slowly up the hero, taking in the hard lines of them, the uncanny iciness that had replaced a once warm, familiar face. "Different."

"And you look like hell. Let's get you out of here."

Despite the fact that the hero had just blown the villain's chains to smithereens, the villain didn't move. They leaned heavily against the cold concrete wall of their cell, still staring.

The hero's fingers flexed agitated at their sides.

"I can - if you're hurt, I can help you stand. I don't - you're safe now."

It was like an act they didn't know how to play any more. The script was the same, but the tongue behind the words was a sharper thing. A whittled thing. Made hard and venomous with desperation. Like the world had taken an axe to everything that made the hero them and started hacking.

"Who did this to you?" the villain demanded.

"What?"

"You're all..." Their head lolled, as they tried to tilt it customarily to one side. Their broken fingers hurt too much to wiggle them effectively in the hero's direction, but they did their best. "Not you. All..."

"They hurt you," the hero said. Flat. Deadly.

The villain wet their cracked, swollen lips. Their voice came out raspy. "I heard screaming."

"Yeah." Something dark and protective simmered in the hero's eyes. It looked awfully a lot like 'they deserved it'. Like how the villain's eyes used to look, through a mirror darkly, until the pain scorched through everything cold and steely inside them.

"You killed people. You killed...you came for me."

"We need to go," the hero said, through gritted teeth. "We need to get you out of here. Come on." The hero ducked down, only to falter when their gruff tug immediately made the villain's whole world go fuzzy with hurting. The touch turned gentle as the villain flinched. The hero's hands floundered, like they no longer knew the language of caring, but still remembered that they wanted to try.

A stupid prickle of tears stung the villain's eyes.

"Who did this to you? Who-"

"-Please," the hero said. "Put your arms around me. You need to work with me here. Please."

The villain wrapped their aching arms around the hero's shoulders. The hero lifted them up, holding them oh so carefully. Being upright was still enough to make the villain's vision pop and then blacken.

When they regained consciousness, they were walking through a slaughter house. Blood everywhere. As if a hurricane given teeth and claws had ripped through the building.

"Did I do this?" the villain asked.

"No, love."

But that wasn't quite right.

"No, I mean - I was gone," the villain said. Their head felt so fuzzy with everything they had been given, but the sharp edges of the hero were so clear, if only they could find the words to paint the picture half as well, let the knowledge swirling inside them settle. "You were on your own. How long have you been trying to rescue me?"

"It's going to be alright, okay? I've got you. You're alright."

"Are you?"

"I'm not the one who's been tortured!" It came out a snap, and maybe the villain should have flinched after an eternity of raised voices and raised weapons, but they didn't.

"You don't do so well on your own," the villain said instead, softly. "You never have."

The hero's throat bobbed as they swallowed, convulsive, choking something down. "Don't."

The villain raised a hand, rubbing their thumb over the gaunt line of the hero's face.

The hero flinched back.

"It's going to be alright," the villain said. "You're going to be alright. I've got you."

"You -" The hero laughed then, a broken thing. They jerked their head to the side but it didn't hide the tears glinting in their eyes. "Maybe let's not focus on me right now. You were - what they did to you - they told that they - I should have got here faster."

"I'm sorry they used me against you."

"Don't."

"Tell me their names?"

"They're all dead."

"Tell me anyway."

"I killed them."

"I know, love. Tell me anyway."

The hero swore, but the villain could practically watch some life creep back into those icy eyes. Some horror. Some thing that wasn't a stranger. Their hero. The hero held them a little tighter, cradling them a little closer against their chest.

"Just - later. Let me get you help. You need help."

Well, the villain couldn't argue with that. Still. Their own body didn't feel half as perturbing as the way the hero's eyes iced over again, determined to see through the job, to not shatter no matter what they'd done to get to where they were. To get the villain back. To save them.

They tucked themselves closer to the hero's chest, to their heart - thumping proof of life, proof of hope, proof that maybe they hadn't entirely lost the thing they cared about most of all.

Who did this to you?

But the villain didn't really need to ask.

The answer was always their own name.

[sasheemo]

Revenge and Reconciliation

Pairing: Ex gfs Bound!Agatha x Witch!Reader

Summary: When the hex shatters, the bond between you and Agatha reignites with a force too raw to ignore. Confronting her after decades of anger, betrayal, and yearning, you’re determined to make her pay. Power, passion, and a collision of unresolved emotions blur the line between vengeance and surrender.

Tags: Bitter Ex Gfs, Smut, Revenge Sex, Emotional Angst, Power Dynamics, Magic-Infused Sex, Magic Strap, Magic Cum, Magic Wrists Restraints, Slight Degradation, Cum Powered Reconciliation, Revenge Gets Sticky, Sub!Agatha (I know, wtf), Writing Sub Agatha Feels Illegal, Is It Subbing If She Still Wins Tho?

Word count: 6.6k

A/N: I wrote this fic as an attempt to wrestle my way out of the creative block that’s been clinging to me like an overly affectionate stray cat. I don’t think it’s the best thing I could have written, and I’m not entirely convinced by it, but the idea had been gathering dust on my list for a while, so here we are.

The concept of sub!Agatha has always intrigued me—mostly because, in my mind, it’s about as rare as a solar eclipse. I usually stick to writing Dom!Agatha, but hey, I think sub!Agatha is canon-compliant too… just in that “blink and you’ll miss it, alignment of the magical cosmos” kind of way.

For this fic, I decided to throw caution (and some very own personal hcs) to the wind and see if I could somehow make that dynamic work in an x Reader setting. Did I nail it? Definitely not. Do I feel like I truly captured the elusive sub!Agatha vibe that lives rent-free in my head? Eh, we’ll call it a work in progress. Maybe I’ll take another swing at it someday. For now, here’s my first attempt—enjoy! 💜

MASTERLIST

Read on AO3

It’s subtle at first—a faint ripple in the air, like a string pulled taut and suddenly slackened. But you feel it, deep in your body and soul, as if the ground beneath you shifted. 

The hex is broken. 

Agatha.

Her name lingers in your mind like a curse, dragging with it a torrent of emotions you’ve spent decades trying to bury.

Fury, white-hot and all-consuming, surges to the surface, clawing at the walls you’ve built around it. You can feel it all, the bitterness, the pain, the endless ache of betrayal.

Yet everything feels shushed by the unmistakable pull of her magic, faint but familiar, like the distant hum of a melody you can’t forget.

You’ve tried to sever this bond more times than you can count, poured every ounce of power into cutting the thread of magic that still ties you to her. 

But it never worked. Years of spells, rituals, and desperate attempts to scrape her magic from your soul couldn’t erase that connection, that cruel reminder of the love you once shared.

You don’t want to feel her. You don’t want to feel anything.

But with the hex shattered, she’s there—everywhere. The memories rise like a tide, drowning you in the ghost of what once was. 

The warmth of her fingers, trailing just long enough to leave a fire in their wake. Her voice, low and teasing, laced with promises that made your heart race. You remember the way she laughed, genuine and unguarded when she let herself forget the world, or the way her lips curled into a smirk when she caught you staring, daring you to look away. Those stolen nights, when her touch was tender and her kisses slow, felt endless, like she was giving you pieces of her no one else had ever seen.

And then… nothing. 

She left. Without a word. Without a reason. Without even a shred of decency to say goodbye. She disappeared like smoke, leaving only the cold, bitter truth: it meant nothing. You meant nothing.

The memories crash to a halt, mocking you, shaming you, for ever believing she could be anything more than one of her masterly crafted lies. 

Your magic surges in response, wild and vengeful, begging for release. You clench your fists, trying to ground yourself, but it’s futile. Her presence—or the absence of it—calls to you.

It’s been decades, but the wound is as raw as the day she abandoned you, as sharp as the moment you realized she wasn’t coming back. 

But you won’t give her the chance to run this time.

Without hesitation, you focus your energy, feeling the familiar pull of teleportation. The world shifts, and when you open your eyes, you’re standing outside her house in Westview. It’s dark and unassuming, the air around it heavy with the remnants of the hex’s magic.

The door slams open with a burst of energy, the wood groaning under the force of your magic. The faint remnants of Wanda’s hex still cling to the air, a metallic tang that pricks at your senses, but they’re nothing compared to the oppressive weight of her presence.

Agatha is sprawled on the couch as if she hasn’t a care in the world, her posture loose and unbothered despite the clear signs of exhaustion clinging to her. 

Her dark hair, longer than you remember, tumbles around her shoulders in wild, mussed waves, catching the light like ink kissed by moonlight. Her clothes are rumpled, the lines of her blouse wrinkled and her jeans have clearly seen better days, but somehow the disarray only adds to her maddening allure. 

And then there’s her face—those sharp cheekbones, that pale, smooth skin, and the glint in her icy blue eyes that even now refuses to dim. 

She looks up at you, her smirk curling with the same audacity that’s haunted you for decades, and for a moment, you hate how effortlessly breathtaking she is, how your heart still skips a beat whenever her eyes meet yours. Even now, even when she’s powerless.

“Well, well.” she drawls, tilting her head, her voice laced with a defiance she has no right to feel. “Come to gloat?”

You take a step inside and the air shifts, charged with the force of your presence. For the first time in decades, you’re the one with the power, and Agatha—bound, powerless, and alone—is at your mercy.

“You look terrible.” you say, your voice sharp, cutting. “What happened to the all-powerful Agatha Harkness? Shouldn’t you be out scheming, manipulating, destroying lives? Oh, wait—”. You step closer, savoring the way her smirk falters, “You can’t.”

Agatha’s smirk snaps back into place, but there’s a flicker—tiny, fleeting—of something behind her eyes. Fear? No, she wouldn’t let you see that. Regret? That would be even more shocking. Whatever it is, it’s gone in an instant.

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you.” she says, leaning back against the couch. “I guess that hasn’t changed.”

Your jaw tightens, so hard you’re lucky you don’t chip a tooth. The sheer audacity of her, lounging there like she hasn’t single-handedly fueled centuries of your bitterness, makes your magic flare. 

The air around you hums with tension, a wave of heat radiating from your skin, but she doesn’t even flinch. Of course she doesn’t. Why would she? Agatha has always been maddeningly immune to the consequences of her actions. 

“Don’t you dare pretend nothing happened.” you snap, stepping closer until you’re towering over her. “You left, Agatha. You abandoned me without a word. No explanation, no goodbye—just gone. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

“I had my reasons.” she murmurs, voice quieter now, almost too quiet.

Your laugh is cold, bitter. “Reasons? That’s the best you can come up with? You destroyed me, Agatha. For decades, I tried to understand why, to make sense of how I meant so little to you.”

Her lips part as if to speak, but no words come out. For a moment, just a moment, you see something raw in her gaze—a vulnerability she’s trying desperately to hide.

“Don’t.” you say sharply, your magic flaring brighter. “Don’t you dare try to justify what you did. You don’t get to play the victim.”

Her smirk falls back into place, but it’s weaker now, almost brittle. 

“You’re really milking this righteous fury thing, aren’t you?” she quips, though her voice lacks its usual bite. “What do you want, then? Revenge? Closure? Or did you just miss me?”

The last question catches you off guard, her tone teasing but her eyes searching. Your magic is screaming at you to be unleashed, the rage bubbling so close to the surface as you lean in closer, your face inches from hers.

“What I want,” you say, your voice low and dangerous, “is for you to feel even a fraction of the pain you caused me.”

The heat of your fury presses down on her, forcing her back into the couch. Her sharp tongue falters, her bravado slipping just enough for you to see it: the crack in her armor, the shadow of fear in her eyes.

“Give me one good reason,” you hiss, venom drenching your tone, “why I shouldn’t end this now. Why I shouldn’t take everything from you the way you took everything from me.”

“Because you still love me.”

Five words, and everything you’ve built comes crashing down.

It festers like an old wound torn open, flesh ripped apart to reveal something gory beneath, bleeding and pulsing. It’s a visceral pain that feels like it might consume you whole, a dark, twisting ache that blooms in your chest and radiates outward.

Your grip on your magic falters, and for a fleeting second, you see her as she was all those years ago—the woman who once held your heart in her hands, who kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered.

The memory bleeds into the present, stark and jarring, clashing with the image of the woman before you now. She’s still breathtaking, but there’s a hollowness in her now, a shadow where the fire used to burn brightest. 

The contrast churns something bitter and broken inside you—resentment, grief, yearning, perhaps all three at once. It’s unbearable, the way the past and present collide, leaving you adrift in the space between what was and what is.

You force yourself to recoil, your magic snapping back to you as if burned. 

“Love?” you spit, the word a venomous hiss that cuts through the charged air between you. “You think I could still love you after everything you did? I fucking hate you, Agatha.”

Her laughter startles you—a sharp, bitter sound that carries no joy, only a rawness that sinks deep under your skin. It’s the laugh of someone who’s long since made peace with their own destruction.

“Hate’s just love that’s been shattered to pieces.” she says, her voice cracking, the edges sharp enough to draw blood. “And we both know you’ve been holding onto those shards for decades.”

You want to deny it, to unleash every ounce of fury you’ve carried for all these years, to rip her apart for daring to speak such a painful truth aloud.

But you can’t.

And it’s in this moment of hesitation, of vulnerability, that the rage in your chest shifts—twisting into something far more dangerous.

The bond between you roars, electric and alive, as if responding to your emotions. It’s always been there, tethering you to her no matter how much you tried to sever it. And now, it’s pulling you closer, wrapping around you like dense smoke.

It’s infuriating. It’s intoxicating. And you fucking missed it.

Even bound and powerless, Agatha looks at you as if she’s still in control, as if the years of pain and betrayal you’ve carried mean nothing.

Her eyes narrow, a glint of recognition flashing in that unnervingly sharp gaze. She sees it, she feels it, the way her words have struck a nerve. And, of course, she pounces on it.

“What’s the matter, hon?” she purrs, her voice a sickeningly sweet mockery of concern. “Can’t decide whether to kill me or fuck me?”

The words land like a match to gasoline, igniting a fire it’s far too late to extinguish. The line you’ve been toeing shatters, and before you can stop yourself, you close the final distance between you in one swift movement, your hand wrapping around her throat as you press her back against the couch. 

Her smirk doesn’t leave her lips—if anything, it deepens, her breath catching just slightly as her eyes gleam with something dark and infuriatingly pleased.

You can feel her pulse under your fingertips, quick and unsteady, and it only feeds the chaos roiling inside you.

“You don’t get to say that.” you hiss, leaning closer until your face is inches from hers. “You don’t get to act like this is a game.”

“And what if it is?” she murmurs, her voice low, almost daring. “What if that’s all we’ve ever been?”

The anger in your chest twists, warping into something raw and untamed. You hate her. You want her. The two emotions bleed together, inseparable, consuming.

Your grip on her throat tightens—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her who has the power now. She doesn’t fight you, but she doesn’t look away either.

“You have no idea what you’ve done to me.” you say, your voice shaking with the weight of everything you’ve held back. “No idea what it’s been like to carry this—this anger, this pain, this fucking bond I can’t escape.”

Of course, you don’t expect her to apologize, she never would, but the flicker of regret in her eyes is louder than words.

The bond between you hums again, relentless and unyielding, pulling you closer even as you try to resist. You do hate her, but you also can’t deny the way her presence calls to you, the way her magic—even diminished—feels like a part of you.

“Why, Agatha?” you demand, your voice breaking as you lean in closer. “Why did you leave? Why did you—”

She cuts you off by brushing her lips against yours in the barest hint of contact. It’s not a kiss, not yet, but it steals the breath from your lungs all the same. 

As her breath mingles with yours, the world collapses to the infinitesimal space between your lips, a charged, aching void that demands to be closed.

And then, as if honoring that demand, she closes the distance. 

Her lips crash onto yours in a kiss that isn’t tender—it’s a storm, a battle, a clash of wills. Her mouth moves against yours with a desperation that feels like surrender, but there’s no mistaking the way she bites at your lower lip, as if daring you to take more.

You growl low in your throat, the sound vibrating against her lips as your hands find her hips, pinning her harder against the couch. She arches into you, her body a perfect, infuriating fit against yours, and the bond between you flares alive, pulling you deeper into the chaos of her.

Her tongue meets yours, and it’s molten—hot and demanding, tangled in a rhythm that feels like a fight for dominance neither of you is willing to lose. The couch creaks beneath you as you press her down, your weight covering hers completely, your hand sliding up to tangle in her hair, tugging just hard enough to make her gasp into your mouth.

This isn’t forgiveness. It isn’t reconciliation. It’s unfiltered emotion, punishment and possession, everything you’ve bottled up for decades exploding in a collision of anger and desire that leaves no room for restraint.

With a flick of your wrist, her clothes dissolve into shimmering wisps of magic, vanishing like smoke into the air. What’s left behind steals the breath from your lungs despite every part of you screaming not to react, not to let her affect you like this.

The sight of Agatha’s bare body, a masterpiece of soft curves and sharp angles, reignites memories you thought you’d buried—the way her skin once felt beneath your hands, how her body moved in perfect synch with yours, every sound she made etched into your soul.

It’s been decades since you last saw her like this, but time has done nothing to dull her power over you. 

Your pulse thunders in your ears, heat spreading like wildfire through your veins as your gaze trails over her, lingering on the lines of her collarbone, the swell of her breasts, the way her thighs tremble ever so slightly.

She’s bound and powerless in every possibile sense of the words, yet somehow she still holds the upper hand.

Her lips curl into the faintest smirk as if she knows exactly what she’s doing to you. “Still as easy to impress as ever, I see.”

The words snap you out of your trance, a surge of irritation mingling with the desire coursing through you. 

With another flick of your wrist, ropes of magic coil around her wrists, pulling them together and suspending them above her head. The glowing bonds crackle with energy, casting faint light over her bare skin. 

Her smirk falters, just slightly, as she tugs against the restraints, her muscles flexing in defiance and testing their hold.

And it’s that—that small attempt at resistance, her futile struggle against the bonds you’ve created—that makes something snap inside you. 

It’s not just power—it’s the realization that she, the woman who’s haunted your every waking thought and dream, is finally yours to control. The intensity of it almost scares you, the way it spreads through your chest like spilled ink, staining every corner of your mind in pitch black.

It’s a visceral, consuming need to claim her, to fill her, to mark her in a way that will sear into her soul, leaving no room for doubt or escape. The hunger burns through you, fierce and unrelenting, every ounce of your power thrumming with it, shaping itself into something tangible, something undeniable.

Your lower clothing dissolves into shimmering magic, leaving you partially bare—but not fully. The vulnerability of complete nakedness is a luxury you can’t afford. Not right now. Not with Agatha. You want the contrast to be stark—her, stripped of everything, exposed and powerless beneath you, while you remain in control. It’s a statement, a reminder, that here, now, you’re the one with the upper hand.

And then, as though summoned by your need, the strap materializes. And it’s not just magic—it’s a part of you, an extension of your body. 

The weight of it settles against your hips, grounding you, the connection immediate and intimate, as if it’s always been there.

Your gaze drops for a moment, drawn to the way your cock stands proud and commanding, and a smirk tugs at your lips. You take in its size, the thick, substantial girth that demands attention. You make no effort to hide your satisfaction as your hand wraps firmly around its base, stroking it in slow, deliberate movements that make your intent unmistakable.

Agatha’s eyes widen, her own gaze falling to your cock before flicking back to your face. Her lips part slightly, and her tongue darts out to wet them in a motion so instinctive, so sinful, that it sends a fresh jolt of heat through you.

For once, she seems utterly at a loss for words, the sharp wit you’ve come to expect from her silenced by the weight of the moment, and by you.

“Speechless?” you ask, your tone dripping with mockery. “Not like you.”

“Well,” she manages, clicking her tongue, her voice laced with an edge of forced confidence, “you’ve certainly… outdone yourself.”

You press the tip against her thigh, watching as her body tenses and her breath hitches. Slowly, teasingly, you trail it upward, letting it graze her glistening folds but never quite giving her what she wants. 

You see all of her defiance falter the second you tap the tip against her clit. You do it multiple times, teasing her until she’s a panting mess, her chest heaving as her body completely betrays her. 

And yet, her eyes stay locked on yours, burning with a mix of frustration and longing.

“Look at you,” you murmur, your hand sliding back to her throat, wrapping around it just enough to keep her grounded. Her pulse races beneath your fingers, and you feel her body relax into your touch, her submission becoming more evident with every passing second. “You’re supposed to be the powerful one, remember? The one who’s always in control. How does it feel to be at my mercy?”

She doesn’t answer—not with words. Instead, a broken moan escapes her lips as you finally push the tip of your cock into her. The sensation shoots through you like lightning, raw and electric, and you can’t stop the low hum that escapes your lips.

“So wet for someone who acts like she’s above it all.” you say, your voice carrying a teasing lilt. “Tell me, Agatha—do you always get this needy when you’re powerless? Or is it just for me?”

Her cheeks flush, and she glares at you, but the humiliation in her eyes only makes your smirk deepen. She tilts her hips toward you in an attempt to take more, the motion drawing a smug chuckle from your throat.

“Pathetic.” you mock, “You used to have me on my knees, begging for you. And here you are now, so desperate for my cock you can’t even hide it.”

Her lips part in a sharp, trembling intake of breath, her chest rising and falling as her wrists strain futilely against the glowing restraints above her head. 

“You think you’re in control now?” she spits, though her voice trembles. “That this makes you powerful?”

You laugh, cold and merciless, leaning in until your breath fans across the shell of her ear. 

“Oh, I don’t think.” you whisper, your words nothing but a cruel taunt. “I know.”

To drive the point home, you push deeper, and the wet, obscene sound of her body yielding to you fills the room. 

She’s molten, deliciously tight, and her slick heat draws you in like a drug. Every inch you sink into her feels like a conquest, you can feel how her body stretches to take you, how her walls tremble and clench around the pleasurable intrusion, pulling you deeper as if begging for more. 

The sensation is so vivid, so overwhelming, that a loud, unrestrained moan tears from your lips.

“Seems like I’m not the only needy one.” she murmurs, her voice trembling but cutting nevertheless. “Such pretty sounds for me.”

Her words strike a nerve, and the moment they register, your hips snap forward in one sharp, punishing thrust, driving the strap so deep your hips collide with hers. 

The impact sends a jolt through both of you, her sharp cry echoing through the air before it’s cut off as your fingers tighten around her throat.

“Is that what you wanted? Mmh?” you hiss, your voice trembling with the effort to stay in control. “To be fucked like this? To feel what it’s like to be under me for once?”

She doesn’t respond, her voice swallowed by a series of breathless moans as you pull back and thrust in again, setting a slow, languid rhythm that feels more like a claim than a motion. 

You want to break her—but not physically. Even now, even with the all this anger coursing through you, the thought of truly hurting her is unthinkable. You know you’re big, and despite everything, you couldn’t forgive yourself if you let the fury bleeding into your movements cause her pain.

Instead, you pour that intensity into control, into precision, into the way you angle your hips just right to drag your length against every sensitive spot inside her. The sound of her wetness grows louder with each thrust, mingling with the faint creak of the couch beneath you.

“Gods.” you murmur, your free hand gripping her hip to steady yourself. “You feel that, don’t you? How wet you are for me? How much you want this?”

Her head nods slightly, the motion almost instinctive, as if her body answers before her mind has time to process, before the final syllable of your last question even hangs in the air.

“Yes—fuck.” she whispers, the word trembling on her lips. “Yes, I—”

“Louder!” you command, your tone sharp as you feel it—a fresh gush of wetness enveloping you, slick and hot, pulling you in. 

“Yes!” she screams, her voice cracking under the weight of her need. “I want it—I want you.”

Her admission is a spark to the inferno raging inside you, and you give in to it, your magic surging wildly. 

Your pace quickens, your hips snapping forward with growing intensity, each thrust deeper and harder than the last, the slap of your hips against hers a relentless cadence of possession that blends with her cries.

Her wrists pull at the restraints while her back arches and her moans rise higher, each one a testament to your power over her, a surrender you claim with every punishing thrust.

Your gaze drops involuntarily, drawn to the mesmerizing rhythm of her breasts bouncing in time with your movements, and the sight instantly makes your mouth water. The memory of their softness, the way they felt against your tongue and lips, rushes back unbidden, igniting a primal urge to lean down and take one into your mouth.

But you catch yourself, clenching your jaw against the temptation. This isn’t about her pleasure. You’re not here to make her enjoy herself. You’re here to ruin her, to make her crumble under your control.

“Fuck, don’t stop.” she whispers, her voice breaking. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

Your eyes snap back to hers, a wicked grin spreading across your lips as your grip on her throat loosens, your hand sliding down to join the other on her hips. With both hands anchoring her in place, your pace grows ruthless, each thrust drawing louder and more desperate sounds from her.

Her walls tighten around you, squeezing your cock as the connection between you deepens, your magic tangling with hers in a way that feels both chaotic and inevitable.

And then, just as you feel teetering on the edge of release, you pull back, slowing to a maddening pace. 

Your thrusts become shallow, deliberate teases that barely fill her, leaving her gasping and writhing beneath you. Her frustration is palpable, her hips bucking in search of relief, but you hold her steady, a cruel smirk curling your lips.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” you purr, each word dripping with satisfaction. “Just say the word, Agatha. Beg me, and I’ll let you come.”

Her body tenses beneath you, every muscle taut as she fights the command with everything she has, struggling to cling to the last fleeting semblance of control. Even as her thighs quiver and her hips twitch uncontrollably, her pride holds her back, refusing to surrender to you so easily.

But as each thrust reminds her of what she’s being denied, drawing out her torment, her nails curl into her palms, her jaw tightens, and her resolve cracks little by little under the relentless pressure. 

Finally, her head tilts back, her voice breaking as the words tear from her throat. “Please—fuck… please, let me come.”

Her words ignite something feral and all-consuming. Power surges through your veins, setting your every nerve ablaze as you answer her desperate plea and resume fucking her with renewed vigor. 

You slam into her with brutal force, each thrust hitting that soft, devastatingly perfect spot inside her that makes her entire body jerk beneath you. Her eyes roll back, her cries turning into incoherent, panting moans that fuel the raw, insatiable need driving your every motion.

“That’s it.” you growl, your hand sliding down to her clit. You circle it with fast, precise movements, your fingers slick with her arousal as you push her closer to the edge. “Come for me, Agatha. Come on my cock.”

Her moans climb higher, until they peak in a scream that tears through the air as the tension within her shatters all at once. 

Agatha’s orgasm bursts forth like a supernova, bright and devastating, her walls clenching and spasming around you in rhythmic pulses that leave you breathless. She cries out your name, her voice splintering into a sob as her body quakes with the force of her release.

The sight of her—head thrown back, lips parted, her chest heaving as she trembles in the throes of ecstasy—is almost enough to undo you. But you don’t stop. You keep pounding into her, forcing her to take every inch over and over as you drive her higher, helping her ride out each wave of her climax.

And then, as you revel in the way she’s gripping you as though she never wants to let you go, and your own release threatens to overtake you, you falter.  

Because her eyes—half-lidded, blown wide, and dark with need—lock onto yours, piercing through the haze of control you’ve clung to. Her lips part, trembling, and her voice cuts through the storm.

“Fuck—please, baby.” she gasps, each word breaking into a whimper that makes your stomach tighten and your magic throb. “Come inside me. I need it—need to feel it, need you to fill me up.

That’s it. Her words, how she begged for it, the pet name falling so effortlessly from her lips, the raw desperation in her voice, the sheer thought of filling her up with your cum, of watching her take every drop like she’s made for it. It’s all more than enough to tip you over the edge.

How utterly ruined she looks beneath you only adds to it, and whatever fragile grip you had on your restraint shatters instantly, obliterated by the force of her need.

Your hips snap forward in one last devastating thrust, burying your cock into her as deep as it can go, your climax slamming into you like an explosion. 

And then it happens.

The magic within you surges implacably, a relentless flood that erupts deep inside her in thick, scorching waves. Each pulse of your cock forces more of your release into her, a molten rush that fills her completely. The bond between you roaring with life as your magic claims her from the inside out, leaving no part of her untouched.

Beneath you, Agatha’s body goes taut, her back arching violently as the blue in her eyes gets rapidly swallowed by a swirling, familiar, luminous purple. 

You can feel her magic pouring back into her, she gasps as it all overtakes her, her body trembling violently as another orgasm tears through her. But this one is unexpected, different, and even more powerful than the first. 

Her cry pierces the air, a sound of pure ecstasy and unrestrained power, unlike anything you’ve ever heard. It’s primal, otherworldly, and devastatingly beautiful. For a moment, you’re left breathless, unwillingly captivated by the sight of her. A vision that makes something inside you ache.

When the final waves of pleasure subside, you collapse onto her, your breath ragged, your body trembling with exhaustion and the lingering hum of magic. 

The restraints on her wrists dissolve, fading into shimmering sparks, and her hands hover for a moment, uncertain, before they settle gently on your back.

Her touch is light, not hesitant but careful, as though rediscovering something long lost. And as your bodies press together, it feels as if no time has passed at all since you last lay in each other’s arms.

Agatha’s chest rises and falls with uneven breaths, her lips parted as her hooded eyes lock onto yours.

Her gaze is a labyrinth, a tangle of emotions so layered and profound it’s impossible to unravel. There’s no trace of defiance, no smugness, no sharp wit lurking in the corners. Instead, disbelief and shock hum beneath the surface, while a glimmer of something softer—gratefulness, maybe even devotion—burns faintly. And yet, woven through it all is an aching, unguarded longing.

It’s a silent confession wrapped in questions, and the absence of her usual masks, the sheer vulnerability staring back at you, stirs something deep in your chest, a feeling too overwhelming to even begin to name.

As you pull out of her, you catch how her hips twitch instinctively at the sudden emptiness, and the sound she makes—a quiet, needy whine—makes your breath hitch. 

The cock dissolves in a flicker of shimmering light, fading back into the ether, but your eyes remain fixed on what it left behind.

You watch your cum drip from her, thick and glistening as it slides slowly down her folds. The sight is mesmerizing and utterly filthy, making a new rush of heat coil low in your stomach. 

Agatha notices the shift in your gaze, lazily tilting her head to follow it. When she sees what’s caught your attention, a smug grin spreads across her face, equal parts infuriating and intoxicating.

“Hmm.” she hums, her voice a sultry drawl that sends shivers down your spine. “You always did know how to leave an impression, darling.” 

She pauses, her grin deepening as her eyes flick back to yours, gleaming with sharp amusement. “Though I must say, I never expected to get my powers back this way… not that I’m complaining.”

As soon as you register her words your jaw clenches, a flush rising to your cheeks as frustration surges through you. 

That wasn’t supposed to happen. The thought echoes in your mind, relentless and deafening. You didn’t plan this—hell, you didn’t even know you could do that, and the realization leaves you stunned, reeling. 

You came here to break her, to strip her of whatever scraps of control she had left, to show her just how worthless she was without her power. You came here to make her pay.

But instead, as always, in the end, Agatha got exactly what she wanted. 

The smugness etched into her face says it all. It’s infuriating. Humiliating. Maddening. Everything always plays out in her favor, no matter how the odds stack against her. The universe itself seems to bend for her, conspiring to deliver her victory, while you’re left choking on the ashes of your intentions.

And yet, even in your frustration, there’s a selfish, shameful flicker of satisfaction burning in your chest. You gave her back her power, yes—but you did it your way. Intimate. Indelible. Something neither of you can ignore or undo. 

No matter how powerful she becomes again, no matter how she wields what’s been restored, she’ll always know who gave it back to her and how. She’ll owe you, whether she admits it or not.

In that way, you did make her pay. And the twisted irony of it feels like a cruel, bitter triumph.

Agatha notices the shift in your expression, the way your gaze has drifted into the distance as if lost in thought, and her voice slices through the haze with a softness that catches you completely off guard.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re like this.” she whispers, her tone impossibly gentle, like a secret meant only for you. ”When you’re all mine.”

Her words land like a jolt, anchoring you back to the present and cutting through the fog in your mind. 

There’s something in her voice, an aching sincerity you didn’t expect, that makes something deep inside you twist painfully.

But even if her tenderness disarms you, it still strikes a nerve, clashing violently with the anger and resentment still simmering beneath your skin. You cling to that anger desperately, using it to shield yourself from the confusion clawing at the edges of your control and threatening to drag you under.

“I’m not yours.” you snarl, but the words lack conviction, and you know she hears it.

Her grin returns, sharper now, as if she’s savoring your futile resistance. 

“Oh, darling…” she whispers, her voice dripping with equal parts confidence and affection. “You’ve always been mine.”

You open your mouth to reply, to hurl another retort that might restore some semblance of control, but the words die on your tongue as her hand moves with startling speed. 

Her fingers curl around the back of your neck, her grip firm yet trembling, and she pulls you down roughly, her lips crashing against yours before you can resist.

The kiss is instant chaos, scattering your thoughts like leaves in a storm. Her tongue slides against yours, hot and insistent, tangling and teasing with a fervor that steals the air from your lungs. 

It’s wet, messy, the taste of her flooding your senses as she kisses you with the same confident, consuming intensity she always did. 

But beneath the confidence, there’s something unspoken. 

It’s in the way her body shudders beneath you, in the way her fingers dig into your neck, in the way her lips cling to yours as though letting go might unravel her completely. The vulnerability in her touch and the aching need in her kiss cut through the haze of anger, leaving you trembling and unsure whether the ache blooming in your chest is pain, longing, or both.

But right now, whatever it is you’re feeling, you refuse to linger on it. 

You won’t allow her another second of your time, your presence. The very air around her feels oppressive, making it harder to breathe, and you know that if you stay a moment longer it will be too late to resurface.

With all the strength and willpower you can muster, you push yourself up, breaking away from her touch and from her warmth. 

You wave a hand, conjuring back your underwear and pants in a blur of hasty magic, your movements jerky and unsteady while every fiber of your being screams at you to put distance between yourself and her. To leave.

Suddenly, the bond hums again, loud and persistent, gnawing and mocking at your resolve. You grit your teeth and force yourself to ignore it, taking a couple of steps toward the door, refusing to look back. 

You’ll leave. You need to leave. You want to leave.

But with Agatha, it’s never that easy.

“Wait.”

It’s not a command. It’s not teasing or smug. It’s quiet, almost unsure, and that alone makes you hesitate.

You glance back over your shoulder, your voice sharp with all the frustration burning hot in your chest. “What could you possibly want now?”

She sits up slowly, still completely naked, making no effort to conjure clothes with the magic now thrumming through her.

“Answers.” she says, her tone smooth but tinged with a sly undertone, her gaze locked on yours with unnerving steadiness. “That’s why you came here, isn’t it? To finally hear the truth you think I owe you.” 

She pauses, her lips curving into a faint, almost teasing smile as her eyes flick downward to her still-bare body. “Especially after… this.” Her eyes return to yours, glinting with amusement. “I suppose it’s only fair.”

You fold your arms across your chest, your anger warring with the pull of her words. 

“You owe me more than answers.” you bite back, your voice cutting and cold. “You owe me years of my life, years of trying to understand why you left.”

“And you’ll have them.” her voice softer now, almost disarming. “But not like this.”

Your eyes narrow, suspicion curling in the pit of your stomach. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She rises slowly, her movements deliberate as she closes the distance between you. Her nakedness robs her of nothing—if anything, it sharpens her power, her control. 

When she reaches you, her hand lifts to cup your cheek, her touch infuriatingly warm, a silent challenge wrapped in unsettling intimacy.

“Stay.” she says, her thumb skimming your skin with a tenderness that makes your breath hitch. “We’ll talk. Over dinner. But only if you stay.”

You bristle at the condition, your pride flaring. 

“Using my need for closure as leverage?” you ask, your voice biting. “How very you.”

Her grin returns, sharper now, but her eyes betray a flicker of something gentler. 

“Oh, darling.” she purrs, her voice dripping with confidence, “I know you want this, so, let’s not play pretend. I’d say we’re well past that point, wouldn’t you?”

Your jaw tightens, the weight of her gaze making it hard to hold onto your anger. You hate that she’s right. Hate that you want to stay, that the bond between you has wrapped itself around your heart so tightly you can’t bear to leave.

“Fine. Dinner.” you say, your voice clipped. “But no games, Agatha. You owe me the truth.”

Her smirk deepens for a moment, a glimmer of mischief flashing in her eyes, before softening into a genuine, almost nostalgic smile. 

“No games.” she whispers, her tone unexpectedly gentle. “Just dinner… like old times.”

You shake your head, as if trying to clear the lingering warmth of her touch. But it stays with you as you watch her move toward the kitchen, humming softly to herself.

As you follow her, you can’t help but wonder if staying will be your salvation or your undoing. But with Agatha, it’s never a question of one or the other—it’s always both, tangled together in a way that, after all this time, you’re starting to realize you were never meant to escape.

[burrowlvrr]

— MORTGAGE MISCHIEF, joe burrow.

PAIRING: Joe Burrow 𝔁 Black!Wife!Reader

GENRE: Husband & Dad Joe

SUMMARY: In which — Y/N caves in and makes a TikTok account, and it doesn't take long for her to try to prank her unserious husband.

NOTE: I love this trend on TikTok so freaking much, bro, I just couldn't help myself. I wish there was more pranks going around TikTok so I could write another one lol! Feel free to send me more ideas and suggestions, enjoy!

UNIVERSE: Tenderhearts & Touchdowns!

Y/N had never been the kind of person to keep up with social media trends. Her Instagram was mostly filled with family snapshots, vacation photos, and the occasional throwback post from her college days. TikTok, though? That was a whole different ballgame.

She’d heard the buzz about it, of course—the dances, the memes, the endless rabbit hole of videos that could steal hours of your day—but it wasn’t really her thing.

That is, until some of Joe��s fans started flooding her DMs.

It wasn’t unusual for her to get messages from fans, most of them kind and supportive, occasionally sprinkled with the usual social media chaos. But after a family photo Joe posted went viral—a candid shot of the two of them laughing while their kids played in the background—her inbox blew up.

Several people had suggested she start a TikTok account, saying things like, “Your family is so cute, we’d love to see more of you guys!” and “Please post more videos of Joe being a dad; it’s the content we all need!”

At first, she brushed it off. The idea of putting her family out there in such a public way made her hesitant. Their life was private, cozy, and real—did she really want to open that up to the internet? But the messages kept coming, and her curiosity eventually got the better of her. One evening, after the kids were asleep and Joe was watching game highlights, she downloaded the app.

It didn’t take long for TikTok to reel her in. The first few days, she lurked quietly, scrolling through endless videos of clever pranks, hilarious parenting fails, and, of course, a whole section of TikToks dedicated to football wives and girlfriends. It was the pranks that hooked her.

Women were pulling the funniest, most creative stunts on their unsuspecting husbands—pretending to be mad over made-up arguments, mispronouncing their favorite athletes’ names, and her personal favorite, casually dropping bombshell “confessions” to see how their partners would react.

She couldn’t resist.

“This would be perfect for Joe,” she’d said to herself one night, already grinning at the thought. He was so even-keeled most of the time, but his sass came out when he was caught off guard, and she couldn’t wait to see what he’d say.

So, Y/N started posting. At first, it was just lighthearted videos of their kids, like Hudson and Elijah racing each other in the backyard or Sawyer trying to crawl after their dog, who always managed to stay just out of reach. The comments poured in, full of love and laughter, and she started to feel less nervous about sharing these little moments. And then came the pranks.

She eased into them, starting small—things like pretending to forget what day of the week it was or asking Joe if she could switch his game-day hoodie with one of hers. His reactions were gold, and her videos started gaining traction. She didn’t know how many people would find it so funny, but apparently, the internet loved Joe Burrow getting pranked as much as she did.

Which is how she found herself, phone in hand, ready to execute her latest and possibly best trend yet: the “I can’t pay the mortgage this month” prank.

The living room buzzed with the quiet hum of family life. Hudson and Elijah were seated cross-legged on the rug, their faces scrunched in concentration as they connected Lego pieces, the colorful blocks scattered across the coffee table like a mini construction zone. Sawyer, their youngest, was on the floor nearby, rolling lazily on her playmat while holding her bottle with both hands, occasionally babbling nonsense to herself.

Joe was stretched out on the couch, the epitome of relaxation in his gray hoodie and sweatpants, his wife’s legs comfortably draped over his thighs. His focus was glued to the MMA fight playing on the TV, and he absently stirred his spoon around a bowl of cereal balanced in his hand.

Every so often, he’d let out a low, “Oof,” reacting to a particularly hard punch or takedown, his body slightly tensing with the action on screen.

Y/N sat beside him, phone in hand, scrolling through TikTok. She stumbled across the trend a few hours ago, and decided that now was too good an opportunity to pass up.

Glancing sideways at Joe, she smirked to herself. This will be fun.

She adjusted her phone subtly, angling it to record, and cleared her throat dramatically. “Joe?”

“Hmm?” he murmured, not taking his eyes off the screen as he scooped another bite of cereal.

“I need to tell you something,” she said softly, injecting a hint of nervousness into her tone.

Joe didn’t look up. “What’s up, baby?”

“Don’t get mad at me, okay?” she added, biting her bottom lip to suppress a grin.

That got his attention. Joe’s hand froze midair, his spoon hovering over the bowl, and he turned his head toward her, squinting slightly.

“What? Why would I get mad?” His sharp gaze shifted to the phone in her lap. “Wait… why’re you recording? You pregnant again?”

Y/N burst out laughing at his assumption, unable to keep up her serious facade. “What? No!”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause that’s how you told me about Sawyer,” he replied with a smirk, leaning back on the couch and rubbing his free hand over his face.

“You just pulled out your phone, started recording, and bam—‘Congratulations, you’re gonna be a dad again!’” Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help giggling. “I’m serious, Joe. This is important.”

“Alright, alright,” he said, setting his cereal down on the side table and shifting so he was facing her fully. “What’s going on? And why are you being all dramatic about it?”

Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself before delivering her line. “I, uh… I won’t be able to pay the mortgage this month.”

Joe blinked at her, his brows knitting together in confusion. “Girl, what are you talking about?” His tone was casual but tinged with disbelief.

She tried to keep her composure, clasping her hands together as if pleading. “The school’s on winter break, so my paycheck isn’t going to be enough. I just—ugh, I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Joe stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Okay, wait. How much is the mortgage?”

Y/N’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “Uh… like… $2,000?” she guessed, feigning confidence.

Joe’s mouth twitched, and he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Babe. You don’t even know how much it is, do you?”

“Well…” she stalled, trying to recover.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, leaning back against the couch and crossing his arms. “You’ve never paid the mortgage.”

“I know!” Y/N blurted, throwing her hands up dramatically. “I was going to as your Christmas present, but my paycheck won’t be enough now!”

Joe’s brow furrowed again, but this time his lips quirked upward, unable to hide his amusement. “So let me get this straight. You don’t know how much the mortgage is. You’ve never paid it before. And now you’re stressed because your Christmas present was gonna be paying it, but you can’t?”

“Exactly!” she said, doubling down.

For a moment, Joe just stared at her, then he broke into a deep laugh, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “You’re crazy,” he muttered, shaking his head. Grabbing his cereal bowl, he leaned back against the couch.

“Don’t worry about it, babe. I got it.” He scooped another spoonful and took a bite like it was the most casual thing in the world.

Y/N couldn’t hold it in any longer. She burst into laughter, clutching her stomach as she nearly dropped her phone.

Joe raised an eyebrow at her, still chewing. “What’s so funny now?”

“It was a TikTok prank!” she wheezed, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

Joe’s smirk deepened as he shook his head. “Yeah, I figured. There’s no way you were being serious.”

“You were so calm about it, though!” she said, still laughing. “I really thought I’d get a bigger reaction out of you!”

“Nah,” Joe replied, reaching over to pinch her ankle playfully. “You’re too bad at lying, babe. Next time, at least Google how much the mortgage is first.”

From the floor, Hudson looked up from the Lego set with a curious expression. “What’s a mortgage?”

Joe snorted, pointing his spoon at his son. “Something you don’t gotta worry about, buddy.”

Elijah chimed in without looking up from his Legos. “Mommy’s bad at pranks.”

Sawyer let out a happy babble from her playmat, almost as if she agreed.

Joe laughed, pulling Y/N closer with one arm. “Looks like the jury’s unanimous, babe. Better luck next time.”

[leighsartworks216]

It's Nothing

Sylus x AFAB!Reader

Inspired by my late as fuck period and joking with my friend that I was the next virgin mary. Not proofread cuz I want to post it but I'm tired of looking at it

Warnings: pregnancy scare, menstruation, period fic, anxiety, overthinking, lack of communication, communication, silly, cuddling, kissing, swearing

Word Count: 1,450

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

"Sweetie? What has you so distracted lately?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all! I was just, uh- thinking about work, that's all!"

"You're a terrible liar. Tell me what's wrong."

"It's-" You falter, searching desperately for an excuse and coming up woefully empty "It's really nothing, Sy. I'll tell you at some point, just..."

"... Just not right now." He sighs, but nods, dismissing the subject. A frown lingers on his face as he turns back to the movie. "I trust you, sweetie," he says after a long pause, when it seemed the topic had been dropped completely.

The guilt sinks down into your stomach, but you bite your tongue and cuddle further into his side. The rest of the night remains tense.

You want to tell him. Admit what's on your mind. Finally release this stress from your body. But you can't! Because... what if he leaves you? And maybe you're just being paranoid for nothing - but you can't take that risk, not with Sylus, of all people.

Your period is over a week late. That's not terribly unusual, but it is suspicious given the fact you've stopped using protection in the bedroom. Well, not necessarily stopped, since you're on birth control, but things get heated and he's finished inside of you without a condom. So... what if your birth control didn't do its job 100%? You know there’s a small percentage of it failing, so what if this time is the time it chooses to be ineffective?

Dr. Zayne is the only person you've told about your fears, when you went in for a checkup and nervously asked if he could run a pregnancy test for you. You're not sure if being your childhood friend made the next line of questioning about your sex life more or less awkward. You do know that that test came back negative... But Zayne said after the fact that it could be too early to tell.

So all you can really do now is wait until you do or don't get your period again.

You know it bothers Sylus a lot, your secrecy. You two have both progressed so far in learning how to trust each other, even with the stupid things. This just... doesn't feel like one of those stupid things. You've only just put a name to the relationship, you don't want to ruin that now when things are so new and nice.

So you hold it in. You try your damndest to put it on the back burner and show him as best you can that everything is fine and that you still love and trust him.

You wake up with your body's internal clock. With the N109 Zone being so dark, knowing when day is is a bit tricky. But, Sylus is asleep beside you, laying on his stomach with his face buried in his pillow. He doesn't have a shirt on. A wide expanse of tan skin and rippling muscle is left exposed as the blankets all pool around his hips.

You smile to yourself, albeit a bit mournfully. You're glad he's still sleeping beside you, even if you've both been a bit rocky lately. It's all your fault - you know. You'll make it up to him somehow. You have to.

Slowly, as quietly as you can, you slip out of bed and creep to the bathroom...

"Sy!" You see him startle out of sleep, hand already wrapped around the gun under his pillow as he sits up, searching for the danger.

"What is it?" he asks sharply. You run and jump onto the bed, landing partially on top of him. He tosses the gun onto his nightstand and lifts you by the waist to reposition you into his lap as he sits up properly. "What's got you so excited?"

"I'm not pregnant!"

He blinks up at you with a frown. You grab his shoulders like an excited kid, looking at him expectantly. He feels like he’s skipped several chapters into a book and the plot twist reveal isn’t making any sense. "What are you talking about, sweetie?"

You're practically vibrating in his lap with energy. It's the most light he's seen in your eyes for the last week and a half. It's... relieving. "I'm not pregnant! We haven't been as careful with protection lately and then my period was supposed to come, but it didn't, so I had a pregnancy test done, but Zayne said it could be too early to tell when it came back negative, so I've been waiting and waiting to know if I really am and-! And I'm not! I'm bleeding again, Sylus! I'm not pregnant!"

He shakes his head, brow pinched with a pained expression. "That's the 'nothing' you've been distracted by all week?"

"Um..." You grin sheepishly. "Yeah?"

He takes a moment, eyes closed and lips drawn into a frown. That guilt that settled in your stomach during your movie night returns, doubled in intensity. You got over-worried and kept secrets from your boyfriend, when you could have just told him from the start how weird it was that your period is late and how worried you are about what it could mean.

"Sy...?"

"Mmm."

"Are you mad at me?"

He finally opens his eyes. The expression eases slightly as he shakes his head with a sigh. "Have the cramps hit yet?"

You shake your head. "Um, no?"

Suddenly, his arms are wrapped around you and your world tilts on its axis. A heavy weight settles above you. Sylus's nose presses against your neck. "Good. Let's stay here for when they do."

You try to wriggle loose. He tightens his hold around you and nips at your skin sharply. You jolt, but it stops your struggling. “Why do we have to stay here for my cramps?”

“Because, sweetie,” he sighs. You’d think he’s annoyed, if it weren’t for the way he runs his nose along the column of your throat and eases his weight fully onto your body. “When your cramps start, you’re going to want a heating pad and a massage. And since you hate my massages-“

“I do not!”

“-it’s better if I just lay here and provide all the heat you desire.”

His logic isn’t faulty… And, honestly, having him so close to you again, without the barrier you built between you both, is really, really nice. So, you relent. You wrap your arms around his neck and begin playing with his hair. He lets out a contented hum, pressing a kiss to your pulse.

“So… you’re not mad at me?” you ask again.

“No, I’m not mad. I was… worried. Suddenly you were pulling away from me with no explanation and no warning. I thought…” You gently pull on his hair to remove his face from your neck. He follows with no resistance, resting his chin on your chest as he looks up at you with such serious eyes, tinged with sleepiness and lingering concern. “I thought you didn’t trust me anymore.”

You frown at the admission. For over a week, he thought you were pulling away because you didn’t trust him… “I guess I didn’t help any, keeping my worries a secret…” He doesn’t agree, but you see a slight quirk in his brow. “I’m sorry, Sy. I didn’t… I just… This is so new. I was worried that if I was pregnant, you’d be upset or leave me or something.”

He scoffs. “I’m not so easily scared off, kitten.”

“And I know that now.” You lean forward and press a lingering kiss to his forehead. His eyes flutter shut, furrow in his brow relaxing. When you pull away, they open to look at you once again. “I promise, from now on, I won’t keep secrets like that from you anymore. You’ll be the first to know if I’m worried about anything.”

He grins slightly. “Thank you, sweetie. I promise to be just as honest with you.”

He lifts himself up just enough to capture your lips. Your mouths move together in a languid dance, sealing the deal you two have just made. It lasts several minutes. Neither of you really ever want it to end, but Sylus needs his sleep and you’re going to need all his love and care when your uterus decides to rain hellfire on you to make up for lost time. He pulls away slowly, trails light kisses down your jaw, and tucks himself back into your neck.

Everything feels so much more secure now. Despite all your fears, the relationship has grown stronger. And you know, you’re both going to be okay.

-

Bonus:

“Is the thought of having my kids that terrible?”

“You know that’s not why I was worried, you asshole.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry