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mythicalmaven · 2 months ago

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Extraordinary - Oscar Piastri (ONE SHOT)

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Here is a little extra upload to celebrate Oscar's second F1 Grand Prix win! :) So enjoy is a post Azerbaijan GP celebration smut! Let me know what you think of it & let me know if you want a sequel to this!

↳pairing: oscar piastri x female!reader ↳word count: 3K ↳warnings: smut, 18+ content (MDNI!), handjob (m! eceiving), oral sex (m!receiving), feelings, kissing, praising, explicit sexual content, childhood best friends to lovers, making out, first kiss,

↳summary: Oscar just won the Azerbaijan GP. You, his childhood best friend & the one he secretly has been in love with for years, have always been by his side. Every race you attended ended with the same ritual; hugging, talking, and sharing the post-race high in a purely platonic way, both trying to ignore your feelings. But today felt different. His win stirred something in you, the urge to make him feel good overwhelmed you, your feelings too strong to contain any longer.

Credits for the gif to: @princemick

Oscar had just won his second Formula 1 race, and the energy in the paddock was electric. The cheers, the celebration, and the pride that radiated from his team made everything feel larger than life. But all of that faded the moment he stepped into his driver's room and saw you.

Like always, you were there waiting for him, the one constant in all the chaos. It had become something of a ritual between the two of you when you attended his races��a hug, a shared conversation, and time spent basking in the post-race high. But today felt different. The intensity in the air between you was thick, palpable in a way it hadn't been before.

As soon as he stepped into the room, his eyes found yours, and you couldn’t help but admire how good he looked — flushed with adrenaline, glowing from his second win in Formula 1. He was more than just your best friend at that moment; he was a man who had just conquered the track, and the sight of him like this stirred something deep within you.

He came to you for that familiar embrace, but when his arms wrapped around you, something shifted. There was a heat in his touch that you hadn't noticed before, or perhaps, had refused to acknowledge. The feel of his racing suit, tied loosely around his hips, the way his body pressed against yours—it was all too much. And when you pulled back, your hand didn't leave his abdomen. Instead, it hovered just above the waistband of his fireproofs, your fingers playing with the fabric. A gesture that felt as natural as it was intimate.

"Oscar Piastri," you purred, unable to help the words that spilled from your lips, "two-time F1 winner. Look at you, all grown up..."

He smirked, his eyes twinkling with pride and something else—something that made your heart skip. "You sound surprised" he teased, though his voice was a little rougher than usual, the hint of nerves and excitement betraying him. “Didn’t think I had it in me?”

You let your fingers trail along his abdomen, just brushing the hem of his fireproofs. “Oh, I knew you had it in you,” you said, your voice lowering as you allowed yourself to finally cross that invisible line. “I just didn’t realize how… hot it would look on you.”

His breath hitched at your words, and he pulled back just enough to look down at you, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “You… you think I look hot?” he asked, his voice ragged, almost disbelieving, the hint of nerves and excitement betraying him.

You felt emboldened by his response, your pulse quickening with adrenaline. As you nodded at him, your fingers slipped under the hem of his fireproofs, teasing his skin, noticing the way his breath hitched, his body reacting instinctively to your touch. Slowly, you began to peel up his fireproofs, revealing more of his skin inch by inch, savoring the way his muscles tensed beneath your fingers.

“You deserve a reward,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “For being such a champion.”

Oscar’s eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a ragged breath, the weight of your words sinking in. “A reward?” he asked, his voice strained as he tried to keep his composure, though you could tell he was unraveling beneath your touch.

You nodded, gently crowding him back against the door, your body pressing closer to his. His breath came in shallow gasps, and you could see the conflict in his eyes—excitement and nerves coalescing into something overwhelming.

“What are you doing?” he asked softly, his voice shaking, though his hands didn’t move from your waist.

“Rewarding you, like I said,” you replied, your voice sultry and full of promise.

Your fingers continued to explore, tracing the muscles of his abs under the fabric of his fireproofs. Oscar’s breath became uneven, his body responding to each touch, every soft graze of your fingertips. The heat between you was palpable as your hand slowly moved lower, teasing at the waistband of his race suit, brushing over his skin.

You carefully made your way to the sleeves that tied his race suit loosely around his hips. You untied the knot of his race suit, taking your time, savoring each second of anticipation. His eyes were locked on yours, the tension building as your hand slipped inside his now open suit, palm pressing against him through the fabric of his boxers. Oscar’s breath caught in his throat, a soft groan escaping him as you began to palm him gently, feeling him harden beneath your touch.

“Tell me if you want me to stop” you whispered softly.

His body reacted instinctively, his hips shifting slightly toward you, but he was still, letting you set the pace. Your hand slid further inside his race suit, fingers caressing him through the fabric of his boxers. His breath hitched again, and his grip on your waist tightened, the tension in his body unmistakable.

“God… you have no idea how good this feels,” he whispered, voice shaky as you continued teasing him through the material. His eyes fluttered shut, the pleasure already overtaking him as you finally slipped your hand inside his boxers, your fingers wrapping around him. His entire body tensed, and a low groan escaped his lips again as you stroked him gently, savoring every response, every tremble that coursed through him.

His hand found your hair, his grip tightening slightly as he struggled to hold himself together. “Fuck… you’re so good,” he moaned, his voice barely more than a whisper, his head tilting back, eyes closed in pure bliss. “So fucking good.”

You smiled up at him, continuing your slow, deliberate movements, relishing the way his body responded to your touch. After a few moments of building that delicious tension, you paused, your voice soft and sultry as you asked, “Can I take this off?”

Oscar’s eyes snapped open, and he looked down at you, his expression filled with desperate need. “God, yes,” he rasped, almost a plea.

With a soft smile, you began to sink to your knees, pressing gentle kisses down his abdomen as you slid his race suit and boxers down to his ankles. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the tension in his muscles as you kissed your way lower, teasing him with your lips and tongue.

Oscar’s breath became shallow, his body trembling with anticipation. His hands found their way into your hair again, his fingers tangling as you knelt in front of him.

You smiled up at him, your fingers wrapping around him again, moving in slow, teasing strokes as you watched him fall apart. His reaction fueled your own desire, and you couldn’t help but admire how beautiful he looked like this — vulnerable and completely overwhelmed by you.

“You have no idea how often I’ve thought about this,” he whispered, his voice raw and full of need. “How many times I’ve imagined you… like this.”

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his skin, testing his responsiveness as you trailed soft kisses around thighs and hips, purposefully avoiding his dick to make him want you even more. Each kiss sending a shiver through him, his body responding to every touch.

“You’ve always been my champion,” you murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his hipbone. “It’s time I show you just how much I’ve been rooting for you.”

His breath hitched when you gently licked a stripe up his shaft, your movements slow and teasing. Oscar’s reaction was immediate—his body jerked, and he let out a loud, desperate moan, his voice filled with disbelief. “Oh God… I didn’t think…” He struggled to form words, caught completely off-guard by the intensity of it all.

You smirked, Oscar’s erection still hot against your lips as continued to tease him, your lips brushing against him, your tongue trailing along his length with agonizing slowness. Every movement made him tremble, his hips bucking slightly as you finally took him into your mouth. The moment you did, his entire body tensed, and he let out a whimpering moan, his voice shaky and full of need.

“God, you’re… f-fuck,” he stammered, barely able to form the words as his head tilted back against the door, eyes closed in pure bliss. “You’re… you’re incredible.”

You could feel the tension building in him, his muscles clenching as he tried to hold on. His hands tightened in your hair, as if to stop you from pushing him over the edge too soon. He was fighting himself, every part of him desperate for release, but struggling to prolong the pleasure.

“Fuck… I can’t… you’re driving me insane,” he moaned, his voice barely coherent. “I… I can’t hold back.”

You hummed around him, your tongue teasing and swirling as you took him deeper, savoring the way he reacted to every movement. His hands tightened in your hair, his hips bucking slightly as you set a slow, torturous rhythm.

“Y-you’re gonna make me—” Oscar’s voice was strained, his words interrupted by a broken moan as he tried to hold himself back. “I-I don’t want this to end… not yet.”

You paused, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. His chest was heaving, and his eyes were glazed with pleasure, but you could see the way he was holding on by a thread.

“You don’t have to hold back,” you whispered, your voice soothing. “But I can go slow… take my time with you.”

Oscar nodded, swallowing hard as he tried to catch his breath. “P-please,” he whispered, his voice almost a plea. “I… I want this… I need this.”

You smiled up at him, your lips still teasing him, your hand continuing to stroke him gently, while your mouth was taking a break to give him some time to recover.

Oscar smiled back at you and you took that as a sign to continue. This time, you moved slower, your hand working in tandem with your mouth, teasing him, building him up again as his body trembled beneath you.

Every sound he made, every gasp and moan, sent a thrill through you. You loved seeing him like this, completely undone by your touch, and you couldn’t resist the urge to push him further, to make him feel every bit of the pleasure he deserved.

You paused for just a second, looking up at him briefly “You’re doing so well, Oscar,” you whispered, your voice filled with praise. “You’ve worked so hard for this… you’ve earned it.”

Oscar’s eyes widened in surprise, his breath catching in his throat as he was caught off guard by your words. The intensity of his arousal spiked even higher, his body reacting instinctively. He had to clench every muscle in his body to not cum right then and there “God, no,” he moaned, his voice strained and urgent. “You can’t say things like that. It makes it so much harder to hold back. It’s making it worse...”

“Maybe that’s the point” you sassed, a smug, satisfied grin tugging at your lips as you continued to tease him. Your tongue flicked over him with purpose, taking pleasure in watching him lose control. Every gasp and moan he made sent a thrill through you, fueling your desire as you reveled in the way he was unraveling under your touch.

Oscar’s breath hitched again, his hands trembling as they gripped your hair tighter. “Fuck, I-I… you’re driving me crazy,” he moaned, his voice barely coherent. “Y-you’re… amazing.”

As you continued to pleasure him, you felt him getting closer, his body tensing as he neared the edge. His hips bucked against you, and his moans grew louder, more desperate.

“I can’t… I-I can’t hold on much longer,” he gasped, his voice breaking with need. “I’m… f-fuck, I’m so close…”

"Then don't hold back, Osc." you whispered, looking up at him "Let go for me"

You increased the pressure, taking him deeper, your mouth and hand working in perfect unison as you pushed him closer to his release. Oscar’s entire body shook, and with a final, shuddering breath, he came undone, his moans loud and raw as pleasure surged through him.

You kept going, guiding him through his climax, savoring every second of his release until he finally collapsed back against the door, completely spent. His chest was heaving, and his eyes fluttered open, still glazed with satisfaction and awe.

“God… that was…” he breathed, his voice ragged as he looked down at you with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude. “You’re… you’re incredible.”

You smiled up at him, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction wash over you. “You deserved every second of that,” you whispered, your voice soft and filled with affection. “You’re a winner, Oscar. And winners deserve rewards.”

When Oscar seemed to have come down from his high, you gently pulled up his boxers, carefully tucking him back inside. You then followed with his race suit, using the sleeves to tie it around his hips. While you were busy tying the knot, you looked up at him “I figured, since I was the one who undressed you, I might as well help you get dressed again" you chuckled at him "I know you'll take them off again when you go shower, but I assumed the walk towards the bathroom would be a little less complicated when you don't have your suit pooling around his ankles"

Oscar let out a breathless laugh, still trying to catch his breath. “You just sucked my dick less than a minute ago and we're already back on the witty remarks" God, I love you, he thought

You laughed at him, still on your knees, smacking him softly against his now clothes thigh “Oi, don't act like you don't love it” you grinned.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he murmured, his hands gently brushing through your hair. “But I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

Before you could even react, Oscar pulled you up to your feet, his movements fluid and confident. In a heartbeat, he had flipped your positions, pressing your back against the door with a soft, welcoming thud. His hand rested possessively on your waist, the warmth of his touch radiating through you, while his other hand gently cupped your jaw. His thumb traced tender circles over your cheek, a silent promise of the passion yet to come. His gaze, intense and hungry, searched yours, as if looking for confirmation before closing the distance between you.

You subconsciously leaned into Oscar, his breath mingling with yours, warm and inviting, heightening the anticipation between you. You could feel the heat of his anticipation, the unspoken yearning that had built up over the years.

"I should have done this a long time ago" he whispered before finally closing the remaining distance between the two of you.

When his lips finally met yours, you felt a surge of electricity coursing through your veins. It was a feather-light touch that seemed to savor the moment, the initial contact was so soft and exploratory, a gentle caress that spoke of the affection and longing you both had kept hidden. His lips moved with a slow, deliberate tenderness, each kiss a silent confession of his desire.

Oscar’s hand on your waist slid up slightly, his fingers tracing the curve of your ribs, while his other hand, still cradling your jaw, moved with equal care. He gently caressed the side of your neck with his thumb, his touch tender and reverent. The intimacy of his touch made your breath hitch, the anticipation building as his lips pressed more firmly against yours.

Gradually, the kiss deepened, and you felt the shift in intensity. He began to explore your lips with more purpose, his movements gentle yet insistent. A soft, teasing lick against your lower lip was his way of asking for entrance, a delicate and almost shy request that spoke volumes. The sensation of his warm, wet tongue against your skin made you shiver, heightening the tension between you.

When his tongue finally ventured into the kiss, it was a revelation. The initial touch was delicate, a tentative exploration that soon turned into a deeper, more passionate rhythm. His tongue slid against yours with a slow, deliberate grace, teasing and tracing patterns that spoke of the years of unspoken desire. Each movement was filled with intent, each caress a testament to the emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface. The kiss became an intricate dance of sensation, blending the softness of his lips with the boldness of his tongue, creating a connection that was as emotionally charged as it was physically intense.

Oscar’s fingers trailed their way up from your back, towards your shoulder, eventually tangling in your hair, his touch both possessive and tender. His hand that was on your jaw now slid gently to your neck, his fingers tracing a path of fire against your skin. The sensation was electrifying, a delicate contrast to the fervor of his kiss. His thumb rested on your cheek, brushing softly as if to reassure himself that this moment was real.

Oscar’s other hand drifted down from your hair to your neck, his touch as light as a whisper but filled with an undeniable intensity. He traced delicate patterns on your skin, his fingers lingering on the curve of your collarbone before sliding back up to gently cradle the nape of your neck. The sensation of his touch, combined with the softness of his lips, created a symphony of sensations that left you breathless.

Oscar pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing, barely-there caress. His eyes, dark with passion, searched yours for a moment before resting his forehead against yours. The both of you completely out of breath.

"Wow" you puffed out, still trying to catch your breath "T-That.. -That was extraordinary"

Oscar chuckles at you, a smile covering his face. The relief and happiness in his face evident. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and says "You are extraordinary"

#f1 fanfic #smut #formula 1 #friends to lovers #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #fluff #formula 1 smut #mclaren #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri smut #op81 #oscar piastri imagine #formula one #azerbaijan gp 2024

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thedevilrisen · 1 month ago

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Cradle Me

Father!Quinn x Son & Wife!Reader. Word Count: 1,1k Authorial Note: My next voted WIP! I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I did while writing it! Don’t know if it’s my best piece then. Warnings: Swearing, mentions of birth.

Elliot Samuel Hughes came screaming into the world at 4:12 p.m., Quinn only knew his son for a matter of awed, breathless moments before the world sharpened—and chaos erupted.

Nurses swarmed you, dabbing and cleaning with sodden warm towels. A warm, slimy bundle of swaddle-blanket and baby reached your chest as the obstetrician stepped back from your glistening body. Quinn's reddened hand slipped from your grip, instinctively cradling the baby to your chest. His other hand, shaking slightly, gripped the bed's plastic rail. Leaning forward, he rested his right arm limply across your shoulder, his forehead gently touching yours as the two of you gazed down at your son.

"How’re you doing, Dad?" the obstetrician asked from the sink as he scrubbed his hands clean.

Quinn blinked, a goofy grin spreading across his face. "I feel sick... but in a good way." He laughed softly, joy plastered permanently on his face. "We created a human... that's fucking scary but awesome at the same time."

Even in your post-birth haze, a smile graced your lips. It was an awesome thing indeed. This was your person now, a culmination of Quinn and your love. Despite this baby being considered a gift, he clearly was sent to test you and Quinn’s love for each other. No parenting class could have prepared you for the unfolding chaos that was leaving the hospital and heading home. The first day at the hospital was incredible, the nurses gently guided you and Quinn in the ways of parenting. But once you left and arrived home, the learning curve turned into an aggressive crash course.

Emotions ran high for every family member. Every nap missed, messy feed, spit-up, or nappy mess that needed cleaning up frayed the string further. Quinn and you had been remarkably naïve to think that this journey would be easy, even though you’d been dreaming collectively of this moment for years.

Quinn, along with self-proclaimed uncles Elias, Brock, and JT, spent hours working on the perfect nursery for baby boy Hughes. From wall decorations to the crib and changing table—which you insisted had to be powder blue with clouds and a grassy field with cows in it—the boys poured their hearts into it. Once they had finished assembling the room and you'd let it air out due to your hatred of the smell of fresh paint, you added the final details: books, blankets, nappies, and wipes, along with baby clothes hanging neatly on tiny coat hangers.

The first night home from the hospital was powered purely by adrenaline. You and Quinn took shifts with baby boy—changing, feeding, and sometimes just comforting him to sleep. By the second and third nights, the exhaustion set in. Leaving the warmth of the bed became a Herculean effort, especially for you. The physical toll of birth weighed heavily on your body, and sustaining new life felt overwhelming.

Quinn tried his hardest to take the load off, seeing how hard you were working to make the transition smooth, though it felt futile. His patience held up remarkably well for the first four days, but by the fourth night, tension crept in. Snappish words replaced your usual playful banter, and the distance between you felt like a growing chasm. Quinn’s touch, once so comforting, now felt foreign. Exhaustion tangled both your nerves, and intimacy between the two of you became a distant memory.

That night, an abrupt “goodnight” was shared, accompanied by a peck on the cheek. You both lay there in the dark, separated by a wall of fatigue, each praying for sleep that never came, as baby boy woke again at distasteful hours of the night.

Night five was the killer. Some ungodly hour like 1:03 a.m. glared back at you from the microwave as you ambled around the kitchen for the second time that night. You’d fed him twice now, but much of the milk had come back up in spit-up. Quinn had changed baby once and had checked on him again 45 minutes earlier.

There was one distinct problem: the baby only slept when he was held. You could do as many laps around the kitchen as you wanted, Quinn could rock him for hours, but as soon as baby landed on the bassinet’s mattress, it was like laying him on lava.

"Still no luck, darlin’?" Quinn’s voice came quietly from the doorway, his tired form silhouetted by the dim light of the stairs. He met you halfway, his brow furrowed with concern.

You let out a soft, frustrated sigh. "Every time I put him down, he cries," you whispered, blinking back tears. "I’m so tired, Quinn."

He stepped closer, reaching for your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "C’mon, let’s go back to bed," he murmured, leading you gently up the stairs. Exhaustion had blurred the edges of your world, and you forced a tired smile as he kissed your hand again.

"He’s just going to cry when I put him down, Quinn," you stated tiredly as he threw back the covers for you. The softness of the bed felt like heaven against your aching body, and you settled in without a second thought.

Quinn, now shirtless, pulled baby from your arms and nestled him gently on his chest, holding him snugly as he propped himself up with pillows. He tucked you in under his arm, pulling the blankets over both of you.

"Sleep now, darlin’," he whispered, kissing the top of your head. Baby wriggled slightly in his swaddle but quickly relaxed against Quinn's warmth. "If this is how we have to do it from now on, fine."

Quinn sighed, his grip tightening around both of you. "At least we have good chiros at the rink."

#risen rambles :d #luke hughes #jack hughes #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes blurb #dad quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes one shot #canucks #canucks hockey #hughes brothers #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes 43 #quinn hughes x y/n #qh43

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requiemforthepoets · 4 months ago

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they never took me quite where you do 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x heiress!reader

SUMMARY: all your life, you’ve been used to peace and quiet, not until you had to substitute for your father and brother in a business meeting and throwing you in the most busiest and crowded event.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this has been stuck in my drafts, i decided to post this one since i’m clearing my docs. this one’s bit lengthy, but i hope you’ll vibe with it. uni had already started for me, so i won’t be able to post much :’( anyways, i hope you’ll enjoy reading this one!

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

WORD COUNT: 6.4k

WARNINGS: zak brown and mclaren

MIAMI

You never liked crowded events. It is not in your nature to seek out noise and chaos, you prefer the calm serenity of your family’s estate or the quiet corners of your favorite library. But alas, here you were, you found yourself being in attendance at the 2024 Miami Grand Prix. Your father and older brother were supposed to attend the business meeting, a formality given your family’s substantial sponsorship of McLaren, but with both of them indisposed, the duty had fell upon you.

As you stepped into the bustling paddock, you couldn’t help but feel slightly overwhelmed by the energy and excitement that filled the air, you also saw a few celebrities but you couldn’t care less. To be honest, you never really liked Miami. You had a few share of travelling around the world, but you just don’t get other people when they say that Miami is a great place, you just couldn’t see it. However, people are entitled to their own opinion, and that is your own personal opinion. Looking around and comparing yourself from the race goers, you can clearly tell that you’re the odd one out, all dressed in neutral colors when you are being surrounded by lively colors.

“Miss Auerbach, welcome!” Zak Brown the CEO of McLaren had greeted you warmly. “I’m glad that you could make it.” You smiled and shook his hand.

Prior to arriving in the venue, you had managed to study the whole team behind McLaren as a preparation for the business meeting, and not make a fool of yourself. Last thing you would want to do is embarrass your father and brother.

“Thank you for the warm welcome, Mr. Brown. It’s a pleasure to be here,” you replied politely, “I apologize that my father and Theo couldn’t make it. They had prior commitments that can’t be rescheduled.” You added.

“Please, just call me Zak, and it’s alright. It’s wonderful to see you getting involved into the family business.” Both of you laughed, but you held back a little bit. Zak had noticed your hesitation and smiled kindly, “I know this might not be your usual environment, but why don’t you stay and watch the race? I think you’ll find it quite exhilarating.” You just nodded.

Maybe this isn’t exactly your comfort zone, but sooner or later you’ll grow more accustomed to it. You need a bit of excitement in your life, and maybe this is finally it.

After the meeting with Zak, you decided to walk around the area, get some air and explore a little bit. The exclusive paddock area offered a slight reprieve from the crowd, and you navigated through the space, trying to maintain a semblance of composure, a familiar voice called out for you.

“What on earth are you doing here?” Turning around, you saw Charles and Carlos approaching, their face lit up with a surprise. They were unmistakable with their bright red Ferrari gears and ever-present charisma. “Hello to you too.” You greeted while giving each of them a hug and attempting to mask your discomfort from the buzzing crowd. “You wouldn’t normally find me in this place, but I’m officially on business duties.”

Charles is one of your brother’s best friend, how did they met? You never know, all you know is that your brother is a big fan of motorsport and one day, the two of them just became best friends. As for Carlos, the Sainz and Auerbach are a close family friend for almost a decade, your father and Carlos Sainz Sr. go way back. So you’re glad that you know at least two people in the event.

Carlos chuckled. “Never really thought that I’d see the day you’d attend a grand prix willingly.” You laughed, “well, let’s just say that it wasn’t voluntary.” You admitted, a hint of smile breaking through. Charles nodded understandingly, “come on, let’s find a quieter spot. You look like you could use a break.”

Grateful, you followed them to a more secluded area within the paddock. As you talked, the initial awkwardness melted away and had been replaced by the comfort of familiar company. You discussed various things about family, recent travels, and, inevitably, racing.

“You know, your father always speak so highly of you,” Charles said, with Carlos agreeing with him. “It’s finally nice to see you at one of these events.”

“I have to admit,” you said, glancing around, “this place has a certain charm. Maybe it’s not all bad.” Carlos just laughed. “That’s the spirit. But hey, the race is starting soon. You should stay and watch, you might actually enjoy it.”

“Are you flying back to Germany right after the race?” Charles had asked, as you pondered. Mentally checking your schedule and agendas while you’re here in Miami. “I think so? I’m not sure, it depends with McLaren.”

“Why don’t we all go to dinner later tonight? I’m sure Rebecca and Alex would love to see you again as well.” Carlos offered. “Sure, I would really love that! Just text me the time and place, I’ll be there.” You smiled.

After the meeting with Charles and Carlos, you head to the VIP area for McLaren and found a seat that offered a perfect vantage point to watch the race. The anticipation was palpable as the cars began to line up, engines revving, and you can see the fans in the grandstands all decked out in colorful team merchandise, waving flags and cheering passionately for the teams that they are rooting for. In no time, you found yourself leaning forward, eyes with excitement.

The moment that the lights went out, cars shot forward on the track, a blur of color and motion passed in front of you. You could feel the ground vibrate beneath your feet as they sped past, leaving you breathless. Amidst all of this, one car in particular had managed to caught your attention, the sleek orange McLaren with the number 4 on it.

You turned your attention on the screen, Lando Norris. Reading it softly, familiarizing the name as it rolled smoothly off your tongue. You had also heard his name countless of time, often through Theo who admired his driving style. But seeing Lando in action was different. His precision, determination—it was really mesmerizing.

Each lap brought new excitement, the cars jostling for position, and as the race progressed, you couldn’t help but be drawn into the excitement. Lando’s skill was undeniable, and you found yourself silently rooting for him. When he executed a particularly daring move, you involuntarily gasped, earning a few amused glances from nearby spectators.

When the checkered flag waved, Lando had crossed fhe finish line in first place, followed by Max Verstappen from Red Bull in second place, and then in third place was Charles. You suddenly felt a strange thrill as you watched the McLaren team celebrated Lando’s win. After the event was finished, you had decided to walk around the paddock once more, and drop by at the Ferrari garage to congratulate Charles and Carlos, not forgetting to drop by at McLaren as well to also extend your congratulations to Zak, as it was another win for the team.

As luck would have it, you crossed paths with Lando himself. He was talking to a group of mechanics, still buzzing with the adrenaline. Seeing your opportunity, you decide approached him.

“Congratulations on winning the Miami GP.” You said, trying to sound casual. Lando turned, his eyes brightening with a friendly smile. “Thanks! Glad you enjoyed the race.”

“I did. It’s my first time at a Grand Prix, actually. Quite an experience.” Lando smiled, “first time, huh? Well, I’m honored you got to see me in action. What brings you here?”

“Family business,” you replied. “Ah, that explains why I had seen you with Zak earlier. Well, I hope this won’t be your first and last race. It’s always nice to see new faces around here.”

You smiled, feeling unexpectedly at ease. “Maybe it won’t be. You might have just made a new fan today.” Lando laughed. “I’ll take that as another win. See you around?”

“Definitely,” you said, feeling a spark of excitement at the idea of seeing him again.

As you left the paddock, you realized that maybe, just maybe, crowded events weren’t so bad after all. Especially when they came with such unexpected, pleasant surprises. It’s too soon to say that you were charmed by Lando, but you can’t help but admit it that you are indeed had been charmed by him.

Later that evening, you found yourself at a cozy restaurant with Charles, Carlos, Alex, and Rebecca. Being close with Charles and Carlos, you had became close as well with their girlfriends. It was rare for you to have new friends due to your status, but meeting Alex and Rebecca was such a breath of fresh air.

“So, how does it feel to be a grand prix veteran now?” Rebecca teased as you sipped your wine. “Hardly a veteran,” you laughed, “but I have to admit, it was more enjoyable than I expected.”

“It’s about time we got you out of your shell,” Alex had said with a wink. “We’ve been waiting for an excuse to hangout more.” This has caused the whole table to laugh.

“And a little birdie told me as well,” Carlos chimed in, a bit of teasing in his voice, “you’ve been seen talking to Lando right after the race.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you, and the girls began teasing you.

“Come on now, it was a harmless conversation. I just congratulated him. My family sponsors the team, what am I to do? Ignore him?” You laughed, “not when you’re all smiley and looking all heart eyes at him.” Charles said and laughed.

“But hey, Lando’s a great guy. If ever you two end up dating, he’ll treat you right and not to mention you two looked really good together.” Carlos said as he smiled.

The conversation flowed easily, filled with a bit of teasing, stories, laughter, and plans for future gatherings. Charles and Carlos shared a few anecdotes from racing, while Alex and Rebecca had catched you up with their recent travel adventures. You found yourself thoroughly enjoying the night, feeling more connected with them after not seeing them for how many months.

As the night wound down, you gently grabbed your bag and pull out four elegant invitations. “Before I forget, I would like to give this to you.” You handed the invitations to each of them, with their names beautifully written on the envelope. “Mamá will be having the annual Auerbach charity event, and she tasked me to give the invitations out to you.”

The event will be held five months from now, but as always, your mother wanted to be very prepared and for the event to run smoothly with no distractions. They had thanked you for the invite, and once the dinner had concluded, each of them gave you a hug.

“Thank you so much for a wonderful evening, guys. I really appreciate it.” You said. “Of course! We should do this every once in a while.” Alex said as both her and Rebecca hugged you again.

“Don’t be a stranger, okay? If you need anything, just call us.” Carlos smiled. “We’ll see you at the next race, okay? We’ll be expecting you there!” Charles added and you nod at him.

“Alright, alright. You’ll see me in the next race, maybe or maybe not!” You teased. “I’ll see you all in Germany for the event, okay?” They nodded.

The following day, you attended the post-race festivities, it was another obligation that you couldn’t avoid. But this time, the atmosphere was different, Lando’s words from yesterday had you in excitement, and maybe, you were excited to see Lando as well.

You had found yourself mingling with other sponsors and team members. Glancing across the venue, you caught sight of Lando, engaged in a conversation with Oscar, which you had met as well yesterday during the event. He looked up, meeting your gaze unexpectedly, and offered a smile, a genuine smile. This has caused your face to flush, hoping that he didn’t see the way how your face turned all red. After that little incident, you turned your attention back to the people you’re talking with.

As the event wore on, the sun was already setting, casting a golden glow over the venue, you were hoping that at least you would get to talk to Lando, and soon enough, you found yourself once again face to face with Lando.

“Hey, you’re back,” he greeted, his grin being infectious. “I am. I thought I’d see what all the fuss is about after the race.”

“Smart choice. This is where the real fun happens,” Lando said, nodding towards the lively crowd. You found yourself laughing, the sound even surprising yourself. “You were incredible out there. I can see why Theo admires you.”

“Theodore Auerbach?” Lando asked, his eyebrows raising. “Theo as in your brother?“

You nodded, “yes, that Theo. He’s a fan, always talks about your races, despite being best friends with Charles and Carlos.” This had cause Lando to laugh, “wow, that’s really great to hear. Tell him I said thanks.”

“I will.” You smiled.

You and Lando found yourselves in deep conversation. He shared a few stories about his racing career and telling you things about racing—he was slowly getting you accustomed. You then found yourself opening up about your family, your hesitations about joining the family business, and unexpected enjoyment of the grand prix.

“You know,” Lando said thoughtfully, “it’s refreshing talking to someone outside the usual racing circle. You have a unique perspective.”

“I’ve enjoyed it too,” you admitted. “This whole experience has been…enlightening.”

“Good. Then it’s a win-win,” Lando said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Maybe we can convince you to come to more races. We could use another Auerbach fan.”

“I think you just might.” You smiled, feeling a warm spread through you, and your stomach feeling butterflies.

The celebration had ended after an hour, you and Lando had exchanged contacts, promising to keep in touch. He had also walked you back to your hotel, which was surprisingly just near the venue. You reflected on how much had changed in just a couple of days—stepping out of your comfortzone and embracing a new experience.

MONACO

It has been two months since the Miami Grand Prix, and exactly two months since you and Lando met. It was a whirlwind of change in what felt like the blink of an eye, what started as a chance meeting with Lando had evolved into something deeper, something neither of you had anticipated. Despite the distance and the demands of your respective worlds, you and Lando had fallen into a comfortable rhythm, finding solace and comfort in each other’s company.

It has been mutually agreed to keep your relationship under the wraps. For Lando, it was about preserving his focus and privacy in the high-pressure world of F1. While for you, it was about easing into this new reality without scrutiny that came with dating a well-known public figure. It’s not that you aren’t well known, it’s just that even if everyone basically knew your family and prestige, you still value that little ounce of privacy left in you. The clandestine nature of your relationship added an element of excitement, turning every stolen moment into something precious.

Today, you were in Monaco, it was your monthly overseas trip. It’s just a plan that you had made back then, where you would travel once a month and explore new places. This month, you had chosen Monaco, which is a unusual for your parents, but they just let you be, since they know that you travel outside of Germany once a month. You were staying with Lando at his apartment in Monaco, wanting to spend some time with him before the next race. His apartment has the stunning view of the Mediterranean, and was comfortably private, away from prying eyes.

Lando arrived in the late afternoon, after spending the whole morning attending different meetings. When he entered the apartment, his face lit up with a smile that never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

“Hey you,” he said, pulling you into a warm embrace. “Hey yourself,” you replied, resting your head against his chest. “How was your meetings?” You added.

“Tiring, but good. I’m glad to be here now,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “I missed you. You are all I’m thinking about during the meeting.”

You laughed as you booped his nose gently, “I missed you too,” you said, tilting your face up to kiss him softly.

You spent the evening with just lounging on the couch, savoring the rare moments of normalcy. Since you were both lazy to cook dinner, you just decided to order food, watch a movie, and talked about everything and nothing. It was in these quiet moments that you felt most at ease, the outside world and its demands melting away.

As the night grew late, you found yourselves on the balcony, looking out at the glittering lights of Monaco. Lando was stood behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist, as his chin is resting on your shoulder.

“It’s beautiful here,” you said softly. “It is, but not as beautiful as you.” You laughed, nudging him playfully.

“You’re such a charmer, aren’t you.”

“Only for you,” he said, turning you around to face him. “I mean it. These moments…they mean everything to me.”

“I know,” you said, cupping his face in your hands. “And I feel the same. But…are you sure we’re doing the right thing by keeping this a secret?”

Lando sighed, his eyes searching yours. “I think so. At least for now. The media, the fans…it can be overwhelming. I want us to have this time, just for us, without all the noise. I want to savor this privacy that we still have.”

“I understand,” you said, leaning into him. “I just hope it doesn’t always have to be this way.”

“It won’t,” he promised. “When the time is right, we’ll tell the world. But for now, let’s just enjoy what we have.”

The following morning, you woke up to the sound of your phone buzzing. It was a text from Charles.

charles [7:30 AM] : Heard you’re in Monaco. breakfast at the café near the harbor? Alex and I are back in town, would love to catch up.

You smiled, texting back a quick confirmation. Turning to Lando, who was still asleep beside, you gently nudge him awake.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you whispered, kissing him softly on the lips, “Charles and Alex are back in town and want to meet for breakfast. You up for it?”

Lando groaned softly, rubbing his eyes. “Do we have to?” He whined, pulling you and now you’re resting on top of him, “come on, it’ll be fun. I haven’t seen them in months, please.” You said, kissing his cheek.

He chuckled, “alright, but only because you asked nicely.” It took you both a couple of minutes before you got up and start preparing.

The café was bustling with activity, a favorite spot for locals and tourists alike. Lando had told you to go in first to avoid suspicions from other people that were in the café who knew the two of you. When you entered the café, you spotted Charles and Alex at the table, in a private area, away from people that would recognize the the four of you. She wave over with an enthusiastic smile.

“Good morning!” Alex greeted, hugging you warmly. “It’s so good to see you!”

“You too,” you said, taking a seat. “I must say, this place is very lovely.”

Charles nodded, grinning. “It’s one of our favorites. So, how’s everything going?”

“Good,” you replied, glancing at Lando, who was making his way to the table. “Really good, actually.”

As you all caught up, Charles and Alex shared their latest rendezvous in Italy, and you shared your time in Monaco in exchange. The conversation flowed easily, filled with nothing but laughter. It was comforting to have friends who understood the situation and could offer support and normalcy in your otherwise secretive life.

Alex leaned in, a knowing smile on her face. “So, any new developments?” You exchanged a glance with Lando, who smiled back at you. “We’re doing well. Just taking it one day at a time.”

“Glad to hear it,” Charles said. “You two deserve to be happy, and don’t worry—your secret is safe with us.”

“Thank you,” you said, feeling a wave of relief. “It’s really means a lot.”

“We always got your back, don’t worry okay?” Alex assured you.

As the breakfast came to an end, you said your goodbyes to Charles and Alex, promising to catch up again soon. With a final hug, they left, leaving you and Lando alone once more.

As you both returned to his apartment, you turned to him with a smiled. “I’ve been thinking…” you plopped down on the couch, as he follows, pulling you towards him with your head resting on his chest, “oh, do tell.”

“How would you like to be my date in my family’s charity event next month?” Lando looked at you, his heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’ve been doing this for a while now, and it feels like the right time to introduce you to my family, you know.” You said, eyes filled with determination. Lando smiled back at you, feeling a sense of excitement and hope. “Okay. I’m ready for that, as long as you’re by my side.”

“I love you.” You whispered as you looked up at him. “I love you more.” He leaned in and kissed you softly on the lips.

You spent the rest of the day cuddling and just talking about anything, as you look over the balcony, the sun was already setting over Monaco, casting a golden glow over the harbor, feeling a deep sense of contentment. You were really looking forward to next month, where you would finally introduce him to your family.

GERMANY

Your family was a portrait of old-world elegance and influence, steeped in the traditions and wealth of your Spanish-German heritage. The Auerbach were known for their vast estates, historical manors, and lineage that could be traced back to European nobility. Your family owned vineyards in Spain’s Rioja region and estates in the Black Forest of Germany, and wealth built on generations of careful investments and preservation of the family legacy.

Conrad Auerbach, your father, was a formidable presence, and he still is. A man who commanded respect with his mere presence. A former diplomat and now a prominent businessman, your father had instilled in you a sense of discipline and the importance of maintaining the family’s dignity. Despite his stern exterior, he has always harbored a deep pride in your achievements, even if he rarely showed it openly.

Isabella Alcaraz Auerbach, your mother, was the epitome of grace and sophistication. A former equestrian and painter of Spanish descent, she brought a touch of artistic flair to the otherwise rigid Auerbach household. She was known for her charitable work and passion for the arts, often hosting grand soirees that drew the elite from all over Europe. Your mother is your confidante, your best friend, and the one who understand your fierce independence and quietly supported you in your dreams.

While your oldest brother, Theodore, was destined to take over the family business. He thrived in the structured world of finance and estate management, embodying the family’s traditional values. He’s a carbon copy of your father, and sometimes act like your father, but you two grew up being really close to each other.

The Auerbach family was not without its quirk. Despite the formal exterior that your family possesses, dinner conversations are actually more lively, filled with fun debates over art, politics, sports, and the latest global affairs. Your sharp wit is always a match for your father’s intellect, and your mother’s charm made the Auerbach gatherings a blend of intellectual rigor and cultured sophistication.

The Auerbach charity event was a cornerstone of your family’s social calendar—a grand affair that combined philanthropy with high society’s glittering presence. This year, the event was particularly special; not only was it a chance to support a cause that is close to your heart, but it was also an opportunity to formally introduce Lando officially to your family and close friends. You had been planning everything for weeks, ensuring that everything goes smoothly.

This year’s charity event is being held in your family’s ancestral home in Bavaria. In a sprawling castle that had been in the family for centuries. It was a place of both grandeur and solitude, wherein during your childhood, you would always find peace despite the hectic flow of your life. The castle’s halls were adorned in portraits of ancestors, a reminder of the legacy you carry and expectations that is placed upon your shoulders, will full understanding of the pressures that comes with your family.

As the event approaches, you were a bundle of nerves and excitement. The polo match where you will be partaking in was set to be the highlight of the evening, a thrilling competition that showcased both skill and elegance. It has been a year since you last played polo, so you had been practicing really hard, determined to make good impression, but you know very well that tonight’s real challenge was introducing Lando to your whole family.

It was finally the evening of the event, you wore a stunning customized gown that was both elegant and understated, which has been tailored solely for you. It was paired with classic accessories that complimented the whole look. While Lando was dressed in a tailored suit that fit him perfectly and colors matching you. He looked every bit the part of a gentleman, his nerves evident despite his calm demeanor.

As you arrived, the sight of the lavish decorations and the elegantly dressed guests filled you with sense of pride and anticipation. The estate, with its sprawling lawns and opulent ballroom, was the perfect setting for the festivities. You and Lando were greeted by your family, who were all abuzz with excitement. Your father, a towering figure of influence and authority, extended a warm handshake to Lando.

“It’s pleasure to finally meet you, Lando. I’ve heard a lot about you.” You can see that your father is completely sizing him up. You know very well that your father knows him, but everything had to be done in formalities.

“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Auerbach,” Lando said, offering a respectful nod. “Thank you for having me.”

Your mother, ever elegant as always, gave you a knwoing smile before turning her attention to Lando.

“We’re delighted to have you here. I’m sure you’re going to enjoy the event.”

The guests mingled and enjoyed cocktails over by the terrace. Charles, Alex, Carlos, and Rebecca had finally arrived, looking impeccable and ready to enjoy the festivities. They greeted both you and Lando warmly, clearly excited about the event.

“Hey you two!” Rebecca said, giving you a hug. “You both are looking fantastic!”

“Thank you so much, Rebecca,” you said smiling, “I’m glad that you could all make it.”

Carlos gave Lando a friendly pat on the back. “Looking sharp, cabron! Ready for the polo match? It’s always the highlight of the infamous Auerbach charity events.” Lando grinned, “definitely. I’ve been looking forward to it.”

Charles and Alex joined in on the conversation, and soon the group was chatting easily, making Lando feel more at ease. Everyone has been assuring him, helping Lando settle his nerves, reminding himself that the genuine warmth from your family was reassuring.

You had been called by your mother’s assistant and excused yourself from the group, as the time for the polo match drew near, still need a couple of minutes to change to your polo gear. All of them had wished you good luck, with Lando softly pecking your lips as an added good luck.

Everyone was gathered near the field, seated on their assigned table with the best view of the polo game. Lando watched from the sidelines with the rest of your friends, his support evident as he cheered on you whenever you score a point. The match was thrilling to say the least, which every swing of your mallet and every goals that you had managed to score elicited cheers from the spectators. The crowd’s energy was infectious, and you felt a rush of adrenaline as you played.

Throughout the polo match, you caught glimpses of Lando, who was clearly enjoying himself and cheering loudly with the rest of your friends. His sole presence had given you an extra boost, and able to let you play with a newfound confidence. The game was a close one, but you had managed to clutch it and lead your team to victory the last minute before the final whistle blowing to cheers and applause.

After the match, you quickly cleaned up and changed back into your gown and joined Lando with the rest at the post-game reception, where the celebrations were in full swing. The evening continued with dinner, speeches, and silent auction, all aimed at raising funds for charity. During the dinner, you were tasked to make a speech as it was expected of you and thank all of the guests for coming to the event, you also took this opportunity to make a heartfelt announcement.

You stood up from the table where you were seated and made your way to the stage, happily accompanied by Lando. As your mother, father, and older brother are already waiting for you by the side of the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of my family, I would like to extend our heartfelt gratitude to each and everyone of you for being here tonight. Your presence means the world to us and to the countless individuals who will benefit from your generosity.” Everyone was clapping, causing you to pause midway and continuing. “I also want to introduce someone very someone very special to me—Lando Norris. We’ve been together for a while now, and I’m proud to have him here with us tonight.”

The room buzzed with surprise and curiosity, but the warmth and acceptance from your family and friends were immediate. It was also a full declaration to let everyone know, specially those who were vying for your attention or hand in marriage as you mother would put it and wanted to be with you for the sake of the connections you have in business that you, the youngest Auerbach, is very much in love and happily taken.

Lando was standing with your family, smiling proudly and touched by the gesture. Despite coming from a very traditional family, your father and mother does not pressure you into marrying a person that you don’t like, like some other families would push their children to do. They are very supportive in finding a suitable partner of your own choice.

“Thank you,” Lando said the moment you went back to him right after you ended the speech. “It means a lot to me to be here tonight and to be welcomed so warmly.”

The reaction from your family was genuine acceptance and warmth. Your father offered a heartfelt smile and a congratulatory handshake to Lando.

“I can see why you’ve been so happy. You’ve got a good one here.” He said to you and pulling Lando into a brief hug, “don’t even think of breaking my daughter’s heart.” Your father joked, causing all of you to laugh but you know that there’s a little sense of threat in his voice.

Your mother’s eyes was glistening with pride, and reached out to Lando. “Welcome to the family, Lando. We’re so pleased to have you with us.” Engulfing him in a hug, “now I’ll be expecting you to be attending every family gatherings from now on!” You smiled.

“Who would’ve thought that our youngest Auerbach will be able to bag one of the famous and talented racing driver in formula 1!” Theo exclaimed happily, “it’s great to finally meet you outside of the racing circle, Lando.” Clapping Lando on the back. “You’re officially part of the family now, hope you can keep up with all of us!” He added.

Going back to the table, Charles, Carlos, Alex, and Rebecca were clearly delighted by the announcement, offering their congratulations, even if they had already known about your relationship with Lando, but it still felt good being congratulated by them. Also there had been a few friendly threats that had been made by Charles and Carlos, a threat which both of them would be capable of doing so without any care for the FIA.

As the evening continued, Lando fit seamlessly into the crowd, engaging in different conversations and sharing laughs with everyone. The event was a big success, funds that had been raised exceeded expectations, and your family’s acceptance to your newfound relationship with Lando had made the evening even more special for you.

You found yourself hanging out by the terrace by yourself, watching the party from afar and enjoying the quiet end to a memorable evening. Turning your attention towards the vast fields, where the moon was shining beautifully together with the stars, when you suddenly felt a presence behind you, engulfing you in a hug, immediately knowing who those arms belonged to.

“That went better than I could have hoped for,” you said, leaning into Lando. “Thank you for being so incredible tonight, and being here with me.”

Lando kissed your forehead gently. “It was an amazing night, to be honest. I’m really glad that your family welcomed me with open arms.” You turned to face him, hands on his nape and caressing his lovely curls. “It mean everything to me. Tonight was more than just a charity event—it was the beginning of something new for us, and it was perfect.”

He gently leaned towards you, connecting your foreheads together, soon enough you both found yourselves softly kissing each other. You broke the kiss and looked at him softly, he leaned down again stealing a few kisses, and peppering you with kisses all over your face, causing both of you to giggle.

“Do you want to go walk around the estate? I have yet to give you a tour, but we can do that tomorrow.” You said as he nodded.

When you left the ballroom, the event was already winding down. You decided to take off your heels as Lando grabbed it, clutching it on his other hand and the other was intertwined with your hand, walking comfortably barefoot on the grass. Soon enough, you were walking hand in hand through the estate, savoring the peaceful end to a significant evening.

The introduction to your family and friends had been a milestone, making a new chapter in your relationship where your love was celebrated and cherished. The future was bright, and together, you were ready to embrace whatever comes next.

MALLORCA

The Mediterranean sun cast a warm glow over the stunning island of Mallorca, where you and Lando decided to take a much needed break after the stressful Belgian Grand Prix, and you had made a few rules during the vacation, where it is strictly no talking about the race or any race in prticular, since you are here to unwind and have fun. You’ve got three weeks with him as you are hell bent on spending every second of it with Lando.

The trip was more than just a getaway, it was an another big step for both of you. It had been decided that you both are ready to take the next step—you were ready to make your relationship public, a decision that you both had mulled over carefully. With the support of your families, who were joining you on the island for a joint vacation, you felt that it was the right moment to share your happiness with the world.

Mallorca’s breathtaking landscapes provided the perfect backdrop and the crystal-clear water are looking so majestic across the horizon. The charming villas that your family owns has set the stage for a trip that was both picturesque and intimate. This joint family vacations had been considered as a tradition for both of your families, so all of you were pretty much excited about the vacation and the idea of relaxation and joy.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden hue over the island, so you and Lando decided to stroll along the beach. Hand in hand, you walked slowly, savoring the moment and the beauty of the surroundings. The beach was relatively quiet, with only a few other tourists scattered around, which gave you both the privacy you needed before breaking the internet with your posts.

With the backdrop of the sun dipping below the horizon, you and Lando decided to pose for a series of photos. In each shot, you were close, sharing smiles and laughter that spoke volumes, the affection that you both have for each other is genuine. You both decided to post it together, and once the post was already up, you immediately closed the instagram app and turned off your phone. The post was already enough, and now it’s time to enjoy the remaining days of the Mallorca trip, and maybe hop onto another trip with, just the two of you.

The trip continued with a sense of lightness and freedom. With the world now aware of your relationship, you and lando were able to enjoy each other’s company without the weight of secrecy, not to mention the excitement that you felt when you realize that you’ll be able to freely spend time with each other in public without any restraints. The vacatiom continued on, filled with never ending laughter, shared experiences, and deep connections with both your families.

On the final day of your trip, you and Lando were sat down on a yacht. You were leaning on him and watching the sun set in the Mallorcan sky, feeling both a sense of contentment and excitement for the future.

“It feels so good to finally share this with everyone,” Lando said, his hand resting gently on your waist and caressing it gently.

“I couldn’t agree more,” you replied, looking up to him, to find out that he was already looking at you. “It’s a new beginning for us, and I’m beyond happy to have you by my side.” He smiled at you, gently leaning and kissing you softly.

You stood up from the seat and removed your see through robe that was covering your bikini, “tag, you’re it. Catch me when you can!” Tagging him right on the chest and jumping off the yacht.

“Oh it’s on, sweetheart!” He laughed, following quickly right after you and jumping off the water.

It was a perfect ending to a perfect week, with your families around you, sharing in the joy of your relationship and the beauty of the island, it was clear that this trip had been more than just a vacation—it was a celebration of love, new beginnings, and the support of those who mattered most.

landonorris

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landonorris i once believed love would be black and white, but it’s golden ❤️

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ynauerbach i love you so much 🥺❤️ now pls come back and cuddle me, i miss you ♡ liked by landonorris

landonorris i love you more and i’m on my way as we speak!! 🏃🏻💨 ♡ liked by ynauerbach

carlossainz55 finally. congratulations to you two! you know very well what will happen if you break her heart, cabron. so don’t even think about it 😁 ♡ liked by landonorris

landonorris HEY…i know 😞

charles_leclerc FIA be damned, but congrats you two love birds 😍😍😍😍😍 ♡ liked by landonorris

username1 hoLD AWN 🤚🏻

username2 god, i’ve seen what you’ve done to others. when will it me my turn 💔

mclaren our papaya queen! 🧡 ♡ liked by landonorris

oscarpiastri how little lando norris bagged THE youngest auerbach, we will never know. but hey, congrats! ♡ liked by landonorris

landonorris what can i say, i have god tier charms. a definite rizz god if i say so myself 😎

oscarpiastri highly debatable, but ok. you do you mate

oscarpiastri also lily wants to do a double date, she told me to tell you

username3 wait…auerbach??? THE auerbachs??? THE Y/N AUERBACH????

username4 lando is dating the youngest and only daughter of the auerbachs 🥹

username5 OUH THE POWER THAT THIS COUPLE HOLDS IS INSANE

username6 HES ON HIS LOVER ERA AND IM HERE FOR IT

alex_albon congrats mate! ♡ liked by landonorris

landonorris thanks mate!

maxfewtrell finally. you can’t stop yapping about her 24/7 ever since you two talked for the first time back in miami ♡ liked by landonorris

landonorris stop exposing me here SHHH

ynauerbach oh???? don’t worry, it’s kinda cute hehe

landonorris 🥰🥰🥰🥰

maxfewtrell simp

username7 MIAMI?! THAT WAS LIKE MONTHS AGO OMG SO UR TELLING ME THAT THEY HAD ALREADY BEEN DATING SINCE MIAMI GP?! 🥹

username8 i’m impressed they were able to keep everything private

twitter posts

ynauerbach

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ynauerbach and all at once, you are the one i have been waiting for. king of my heart, body and soul 💘

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landonorris and all at once, you’re all i want, i’ll never let you go, queen of my heart ❤️ ♡ liked by ynauerbach

ynauerbach hnwshsh I LOVE YOU 😩🥺❤️ ♡ liked by landonorris

charles_leclerc 😍😍😍😍 ♡ liked by ynauerbach

alexandrasaintmleux FINALLY! the ship has sailed (it’s been sailing for a long time but whatever!) ♡ liked by ynauerbach

username9 BABE WAKE UP!! NEW LANDO SUMMER PIC JUST DROPPED

username10 EVERYBODY SAY THANK YOU Y/N FOR THE NEW LANDO SUMMER PIC

iamrebeccad triple date soon!! ♡ liked by ynauerbach

theo.auerbach Don’t forget about the family dinner tomorrow. Be there or be square. ♡ liked by ynauerbach

ynauerbach I KNOOW. ‘Be there of be square’…what are you? A ten year old? 😭😭😭

username11 the lyrics change in lando’s comment to match y/n’s caption 🥹❤️

username12 and they say chivalry is dead…

username13 hold on tight girlies, we’re gonna be FED with lando and y/n content this summer break 🤩

isabellaalcarazauerbach My babies! You two are very very cute, mi vida. I cannot wait to see you both again soon! ♡ liked by ynauerbach

ynauerbach thanks, mom!! i love you and i’ll see you very soon 💘 ♡ liked by isabellaalcarazauercbach

ynauerbach ouh, we’ll see you tomorrow for the family dinner 🤩 ♡ liked by isabellaalcarazauerbach

username14 MY PARENTS

username15 YNLANDO STANS AND SHOOTERS ALL RISE!!

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mya-valentine · 1 month ago

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Headcanon: The Harbingers With an Naive S/O

Pierro

As the leader of the Harbingers, Pierro takes his role seriously, and when he realizes how naive you are, his protective instincts kick in. He often shields you from the darker side of Fatui affairs, keeping you in the dark about the more ruthless aspects of their operations. He wants to preserve your innocence as much as possible, which is a rare sentiment from someone as cold and calculated as Pierro.

While Pierro is usually stern and emotionless, your purity softens him. He finds solace in your presence and enjoys your simple outlook on life. It reminds him of a time before he became the harbinger of destruction and chaos.

Pierro knows that you're easy to mislead, so he's always careful with his words. He makes sure to explain things in a way that won’t overwhelm you, but also so you don’t ask too many dangerous questions. You remain blissfully unaware of just how much blood is on his hands, and Pierro likes it that way.

Pierro would never admit it, but he goes out of his way to ensure you’re kept far from harm, even if you’re unaware of it. He’s constantly working behind the scenes to remove threats before they even come close to you. His protectiveness is subtle, often disguised as him merely sending you off on errands or encouraging you to remain in safer areas.

Your innocence reminds Pierro of a time long ago when he might have been less cynical, less ruthless. Though he’s a deeply strategic man, your presence softens his edges, even if only in private moments. Your belief in the good of the world makes him occasionally question if he could have chosen a different path.

Capitano

Capitano, a figure known for his strength and valor, finds your innocence strangely calming. His life is filled with battle and bloodshed, so your pure and untainted perspective offers him a rare moment of tranquility. When he’s with you, he can leave behind his role as a warrior and simply enjoy a more peaceful existence.

Capitano doesn’t need to say much to keep you safe. His mere presence is enough to intimidate anyone who might seek to harm or take advantage of you. He’s always watching over you, even when you think you’re alone. You might not understand why people give you a wide berth when Capitano is around, but that’s exactly how he prefers it.

Despite his intimidating appearance and harsh exterior, Capitano is surprisingly gentle with you. He’ll place a hand on your shoulder or give you a small nod of approval, small gestures that show he cares without overwhelming you. He knows you’re fragile in comparison to the life he leads, so he treats you like something precious and irreplaceable.

Capitano sees you as something pure that he must protect at all costs. Though he’s known for his unwavering dedication to his duties, your presence gives him a deeper sense of purpose. He fights not just for the Fatui but to create a world where someone like you can remain safe and untouched by cruelty.

Anyone who dares try to manipulate or harm you faces Capitano’s full wrath. He is known for his brutal efficiency in battle, but when it comes to you, that intensity amplifies tenfold. He won’t let anyone or anything threaten your safety or corrupt your innocence. You’re like a rare treasure in his life, one he will guard until his last breath.

Dottore

Dottore is utterly fascinated by your innocence, finding it almost incomprehensible. He often prods you with curious questions, eager to see how your mind works compared to his twisted genius. To him, you’re an anomaly—someone who hasn’t yet been tainted by the world.

Though Dottore cares for you in his own twisted way, he can’t help but toy with your naivety. He might tell you wild, untrue stories just to see your reactions, reveling in how easily you believe him. Despite this, he’s careful not to push you too far; he enjoys having you around too much to truly break your spirit.

While Dottore is amused by your innocence, he’s also fiercely possessive. He doesn’t want anyone else corrupting you, so he’ll make sure you’re always by his side or at least under his watchful eye. If another Harbinger tries to take advantage of your naivety, Dottore’s wrath is swift and brutal.

Dottore, being a man of science and curiosity, is constantly intrigued by your innocence. He wonders how someone like you could exist in such a ruthless world, and sometimes he treats your naivety like an experiment—observing how you react to various stimuli and situations. Though his fascination might be clinical, there’s an underlying protectiveness as well.

Despite his twisted nature, Dottore secretly cares about you. He might create devices or gadgets designed to keep you safe or unaware of the more gruesome aspects of his work. You might think his inventions are just fun toys or tools to make your life easier, but in reality, they’re carefully crafted to protect you from the darker side of his experiments.

Scaramouche

Scaramouche is initially confused by your innocence. Part of him finds it frustrating—he’s used to manipulation and cruelty, so your pure-hearted nature baffles him. However, over time, he begins to appreciate it. You represent something he can never have: a sense of untainted goodness.

Scaramouche, who is typically sharp-tongued and cynical, finds your naivety both amusing and endearing. He’s quick to mock you playfully, throwing sarcastic remarks your way when you fail to notice something obvious or overlook the harshness of reality. Yet, despite his teasing, he never crosses a line. There’s a strange softness in the way he treats you compared to others, even if he tries to hide it.

Despite his cruel nature, Scaramouche becomes fiercely protective of your innocence. He views it as something precious—something no one has the right to taint. While he may mock your naivety, he won’t let anyone else take advantage of it. If someone attempts to manipulate or hurt you, Scaramouche’s wrath is quick and brutal, leaving no doubt that you are under his protection.

Your innocence frustrates Scaramouche at times because it represents everything he’s lost—trust, hope, and belief in others. Yet, that same purity draws him in, creating a tension within himself. He doesn’t want you to lose your naive worldview, but at the same time, he’s terrified that one day, the cruel world will break you as it did him.

Scaramouche isn’t someone who shows open affection, especially not in front of others. However, when you’re alone, he’ll allow himself small gestures—a hand placed gently on your head or a brief moment where he’ll sit close to you in silence. It’s his way of saying that he cares, even if he’ll never say it outright.

Pantalone

Pantalone adores your naive nature, finding it endearing in a world where everyone else is driven by greed and ambition. He uses his vast wealth to spoil you, gifting you extravagant things just to see the look of pure joy on your face. He never lets you worry about the cost or where the money comes from—it’s all part of his plan to keep you blissfully unaware.

While Pantalone manipulates nearly everyone around him, he goes out of his way to shield you from the corruption that runs deep in the Fatui. He sees you as something too delicate for the brutal world he operates in and prefers to keep you in a bubble of luxury and comfort, far from the cutthroat politics of the Harbingers.

Pantalone ensures that no harm comes to you by leveraging his financial influence. If anyone dares to target you or tries to take advantage of your innocence, they quickly find themselves on the wrong side of his wealth and power. He’ll ruin them financially and ensure that their downfall is swift and complete.

Pantalone is a master manipulator, but when it comes to you, he keeps his darker dealings carefully hidden. He never wants you to see the ruthless side of his business, believing you’re better off living in blissful ignorance. He’ll go to great lengths to ensure you remain unaware of the moral gray areas he operates in.

Pantalone takes great joy in watching you light up when he surprises you with something extravagant, whether it’s a beautiful piece of jewelry or a rare collectible. He views your happiness as a reflection of his success, and he goes out of his way to provide for you in every possible way. Your innocent joy is one of the few things that can genuinely warm his cold heart.

Childe

Childe finds your naivety absolutely adorable. He loves to tease you, often making exaggerated claims or telling you about his exploits in a way that makes you blush or gasp in surprise. However, underneath all that playfulness, Childe is fiercely protective of you. He won’t let anyone else toy with your innocence.

Childe thrives on showing off in front of you, especially when he knows you’re easily impressed. Whether it’s through his combat prowess or his adventurous stories, he loves the way your eyes widen in awe. Your naive admiration boosts his ego, and he’s more than happy to be your hero.

Despite his love for battle, Childe would never want to expose you to the darker aspects of his life. He’ll always keep you far from the frontlines, ensuring you only see the more exciting, less dangerous parts of his adventures. In his eyes, you’re someone worth protecting at all costs, and he won’t let anything or anyone change that.

Childe finds it endlessly amusing when you ask innocent, naive questions about his work or the Fatui’s operations. He’ll often give you simplified answers, sometimes throwing in a bit of embellishment to make himself seem even more impressive. Your wide-eyed belief in his stories makes him feel like the most important person in the world.

While Childe’s real work is far too dangerous for you, he often takes you on smaller, safer "adventures." These outings are carefully curated so you never see the true violence of his life, but they’re thrilling enough to keep you entertained. Whether it’s exploring a quiet forest or pretending to train with him, Childe enjoys showing off his skills in a way that keeps you feeling safe and awed by him.

Masterlist

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nottsbitch · 3 months ago

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The Alchemy - T.N.

Based on the Taylor Swift song

✩✩✩✩

To say that you were stressed was an understatement. You were currently in your seat at the Quidditch World Cup, where your boyfriend, Theo, was about to begin playing the biggest game of his career.

“Calm down, would you?” came from Draco on your left. Next to him was Daphne, and on the other side of you were Blaise and Pansy.

You glanced around at your friends, their presence offering a mix of comfort and distraction. Draco, with his usual air of nonchalance, was trying to ease your nerves, while Daphne’s calm smile was a soothing contrast to the chaotic energy of the stadium. Blaise and Pansy were on the other side of you, their faces set with a mix of anticipation and support.

“I’m trying,” you said, gripping the edge of your seat. “But it’s easier said than done.”

Pansy leaned in, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “You know, I’ve seen Theo practice, and he’s exceptional. If anyone can handle this pressure, it’s him.”

Blaise nodded in agreement. “Pansy’s right. Theo’s worked incredibly hard to get here. Just focus on the game. He’ll give it his all.”

Draco gave you a reassuring pat on the back. “Remember, it’s just a game. It’s important, yes, but it’s not the end of the world. He’s already made a huge achievement by getting this far.”

Daphne’s voice was steady and calming. “And no matter what happens, you’re all here to support him. That’s what matters most.”

As the announcer’s voice boomed, signaling the start of the match, the stadium’s roar grew louder, drowning out all other sounds. The players took their positions, and you watched, heart racing, as the game began.

Draco, Daphne, Blaise, and Pansy cheered enthusiastically as the teams flew across the pitch. The intensity of the game was reflected in their faces—Draco’s eyes were sharp and focused, Daphne’s were filled with quiet confidence, Blaise was almost vibrating with energy, and Pansy was practically bouncing in her seat.

The match was competitive, with both teams demonstrating incredible skill. Theo’s team was holding their own, but it was clear the game was going to be a nail-biter. Every goal, every maneuver, every close call had you on edge.

At one particularly tense moment, Draco turned to you with a grin. “Remember how you said you didn’t want to be here for this? You’re doing great.”

You managed a shaky laugh. “I think I’m the only one who’s more nervous than he is.”

Blaise chimed in, “That’s probably because you care so much. It’s a good thing. Theo's lucky.”

The game continued with relentless energy. The Seeker from Theo’s team was weaving through players, searching for the elusive Golden Snitch. The tension was palpable as the Seeker and the Snitch seemed to be locked in an almost eternal dance.

Then, in a flash of gold and green, the Seeker’s hand closed around the Snitch. The whistle blew, and the crowd erupted into a thunderous cheer. The match was over, and Theo’s team had won.

You jumped up, your emotions spilling over as you celebrated with Draco, Daphne, Blaise, and Pansy. The sense of shared joy and relief was overwhelming. Theo’s victory was not just his; it was a testament to the support and belief of everyone who had been with him on this journey.

In that instant of triumph, the world seemed to narrow down to one person—Theo. The moment he saw the Snitch in the Seeker’s hand, his eyes locked on yours, cutting through the chaos and noise of the celebration.

With his heart pounding and adrenaline coursing through him, Theo pushed through the crowd of players and supporters. Every step was a surge of pure focus as he sought you out. His face was a picture of exhilaration and relief, his eyes scanning the stands until they found you.

Ignoring everything else, Theo sprinted towards you, his gaze never wavering. As he reached you, he threw his arms around you, pulling you into him. Before you could say anything his hands were on your face pulling you in for a long-awaited kiss. When you pulled away his breath was heavy and quick, his voice trembling with emotion.

“I did it! We did it!” he shouted, his voice choked with tears of happiness.

You hugged him tightly, tears streaming down your face. “You were incredible! I knew you could do it!”

Theo held you close, his eyes shining with the intensity of the moment. “I couldn’t have done this without you. This trophy is ours.”

Draco, Daphne, Blaise, and Pansy joined you, their cheers blending with everyone else's in the stadium. “We wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Daphne said warmly.

Pansy nodded, her eyes sparkling. “You were amazing out there. This is a dream come true!”

Blaise clapped Theo on the back, grinning broadly. “You’ve earned this moment. Enjoy every second!”

As the celebration continued around you, the sense of joy and accomplishment was overwhelming. But you couldn't focus on anything beside the man next to you and the smile on his face.

✩✩✩✩

#hp universe #theo nott imagine #slytherin #enzo berkshire #draco malfoy #tom riddle #theo nott #slytherin boys #matteo riddle #harry potter #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott one shot #theodore nott imagine

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03jyh23 · 7 months ago

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— starlight, guide light, and everything in between || jeong yunho

In the quiet moments of parenthood, amidst the tears and the laughter, we find strength in each other's arms, and love that knows no bounds.

first-time dad!yunho x first-time mom!reader

genre: angst, fluff

trigger warnings: infant distress/crying; illegitimate child; parental anxiety/panic; emotional distress; breastfeeding; postpartum experiences

words: 3.8 k

reminder: what you're about to read is purely fiction, so let's keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there! the time has finally come, and im publishing my first Yunho fic 🥹 lately, some kind of maternal instinct seems to have awakened in me, and i had to get it out somehow 😭😭 i guess im getting old. just to clarify, i haven't given birth myself or have kids, so this fic is solely written based on my imagination of what it might feel like postpartum.

love, monika. ♡

if you enjoyed this post, i'd be so grateful for a little love – a like, reblog or comment would truly make my day!

You were dozing off wrapped in Yunho’s arms, your head in the crook of his neck, his smell calming your tired body. Your eyes were heavy, and it was getting harder to fight sleep. His hand was creasing your sides softly, lulling you to sleep. Being curled up on top of your boyfriend was your favorite place on earth. There was something incredibly comforting about being wrapped up in Yunho’s arms, feeling his warmth and steady heartbeat. It's like your own little sanctuary, a safe place where you can let go of all your worries and just be present in the moment. And falling asleep like that, with the gentle rhythm of Yunho's breathing and the soft touch of his hand, felt like drifting off into a dreamland.

It was a little over a month since your life was turned upside down when your little daughter was born. In that short period, every aspect of your world had shifted, reshaped by the arrival of this tiny, precious bundle of joy. The days had blurred together in a whirlwind of feedings, diaper changes, and sleepless nights. Yet amidst the chaos, there were moments of pure magic—how your daughter's eyes would light up with wonder at the world around her, the soft coos and gurgles that melted your heart, and the overwhelming sense of love that filled every corner of your home. But alongside the joy, there were also moments of doubt and uncertainty. Yunho, however, was deeply scared and anxious about becoming a father to a daughter. The mere thought of holding the fragile little being, feeding her, or changing her, filled him with a sense of fear and hesitation. It almost seemed like he was unable, or unwilling, to form an emotional bond with the newborn. This emotional disconnect was not just limited to the baby. Ever since you gave birth, a sense of apprehension and fear had gripped him. It was as if he was afraid to hold you, to touch you, and to confront the changes that your body had undergone postpartum.

The vulnerability that came with postpartum recovery was like nothing you had ever experienced before. Your body felt foreign, every movement was accompanied by a dull ache, a reminder of the physical toll that bringing your daughter into the world had exacted. But it wasn't just the physical changes that left you feeling vulnerable—it was the emotional upheaval as well. The hormonal fluctuations, the sleep deprivation, the overwhelming responsibility of caring for a newborn—all of it combined to create a perfect storm of doubt and insecurity. In those moments of vulnerability, you had expected Yunho to be your rock, your unwavering source of support and comfort. Yet, his actions—or rather, his lack of them—left you feeling more alone than ever. His hesitation to hold your daughter, and his reluctance to look at your postpartum body, all served as a painful reminder of your perceived shortcomings as a mother and a partner. You couldn't help but wonder if Yunho found you unlovable now if the changes wrought by childbirth had somehow diminished your worth in his eyes. It was a cruel thought, born out of fear and insecurity, but it lingered nonetheless, festering like an open wound in your heart. You couldn't help but feel a sense of helplessness wash over you. The distance between you and your boyfriend felt insurmountable, a gaping chasm that threatened to swallow you whole.

That's why today's little nap meant everything to you. For the first time since the birth of Yunmi, Yunho was holding you like this, providing you with the comfort and warmth you longed for.

"Wait, did you hear that?" Yunho’s soft voice disrupted your nap. Not in your right state of mind yet, you just hummed against his neck, your eyes not opening even for a second. With a gentle hand, Yunho shifted you slightly, allowing himself to slip out from beneath your embrace. As he rose from the bed, you blinked groggily, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep that clung to your senses.

"What is it?" you murmured, your voice thick with sleep. Yunho's expression was one of quiet concern as he motioned towards the crib.

"I think she's awake," he whispered, his tone barely audible in the dimly lit room. Your exhaustion weighed heavily on every limb, making even the simplest tasks seem daunting. With a weariness that seemed to seep into your bones, you clung to the pillows, seeking refuge in their soft embrace.

"Could you get her?" you whispered, your voice barely above a hoarse murmur, as you heard the soft cry emanating from the crib. You mustered all your strength to sit up and shake off the tiredness as you looked at Yunho standing still next to the crib, almost as if he was unable to move any closer. Each cry felt like a dagger to your heart, a reminder of your inability to provide the comfort that your daughter so desperately needed.

"I think it's better if you take her," he said, his voice devoid of emotion, his gaze fixed on the wall as if unwilling to meet your eyes. The words struck you like a slap in the face, igniting a firestorm of indignation deep within your chest. Yunho's refusal to take Yunmi stirred a storm of emotions within you. Anger, frustration, hurt—all of it boiled beneath the surface, threatening to spill over at any moment. How could he still refuse to take responsibility for his own daughter? How could he stand there, staring blankly ahead, while you bore the brunt of exhaustion and fatigue?

"Yunho, how can you—" you began as you stood up from the bed, your voice trembling with emotion, but the words caught in your throat, choked off by the weight of your anger and hurt. Tears welled in your eyes, hot and stinging, as you struggled to contain the torrent of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. As you approached the crib, your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you fought to maintain control. You leaned over the crib to take Yunmi into your arms and care for her. With a shaky breath, you turned away from Yunho, cradling your daughter close to your chest as you retreated to the living room. You weren't surprised that Yunho stayed behind in the bedroom, his presence a silent reminder of the distance that had grown between you. With a heavy heart, you settled onto the couch, cradling Yunmi in your arms as you prepared to breastfeed her. Your daughter's eyelids drooped as she nursed, the weight of exhaustion finally catching up to her. With each gentle suckle, she grew more and more drowsy, her tiny fingers curling against your skin in a gesture of contentment. As you watched her drift off to sleep, a pang of guilt tugged at your heart. You had expected Yunho to be there for you, to support you through the challenges of motherhood, yet time and time again, he had fallen short of your expectations. Yunmi finally drifted off to sleep, her tiny chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. With a weary sigh, you leaned back against the pillows, holding your daughter close as you closed your eyes, allowing the exhaustion of the day to finally claim you.

You opened your eyes to see Yunho carefully lifting your daughter from your arms, his movements a mix of awkwardness and tenderness. Despite his initial hesitance, there was a determination in the way he cradled her against his chest as if he wanted to make up for any shortcomings. As he tiptoed back into the bedroom, you couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth in your heart. Despite the challenges you faced, seeing Yunho taking care of your daughter for what you believed was the first time, filled you with hope for the future. You listened as Yunho gently placed your daughter in her crib, his voice humming a soft lullaby as he tucked her in. Drifting back to sleep, you were roused once more by Yunho's quiet voice emanating from the bedroom.

"I have so much I want to say to you," he whispered, his voice barely above a hushed murmur. Yunho gazed down at Yunmi, her small form tucked snugly into her crib, her chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep. ''I'm so sorry for letting you, and your mommy down since day one...'' A sense of awe washed over him as he watched his daughter, the weight of his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "You're my little starlight, and I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. Yunmi is Daddy's precious, shining light in the darkness." He reached out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from her forehead, his touch feather-light against her soft skin. "Daddy is really so sorry," he continued, his voice thick with emotion. "Sorry for all the times I've been afraid, for all the moments I've missed. I want you to know that I love you more than anything in this world, and I'll do whatever it takes to be the father you deserve." As he spoke, he felt a surge of love and determination welling up inside him, a newfound sense of purpose ignited by the presence of his daughter. In her innocent slumber, he saw the promise of a future filled with endless possibilities, a future that he vowed to protect and nurture with all his heart. "I may not have all the answers, and I will make mistakes along the way," he whispered, his voice trembling with sincerity. "But I promise to always be here for you, to love you unconditionally, and to cherish every moment we share." With a tender smile, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin for a moment longer. "I love you and Mommy so much. Sleep well, my little starlight," he whispered his voice a soft lullaby that filled the bedroom with warmth and love. "And know that Daddy will always be here, watching over you, every step of the way. From now on Daddy will do his best." As Yunho's words echoed in the quiet of the apartment, you felt a mix of emotions welling up inside you, threatening to overflow. Tears streamed down your face, unnoticed in the darkness, as a tumultuous storm of feelings raged within your heart. Anger simmered beneath the surface, directed not at Yunho, but at yourself. How could you have been so blind to his struggles, so oblivious to the pain he had been carrying? You berated yourself for not recognizing the signs sooner, for not being there for him when he needed you most. But amidst the anger, there was also a profound sense of relief—a weight lifting from your shoulders as you finally understood the depth of Yunho's feelings. For the first time since your daughter was born, you felt truly connected to him, bound together by the shared experience of parenthood and the raw vulnerability of exposing one's innermost fears. And beneath it all, there was love—a love that transcended words and actions, a love that bound you together despite the challenges you faced. Despite the tears and the turmoil, there was a sense of gratitude in knowing that you were not alone—that together, you could weather any storm that came your way.

A little while later, you heard Yunho returning to the living room, his footsteps soft against the floor. A pang of guilt tugged at your heart as you pretended to be asleep, not wanting him to know that you had overheard his heartfelt words to your daughter. You quickly wiped your tears, and kept your breathing slow and steady, willing yourself to remain still as Yunho approached the couch. Soon, his arms enveloped you in a gentle embrace, lifting you bridal-style and carrying you back to your shared bedroom. Settling you onto the bed, he tucked you in with care, ensuring you were comfortable before gently placing the duvet over you. His touch was tender, his actions speaking volumes of his love and devotion. Yunho pressed down a warm kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment against your skin.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion against your forehead. "I'm just so scared to be a father," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. "Scared to hurt her, to make mistakes that she'll never forgive." You felt the weight of his fear pressing down on you, his vulnerability laying bare the depths of his insecurities. With each word, it was as if a window had been opened to his soul, revealing the raw, unfiltered truth of his innermost thoughts and feelings. "I want to be the best father I can be, but... but what if I'm not enough?" His voice cracked with the weight of his uncertainty, his words echoing in the stillness of the room. And then, you felt it—a single tear falling onto your temple, a silent testament to the depth of his pain and fear. In that moment, your heart broke for him, for the struggles he faced and the burdens he carried. "And you," Yunho continued, his voice trembling with emotion, "you've been amazing since day one. I've watched you, seen the way you care for her with such love and devotion. It's like you were born to be a mother, and... and I can't help but feel like I'm falling short." Yunho longed to be the pillar of support you needed, the rock upon which your family could lean in times of trouble. But with each passing day, the weight of his insecurities grew heavier, threatening to crush him beneath their burden. "I'm still so afraid," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper now. "Afraid of letting you down, of letting Yunmi down. But I promise, I'll keep trying. I'll do whatever it takes to be the father she deserves, even if... even if it scares me to my core." In the darkness of the bedroom, his words hung heavy in the air. "I love you so much, Y/N, and I will do better, I will be the support you need." Yunho's voice broke through the silence once again, his words filled with sincerity and remorse.

"And I love you," you finally whispered, your voice filled with tenderness and affection. With a gentle touch, you reached out to wipe away the tears that streaked Yunho's cheeks, your fingers tracing the contours of his face with utmost care.

"You've been awake the entire time?" Yunho's voice broke the silence, his words carrying a mixture of surprise and relief. A shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips, a hint of uncertainty in his gaze as he met your eyes. You returned his smile, the warmth of his presence washing over you like a gentle breeze.

"Yes," you admitted softly, your voice filled with understanding. "I heard everything." There was no judgment in your words, no recrimination for his vulnerability. Instead, there was only acceptance—a shared acknowledgment of the complexities of love and the struggles that came with it. Yunho's smile widened, a sense of gratitude shining in his eyes.

"Thank you for listening," he whispered, his lips placing yet another kiss on your forehead. "And for being here with me." You reached out to him, your hand finding his in the darkness, a silent reassurance of your love and support.

"Always," you whispered, your voice filled with unwavering devotion. "I'll always be here for you, Yunho. Through thick and thin." Yunho creased your cheek gently, his eyes never leaving yours. "And now get under the covers with me," you giggled mischievously, reaching out to pull Yunho close by his neck. With a playful tug, you caught him off guard, pulling him towards you until he landed on top of you with a soft thud. Yunho's eyes widened in surprise, a startled laugh escaping his lips as he found himself sprawled across the bed, his gaze locked with yours.

"You little trickster," he chuckled, his voice filled with amusement as he shifted to settle beside you under the covers. With a grin, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close until your bodies were pressed together in a warm embrace. The feel of his warmth against your skin sent a shiver of delight down your spine, a feeling of contentment settling over you like a soft blanket. "I haven't kissed you in forever," Yunho murmured, his voice laced with longing as he gazed into your eyes with a mixture of affection and desire. A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your heart fluttering at the thought of his lips against yours.

"Then what are you waiting for?" you teased as you leaned in closer to him. With a tender touch, Yunho cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin as he drew you closer to him. And then, with a gentle tilt of his head, his lips met yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. At that moment, as you melted into each other's embrace, time seemed to stand still. The world faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the warmth and intimacy of the moment. As you pulled away, breathless and flushed with emotion, you felt a sense of completeness wash over you—a reminder that no matter how long it had been since your last kiss, the love you shared was as strong and passionate as ever. A playful sparkle danced in your eyes as you posed the question, your curiosity piqued by Yunho's endearing nickname for your daughter.

"If she's your starlight, then what does it make me?" you asked, a teasing lilt to your voice as you awaited his response. Yunho's gaze softened as he looked at you, a tender smile gracing his lips.

"You," he said softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection, "you're my guiding light. The one that leads me home, no matter how lost I may feel." Your boyfriend's words washed over you like a gentle caress, filling you with a sense of warmth and love. With a smile of your own, you leaned in closer to him, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude.

"And you," you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, "you're my everything." And as you melted into each other's embrace, surrounded by the quiet intimacy of the night, you knew that no matter what the future held, as long as you had each other, you could weather any storm that came your way.

The sound of Yunmi's cries pierced through the tranquility of the night, pulling you from the depths of sleep with a jolt. You moved to rise from the bed, instinctively driven to tend to your daughter's needs. But before you could fully untangle yourself from the sheets, Yunho's firm grip on your arm halted your movements.

"I'll get her," he murmured, his voice filled with determination as he gently pulled you back towards the bed. You hesitated for a moment, torn between the instinctual urge to rush to Yunmi's side and the desire to trust Yunho to handle the situation. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw a steely resolve there—a determination to prove himself as a capable dad, despite his fears and insecurities. With a silent nod, you allowed yourself to sink back onto the bed, the warmth of Yunho's presence comforting you as you watched him rise to tend to your daughter. As he crossed the room to Yunmi's crib, you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride welling up within you—a recognition of the strength and courage it took for him to step up and take on the role of caregiver. Yunho took her in his arms, gently and tenderly, almost as if he were afraid that his touch alone might hurt her. He held Yunmi close to his chest, rocking gently from side to side, he tried to calm his daughter, yet Yunho's panic escalated as Yunmi's cries persisted, his worry evident in the trembling of his hands and the furrow of his brow.

"Is she okay?" he asked, his voice tight with anxiety.

"She's probably just hungry," you reassured him gently as you stood up for the bed, understanding the depth of his concern. But before you could offer to nurse her yourself, Yunho's response caught you off guard.

"Oh..." he trailed off, his voice filled with uncertainty. "I can't breastfeed her," he murmured, the realization dawning on him as he grappled with the limitations of his role as a father. You reached out to him, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

"It's okay, baby," you assured him softly. "There are other ways you can help soothe her. We can prepare a bottle together, or you can hold her close while I feed her. What's important is that we're both here for her." Yunho nodded, his eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and gratitude.

"Thank you," Yunho whispered, his voice filled with emotion as he passed Yunmi gently into your arms, his eyes still big with worry. "Should I prepare a bottle for her?" You smiled softly at his eagerness to help, appreciating his willingness to step up despite his initial panic.

"I think I'll just breastfeed her for now," you replied, your voice gentle and reassuring. "But thank you for offering." Yunho nodded, a sense of relief washing over him as he watched you cradle Yunmi close, the familiarity of the bond between mother and daughter bringing him a sense of comfort. As you settled into the comfortable position, you nursed Yunmi, Yunho remained by your side, offering silent support and encouragement. As you nursed Yunmi, the gentle rhythm of her feeding lulled both her and Yunho into a peaceful slumber. The soft sounds of her contented suckling mixed with the steady beat of their breathing, creating a tranquil symphony that filled the room. With Yunmi cradled in your arms and Yunho nestled close beside you, you felt a profound sense of contentment wash over you. The warmth of their bodies against yours, the softness of their breath against your skin—it was a moment of pure serenity, a snapshot of the quiet joy that parenthood brought. You allowed yourself to bask in the tranquility of the moment, relishing the feeling of being surrounded by the ones you loved most in the world. In the soft glow of the morning light, you watched over them with a heart full of love, knowing that in this simple embrace, you had everything you ever needed.

"Be patient with him. He's trying," you whispered to your daughter, the words soft and tender as you gazed down at her sleeping form.

#ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez fanfic #ateez au #ateez fluff #yunho x y/n #yunho x reader #ateez yunho x reader #yunho fluff #yunho angst #yunho #jeong yunho #yunho ateez

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ponderingmoonlight · 1 year ago

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gojo x wife! y/n where megumi slips up and calls y/n mom since she helped raise him and gojo starts thinking about how they would be as parents?

Got ya! Love this request, hope you enjoy <3

Megumi accidentally calling Satoru's wife "mum"

Pairing: Gojo x wife!reader

Word Count: 1,4k

Synopsis: basically the request above lol

Warnings: this is pure fluff so enjoy, wrote this on my way to Disneyland so look over any spelling mistakes lol

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul

Megumi always admired your tenderness. Since the day he met you when he was just a kid, you have grown on him like no one else. It seemed like you genuinely cared about him and his sister throughout this entire time, standing up for him when needed while leaving him for rest when he wasn’t in the mood to talk.

Despite being the longtime girlfriend and now wife of a chaotic person like Gojo Satoru, you never lost your spark, your cool temper, your striking beauty. You are simply always the (y/n) he knows and secretly admires from head to toe. He never truly admitted it, but to him, you are like a mother, one of the most important people in his life, the pivotal point of his decisions.

It shouldn’t have been such a big surprise then when he accidentally called you mom in front of basically everyone.

A brief moment of thoughtlessness in the middle of pure chaos. He didn’t put much thought into his words until they eventually slipped off his tongue with no turning back.

“Can we talk about this later mom?”

Gojo stand right by your side, hand casually placed around your hip like usual when his eyes dart towards Megumi immediately. Did he hear that correctly? Did Megumi-chan just call you “mom”?

“What did you just say, Megumi-chan?”

Fuck fuck fuck. A wave of embarrassment rolls over Megumi immediately, gaze fixed to the ground. He just called you mom. Fuck, he just called you mom! Not only in front of Gojo, but Yuji, Nanami and Nobara. This is bad. Very very bad.

“Megumi…”, you breathe out, tears stinging in your eyes immediately.

While you were always keen to give Megumi the best life possible in this cruel world, you never imagined that he’d see you as someone this important in his life. You it’s not always easy, living with Satoru and you. After all, he is the most chaotic person you know while you are the complete opposite of him. It never seemed as if Megumi enjoyed your company this much. While staying with you more than with Satoru, nothing like that ever slipped off his tongue.

But right now, he called you mom. He really called you mom.

“Sorry”, he mumbles, turning away from your widen eyes.

Fuck, how embarrassing. You must think he’s a total freak for saying something like that. Especially given the fact that you and Satoru don’t have any kids yet. Was has gotten into him?

Nanami’s eyes are darted towards him in silence, Nobara and Yuji giggling to themselves while all Megumi is able to do is hiding his blushing face in his uniform. He needs to get away from here. Fast.

Faster than any of you are able to react, he storms out of the room, leaving especially Satoru and you in pure shock.

“I think he really called you mom, darling”, Satoru breathes out.

You wipe your eyes, tears threatening to fall down your eyes.

“I never thought he’d see me like this. It might seem a little stupid, but…Megumi is like a son to me. To know that he feels the same about me is just…so overwhelming…”

Satoru can’t help but admire you. That little blush that creeps up your face, how you smile into yourself like a little child. All these nights you spent by Megumi’s side, caring for him and his sister when sick, having serious conversations with him when he caused trouble.

It dawns to him. You’d be such a good mom. In fact, this is what you already are to Megumi. All this time, Satoru never thought about having his own kids. Still being young, putting you and potential kids in the risk of this cruel world. But seeing you like this, all flustered by Megumi’s innocent words, totally amazed by the word “mum”. Maybe, just maybe…The thought of a baby in your arms crosses his mind, how you hold its tiny hands while humming it to sleep.

“I will look after him”, you announce, fumbling with your hands nervously while everyone around you just stands there bamboozled.

“Hey”, you greet him gently, sitting down beside him on the bench that overlooks the whole area.

His head rests in his hands, gaze fixed on the ground.

“I didn’t mean to say that”, he begins rapidly.

You bring your legs up, hugging them tightly while smiling down at him.

“I don’t have a problem with that at all. It’s just that…I never thought you’d see me as something other than Satoru Gojo’s wife. But I don’t want to interpret too much into it. After all, it was just a slip of your tongue, right? Just wanted to make sure you don’t feel bad or something. Don’t worry about it.”

With one gentle rub of his back you get back up, ready to leave when he suddenly grabs your hand.

“This wasn’t an accident. I never got to know my biological mum. And since the day I’ve met Satoru and you, you were always something like a mother to me. I really admire and appreciate you, (y/n).”

Oh. Your eyes begin to water all over again, you can’t help but swallow him with your arms.

“I feel the same, ‘Gumi”, you matter against the crook of his neck, careful not to touch his hair.

“Now now, what’s going on here? Are you stealing my girlfriend, Megumi-chan?” Satoru’s voice suddenly questions from behind, making Megumi jump out of your grasp in an instant.

“You know you have a real talent for ruining someone’s moment, right?”, you comment dryly.

“See you, Megumi.”

With Satoru’s hand holding onto yours tightly, you wander down the way to Jujutsu High. What a precious boy he is. You couldn’t be prouder of Megumi. And knowing that you had such an effect on him…You feel like crying all over again.

“I hope you told them not to make fun of Megumi for saying that”, you break the silence, earning a little chuckle from Satoru.

“Nanami did that for me, don’t worry. What did you talk about earlier?”

“Just wanted to make sure he isn’t embarrassed and that I know it was just a slip of the tongue. Nothing to put too much thought in. But it seems like he really sees me as something like a…mother figure, I guess.”

“Doesn’t surprise me the slightest.”

Huh? Your eyes dart towards him, feet stopping right in their tracks.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, when he had to draw something, it was always the dogs, you and him. You holding his hand, you cooking, you kicking someone’s ass. Don’t you remember how everyone always thought you are his mother? All those years he looked up to you. It doesn’t surprise me that he sees you as his mum. But I should have seen it sooner, what a great mother you’d be.”

His explanation makes your heart skip a beat. Over the last years, you never lost a word over something like kids or being parents. After all, your situation was clear: you live in a world full of danger and death. No child should have to deal with this right from the start. But the way he looks at you with a warm smile, hand holding onto yours tightly. Does he mean…?

“I don’t know, Megumi’s words made me think about having our own kids.”

“Our own kids?”

You can’t believe your ears. Even though you never admitted it towards Satoru, the thought of having children definitely fills your heart with nothing but joy. And especially his kids…

“You already have been and would be such a great mother. What do you say, (y/n)? Mind if we try it?”

You aren’t able to answer. Instead, you let yourself fall into his already opened arms, giggling like an idiot. A child with Satoru Gojo, the love of your life. Yeah, this doesn’t sound bad at all. In fact, this sounds like heaven itself.

“I take this as a yes.”

“I’d love that”, you breathe out, pressing your lips against his longingly.

“You’d be such a great dad. I just know it”, you huff against his mouth, heart jumping up and down in joy.

“Even though I told Nobara and Yuji to make at least a little fun of Megumi-chan?”

“YOU DID WHAT?”

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rafestify · 25 days ago

Note

if you’re taking requests maybe tough rafe with anxious/shy reader and he’s only soft with her <3

By My Side — Rafe Cameron

Summary : Rafe's supportive presence helps Shy!Reader feels safe and less anxious in busy situations

Rafe Cameron x Shy!Reader

Warning : none, just pure fluff (english is not my first language)

A/N : this one's pretty short, just around 930 words :D

Rafe was acutely aware of my aversion to crowds, always picking up on the subtle shifts in my demeanor that betrayed my discomfort. In those bustling environments, the vibrant, bubbly girl he adored would vanish, replaced by a quieter version of myself—a shy girl who trailed behind him like a lost puppy searching for comfort and familiarity. As laughter and chatter swirled around us, I felt the weight of the crowd pressing in, each unfamiliar face amplifying my unease. Rafe, ever observant, would often glance back at me with a reassuring smile, a silent promise that I wasn’t alone in this sea of strangers. His presence became my anchor, grounding me as I navigated the chaos, reminding me that even in the most crowded places, I could still find solace in him.

At that moment, I felt like I was trailing after Rafe at my family’s business event, anxiety washing over me like a cold wave. “Do I really have to do this?” I asked, glancing up at him, my voice barely above a whisper, hoping he might offer an escape.

“Well, your dad’s counting on you,” he replied, his tone gentle yet encouraging, paired with a smile that lifted the heaviness in my chest. Taking a deep breath, I braced myself for the speech my father had insisted I deliver, my fingers fidgeting nervously in my lap. Rafe caught my gaze and, sensing my apprehension, said with a soft chuckle,

“Stop that,” He warned, as he held my hand to stop the fidgeting, and the warmth of his grip on my hand was instantly calming. “You've got this, baby,” he added, his confidence in me a steady anchor as I prepared to face the crowd.

Finally, the moment had arrived for me to deliver my speech. As I stepped forward to face the guests, my heart raced and my palms grew clammy. I took a deep breath, introducing myself with a shaky voice, clearing my throat in an attempt to steady my nerves. The sea of expectant faces blurred together, their expressions a mix of curiosity and encouragement, but the absence of notes made my anxiety spike. I felt exposed, as if standing on a tightrope without a safety net. As I began to speak, my mind raced through the words I had practiced, but doubt crept in, threatening to derail me. I focused on a few friendly faces in the crowd, reminding myself that I wasn’t alone. With Rafe’s reassuring presence lingering in my mind, I gathered my thoughts and pressed on, determined to make my voice heard despite the overwhelming tide of nerves threatening to pull me under.

Surprisingly, it all unfolded so quickly that before I knew it, I was wrapping up my speech, my heart racing with a mix of relief and exhilaration. As I stepped down from the makeshift stage, I spotted Rafe standing there, his warm smile instantly calming my frayed nerves. I let out a deep sigh of relief.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he said, pride radiating from his expression as he wrapped his arm around my waist and pressed a gentle kiss on my cheek.

“You were amazing,” he added, his words wrapping around me like a comforting blanket.

“Honestly, I’m just glad it’s over,” I admitted, still catching my breath.

Rafe chuckled, his eyes sparkling with admiration. “I’m so proud of you, Y/N”

A blush crept up my cheeks at his praise, and we began to weave our way back through the crowd, the noise and chatter fading into the background. “Thank you, Rafe,” I said, leaning into him a little more as we navigated the throngs of people. He glanced down at me, his expression softening. “No need to thank me, baby. I’ll always have your back.”

As we reached a quieter corner of the venue, I could finally breathe easier, the pressure of the spotlight lifting. “How about we celebrate with a drink? A champagne sounds perfect,” he suggested, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Absolutely,” I replied, feeling a sense of lightness wash over me.

As we approached the bar, I felt the tension of the evening dissipate. The clinking of glasses and soft music created a cozy atmosphere. Rafe leaned in closer, his voice playful. “You know, I might just have to get you a champagne every time you face a crowd. It seems to bring out the best in you.”

“Maybe it will become my secret weapon,” I joked, smiling at the thought.

When we reached the bar, Rafe ordered our drinks, and I took a moment to soak in the ambiance—the laughter, the chatter, the clinking of glasses—a far cry from the anxiety that had gripped me just moments before. As the bartender prepared our drinks, I turned to Rafe, my heart swelling with gratitude. “I really couldn’t have done it without you. You always know how to make me feel safe.”

He grinned, handing me my drink as the bartender set down two perfectly chilled champagnes. “To you,” he said, raising his glass. “And to facing fears.”

I clinked my glass against his, the sound a tiny but significant celebration of the night. With the first sip of the smooth champagne, I felt a wave of relaxation wash over me. “I think I could get used to this.” I remarked, savoring the moment.

The night was still young, and I realized that if I could face the crowd and deliver that speech, I could take on anything. With Rafe by my side, I felt ready to embrace whatever came next.

likes and reblogs are appreciated 🐇🪷

#rafe cameron #outer banks #netflix #drew starkey #rafe cameron imagine #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fanfiction

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sinsirellaxx · 6 months ago

Note

Can you do a toxic! Slyhterin boys where they found out y/n is actually pregnant? Cause let’s be honest, they wouldn’t be happy and sweet about getting their girlfriend pregnant

Slytherin Boys – Reacting to you getting pregnant

Warning: Toxic boys, mentions and talks of abortion, toxic relationships etc., not proofread (cause I'm lazy)

A/N: Thank you for the request! I totally agree with the idea that they wouldn't be happy at all!

Hope you'll like it!

Mattheo …

… glares down at your trembling hand holding the offending pregnancy test, his nose pulled up in disgust.

… suddenly views you as this stupid person that is unable to use birth control. If you aren’t on birth control and only use condoms, he’d still think you were the cause for this mess. Did you poke holes into the condoms? Did you want to get pregnant and trap him?

… would be so turned off by the idea of having a child at that age, that he’d project all that frustration and negativity on you – he’d start detesting you. Gone is the obsession he had felt for you and replaced by pure annoyance.

… stared at you coldly as he told you he didn’t want to see you anymore – that he didn’t want to be involved with anything regarding the child – his child.

Theodore …

… stares at his phone dumbly – his mind completely blank as he assessed the situation. Well, fuck.

… immediately blocks you – a poor attempt to push you and his new problem out of his life.

… desperately hopes you don’t try to confront him – he’s an asshole but he doesn’t want to be cruel to your face, duh. But obviously, you did confront him.

… rolls his eyes when you start crying in front of him, obviously scared and overwhelmed by the situation and his apathy.

… rudely interrupts you and tells you to fuck off – that he cannot have a child yet. If you refuse to just leave, he’ll obliviate himself out of your life. Problem solved, right?

Lorenzo …

… would get angry. Not at himself – no, he’d be mad at you. How could you destroy such a beautiful relationship?

… is desperate – he loves you but the thought of having a child make his balls shrink.

… would force you to make a choice: Him or the child. If you want to keep the child, he’ll break up with you – which further angers him, because he still wants you but if you decide to terminate he’d be back to being his usual loving and obsessed self.

Draco …

… enters panic mode. He knows his parents and he knows the chaos that would ensue of they found out, so he begged you to terminate. If you refuse to, he’ll try to gaslight and manipulate you into doing it.

… will hold a grudge if you do not terminate and his parents find out, which would result in you two having to get married.

… would be kind of put off by the thought of you carrying and growing a child and distance himself from you.

… would definitely cheat to satiate his desires and needs because his feelings for you were clouded by hatred.

Blaise …

… laughs in your face when you tell him. He thinks it is a joke. When he takes in the state you are in it quickly dawns on him that you aren’t joking after all.

… groans loudly as a string of profanities leaves his lips – why did everything have to be so complicated?

… suddenly accuses you of cheating on him because no way in hell could he have gotten you pregnant. He’d try to talk his way out of it – spewing lies about his fertility and turning the situation in a way that makes him look like the victim.

… tells you to leave and accuses you of being a filthy cheater.

Tom …

… will demand, no, force you to terminate – because he would not allow any mistakes. He doesn’t want to be a father – especially not out of wedlock.

… doesn’t give you a choice – because you can’t be trusted. He’ll help you through the procedure and ensures that you actually go through with it.

… he’ll not break up with you though but will put you on birth control and watch you take the pills every. Single. Day.

… does not show any remorse or empathy, because he simply cannot understand why you’d be this devastated. If he has to, he’ll obliviate you and make you forget about the whole incident.

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mysteria157 · 16 days ago

Text

Pairing: Demon! Nanami Kento x Angel Black!Fem Reader

Rating/CW: grey morality, religious undertones, corruption kink, worship, power dynamics (subtle fem submission), monsterfucking, smut, tongue fingering, pronged tongue, vaginal sex, oral (f! receiving), mild blood/biting. MDNI!

Summary: The thick muscle of your wings press against cold ancient stone as he circles you with wicked, stone-faced intent. Glimmering obsidian fingers trace along your feathers until they quiver--fluttering with touch-starved bliss no angel should ever feel. It's forbidden--this sensation in your belly, this humiliating slick between your legs that be can smell, this overwhelming desire that you've spent eons trying to quell.

But now, trapped before a demon so captivating that you can't help but feel equally terrified and dreadfully aroused, reality burns your skin like the holy water that bubbles whenever it's within your reach.

You're not here to serve a divine purpose--you're an offering. And only Heaven knows if you'll fall to your knees before him, begging for corruption.

Author Notes: Here it is! My submission for @tsukimefuku 's Spookinky event! I had so much fun writing this. Thank you, Fuku, for hosting such an awesome event, and I truly apologize for the filth (I do not apologize). Thank you all for your support, and thank you, @aliasnnmknt, for letting me use your art for my banner and helping me create it. Your art really inspired most of this fic!

Header: art by @aliasnnmknt | Divider: @arcielee @enchanthings | network tag: @pixelcafe-network

JJK Masterlist | Twitter | Ao3

You’ve never set foot in a demon’s realm.

You’ve heard the stories—flames that burn flesh from bone, screams that echo for eternity, demons that feast on corrupted souls. For the many eons that you have been in existence, the pristine light you thrive in tells enough horrid stories to keep you away.

You do what you can to show you are pure in your thoughts and heart and that you will walk the line given to make the one above you proud in His selection of you. You’ve done well. It’s why you’ve been given this task—a pilgrimage to a sacred altar within this dark realm, to find the relic it holds and be promised enlightenment and a deeper connection to your spiritual life. For once, you feel special. You are special.

The relic you search for holds ancient divine text that the Heavens would like to make sure does not fall into the wrong hands. Your ability to decipher that text and other old tongues made you the perfect choice—though you try not to question why that ability exists at all. This mission feels important and they insisted you were the perfect choice. Your gifts would serve the greater good. Serve Him.

Maybe that’s why they sent you alone. A single angel, moving quietly through dark territory, would draw less attention than an entire group.

Finally, after so many years of wary glances and hushed concerns. Your many ‘gifts’ that have set you apart—the way ancient texts rearrange themselves under your touch, how you see patterns in chaos that other angels cringe from, your thirst for knowledge that shouldn’t be explored. Finally, it’s all paid off.

Or…at least that’s what they told you. Even as something in your grace whispers warnings you choose to ignore.

Angels bask in absolutes, in the pure warmth of divine light and the straightforward clarity of purpose. There is certainty in right and wrong, never a grey in between. Your wings should bask in holy breeze, not in this thick air that tastes of dreadful sin.

You expected the realm to smell of death and destruction, to look as if every natural disaster had run through the land so the shadows could roam freely to commit sin. It’s what you’ve been taught at least. This Realm specifically is forbidden and faith has been used as a boundary to keep other angels in line.

The outskirts of this realm is covered in a haze, a thick russet fog that smells of ozone and decaying flowers. It settles on your skin like an uncomfortable garment, scratching the surface and burning your dermis. Your wings curdle in pain, burning to ash and regrowing through your bleeding muscles. Gnarled, skeletal trees reach up like claws, the birds that sit on their branches malnourished and dying. Distantly, you hear the constant drip of water from a faucet, yet there is no water in sight. Whispers of sin and moans of agony carry on the wind.

Your white dress flows like liquid moonlight, now stained with ash and ember burns. The neckline dips lower than most angels would prefer.

“To be comfortable in the vessel He gave you is to honor His creation.”

Is what they had said, their justification now seems like a cruel irony as the fog caresses your exposed cleavage with burning fingers. The bottom of your dress trails on the ground as you walk, the dirt burning with red soil that seeps through the toes of your bare feet. It feels as if you’re walking on hot coals, the heat burning the fabric of your hem in tendrils of smoke.

You knew to expect this pain, but it’s different. There is a calculated precision to it, intentional in how it burns you as if testing if your form is solid, if your soul is worthy of corruption. The bell sleeves of your gown flutter in a nonexistent wind, ash and soot collecting in the folds of fabric that they once praised as divine elegance.

Your eyes burn, tears streaking melanin-soaked skin that cannot absorb the shrouded sun up above. As you navigate blindly through the oppressive haze, the shadows around you morph with the darkness and skitter past you on multiple hands and contorted feet.

An infinitesimal part of your grace shivers in fear. It’s small yes, pushed away and ignored like you have been taught, but it’s there in the quickening of your pulse and the break of sweat on your neck, it’s there as you walk further through the vicious landscape of horror and pain, as you try to ignore the gurgling of what you do not know from all around you.

Your wings curl around your body, a small gesture of protection that you fall into when the fog gets thicker. It slides languidly up your nostrils and down your throat, catching along the corners. You cough, sputtering wildly through ash and decay, your eyes bubbling with more burning tears. That fear flickers again in your chest and wiggles like a worm in search of moist dirt in your rib cage.

You can do this. You have been chosen. Your lips curl and part as you recite your prayer in silence, asking for strength even as your fear climbs higher to the surface of divine worship.

Then—through burning tears, you see it. A path of pure obsidian that cuts through the horror, its surface covered in a thin layer of water that reflects starlight not in the skies above. Your feet pick up in pace, moving before conscious thought, drawn to its dark beauty and vast difference of the world around. The moment your toes dip into the water-slicked stone, the moisture sliding off your skin without wetting it, everything changes.

The burning on your skin and feathers stops. The pungent fog parts like a curtain and dissipates into the air. You pull in a deep breath, savoring the thickness that is no longer there, your throat coated in clean oxygen. Your dress, moments ago stained with ash and fiery burns, returns to its pristine white. Once the tears in your eyes clear, you take in the changed landscape.

Perhaps the realm only transforms if one gets this far, because now there is no destruction but a defiance of what you see. The sky is tinged a permanent grey, overcast even though there’s a warmth to the low hang of the clouds. There are no lakes of fire, and the ground beneath your feet is no longer hot with clay-colored dirt that seeps between your toes. The obsidian path winds before you through tall garden walls of pearly white flowers, the leaves pitch black instead of earthly green.

Above the dark canopy of the garden walls, a monolith looms tall, piercing the grey sky as if demanding to be let into the heavens. It’s built to resemble a vast tree, its surface rippling with starlight, the bright core pulsing like a heartbeat, beckoning you deeper into this realm of misconstrued beauty. The garden path must lead to it. Even the pearly white flowers weaved into the walls all point forward, ushering you on.

Your wings furl closer to your spine as you shuffle to one of the garden walls, hesitantly reaching for the flowers twined in the vines and leaves. It’s a beautiful white, with small petals that curl toward a sage core. They’re littered along the walls, a beautiful landscape against darkness but the closer you get, the more you realize—

Hemlock

A poisonous flower, the symbol of death, betrayal, and sacrifice. It sits in it’s refined beauty, enhancing the black leaves around you, but they are just as dangerous.

You snatch your hands away as if stung, clutching the fabric of your dress like a lifeline. You try not to think about how the hemlock watches you with pale eyes. You try not to think about what they represent. You try not to question why these flowers would point and line a path to the divine relic you seek.

With every step you take, the pulsing from the monolith in the distance vibrates through the ground, the water rippling currents with each beat. The obsidian path narrows, forcing your wings closer to your body, your arms so close to the deadly blooms. The garden walls rise higher, leaves trembling in that same empty breeze.

While the air no longer feels thick, it is heavy with a taste both nonexistent and flavorful. Flavored with the knowledge you seek when others do not look and secrets that make your eyes linger even as your grace warns you against it. The questioning urges of your nature that Heaven always tries to quell stir awake like a beast being poked after centuries of rest.

You should ignore it. You should ask for forgiveness and count the blessings you have been given in this long existence. But your heart leaps at the chance you have also been given, right now.

The monolith’s base reveals itself slowly, the garden walls parting gradually with dark promise. Your breath catches at the sight—this is no crude demon architecture. The structure rises before you like an otherworldly giant, jet black vines weaving within its bright innards.

You’re struck by the beauty of it all, a resplendent sight that you never imagined would bless your eyes. And as you draw closer, the glass obsidian floors open up before you. From the open floor, a column of marble rises, its surface bleached bone and covered in aging vines and greenery.

On that altar, rests the relic you seek. It is no crystal that contains energy to create vasts universes. It is no seed that once planted will wreak destruction with its pollination. It is no amulet capable of manipulating time.

It is a book.

A single book that is thick with words of forbidden knowledge, its cover worn and weathered from eons of hiding in the shadows, its pages yellowing along the edges.

Such a simple relic, but you feel it’s dark power from your spot at the altar.

You’ve been tasked to tuck it away and sneak back to Heaven, to deliver it to your superiors and be given your eternal reward. While simple in theory, your hands hover over it, hesitating with shaky fingers.

Do not open it.

Do not look at it for longer than necessary.

Do not look inside.

These are your rules—your absolutes. And yet…

Your fingers twitch, reaching and pulling back at the elusive call of the tome, your feathers trembling with a desire you shouldn’t feel. Your eyes burn with tears of veneration as the symbols on the worn leather illuminate and rearrange before your eyes like dancing embers, the translated text reading in your mind like an endless scroll.

Do not look at it for longer than necessary.

You snatch it up, pressing it to your chest as a means to stop your racing heart. Your soul palpitates with want, a baseless need to curl your fingers under the lips of the book and tilt it open.

It’s temptation, that festering desire that always seems to coil in your belly when the explanations you are given never feel right, when the world around you seems too pristine and you want to know more, when you linger in the mortal realm, watching the humans with a curious eye that is more than what is required of you.

It’s quick and on a whim, you pulling the book from your chest to look down at it, as if by looking it will answer the questions you seek. You trail your fingers along it’s ancient skin, soft and unmarred fingertips feeling along ridges and scars along the cover. It looks as if the relic has gone through it’s own personal Hell, no doubt jerked around from realm to realm over the centuries, pried open and its secrets stolen. There’s a faint beat of sadness that you feel in your chest at the thought of what it must have gone through.

But your fingers still finger beneath the lid, the worn pages jagged on your tips as you worry it up with a slow movement.

Do not open it.

You squeeze the tome, pressing the pages inside more into each other in a silent attempt to seal it and your temptation away forever. Your toes curl into the water beneath you, cold on your skin but still passing over you dry and without moisture.

But once again you catch yourself loosening your grip, your fingers adventurous, your mind begging for more and it’s right here.

In times like these, you find yourself turning to the one manifestation that has never answered you, but exists in your very being.

“Father,” you whisper, voice shaking. “Give me the strength against temptation.” Your wings draw tight, your spine aching from the sudden action, before they expand in a glorious span, feathers opening like extended fingers before they curl around you to shield you from your own curiosity. “Guide me from this darkness, keep my thoughts pure…”

But even as you pray, your body rebels—your fingers part a page and slide along the rough texture of papyrus. There’s a power to the book now, a deep pulse that seems to be in rhythm with the monolith, beckoning you further. The ancient text burns brighter, the translated words whispering in your ears to give in just this once—look inside, soak in your knowledge, seek what others deny.

Your lips quiver, eyes burning with unshed tears at the way your body betrays you. You’re no better than a fallen angel, than a demon or a human who walks the path of darkness—easily tempted and consumed.

You’re not damned, you’re not, you’re not—

“What do we have here?”

The voice slides through your tumultuous thoughts like silk, rich with bored amusement and something darker. Your prayers die in your throat, catching along the edges of your esophagus, your body icing over with a chill of what you try to rebuke as fear.

You’re not alone and you knew the dangers of wandering this realm so freely. You call upon your grace, manifesting a celestial dagger of light and purity, before you whirl around to face the demon who pursues you.

But you’re met with nothing—just the empty garden path you came from.

When you turn back to the altar, your scream catches in your throat.

He stands with casual power and predatory grace. His skin is a pitch lighter than the obsidian paths, but still scattered with constellations. His hair falls in golden-blonde waves, the ends touched with flame that frames sharp features and elegant black horns that curl from the top of his head. His eyes are a burning yellow, studying you with a calculating hunger that makes you shiver.

He stands tall, an inhuman height that makes you feel incredibly small, his wings the color of dark flames spread lazily behind him, their edges flickering with crimson light.

The armor that adorns his upper body is otherworldly and crafted not by divine or mortal hands—navy as dark as night, trimmed with gold that wraps around his shoulders and sides, his chest bare. His hip rests against the altar as if he owns it, expectant like he’s been waiting for you.

He’s beautiful, a manifestation of dark and light, a being that walks his own line not predetermined. As you study him, something tugs at your memory—flashes of encounters that have grown fuzzy over time. In the mortal realm, when you linger in the shadows to observe the humans, a tall figure in navy and tan, warm eyes hidden behind glasses with no arms, hair not tipped with flame but parted clean and tucked behind his ears.

He lingers in the darkness, in damp alleys and abandoned buildings where misery and pain give birth to grotesque figures that terrorize the mortals. You’ve seen him—or you think you have—convinced it was a coincidence and ignored the way your wings would shiver at his distant presence, tilting toward him as if searching for someone lost.

And in your dreams too—dreams of large hands filled with experiences of the world, of whispers in your ear of eternal knowledge. You’d wake with your grace trembling, convinced it was just your mind playing tricks even as the apex of your thighs trembled with the sheen of your sweat and forbidden essence.

Perhaps that’s why your superiors ask for you after these dreams. Perhaps that’s why they press their fingers to your temples and bury the memories deep. So you do not have to worry. So that you can resist temptation. Right?

Yes. All of it is a temptation to test your faith.

But now he stands before you, solid and real, and those ‘coincidences’ suddenly feel intentional. Had he been watching? Waiting for this very moment?

You adjust your grip on your dagger, forcing away those thoughts that never seem to go away. You stagger backwards, your celestial dagger shaking in your hands, your prayer wielded before you like a shield.

“Our Father who art in Heaven,” you whisper, desperate words that feel as if they fall on closed ears, your fear radiating from your bare toes, through the strong muscles of your white wings, and up to the top of your skull. “Hallowed be thy—”

The demon moves towards you now, each step gobbling the distance between your retreating form until your back hits the garden wall, a gasp dying in your throat.

“That name,” he murmurs, sultry low as he cages you with muscular arms, “holds no power here.” His eyes drag down your form, cataloging you bit by bit, lingering on the sight of a shaking chest that is pressed to the tome you clutch.

He leans in close, too close, until you feel the burning heat from his skin. You press your back harder against the garden wall, dark leaves and hemlock brushing along your cheeks and neck as he inhales deeply along the column of your throat.

He smells like the archives you lose yourself in, like the green tea you love to drink in the mortal realm, like a dark concoction of burning honey that would make the noses of other angels crinkle but your nostrils open to inhale more. Your divine senses blur.

This is temptation, you tell yourself as your wings putter against the wall behind you. You’ve practiced for this, you know what you should do. But your body betrays you, your head tilting slightly before you can think about it, offering more of your neck for his inspection.

Horror at your sin, ice cold as it washes over you, makes you act. You press your celestial dagger upward, against his bare chest where one particular constellation burns brighter than the rest.

But the blade dissolves like sugar in the rain the moment it touches him, holy light scattering for a home as it shimmers across his skin to form new constellations.

“How interesting…” The deep voice inquires, hot as it puffs on your neck. “An angel, stealing what does not belong to them. Surely there’s a rule about that, is there not?”

You clutch the tome tighter to your chest, your mouth opening to snap that this is your mission, your divine purpose. But the book vanishes from your grip in black tendrils of smoke, your hand smacking into your breasts from the gap created.

“Give it back!” Panic rises in your throat as you try to meld with the leaves behind you, your fingers wrapping around vines and leaves like a vice.

A sigh, long and drawn out as if mentally exhausted, as if this isn’t the first this has happened, leaves his giant form and travels over your body.

“No, I don’t think I will,” he drawls, pushing off the wall and walking away as if your presence means nothing. He turns to face you at the altar, eyes half-lidded as he rests his forearms on the marble surface and opens the tome that is now manifested in his hands. He’s giving off every impression that the relic you seek will not be going home with you, and he is more than prepared to read it all until you go away.

“W-well, you…” you trail off, your eyes flickering to the open book in his hands. You can’t see the words inside, but you can practically smell the papyrus, a smell that warms you when you trail your fingers along the archives in Heaven. You tighten your grip on the leaves, flexing your wings to extend in a display of dominance, even though it feels as if this demon has read you the moment you stepped into this realm.

The tome sits like an infant in his hands, small and precious as he turns a page, long galaxy shimmered fingers gliding along the text as he reads. That curiosity beckons, a familiar pulse of sin that fires along the nerves in your legs to take a step toward him, to peak over the edge of the book and look inside.

“Demon,” you press, swallowing a lump of your frayed nerves.

His eyes flicker up at you, burning gold irises mildly offended.

“That is not my name.” He turns another page, pulling his gaze away from you, dismissive. “Though, I suspect you already know what it is.”

Why would you know his name? While the sight of him invokes some distant memories, you both have never spoken. The confusion mixes with your flood of panic, your eyes locked on the ancient text in his hands.

“I don’t—I’m here on divine purpose. The Heavens sent me to deliver this relic.”

“They sent you to steal this relic,” he corrects. He slams the tome closed, the sound making you flinch before he walks back to you in casual strides, his form almost gliding on the obsidian floors.

“I would not steal.”

“Coming to a place without invitation and taking the items inside is, indeed, stealing.”

You sink back into the flowers as he draws closer, your heart pumping erratically in your chest, your limbs filling with shame at the logic he draws. But still, you resist.

“I was invited.”

You’ve always been around to see the return of angels from long missions where they are surrounded by darkness and pain. They seem so strong, their chests puffed in pride, their wings shining brighter as a badge of honor. There’s a bravery that you wish you could have right now. But you’re afraid—whether that fear is pure or mixed with something sensual and dangerous—you still don’t know.

“I-I was chosen,” you insist, despite what you feel.

“Oh, I’m sure you were.” His head tilts as he regards you.

The book disappears from his hands before materializing in your own, warm smoke wrapping around your wrists before dissipating. “Take it. Return to your divine purpose.”

You clutch the tome, hoping for relief to fill your wings, but you can only feel disappointment instead. You hesitate, flickering your gaze up to the demon who stands expectantly with arms crossed, like he knows what the outcome will be. Like he knows you will be back.

You turn around and flea down the obsidian path. The garden walls adorned with pearl flowers blur past you until—

The walls part again, the altar and demon coming into view.

“That’s not—” you spin, turning back toward the path and running faster this time, your relic pressed to your body, your lungs burning with the truth that you’re trying to deny.

The hemlock flowers seem to laugh as you pass, their white petals pointing the way with mocking fingers until—

The altar. The demon, an eyebrow raised. Again.

“Stop this!” Your voice breaks as you turn around to try again, sprinting so hard that your wings flap against the wind, your toes touching the top of the thin layer of water below you. You come to the altar a third time, then a fourth, each leading back to his knowing and patient form.

“I’m not doing anything.” His voice holds a gentle pity that pricks at your skin. “But why? Why would they send their most curious angel into a demon’s realm? Why alone? Why you?”

Something in his tone, in the endearment wrapped around seduction makes your grace shiver. You long to have an answer ready on your tongue, and you do, but it’s more practiced, copied, and spit out and resonates in your bones incorrectly.

“The relic requires eyes that can transcribe so I select the right one. My abilities—”

“Your abilities,” he interrupts softly, materializing behind you, “the ones that they’ve tried to suppress. The ones that they’ve feared. Yet suddenly, all of it is for naught, and you’ve been given this divine purpose?”

The towering demon circles you slowly, analyzing you like a predator waiting for his wounded prey to finally submit. You swallow hard, fingers digging into the leather of the book, eyes downcast.

“They finally saw my worth,” you insist, but the words sound hollow even to your ears. “I am pure. Free of sin. I do not stray.”

Warmth by the shell of your ear, the rich smell of him forbidden, an erotic melody that makes your blood long to sing.

“Lies.”

Your wings slash through the air in deep powerful strokes, twitching in their plumage. “I would not lie!”

“Neither would I, little angel. But it seems you have been led here under false pretenses.”

“No.”

“There is no relic.” The tome in your hands disappears, it’s solid form no longer tethered to existence.

“Give it—”

“There is no mission,” he presses on. “There is no divine purpose. There is only you. Cast down here and given to me.”

“To you…”

“An offering, little angel.”

The word makes you chill over in disgust, the very thought of being a sacrificial lamb enough to make you sick to your stomach. You shake your head vehemently, insistently denying as best as you can even though your grace radiates with the truth.

“No. They would never sacrifice someone. They—they wouldn’t—they wouldn’t do that to me.”

The demon clicks his tongue, pity filling his otherworldly features with a slight pout of his lips as he studies you. Before you can take another breath, the realm shifts, reality bending in a plume of smoke. The monolith and altar disappear, the darkness of the garden walls fading to give way to the eternal light you recognize as your home.

The tall pearly gates that surround your kingdom smile down at you, pearlescent clouds that seeps beneath the doors kissing your bare toes. Your wings waft in the air with ease, pumping euphoria through your veins as you smile up at your home. The tome is back now, cradled safely in your arms, reminding you of your mission. With a hope bright in your chest, you rapt your fingers on the doors.

“Father! I’ve retrieved the relic! I’m home!”

But the doors do not open. There is no sound of movement on the other side, no shift in the white clouds around you. It doesn’t even feel as if someone is not home. You can feel your siblings, you’ve always been able to sense them in your grace, but this sensation is reluctant. As if they peak through closed curtains on the other side, watching through a window with their hand on the door to prevent you from coming in.

“H-hello?” you try again, voice shaking as you knock with more fervor, denial warring with growing dread. “I-I said I’ve brought the relic.” Silence. “Hello?!” You smack on the doors now, the holy wood splitting at your skin and healing over again. Surely someone must be home. Maybe they are away? Maybe they are busy and do not hear?

You press your forehead against the door, wings drooping. Through your grace, you feel them there, still watching. Waiting for you to leave. But not to welcome you home.

“Please,” you whisper, eyes stinging. “Will someone—”

“They will not open the doors, little angel,” the demon speaks from behind you.

You jump from his sudden appearance, your body drained of all blood at the sordid thought of what is happening right now. Reality shifts again, the divine light of your home sucking back into darkness, the monolith and marble altar and obsidian floors coming back into view.

Your legs threaten to give as realization washes over you. You shake your head, lip quivering as tears blur the edges of your vision, your fingers curling on the altar. How could they do this to you? You have always struggled in this life, always been so ashamed that you do not think like the others. But to cast you out? To give you these wings and then make you feel as if you are beyond saving?

“Perhaps it is a mistake,” you whisper, your hope crumbling with every word. You feel his large form next to you before you hear any steps. “Why would they do this to me?”

You have no choice but to look up at him, to seek some form of answer in his burning yellow eyes. There’s a flicker of something that crosses his face—amusement? Maybe pity?

“They have offered you to me. A sacrifice to take the darkness from their pristine walls and feed it to the realm it belongs to.”

The words hang in the air, the horrifying truth once again presented to you. Your heart lurches in your chest. You recoil, your wings drooping to brush along the water covered floor.

“They fear you, little angel,” he continues, voice softening. “Your potential, your curiosity, your unwillingness to follow their absolutes.”

You slap your hands on the altar, the sound reverberating through the emptiness around you. “I will not.”

The demon chuckles, a low, sardonic noise that crawls up your dress and wraps around your throat. “Such defiance,” he purrs. “It’s quite…alluring.”

You can’t help the noise of shock and anger that crawls up your throat, shooting him a dark look. “I will not be corrupted by the likes of a demon like you.”

“Like me? So you imply that another demon may have a chance?” His jests fall on rageful ears, your wings flapping in defiance as you gape at him. He leans in close, his breath warm against your lips as he whispers. “You deny it all little angel. But you already are corrupt.”

You try to pull away from him, but a large hand falls to the small of your back, his fingers weaving through your wings in a caress that makes you choke on a whine.

“Come now, my dear.” The tip of his nose trails along your cheek, the touch sending flames of desire down your neck. You curl your fingers into a fist on the altar, your body ramrod straight.

“I can smell it on you,” he continues, his voice a silken caress. “The insatiable curiosity, the yearning for more, the essence that pools between your thighs every night before you sleep.”

The fingers in your plumage massage your skin, your shoulders relaxing into a traitorous sigh before with a swift motion, he plucks a feather from its root. You wince, your hand flying back to bat him away before he holds the feather in front of you, its tip stained a deep, inky black.

“Do you not try to hide it? You sneak to the archives. You let them smother your dreams. You do not tell them that you sneak away to the mortal realm to watch them eat, and bathe, and sin.”

He turns your wing to expose the underside where the feather was plucked, your eyes widening as if you’ve been caught. The skin is marred with a dark scar, the muscle underneath dried with blood and presenting as damning evidence of you plucking those feathers over and over, your cheeks covered in tears as you did your best to hide them away.

“You pluck your true self,” he whispers, voice laced with dry amusement. “But they only grow back stronger, don’t they?”

A breath catches in your throat, his words piercing through your defenses that you have built with weak mortar and brick for eons. Your eyes catch his, your desire reflected in burning gold.

“Even so…I cannot leave?”

He hums in reverence, a pointy finger trailing along your collarbone to brush a lock of hair from your shoulders, exposing more of your scent for him to breathe in.

“You have tried to leave already and you cannot. There is nowhere for you to go. I can let you roam to any realm you choose, but the doors of Heaven will be locked for you forever.”

Your eyes bubble with tears. It’s an unfortunate hand that you have been dealt. A hand always opened to you in promise even as the other held a dagger behind the back of divinity. There’s a deep part of you that would try to find some sort of silver lining in moments of darkness, a silver lining that only benefits you.

“If I stay…what will you give me?” you ask, your voice small and defeated.

The demon sinks to one knee in front of you, his eye level now only a little taller than you, but still more humane than his hovering from before. He offers a slow, predatory smile, his lips parting to reveal sharp pearly white fangs.

“You already think in ways that will benefit yourself, don’t you? Whatever you desire, little angel, I will give it.” The sharp point of his nail trails down your cheek, casting a wave of arousal down your body, your stomach tightening. “Anything at all.”

You cannot deny the promise of whatever you want does not make you perk mildly with curiosity, the same curiosity that was always quelled.

You lick your lips in thought, a nervous habit that your siblings have always discouraged. It’s unbecoming of an angel, they’d say, a physical manifestation of want. But you’ve always like the way your tongue feels against the plump flesh of your lips.

“Anything?”

He inclines his head to you, eyes answering without having to say. You hesitate, your mind racing with possibilities, unleashed with nothing to hold them back.

“I want…” you begin, stopping short at the coil of desire that burns in your body. You’ve never given it a true voice, and now that you’ve been presented with the opportunity, you are unsure of how to proceed.

The demon’s eyes roam over your form before they brighten with understanding. “You wish to read the tome.”

You nod, unable to speak past the dry lump in your throat. He summons it quickly, the worn leather materializing in his enormous hands as he hands it to you like an offering of forbidden fruit.

“Take it,” he urges in a seductive whisper. “It is yours.”

You reach out with trembling fingers, your grace pulsing with desire, it’s feel growing bolder as you snatch it up into your hands and let it flow through you. The leather is cool beneath your fingertips, worn with the promise of centuries of words you’ve always wanted.

When you open the book and let your eyes fall on the faded script, they rearrange themselves like before, translating to you in a seductive dance that makes your toes curl. The knowledge overwhelms you, flooding your senses in a wave of information about this realm—its history and inhabitants and magic. You feel a thrill of excitement, a suppressed sense of liberation as you turn page after page.

From your peripheral, you see the demon offer that same predatory smile. With a snap of his fingers, the world shifts around you again. You are further from the monolith but instead of the altar, you are surrounded by looming bookshelves, all filled to the brim. Ancient tomes and scrolls, dusty relics that have been neglected over the years but kept in condition by this demon who rules this realm.

“This is a taste of what I can offer you. All of it is yours.” He steps closer, the energy that he radiates filling your space with darkness and seduction that terrifies and excites you. “There is so much more I can show you,” he whispers in your ear again. “Would you like that?”

Even though your body and soul buzz with satisfaction from the books around you, the shame is still there, still bubbling beneath the surface next to your dejection.

Sensing your unease, he places tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, a gesture that you long to fall into before the world morphs again.

He takes you back to where you began, the realm’s outskirts. However there is no russet fog that is thick and smells of decay and misery, this time your vision is clear. The shadows that once hovered around you in your quest to the monolith now reveal themselves as souls—humans that you recognize from your years of observation.

“Do you remember her?” the demon asks, pointing to a small woman tending to a bush of flowers. “The woman from years ago who stole medicine for her dying child because she had no money.”

You do remember watching with tear filled eyes. It was an ancient time where death was a sentence given freely, and this mother had been called to the land of the dead for stealing bread.

“You watched her pray for forgiveness even as she did what was necessary.” His hand rests on your lower back, reassuring in its pressure. “Heaven would have condemned her. I gave her purpose.”

“How do you give purpose if you are a demon?”

The demon huffs, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “It is true that I gain my strength through corruption. But it is corruption through intellectual rebellion and questioning minds. I am strong because no matter how many years may pass, there will always be a soul that questions.”

Each soul that you pass triggers a memory—struggles you watched but could never reach out and help. And in each memory, you gain more clarity—he was always there in the mortal realm, appearing in navy and tan just like you thought.

“You’ve been watching me then,” you inquire, tucking your tome closer to your chest as you cast a sidelong glance to him.

“It is my nature,” he rumbles from next to you. “You understand the beauty in grey areas. The necessity of balance.” His fingers glide along the empty space where you plucked your blackened wings. “Here, you could judge with mercy and justice. Rule in the knowledge they feared.”

Power.

A destructive thing that has elevated so many and torn them down. But the call of it has always been sweet, and now you are the subject of it. The very thought of it makes your knees weaken, your grace fluttering like a leave in the wind. This could be something more honest, not Heaven’s sterile authority.

The soil that is no longer red vibrates beneath you, pulsing up your ankles and calves, around your waist and torso in thick vines that pull you to the monolith miles away.

“Easy, my dear,” he murmurs, a muscular arm sliding around your waist to prevent you from swaying further. “The first taste of true power always overwhelms.” Your grace flickers between divine light and seductive shadow, somehow grounded by his hold.

Every soul’s story calls to you now, complex choices and grey morality making your divine nature pulse with stomped out recognition. You lean into him, falling more into his scent, your wings brushing his back to seek balance.

“I…” you trail off, clutching the relic in your arms, using it to ground you through your thoughts that fight between light and dark.

“What else would you like?” he purrs in your ear, his hand reaching out to the realm beyond that begins to shift again. A vast kitchen filled with warmth and enticing scents. “Earthly pleasures are denied amongst angels.” The pristine counter tops are soon overflown with rich goods and goblets of wine. “Even something as simple as this.”

You’ve never had wine—it’s forbidden—at least for you. But the way it catches the warm fireplace behind it, deep and rich…your mouth waters.

“Freedom to roam where you wish.”

Glimpses of different realms flash by—clouds of different shapes and sizes, landscapes of mountains and water as clear as crystal, beings that take on their own forms as they wander the lands—places you’ve only dreamt of exploring, of asking to see and always been denied.

His voice drops lower, more intimate and hot on your cheek. “Or perhaps…” Another shift. A dark room you remember faintly—through gauzy curtains, you see two figures entwined in candlelight. The brown skin of limbs and curves wrapped around tan that shimmers faintly. You recognize the hips of the woman, the collarbone and hair, and you realize it’s you. You wrapped around this very demon next to you who appears in the mortal realm as a human with carefully parted locks and a height fit for yourself.

Your blood boils beneath your skin as you try to look away. But like every forbidden thing that’s ever called to you, your eyes are drawn back to the scene—to the way your dream-self arches into his touch, the way your neck cranes, the sight of his tongue sliding along the sweat of your brown breast.

He hums from behind you, his demonic form pressing closer as you watch his human glamour worship your other self. That familiar wave of shame wars with the desire in your body, trying its best to smother the arousal that tightens your nipples beneath your white dress. All of it you suffer night after night—your grace singing, skin hot and sweaty—essence coating your thighs.

“I—” you stutter for words, eyes locked on the human form that rolls his hips and swallows a moan that shakes from your other-self. “This is wrong…”

His starlight fingers trace your collarbone, mimicking the tongue of his human form. “Your body remembers what they tried to smother away. How many nights did you wake burning for this? For me?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

The realm shifts one final time, the familiar garden walls and monolith appearing before you, the altar pressing into your back. The demon circles you, giving you no time to recover as his prying eyes pick you apart feather by feather.

“Even your grace recognizes where you truly belong.” He reaches out, trailing pointy nails down your spine, your body arching of its own volition. “Here. With me.”

His hands engulf your entire waist, his touch making you gasp as he lifts you up to sit on the altar before him.

“Every dream they tried to bury,” his hands trail up your thighs, “every desire they made you forget…” he steps closer, taking the oxygen from your lungs that you expel, his naked chest a hairsbreadth from your searching fingers. “All of it has lead to this moment. To me.”

“I—” you try to protest, but it dies in your throat as he tilts your chin to face him.

“You were meant for this realm,” he leans in, trailing his nose along your shaking lips. “I will make you mine. As my queen, my consort, my equal.” You press the tome further into your chest like a lifeline as his hand rests on the side of your neck, his nails grazing the lobe of your ear. “You’ve always known it. Even in those dreams where you surrendered to me so sweetly.”

His lips are close enough to kiss you, but they brush your jaw instead, trailing electricity down your throat. “Anything you want,” he breathes against your pulse, smiling at the sight of it’s rapid flutter, “you will have, little angel.” His mouth moves to that sensitive spot behind your ear that you discovered one night centuries ago. “But you must surrender to me. You have been offered and now you must be consumed.”

You clutch the tome tighter, using it as a tether even as your head tilts to give him better access. “I should not…”

“Surrender,” he whispers, lips ghosting your shoulder now, each kiss punctuated with promises that you should deny. “Let me worship you.” A kiss to your collarbone. “You will never be denied again.” His mouth traces back to hover over your lips. “Submit to what you have always wanted.”

The burn in your body makes your skin tingle, your core pulse with forbidden need, your nipples tighten in pleasure. Everything you’ve always wanted, could be given to you right now.

All of your dedication to faith has only led to tears and shame and disappointment. But here, you could be rewarded for your curiosity, exalted for your power to see what others do not, consumed in pleasure without the eyes of disdain looking down on you.

Here, with this beautiful demon, you can have it all.

For as powerful and as dark as he is, despite the patient hunger in his golden eyes, you realize he’s waiting. You must give the final say. A final say to do away with eons of denying, of plucking dark feathers, of letting them bury your dreams…

“Please,” the words shake from your lips before you can stop it, the tome slipping from your defeated grasp.

His eyes flash with satisfaction, mouth twitching with the urge to smile, but he relents. “Say it properly, little angel.” His mouth brushes the corner of your lips in not quite a kiss. “Tell me.”

Your wings spread wider of their own accord, trembling and stretching past invisible threads that have always held them down. “I want…I will to surrender.”

You hardly finish your words before you feel the press of his lips against yours, gentle and almost reverent. It’s the first time you’ve ever kissed, and it’s as euphoric as you’ve always thought. Your toes curl in satisfaction, your body hums with arousal, low and beneath the surface but quickly growing.

The hand on your neck tilts you up so he can feast further, a wet tongue sliding along the seam of your lips in a quiet ask for permission. You let your body guide you, opening your mouth to welcome him with a groan.

He tastes like he smells—green tea and honey, a hint of rich bread that you occasionally try in the mortal realm. It’s intoxicating, dark mingled with your fading sweetness. One that speaks of corruption and surrender.

What started as gentle quickly turns hungry and consuming. Your grace shivers as you catalogue every shift in your body, learning from the lessons of his tongue. Each stroke of him feels like corruption, like freedom, like finally coming home and you arch into him for more.

Your white dress slowly disappears before you, your body revealing to him naked and shivering. You try to cover yourself, an urge ingrained in you since your coming of existence, but the demon’s large hand stops you, gathering both hands in his strong grip and placing them at your sides.

He does not wait a second longer, his mouth trailing in worship down your neck and across your collarbone to pepper the swell of your breasts, your core pounding incessantly as he gets closer to one nipple before he wraps it in his hot mouth.

A moan shakes from your mouth, unexpected and loud into the quiet air of this monolith room. Your hands reach up to card in his golden locks, they’re warm and impossibly silky, the flame colored ends burning more than the rest. You let the pain of it singe your fingertips, basking in the euphoric pleasure pain of your skin growing back and burning all over again.

His hand envelops your other breasts, his sharp nails teasing your nipple before he drags it slowly across your areola. Your fingers tighten in his hair from the pain, your core dripping on the marble altar you sit on.

“You taste wonderful, little angel,” he purrs into the wet skin of your breast, pulling away before he gently nudges you onto your back. Your wings stretch languidly to make you more comfortable against the flat surface. The urge to cover yourself is not as insistent as before, the desire eating you up without reservation. “But I must taste more.”

He leans over the altar you lay on, kissing your lips gently before his tongue slides along the skin of your neck and down your body. It’s longer than a mortal tongue, and when they circle your nipples again, you shake at the pronged tip that flicks your bud.

He worships down your torso to dip in your navel, over the dip in your hips before his hands push your legs up onto his shoulders and he licks your sopping core from bottom to top.

You arch sharply, teeth digging into your bottom lip in a futile attempt to stop the moan from shooting from your throat.

You’ve watched the humans many times in the shadows, transfixed when their mouths worship these parts of their partner, but to experience it yourself? To feel the demons tongue part your folds and circle the bud at the top that makes you cry into your pillows at night. Heaven has hidden away beautiful pleasure.

“Look at how much you give me,” he whispers, kissing the inside of your thigh before you feel his tongue on you again, prodding your entrance that you’ve sunken your fingers into at night.

You bite down on your lip, shivering in pleasure as he prods further and further, your legs widening with each current of pleasure until he sinks his wide tongue inside of you. You taste copper from your bleeding lip that heals over quickly, your bare feet digging into the demon’s broad shoulders as he feasts on your essence.

With every gasp, your wings quiver in anticipation, curling into your body to protect yourself from a euphoria that is growing so quickly in your stomach.

“Please,” you whisper in disbelief, hands twisting his hair with your divine strength. He hums in satisfaction, satisfied with what you give and digging for more.

His tongue strokes inside of you with purpose, caressing something along the roof of your hot walls, his nose brushing your bundle of nerves once, twice, the pleasure enough to make your jaw drop, to make you pant feverishly into the air, to make your back arch until the base of your spine hurts as you come apart by the seams.

Your release makes you cry out into the air, the sound brushing along the monolith, the constant pulsing stopping to take in your pleasure before it resumes its steady pulse.

He rises slowly as you struggle to catch your breath, his golden eyes tracing over your shivering form from head to toe. His grey obsidian hands slide up your trembling thighs as he leans over you.

“Beautiful,” he purrs before he kisses your lips. You swallow your taste—tangy and rich like the divinity that courses through your veins. “But I must have all of you to make this complete.”

All of you?

You look down to find that his pants are gone, starlight shining bright on his hips that seem to point down to the member that hangs between his thighs. Your eyes widen—he’s definitely bigger than mortals, purplish veins that trail along the sides, a tip that is darker than his grey, the skin flickering with those shimmering stars you are growing to love.

He’s beautiful, and without thinking you reach out to touch. He’s impossibly hard but also incredibly soft, and you watch in fascination as his dark flame-colored wings expand and shake in supplication.

He leans his head back to the grey skies, swallowing deeply at your touch and there’s a sense of power you feel. To know that with a single touch you can make this powerful demon fracture just a little.

He wraps his hand around yours to stop you, pulling you up so that he can sit on the altar instead. Even though he’s tall, you’re able to reach up and wrap your arms around his neck.

Your wings stretch and flap behind you, sparse feathers wafting in their air to fall around you both in white, grey, and black. Even though you feel loose from your first release, there is a subtle power that thrums with every flap of your wings.

You look at the monolith again. The pulse has picked up steadily, seeming to match your own heartbeat. Maybe there is a connection to the power inside of it and what might be coursing through you now.

As you tail up the length of it until it disappears into the grey clouds, you think faintly of those who cast you out. The pleasure fractures a little with pain, your eyebrows furrowing in disappointment.

“My angel,” he calls to you, softly, turning your gaze back to him. His golden and flame locks are messy, his horns pulsing with shimmering light, the navy and gold armor gone so that he is as naked as you are. “That pain that you feel will go away with time. I will make sure you will never know it again.”

The promise fills you with hope, and the press of his lips to yours makes the sordid thoughts fall to the wayside, your pleasure humming to life at the base of your spine.

The touch of his fingers to your core makes you whine into his mouth, pulling away with only a gossamer of saliva connecting you both. He strokes your bud, drinking your sighs and moans as your thighs and stomach tighten, your fingers digging into his soft shoulders.

He pulls you up onto your knees, your wet entrance brushing the thick tip of him before he guides you onto him slowly. It’s a stretch, far thicker than your fingers and foreign inside of you.

The initial pain makes you gasp, tears pricking your eyes. It feels as if you’re being split in two from your hips, torn apart with a strength that only makes you shiver and moan.

One hand slides along one wing to soothe you, his lips pressing to your neck. Eventually, the pain gradually melts into pleasure, his hands possessive on your hips as he guides you with careful restraint. You quake at the feel of him inside of you, stretching and molding your muscles in each euphoric stroke.

“Perfect,” he breathes against your shoulder. “Look how well you take me.” His voice resonates deep in your core, a sound that both terrifies and entices you, a forbidden melody that you are slowly learning the notes to.

You whimper in response, relishing in his praise as you begin to move faster on top of him, bouncing with a newfound sense of purpose. Your wings flap with more insistence, stretching and bending with the power that begins to seep out of your skin, white feathers less in abundance with each flap.

The demon’s nails dig into your waist and you sigh into the pain, picking up the pace until you’re not sure where he stops and you begin.

The power takes you higher and higher, your skin breaking into a sheen of sweat, your gasps dying in the air as you pant and moan above him. The pleasure at the base of your spine heats quickly, bubbling with sticky satisfaction as it slides down your vertebrae and into your core.

“That’s it,” he growls, nails digging into the flesh of your cheeks, canting your hips toward him so the tip of his member brushes that spot on your upper walls once again.

You choke on a moan, head thrown back in bliss, nails dragging down the solid muscle of his chest. Your wings curl around you, dark feathers replacing white with each thrust.

“Transform for me completely. Embrace what you truly are.”

“Yes,” you hiss, your mouth falling open as you struggle for breath. Your core tightens around him, the bundle of nerves shaking even untouched, and you’re falling, you’re falling, you’re—

The demon shifts again, his member leaving your hot core and denying you of release, your hands now pressed to the altar as you’re bent over. You whine in annoyance, looking over your darkening wings at his large form as he heaves with breath.

He regards you with a dark look, one that shows just how capable he is of picking you apart, and your mouth fills with saliva at the thought.

He draws one leg up onto the altar before sliding into you once more without pretense. You groan around the stretch of him, marveling at the pinch of pain that bleeds into overwhelming pleasure as he picks up his pace inside of you.

What starts out as reverent and gentle soon turns feverish. His strokes are deeper, his hips snapping against your open legs, a haze of pleasure clouding every crevice of your mind as he kisses spots inside of you that makes you groan, hiss, and whine.

The monolith picks up in speed, pulse matching your heartbeat as you climb higher and higher up a ladder of darkness that has always been denied.

You don’t know why, you don’t know where it comes from, but the last slivers of your salvation slide to the surface, tickling your throat one last time before they leave your soul forever.

“Please, please, Father,” you moan, eyes filling with tears of satisfaction as your body jerks with every harsh thrust of the demon behind you. One of his hands weaves into your locks, curling tight before yanking you back to him, arching until our stomach presses into the altar. “Forgive me.”

“We will have none of that,” he warns, out of breath. “You seek forgiveness to someone who is not listening. You pray to someone who has cast you out. And here you are. Under me. Calling for him as you weep on my cock in pleasure.”

His sharp fingers slide down your hip to circle over your bud of nerves and you cry out, tears streaming down your face, power radiating up your limbs. “Keep moaning, little angel. Keep begging.” He leans over you, pressing his hot chest into your wings, his breath hot on your ear as the tips of his pronged tongue slide along your lobe. “In your eyes you are soiled. Filthy. And my sweet goddess loves it, doesn’t she?”

You shake your head to deny, deny, deny. But a hard thrust, a stroke of his thick cock that kisses your cervix, and you sob in the pain that molds into pleasure. Your nipples brush against the cold marble, each icy touch shockwaves down your spine.

“I’ve watched you, my dove. When you study the humans in their pleasure. I’ve seen the way your pupils dilate. I’ve smelt the essence between your thighs. You dream of this don’t you?”

You try to whisper your Father’s name one last time, to show with your last breath of divinity that you were an angel who worked hard.

“You won’t say his name here anymore. Not in my realm—in our realm. Not in my arms while you cum on my cock. The only name you will moan and beg and plead is mine.”

Your wings flap in reverence, responding to his demands as they stretch around you. No longer are your feathers white, now they are inky black, as dark as midnight, as mysterious as the darkness you peer into.

The monolith quickens, a hummingbird’s wings, the bright core sliding up and down the tree-like structure and bleeding with vibration through the ground and up the altar.

Even as your mind tries to deny what you are becoming, your soul speaks otherwise, your core clenches around him unwilling to let go. The demon behind you grunts with each thrust, low and seductive on the back of your neck, his nose smelling the skin.

“I can’t—” you choke, fingers sliding on the altar from your sweat. “Please.”

“Please what?” he groans.

“More, please more, more, more,” you beg, words and resolve splintering in your throat as he rewards you with deeper thrusts, each one making you see the stars that shimmer along his skin.

“Say my name,” he demands, one hand sliding up your throat. You gasp at the subtle pressure on each side, not enough to do anything, but enough to make a dark current of pleasure pulse inside of you. “Let the skies above hear who you belong to now.”

You don’t know where the name comes from. He’s never given it to you. You’ve never asked. But somewhere, deep down in some ancient place in your soul, you’ve always known all along. Known him.

“Nanami,” it falls from your lips like a broken prayer. “Nanami, please—”

His teeth graze your pulse, sharp fangs dragging along your skin as pleasure builds in your body beyond reason. Your wings spread impossibly wide, your skin hums in arousal, hot and stinging.

The monolith’s pulse quickens with you, its light growing brighter as the power in your body travels through your veins to complete a transformation you can feel in your fallen grace. Even with every harsh pump of his hips, you feel worshiped. Worshipped by his hands. Worshipped on this altar in front of a monolith that watches over you both.

“You were an offering—a gift to me. Molded by the heavens. And now you’re mine. And your Father sent you to me,” he growls against your throat. “My dark goddess.”

His thrusts grow harder, more desperate, each one a brand searing its mark into your very soul. A mix of your essence and his precum pools on the altar where you are joined. The last embers of your angelic resistance crumble completely, replaced by an insatiable hunger that mirrors his own.

“Let go. Surrender to me completely.”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

That hot lava at the base of your spine explodes like a volcano of unholy fire as his teeth sink into your neck, marking you as his. Your release bursts from you, your core squeezing his thick member, your muscles seizing as your mouth falls open and your cries echo through the realm as divine light fractures into starry darkness.

All of your abilities that have been repressed swirl within the darkness and mix with the forbidden powers awakening within you. It feels like the very essence of your being is changing, transforming into something wild, a reflection of the demon who guided you with a sultry voice down this path.

You feel a rivulet of your blood trail down the side of your neck from his puncture, blazing with the essence of darkness that now pumps through your veins. He releases his teeth from your neck and turns your head to him with more force than necessary, sliding his tongue into your mouth as he kisses you senseless.

You can’t breathe, your body is loose, your grip on the edge of the altar slipping with each relentless thrust but you love it. Every smack of heavy balls against your clit, every slide of sweaty muscles of his chest against your wings and back, every pulse of your cunt around his cock.

Nanami pulls away breathless, the hand around your throat tightening imperceptibly, the sharp tips of his fingernails breaking skin. His pronged tongue slides along your cheeks to collect your fallen tears.

Every noise that leaves your mouth is against everything you hold dear, a sound of sin, debauchery and lust.

“I’m yours,” you whisper against his lips, your breath punching out of you with each desperate thrust. Nanami’s eyebrows furrow and his nose crinkles with a snarl, his wings pulsing with flame as his release climbs up his body as well. “I’m yours, Nanami.”

“Take my essence, little angel,” he demands, biting your lip until you draw blood. You lick up the coppery tang, falling into the prickly grip on your neck as he takes what he needs from you. “One day, when you have ruled with me for centuries to come, when you are one in your skin, perhaps my essence will take root.”

Your eyes widen at the implication, your soul no longer quivering in blasphemy but in satisfaction. How you would love that. One day. With him.

“Yes, Nanami,” you whisper into him, accepting one more kiss as he strokes once, twice, and a final time before he shivers from head to toe and groans with deep pleasure into your mouth.

His darkness seeps into the remnants of your light, a forbidden dance of shadow and flame now made true. He pumps hot semen into you, far too much for comfort and your essence combines with his demonic energy, feeding the power that still ebbs in your veins.

He falls into you, his hold on your throat vanishing to slide down to your naked stomach, pressing to the spot where he is still lodged inside. You reach back, carding your hands through his burning hair, reveling in the shiver he gives you.

He pulls out of you slowly and your cunt clenches around nothing, legs shaking at the feel of his semen dripping from you. He does not entertain the mess but gathers you in his arms, carrying you past the defiled altar and monolith that has fallen into a gentle ebb once more. The obsidian floors open up again, the thin layer of water rising within a large tub of water that steams with inviting heat.

He sinks you both into the steaming water, your new darkened wings flapping at the moisture that touches your plumage. When he dips your head beneath the surface, it feels like baptism in reverse—washing away heaven’s hold rather than blessing you with it. When you emerge, you feel reborn, your shame and disappointment for your former family now washed away.

You sigh at the effect hot water on your muscles, melting into the large expanse of his chest. He does not speak and you do not ask questions, content to watch him manifest a tray of oils and soaps that smell of green tea and burning honey.

He plucks a marble comb from the tray and drags it gently through your curls, each stroke bending with the texture of your hair to guide without tangle, each pass worship and calming.

Once your hair is untangled and silky, he washes your skin with the soap and oils that smell of him. You study him openly now—the way constellations shift across his skin, how his golden eyes hold both demonic power and intelligent precision, the careful way he maintains order even in darkness.

He dresses you in black fabric that flows like liquid shadow, clinging to your curves like his possessive touch. Instead of the starry sky, the black material is adorned by golden accents that match his eyes and armor.

The altar recedes into the floor and in its place, two large thrones emerge. Carved from pure white marble shot through with veins of gold, they’re identical in height and grandeur—a statement of what he promised you—equal rule.

Dark vines curl around their bases, blooming with black roses, while plush velvet cushions in deep navy make them as comfortable as they are magnificent.

He throws you an inquisitive rise of his brow, what was once used to pick you apart upon first meeting him, now make your lips curl in a smile. You pretend to ponder which you will choose, humming noncommittally before you sink into one chair, sighing into the softness around your body and wings.

Nanami bends down, taking a hand in both of his before he kisses your palm. “You look magnificent,” he purrs, your hand still in his while he sits on his throne.

With a snap of his fingers, the garden walls disappear, revealing the vast landscape that was once shrouded in horror and fear when you first arrived.

Now it appears without malice, without misery or shame, but of exotic greenery and souls who have been neglected for only choosing a path that feels wrong even though it is right.

The heavens is but a distant memory now, infinitesimal in the many years you will continue to exist. Now, you bask in the new power in your bones, in the brush of Nanami’s lips to your palm once more.

As the stars on his skin ebb and fade with light, you take in the muscles of his torso, the strength in his movements as he worships you without speaking.

It has taken eons to get to this moment, but some part of you preens with the satisfaction that Nanami has always been watching, waiting for you to come to him.

Thanks for reading and Happy Halloween!

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its-avalon-08 · 7 months ago

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Hiiiii!! Can I request a daniel ricciardo x driver! reader? Like a grumpy! reader x sunshine! danny? with a hint of friends to lovers but the grid doesn’t know?

I was so excited to see someone open their request and can’t wait to read everythinggggg! Super grateful for the opportunity🫶 may you have a great time writing<3

Ps. It’s totally okay if this doesn’t get a response, I still look forward reading your other works ❤️

she's my grump

the monaco grand prix was always a whirlwind. the air crackled with champagne and exhaust fumes, celebrities swarmed the paddock, and for danny ricciardo, it was pure electric. but amidst the chaos, his gaze always landed on you, his secret weapon – literally and figuratively.

you, (y/n) (l/n), were the engineer who made his car a sleek, purring beast. you were also the complete opposite of him. where danny was sunshine personified, you were a sly smile and a dry wit, a black cat in a room full of golden retrievers. being slightly reserved whilst dating the man with the biggest smile would seem odd to others, but danny loved you in all your light.

"alright team!" danny boomed, his energy radiating as he clapped his hands. "let's make monaco ours!"

you, in redbull uniform, raised an eyebrow. "more coffee, sunshine?" you deadpanned, handing him a steaming mug.

he grinned, taking a swig. "thanks, (y/n). you're a lifesaver." he winked, then lowered his voice conspiratorially, "just remember, if we win, that victory shoey is all yours."

you snorted, a small sound that always tickled danny's heart. "just don't splash champagne on me and make sure you don't scratch the car."

he chuckled, leaning closer. "don't worry, love. i wouldn't dream of it." the last word was barely a whisper, sending a shiver down your spine. you were dating for a few months now, a secret you both fiercely guarded. it wasn't because you were ashamed, rather it was to protect both of your personal lives. you had been friends for seven years and dating for one year. all the other drivers loved you and saw you as a little sister. being the polar opposite of daniel, everyone thought you were a match made in heaven.

flashback

the cityscape of singapore twinkled below, a kaleidoscope of neon against the inky night. danny, relaxed after a podium finish, leaned against the balcony railing, a beer balanced precariously in his hand. you perched on a nearby chair, fiddling with a stray napkin. six years of friendship, countless late-night talks, and a simmering desire that threatened to boil over. tonight, you were determined to make a move.

"crazy race, right?" you started, your voice barely above a whisper. you hated how nervous you felt around him, a stark contrast to your usual sharp wit.

danny chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. "yeah, those final laps were a heart-stopper. but hey, at least i didn't get sandwiched between bottas and verstappen this time."

you managed a smile. "true. though, witnessing your car-handling skills under pressure is always a treat for the eyes." a teasing lilt crept into your voice, the one that usually made him laugh. but tonight, he just raised an eyebrow, his gaze holding yours.

"so," you continued, feeling a familiar heat creep up your cheeks, "about that victory dinner tomorrow night..."

"yeah?" he prompted, taking a swig of his beer.

"well, i was thinking, maybe we could..." you trailed off, the carefully rehearsed words dissolving on your tongue. frustration bubbled within you. why was this so hard?

"maybe we could what?" danny asked gently, his voice laced with a hint of concern.

you squeezed the napkin in your hand, the flimsy paper threatening to tear. "forget it. it's stupid."

"hey," danny said, setting his beer down and turning to face you fully. his eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were now soft and serious. "nothing you say is stupid, (y/n)."

you looked away, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze. "except maybe what i was about to say."

a beat of silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken emotions. you felt a tear prick your eye, the frustration morphing into a strange mix of despair and defiance.

"look, danny," you blurted out, your voice shaky, "we've been friends for, what, six years now? we practically share a brain when it comes to the car. but lately... lately, things feel different."

he stepped closer, his presence a tangible warmth in the cool night air. "different how?"

you took a shaky breath. "i don't know how to say this. it's stupid, really. but..." you met his gaze, your voice barely audible, "i think i might be falling for you."

the words hung heavy in the air. a flicker of surprise crossed danny's face, then a slow smile spread across his lips. it was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

"you think?" he said, his voice a husky whisper. he cupped your face in his hand, his thumb gently brushing away the stray tear that escaped your eye.

"maybe," you mumbled, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

before you could say anything else, danny closed the gap between you. his kiss was soft, tentative at first, then deepened with a newfound urgency. it was a kiss filled with unspoken desires, a culmination of years of unspoken feelings. you melted into him, the familiar warmth of his friendship now tinged with a passionate intensity that left you breathless.

when he finally pulled away, his forehead resting against yours, you could hear the ragged rhythm of his breath.

"i think i might be falling for you too, (y/n)," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. "a lot more than maybe."

a laugh, shaky but genuine, escaped your lips. relief washed over you, mingled with a newfound sense of joy. in the neon glow of singapore night, under the watchful gaze of a million twinkling stars, you knew this was just the beginning of something extraordinary.

end of flashback

the qualifying session was a nail-biter. you watched from the pit wall, your fingers unconsciously tapping a rhythm against the table. danny caught your eye, flashed a reassuring smile, and then was off, a blur of blue and red. when he secured pole position, the team erupted.

in the celebratory chaos, danny spotted you amidst the throng, a lone island of calm amidst the cheering. he weaved his way through the crowd, his eyes fixed on you. reaching you, he bent down slightly, a playful glint in his eyes.

"ready to celebrate, ms. genius ?" he asked, extending his hand.

you smirked, a playful jab back. "only if it involves avoiding exuberant displays of footwear."

he laughed, a sound that always warmed your heart. "no promises, love," he winked, then surprised you. his hand, instead of taking yours, brushed yours lightly, his pinky extending out and interlocking with yours.

you knew what it meant. a silent exchange in your secret language. a small gesture, easily missed by others, but to you, it was a secret handshake, a whispered affirmation in the middle of the storm. your own pinky curled around his, a silent promise. being a black cat dating the biggest golden retriever

the race was a heart-stopper. strategy calls crackled through your earpiece, fueling your anxiety. finally, the checkered flag fell, and danny emerged victorious. the roar of the crowd was deafening.

as danny jumped out of the car, his helmet still on, he scanned the crowd. his eyes met yours, and a wide grin split his face. he sprinted towards you, the cameras flashing around you. but he ignored them all, reaching you and scooping you into a tight hug.

"we did it, (y/n)!" he shouted, his voice muffled by your silky hair.

you hugged him back tightly, a surge of relief and pride washing over you. in that moment, under the watchful eyes of the oblivious crowd, you knew your secret weapon wasn't just the science behind the car. it was the sunshine-haired driver with whom you shared a silent language, a pinky promise, and a love that thrived even in the whirlwind of monaco.

the other drivers, who had long suspected something between you two, exchanged knowing glances. lewis hamilton raised a knowing eyebrow at max verstappen. "looks like ricciardo found his lucky charm," he remarked.

max just grinned. "more like his secret weapon."

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

i hope you enjoyed! happy reading <3 do send in more requests! as for pre existing requests- im working on it! lots of love ava

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

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gucciforasushirestaurant · 17 days ago

Text

Kinktober №2 | Look At Us

summary: you think vampires are sexy, and harry cant keep his eyes off of you or his hands to himself.

or you and harry fuck in the bathroom of a halloween party.

word count: 2.6k

read time: 11 min

content warning ⚠️: nonfamous!harry, boyfriend!harry, vampire!harry (kinda), dom!harry, roleplay, costumes, D/s dynamics, mirror sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, praise kink, degradation, humiliation (if you squint), primal kink, (fake) blood kink, monster fucking (i guess?), pet names (baby, babe, little lamb, pet, honey), fingering, penetration (p in v), cream pie, unprotected sex

a/n: this one might be my favorite of the series i was going to save it for tomorrow but i cant keep sitting on this one lol. enjoy!

👻Kinktober 2024 Masterlist👻

You and Harry were known amongst your friend group for your Halloween looks. The two of you would show out with not one, but several Halloween couples costumes a year, depending on how many parties you had on your calendar. Harry contributed equally to the concepts, but he always gave you the full credit, claiming you were the creative heart of your relationship. Your first costume, for the first party of the weekend was your idea.

A vampire, and his sexy victim.

The idea came purely from you rediscovering your love of Twilight, and admiration of the vampire genre as a whole. Something about it drew you in. To you it was just inherently sexy, so when it came for Halloween, you jumped at the opportunity to dress Harry up as your personal vampire boyfriend fantasy.

You went all out, buying him hyper-realistic fangs, and giving him a dark vampire look with some makeup magic. You on the other hand had gone with a very glamorous look, complete with a vampire red lip and lashes, with a dribble of fake flood down your neck, to your cleavage. You had even gone as far as to bejewel a corset adding a blood stained design with rhinestones, and paired it with a flowy skirt with a long slit up the side exposing your thigh.

You looked hot as hell together, and have been getting compliments all night. And Harry couldn’t keep his eyes, or hands off of you the entire party.

After having had enough small talk with your girlfriends, doing his best to pay attention to the conversation, nodding and smiling in the right places, he cracks. With a slight lull in the conversation, he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer into his side.

“Excuse us.” Harry smiles sharply, clearing his throat. He takes your hand, pulling you away from the small group, slowly weaving the both of you through the crowded house.

“Where are we going exactly?” you ask, looking up at him.

“Just follow me.” He says escorting you through the ocean of people that crowded the small house, until he reaches a half bathroom at the back of the house. He quickly ushers you inside before closing and locking the door behind him.

“Harry?” you ask, brows knitted together, “You okay?”

He remains silent, placing his hands on your shoulders, turning you to face the mirror. You lean back against him as he lowers his face into your neck, planting a quick there.

“Just needed a second away.” he says, wrapping his arms around your waist. You smile at him in the mirror, lacing your fingers in his hair at the base of his neck, for comfort.

It’s not unusual for him to pull you away at parties. Harry sometimes gets overwhelmed being around your friends. You loved them, but they were a lot of energy sometimes, especially when it was all of them together. So, sometimes he just wanted to decompress with you, for a moment before going back into the chaos. You’d even come up with a code word for when it happens, and he needs a moment.

But he hadn’t used it, just now. You were worried that something was actually wrong, until you began to feel him go from leaving light pecks on your neck, to sucking on the sensitive skin, pressing you up against him. It was then that you realized it wasn’t anxiety that had him all worked up and needing time away.

It was you.

“You look so beautiful tonight baby.” he mumbles into your neck, pressing his hips into your ass.

“Thank you.” you smile, “You look very handsome, too.”

“I like these costumes,” he whispers, teeth nibbling your earlobe, “I really,” he kisses your jaw, “really,” and again, another kiss to your neck, “like them.”

“Yeah?” you sigh, body suddenly heating up.

“Mmhm..” he says. His hands begin roaming up your body, from where they sat at your hips, up to your tits, cupping and groping them in his large hands. You toss your head back, eyes closed, as he brings a hand up further, wrapping it around your throat. He lightly presses down, making you look in the mirror.

“Look at us.” he rasps, “Look how fucking good we look, baby.”

He dips his head down into your neck, with a devilish smirk, kissing and sucking up your neck. When he allows the faux fangs to graze your neck, you let out a moan, he's quick to quiet with his hand over your mouth.

“Shhh, shhh ....little lamb,” he smirks, playing into his vampire role, “Don’t want anyone to hear you, do we? Not while I take what’s mine.”

You whine, biting the inside of your cheek as you shake your head. You make an attempt to turn in his arms, instead he turns your face to the side, capturing your lips with his, swallowing your little whimpers. You savor the feeling of his lips on yours, and the occasional nip from his ‘fangs’, as a hand rests on your throat while the other gropes your chest.

Soon, too soon, he’s pulling away, turning your head forward to look at the mirror, again. He lightly tightens his grip around your throat for a moment. “Keep your eyes here,” he demands. He tilts your head to the side slightly, further exposing your neck and begins to suck, teeth and fangs grazing your skin. He brings a hand down, gripping the flesh of your hip, as he swivels his hips into your ass. You groan at the feeling of how hard he was getting for you, just from kissing you. Just from having you close.

You did as you were told, keeping your eyes forward watching every move Harry made, and watching just how hot the two of you looked together. The fake blood dripping down your chest, Harry kissing and nibbling on your neck, marking you up, groping you. Something about it was so…primal. And it was hot as fuck.

When Harry feels you begin to swivel your hips back into him, begging him for some friction, he finally, though much too slowly for your liking, begins to drag the flowy material of your skirt up your thighs, bunching it at your hips, revealing your bare ass.

Harry brings a hand down to your ass, giving your right cheek a squeeze, “No panties baby?”

“The skirt slit is too high,” you whine, moving against his hand as he grips your other cheek in his palm, gently massaging it.

“You want to know what I think?” You moan as his hand moves to your front cupping your pussy in his large hand. “I think you did this on purpose. I think you knew what this was going to do to me.” He catches your eye in the mirror. “You knew this was going to happen. Didn’t you baby?”

“I hoped,” you smirked, which quickly melted into a moan, as you felt Harry begin to run his fingers through your folds.

He chuckles, eyes full of lust looking at you through the mirror. “Well, I’ll give you what you want but I have one rule.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll fuck you. But if you look elsewhere, or get too loud…I stop. Got it?”

“Yes.” you gasp, as two fingers breach your folds, slowly stretching you.

“Good pet.” He coos. He slowly works his fingers in and out of you, stretching you open with his digits. He’s always been so good with his fingers, always stroking you perfectly, and always bringing you to the edge in minutes. “That good baby?” he asks, into your neck, you nod frantically, biting your bottom lip trying your best to stay quiet. “Remember to breathe, baby. Breathe through it.” he whispers into your ear. You let out a gasp, feeling your stomach flip, as you inched closer to the edge.

“Oh god.” you whisper, gripping onto his forearm.

“Good girl.” he praises, “Just give me one, and then I’ll give you my cock. Promise.” After a few more strokes to your g-spot, you came in a bright white light, biting down on your lips to keep from yelling out. You lean back against Harry, as your legs begin to shake under you. He holds you close, moaning into your temple as he feels you pulse around his fingers.

“There you go.” Harry groans, turning your face to kiss you, allowing you to let out some moans into his mouth, “Good girl, baby.” He fucks you through it, pumping his fingers slowly, eventually coming to a stop. He withdraws them from your pussy, turning your head back to the mirror, forcing you to look at yourselves. He brings his come covered fingers to your lips, eyes glued to yours. You whine, rolling your hips into his begging him for more.

“Shh…Open.” he demands.

You do as you're told, offering Harry your tongue, welcoming the weight of his fingers on your tongue. You wrap your lips around them, sucking off your juices, and moaning at the taste.

“Look at you.” Harry says proudly. You whimper around his fingers, pushing back against Harry’s hardening cock, while admiring how fucked out you looked, and how in control Harry looked. In addition to the costumes, your head was spinning.

“Look at us, baby.” he repeats, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth. “Fuck.” he growls, “Look how pretty you look all needy.”

“Harry.” you pout, impatiently. “You promised.” You reach behind you, gripping onto the bulge that’s been pressed against your ass. He groans into your ear, body tensing around you, before pulling your hand away and holding it down by your side.

“No. No touching.” he coos, biting your earlobe. “And stay quiet. I’m not going to warn you again.” He growls, leaning more and more into his role. “Understood?” You nod your head slowly, biting your lip.

He rolls his hips into your ass roughly, reveling in watching you struggle to stay quiet. “You want me to fuck you, baby?” he teases.

You nod your head feverishly, chest heaving. He lowers his pants just enough to free himself. He removes his hand from your neck briefly, to guide the head of his cock through your folds. You moan slightly before covering your mouth quickly with your hand.

“Shhh….” he coos into your ear, before a moan rips through his own throat as the head of his cock, hits your clit. “You’re so wet, honey. My god.”

He teases your entrance with his cock, eyes glued to yours, “Look at me.” he demands, hand back on your neck, as he whispers in your ear.

You let out a little whimper as you feel the head of his cock push past your entrance. No matter how long you’ve been together or how many times you’ve been in this exact position, there was always a stretch with Harry. A good stretch but a stretch nonetheless, and it always took your breath away.

“Shhh....I'll go slow.” he whispers. “Just breathe.”

You let out little huffs through your nose. Trying to breath through the stretch as your stomach flipped with each shallow thrust, as he slowly worked himself into you.

When he's fully sheathed inside of you, he stays still for a moment, letting out a deep sigh as he kisses the side temple. He was just as wrapped up in the feeling of you wrapped around him, as you were at the feeling of the tip of his cock, kissing your cervix. If you weren’t in the middle of a Halloween party, you’d be more than okay staying as you were, reveling in the stretch and fullness of Harry.

Slowly, he begins to draw his hips back before diving back into you deeply, forcing your jaw to go slack. “There you go. See, you can take it.” he praises, as he continues his achingly slow pace, “Look at you. Fuck. Look at you being a good girl for me.” he kisses the side of your face messily, “So fucking pretty.”

He keeps his pace slow for a bit, fantasizing that you had all the time in the world. Trying to savor the feeling of your wet pussy, tightly gripping him. When he does begin to speed up, he adds a roll of his hips as well. Fucking you hard, and deep. He groaned into your neck, as he pounded into you. You watch him in the mirror, and are beyond turned on at the sight of Harry. He was so wrapped up in you, so focused on your pleasure, on making it difficult for you to stay quiet, you didn’t know how much longer you’d be able to take it. You were so sensitive, everything just felt so good. Harry sees it when he looks up at you in the mirror. How cock drunk you were, how hard you were trying to stay quiet, and it ignited something primal in him.

“Look at you baby. See how fucked out you look, hmm?” you nod, and he smiles, “You a little cock drunk, baby?” he teases as you struggle to maintain eye contact with him in the mirror. Your eyes roll back for a moment before they are able to refocus on your reflection in the mirror.

“I know, it’s so much isn't it.” he coos, “But you wanted it, so you can take it. And you’re going to.” He huffs. “Fuck you’re so tight baby.” He brings a hand down your front to where you two connect, fingers going straight to your clit. Harry coos at you kissing the side of your head, fingers tapping at your clit.

You let out the tiniest whimper, and as if it were a reflex Harry's hand went from framing your neck to covering your mouth. The swift simple move only had you moaning into his hand even more. “Shh….quiet baby.” he groans into your ear.

You feel your legs grow weaker and weaker as he continues to pound into you. You lean forward, against the countertop, as Harry brings the hand on your hip, around your waist, allowing him to hold most of your weight up. He leans forward, kissing the back of your shoulder, your neck anywhere he could reach. The tenderness of his kisses mixed with the fierceness of his strokes had your head swimming, and he could feel you start to tighten around him.

“That’s it, baby just relax. Let go baby.”

You feel yourself tightening even more around his cock, squeezing him with a vice grip. You moan into his hand, as you feel your orgasm approaching. “There you go. Come on. I feel you right there.” he praises, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “Cum with me, honey. Come on.”

Your hand flies down, hitting the sink, as you feel your legs completely give out, coming hard around Harry’s cock.

“Thata girl. Fuck! Come just like that.” he encourages, kissing at your neck and face.

He fucks you through it, only for moments later for his own orgasm to follow, painting your walls and throbbing inside of you.

He removes his hand from your mouth, but turns your face to kiss him. You moan into the sloppy kiss, trying your best to catch your breath. Harry turns you around, lifting you up to sit on the counter. He opens your thighs sliding between them wrapping his arms around your waist pulling you close. You wrap your arms around his neck, tucking yourself into his neck.

“Wow.” you sigh.

“You okay?” he asks softly, kissing along your hairline. You chuckle, nodding into his hold. “I wasn’t too rough?”

You pull away, caressing his face, “No.” you smile lazily, “Not at all. What got into you?”

“I don’t know…these costumes.” He said looking down at your tits that had been on display all night. “Something about them.” He chuckles.

“Well if it's costumes you like…I have plenty of ideas.” you giggle leaning forward kissing him.

“I’m all ears.” Harry smirks.

✨masterlist✨ ∣ ✨yap & req✨

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yan-randomfandom · 2 months ago

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Theraprism!Bill Cipher & GoLB!Reader

[DRABBLE] had a chat w my friend abt Golb from Adventure Time, and with the stronger-than-bill godly reader fics here rn, i got this idea! although this isn't romance, just pure mockery between cosmic beings

∆

You smiled. His bulging eye narrowed in return.

"Oh, Billy, you never fail to look just like your parents when you're at your worst."

He grew drastically larger in size, overwhelmed with rage and hatred, but the white room only limits him from becoming his full potential. The red color that dominated his body overpowered any other light, and Bill Cipher truly, desperately hated that fact.

As an embodiment of chaos and destruction, you oversee every detail, even the smallest speck, within your domain. Though, who's to say that everything already isn't within you?

And, of course... This guy?

"When they said I had a special guest today, I didn't expect it to be you, GOLB," he seethed, jabbing a finger at the glass separating you two. The action didn't really mean much when his enormous, glowing eye was taking the entirety of your vision.

"So, what? You came here to mock me? Aren't you supposed to be out destroying universes or something?"

Your smile widened. "Who said I wasn't?"

Bill paused, falling silent as he shrank back to his original size. His red hue turned yellow. Shame. He looked best when he was his father's color.

...

"Well, shucks," he scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "I suppose I should feel honored you’re here. Never realized I’d caught your attention, you freak."

"Always have. Especially after that little fiasco back on earth," you mused, a chuckle escaping your mouth. "I just came by to see how you're doing. You don't look so hot, Bill Cipher."

"Ugh, what, are you about to lecture me on how a human beat me?" he sneered as he crossed his arms. "Because I promise you he didn't—"

"Humans... are peculiar," you interrupted his rant early. Apparently, he didn't appreciate that and glared at you. "They have something we otherworldly beings don't. You know, if I had the choice, I'd choose to be human."

Bill sighed rather dramatically. "All those sappy feelings and weak bodies? You should be glad we don't have that. It's stupid, just dumb!"

To his surprise, you stood up. Well, being an entity like yourself, your time is strict. He's lucky enough he got to talk to you.

"Of course you would say that," you chided, meeting his gaze. The glowing crack on his body intensified in response. "And, yet, the Pines family defeated you using only their bond."

He doesn't reply.

"...I'm just saying that I miss Earth, my home. If I had known you actually had any chance of succeeding, I would have destroyed you already."

...

"Anyway, good talk. It was a pleasure to meet you," you remarked, bowing your head.

Bill quietly stared at your leaving human form. You are the ultimate disrespect Bill has ever encountered in his lifetime.

Right next to Stanley Pines.

∆

BONUS:

The axolotl blinked at you. "Being kinder to Bill was an option. We're trying to better him, after all."

You shrugged. "Look, Gills, I don't know the future, but what I do know is that I haven't met a being like him in a long, long time."

Bill Cipher is a stupid pest who got his powers from his own mistakes. Now, he chases over nothing.

if u dunno em, this is OG golb from adventure time! erm golb looking like a baby but feel free to change how u look like lol, we have imagination!!

just gonna outright say it,,, GOLB!reader used to be human! Just like Golbetty!!!

DEAREST WRITERS, IF YOU LIKE THE IDEA OF GOLB!READER, FEEL FREE TO MAKE YOUR OWN VERSION TOO!!! GIVE US FOOD PLS PLS AND TAG ME 👉👈

#yan writes #bill cipher #gravity falls x reader #bill cipher x reader #the book of bill #tbob spoilers #golb reader #theraprism #theraprism bill cipher

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oceandolores · 3 months ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 3

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦"

summary: After the incident, where past traumas resurface and threaten to unravel your fragile sense of security, Joel steps in as a protector. His presence becomes a beacon of comfort amidst the chaos.

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, r4p3, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 3

masterlist of the series!

Previous | chapter 2

Next | chapter 4

The night when Jamie took your virginity by force felt like the moment the light within you was extinguished. It was as if the divine spark that once illuminated your soul was snuffed out, leaving behind a darkness that clung to you like a second skin. The purity you had cherished as a good Christian girl was shattered, and in its place, you felt an overwhelming sense of dirtiness. It was as if you had been marked, branded with an invisible scarlet letter that only you could see, yet you believed everyone else could see it too.

The past two months had been a relentless descent into a personal hell. You had become a ghost of your former self, your once vibrant spirit now a flickering ember. Physically, you were a shadow, your body wasting away as if your soul’s torment had seeped into your flesh. The weight of your violation bore down on you, leaving you with no desire to eat, to engage, to exist. Every day was a struggle against the ever-present feeling of disgust, the conviction that you were tainted beyond redemption.

In the eyes of others, you felt exposed, as if the sin of that night was etched into your very being. It was as if the words “dirty slut” were emblazoned across your skin, a silent condemnation that followed you everywhere. No matter where you went, the eyes of judgment seemed to follow, their silent accusations piercing your already wounded soul.

At school, you had withdrawn into yourself, a stark contrast to the lively girl you once were. You spoke to no one, even when you went to church, you avoiding Ellie, Tommy, and Maria. After class, you would rush home, seeking refuge in the solitude that had become both your sanctuary and your prison. Only Joel knew the truth of what had happened that night, and he had been your anchor in the storm.

After that night, you stayed at Joel’s. He had been nothing but gentle, his touch a stark contrast to the violence you had endured. He cleaned you up, gave you a bath, and ensured your privacy by standing near the tub with the curtain drawn, only intervening if you needed something. The care he showed you was the kind of protection you had longed for all your life. His presence was a balm to your wounded spirit, his protectiveness a shield against the darkness that threatened to consume you.

The morning after, you insisted on walking home, despite Joel’s offer to drive you. Your house was nearby, but in your daze, you had forgotten to inform your parents where you had been. As you walked through the front door, your father’s fury was immediate. "Where have you been?" he demanded, his voice a thunderous roar. "You didn’t tell us you were staying out. Do you have any idea how worried we were?"

"I stayed at Ellie’s," you lied, your voice barely above a whisper. "If you don’t believe me, you can call Joel."

Without hesitation, your father dialed Joel’s number. You stood there, heart pounding, as Joel answered. "Yes, she stayed with Ellie here last night," Joel confirmed, his voice steady. He kept his promise not to reveal the incident with Jamie, but your father’s anger was far from assuaged.

"Even so," your father raged, "you didn’t inform us. What’s next? You’ll become a whore, wandering the streets? Is that what you want?" His words cut deep, each one a dagger plunging into your already shattered heart. He berated you about the virtues of Christianity, reminding you of the sanctity of purity and obedience.

"You need to understand the importance of your faith," he lectured, his voice a relentless drone. "You must remain pure and obedient, not fall into sin like this."

You stood there, numb, the weight of his words adding to the already unbearable burden on your shoulders. The guilt and shame threatened to overwhelm you. Every word felt like another chain, binding you in your own personal hell.

"Take off your shirt and face the wall," your father ordered, his voice cold and commanding.

With trembling hands, you did as he said, the shirt you borrowed from Ellie slipping to the floor. You turned to the wall, feeling the roughness of the paint against your skin, a stark contrast to the softness you craved. Your father took his belt, the leather a familiar implement of punishment, and began to strike.

Each lash was a searing reminder of your perceived sins, each word of his condemnation a nail in the coffin of your spirit. "This is for your disobedience," he spat, the belt cracking against your skin. "This is for the whore you’re becoming."

You bit back your cries, the tears streaming down your face silently. You were too exhausted to scream, too broken to protest. The pain was overwhelming, but it felt deserved. In your mind, this was God’s punishment for your unholiness, a penance for the dirtiness you couldn’t wash away.

Your mother watched from the doorway, her eyes filled with helplessness. She didn’t intervene, just as she never had. Instead, she retreated to the living room, turning up the volume on the gospel music to drown out the sound of your father’s anger and your silent suffering.

With each strike, you closed your eyes, the pain coursing through you like fire. You envisioned yourself as a fallen angel, wings torn and bloodied, cast out from the grace you once knew. The purity you had cherished was gone, replaced by a deep, unending shame.

When it was over, you collapsed to the floor, your body trembling with the aftershocks of pain. You felt like a martyr, bearing the weight of your father’s righteousness, the gospel music a cruel hymn to your suffering. You were unworthy, unholy, and the punishment was your penance.

As you lay there, tears mingling with the cold floor, you prayed. Not for forgiveness, but for strength. "God, if You’re listening, help me endure this. Help me find a way to survive." Your prayer was a whisper in the storm, a desperate plea from a soul that had known too much darkness.

In that moment, you understood the depth of your isolation. Your purity was gone, your light extinguished, but a spark of defiance remained. You had survived this night, just as you had survived Jamie. And somehow, you would find a way to keep surviving, to reclaim the light that had been stolen from you.

***

The days that followed were a blur of silence and shadows. You moved through the house like a ghost, your presence barely acknowledged by your parents. Your father’s words echoed in your mind, a constant reminder of your perceived worthlessness. Every glance in the mirror revealed the invisible brand of shame you felt etched into your skin. You had become a stranger to yourself, lost in a labyrinth of guilt and self-loathing.

At school, you withdrew further into yourself, avoiding everyone’s gaze. Ellie noticed your absence, but you couldn’t bring yourself to explain. The weight of your secret was too heavy to share, the fear of judgment too great. You walked the halls with your head down, each step a reminder of the burden you carried.

A month had gone by, and now it was Sunday. The weight of another church service loomed over you. You had managed to somewhat regain a semblance of normalcy, but the shadows of that night continued to haunt you. Despite the slight improvement, you had been avoiding everyone, including Joel. His calls went unanswered, and you took alternate routes to avoid passing his house. The shame you felt was overwhelming. You had developed feelings for Joel, but you believed he would never want you now that you felt so dirty.

Joel, on the other hand, was deeply worried about you. His concern grew with each passing day. He would occasionally ask Tommy if he had seen you at church, but Tommy’s answers never provided the comfort Joel sought.

The night before Sunday, Joel decided to visit Tommy and Maria with Ellie, hoping to have a casual movie night. He needed an excuse to ask about you without raising suspicions.

As they settled in the living room, Tommy was setting up the movie. Joel took a seat next to him, glancing around at the familiar surroundings. Ellie and Maria were chatting in the kitchen, preparing snacks.

"So, how’ve things been?" Joel asked, trying to keep his tone light. "Busy with the kid, I bet."

Tommy chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, you know how it is. Little one keeps us on our toes. What about you? How's work been?"

"Same old, same old," Joel replied, leaning back in his chair. "Ellie's doing good in school, keeping me busy with all her activities."

Tommy smiled. "That’s good to hear. She’s a great kid."

Joel nodded, then took a deep breath, trying to steer the conversation. "Yeah, speaking of kids... you seen Gibson girl around lately? Maybe at church? Haven't seen her passing by my home."

Tommy frowned, scratching his head. "Yeah, now that you mention it, I haven't seen her at church either. And she's usually always around."

Joel tried to keep his voice casual, not wanting to raise suspicion. "Right," Joel answered, but his thoughts were far from the conversation at hand. He couldn't shake the image of you from his mind—the pain in your eyes, the way you had avoided him, the way your voice trembled when you last spoke. Every unanswered call, every sight of your empty path gnawed at him, filling him with a deep, gnawing worry.

He replayed that night over and over, the way you had clung to him, the way he had tried to provide comfort without crossing any lines. He had never felt so helpless, so desperate to protect someone, yet so unsure of how to do it. His heart ached with the thought of you suffering alone, believing you were dirty or unworthy.

"Joel?" Tommy's voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. Joel blinked, realizing he had completely zoned out.

"Huh? What?" Joel said, shaking his head to clear the fog of worry. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Tommy gave him a curious look, tilting his head slightly. "I was asking if you wanted more popcorn, but you seemed a million miles away. Everything alright?"

Joel forced a smile, trying to mask the anxiety that churned within him. "Yeah, sorry just got a lot on my mind. But yeah, more popcorn sounds good."

Tommy didn't seem entirely convinced, but he let it go, standing up to refill the bowl. Joel watched him go, taking the moment to gather himself. He needed to find a way to reach you, to make sure you were alright without raising too much suspicion. The worry gnawed at him, a constant presence in the back of his mind.

As the movie continued, Joel found it hard to focus. His thoughts kept drifting back to you, hoping that you were finding some measure of peace, even as he felt his own slipping further away.

As the sun rose on Sunday, you prepared yourself with a painstaking precision. The morning light seemed to cast an unforgiving glow on your efforts, illuminating every detail of your attire and makeup. You adorned yourself in a soft yellow dress, a stark contrast to the stained white dress you had left behind—a symbol of a past tainted by invisible scars. Your hair was styled meticulously, and a light touch of makeup tried to mask the weariness in your eyes. It was as if you were trying to paint over the shadows that clung to you, hoping that the brightness of the yellow might somehow wash away the stains of your recent past.

Your father was adamant about you joining the service, and the pressure of his expectations weighed heavily on you. The town would be present, as it always was for these occasions, their curious eyes a stark reminder of your recent absence. You could feel their gazes, and you braced yourself for the inevitable scrutiny. The anticipation of stepping into the public eye once more was almost suffocating.

When you arrived at the church, you noticed Tommy and Maria’s car parked nearby, a sight that barely registered in your anxious state. But as you turned, your heart seemed to freeze. There, behind Tommy’s car, was a familiar truck—a vehicle you hadn’t expected to see in such a context. It was Joel’s truck.

Your breath hitched in your throat. Joel had decided to return to church after years of absence. The scene before you was a tableau of mixed emotions: the congregation’s whispers, the look of surprise on Tommy’s face, and your father’s exuberant welcome of Joel. The church buzzed with curiosity, and every eye seemed to turn toward Joel and the unexpected presence he brought with him. Your father’s enthusiasm was palpable as he greeted Joel, his gestures warm and welcoming. Tommy smiled, clearly pleased to see his brother, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You, on the other hand, felt an overwhelming urge to disappear. The thought of facing Joel was almost too much to bear. The last time you had seen him, everything had been different. The thought of him seeing you in your current state, a mix of shame and unresolved feelings, was unbearable. You moved swiftly to avoid his gaze, slipping through the crowd like a wisp of smoke.

Joel's presence was a silent declaration of concern and hope. His return to the church was more than a gesture; it was an effort to reconnect, to understand why you had vanished so abruptly from his life. He couldn’t risk coming to your house and questioning your parents directly, as that would have been too conspicuous. Instead, he chose this public setting, hoping it might offer a chance to see you, to gauge your well-being without drawing undue attention.

Tommy and Ellie had been startled by Joel’s decision to attend church after all these years. To them, it was an unspoken mystery, a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit with the past patterns they knew. Tommy’s curiosity was evident, though he kept his questions at bay, respecting Joel’s unspoken wish for discretion.

As the service began, the room was filled with the familiar hymns and prayers. The sounds of the congregation’s voices blended into a backdrop of solemnity and devotion. You sat through the service, your mind a turbulent sea of emotions, while Joel’s presence at the back of the church was a constant, heavy reminder of your own turmoil.

Joel, despite his own feelings of discomfort in this sacred space, kept his gaze low, trying to remain unobtrusive. His concern for you overshadowed the solemnity of the service, his heart aching with the desire to reach out, to offer solace, but restrained by the fear of overstepping. The echoes of the sermon, the rustle of prayer books, and the collective murmur of the congregation seemed distant, as if you were trapped in a bubble of your own distress.

After the Sunday service, the church transformed into a space of community and fellowship. Tables were set up with an array of homemade dishes, and the congregation gathered for a communal meal. The aroma of comfort food filled the air, mingling with the murmur of conversations and the clinking of plates. It was a time for members of the congregation to connect, share news, and strengthen their bonds.

You moved through the gathering with practiced grace, helping your mother and father arrange the food and interact with the attendees. Your smile was a well-practiced mask, concealing the turmoil that churned beneath. You greeted old friends and acquaintances, your responses polite but distant. The effort to maintain this façade was exhausting, but you felt it was necessary to avoid further scrutiny.

As you made your way to the storage room in the church, a quiet refuge away from the bustling hall, you found yourself alone. The clamor of the gathering seemed a world away, and the space was filled with the scent of dust and old paper. You were organizing a stack of donation boxes when you heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching.

Turning around, you saw Joel standing in the doorway. His presence was like a sudden storm cloud on an otherwise clear day—unexpected and overwhelming. He looked at you with a mixture of concern and apprehension, his rugged face lined with worry. The weight of his gaze was almost palpable, and it seemed as though he was struggling to find the right words.

“Hey,” Joel said, his voice low and gravelly. He took a hesitant step forward, his hands stuffed into his pockets. The usual gruffness in his tone was softened by the underlying worry.

You shifted uncomfortably, caught off guard by his appearance. “Joel,” you managed to reply, trying to keep your voice steady despite the emotions welling up inside you. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Joel looked around the small room, as if searching for the right way to start the conversation. “Yeah, well,” he began, his gaze falling back on you. “I’ve been—” He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. “I’ve been worried about you. Haven’t seen you around much. I wanted to see if you’re okay.”

His words were simple, yet they carried the weight of his genuine concern. Joel was a man of action rather than words, and his struggle to articulate his feelings only highlighted how much he cared. He took another step closer, his eyes searching yours for a sign of how you were really doing.

“Joel,” you said, your voice trembling slightly, “did you come to church just for this? I’m fine. Really.”

Joel’s expression softened, but his concern remained palpable. “I’ve been tryin’ to reach you, and you’ve been avoidin’ me. It’s not like you to just disappear. I need to know—are you really okay?” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration.

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his worry. You looked away, struggling to find the right response. “I’ve just been dealing with things,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I needed some time.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly, his concern deepening. " You’ve been missin’ from school, from church, from everythin’. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been keepin’ your distance."

You felt a pang of guilt at his words, the truth of your situation pressing heavily on your heart. “I'm fine, Joel” you said, struggling to keep your composure.

Joel’s gaze remained steady, a mixture of frustration and concern etched into his features. “Why’ve you been avoidin’ me?” he asked, his voice a blend of urgency and care. “You can’t keep runnin’ away from this. You keep pushin’ me away.”

You felt a sharp pang of guilt at his words, your heart twisting in your chest. The shame and the weight of your feelings made it difficult to meet his eyes. “I just—” you began, your voice faltering. “I didn’t want you to see me like this. I didn’t want you to see how... broken I am.”

Joel’s expression softened, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and tenderness. “What are you talkin’ about?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not broken. You’re still you. You don’t have nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

His words were a balm to your wounded spirit, yet the weight of your shame still felt suffocating. You shook your head, tears blurring your vision. “But I’ve changed,” you said, your voice cracking. “I feel like I’m not who I was before. I feel... dirty. Like I’m not even me anymore.”

Joel’s eyes softened as he noticed the tremble in your voice, the tears that began to fall. Without a second thought, he closed the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight, reassuring embrace. His touch was warm and steady, a stark contrast to the cold grip of your shame.

As he held you, Joel let his guard down, something he rarely allowed himself to do. The strength in his arms was a shield against the world, a sanctuary where you could momentarily escape the torment you had been living through. The gentle rise and fall of his chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing, provided a grounding comfort. This was more than a physical embrace; it was a silent promise of protection, akin to the way he had once shielded Ellie and Sarah.

“It’s alright,” Joel murmured into your hair, his voice low and soothing. “It’s not your fault, it's not your fault. Everything's gonna be alright, babygirl."

His words were like a balm to the raw wounds of your spirit, yet the weight of your emotions still felt heavy. You could sense the sincerity in his voice, a quiet strength that contrasted sharply with the tumult of your inner world. In his embrace, you could almost imagine the weight of your shame lifting, if only for a moment.

After a while, you slowly pulled away from Joel’s comforting hold, grateful for his presence. “Thank you, Joel,” you said softly, wiping away the remnants of your tears. Joel, ever the pragmatist, decided to lighten the mood with one of his characteristic jokes.

“You know,” he said with a crooked smile, “cryin’ like that might just mess up your makeup. And we wouldn’t want you lookin’ like a raccoon now, would we?”

His playful jest brought a genuine smile to your face, a rare and fleeting moment of joy. Joel’s eyes softened as he saw you smile, his own expression a mix of relief and affection. “That’s right, like that, doll,” he said, his voice warm.

He gently cupped your face, his rough fingers brushing away the last traces of tears. “You’re stronger than you think. Just gotta give yourself some credit. You ain’t broken, not by a long shot.”

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps approached, and your mother appeared at the doorway of the storage room. Her cheerful voice cut through the tension. “Sweetheart, what’s taking so long? Did you find everything?”

You and Joel quickly pulled away from each other, making a show of straightening up and wiping your faces. “Umm, yes mother, I-I found it,” you said, trying to sound casual.

Your mother’s eyes fell on Joel, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Joel? What are you doing here?”

Joel cleared his throat, trying to mask the unease in his voice. “Hey, Evelyn, I, uh, just looking around the church again. Almost forgot how it looks from the inside, you know? It’s been a while.”

Your mother, ever the bubbly personality, clapped her hands together. “Oh, that’s wonderful! We’re so glad to see you back. You know, you should come more often. It’s always nice to have you around. It’s been such a long time!”

Joel nodded, his eyes flicking back to you with a hint of concern. “Yeah, I’ll think about it. Just felt like catching up with old times.”

Your mother beamed at Joel, her enthusiasm unwavering. “Well, that’s fantastic. You must join us for some of the refreshments afterward. It’s a potluck today, and there’s plenty of food. Everyone’s been asking about you.”

Joel gave a polite smile, trying to hide his discomfort. “Sure thing. I’ll stick around for a bit.”

As your mother continued to chat with Joel, her cheerful demeanor filling the room with a lightness that contrasted sharply with the earlier tension, you took the opportunity to discreetly collect yourself. You adjusted your dress and smoothed out your makeup, trying to regain your composure.

Joel, noticing the change in your demeanor, shot you a small, reassuring smile before turning his attention back to your mother.

Your mother excuse herself to go out but lookback to you, “Oh, sweetheart, I almost forgot. We need help with the setup for the refreshments,”

You quickly nodded. “Yes, I’ll take care of it, Mama." and she went to outside.

You and Joel moved outside too, where the atmosphere of the church’s potluck was in full swing. The laughter and chatter of the congregation filled the air, mingling with the scent of freshly baked goods and savory dishes. Joel, despite his unease, tried to adapt to the social scene, engaging with the women who flocked to him. He was a striking figure, with his salt-and-pepper beard and intense brown eyes that had a rugged charm to them. The women, clearly drawn to his distinguished appearance and the success he embodied, tried to catch his attention, though Joel’s discomfort was palpable. He offered polite smiles and brief responses, all the while his gaze frequently wandered back to you.

You moved among the congregation, offering refreshments and engaging in small talk, your presence like a breath of fresh air amidst the busier, more boisterous interactions. To Joel, you appeared as a serene vision—an innocent beauty despite everything. There was something ethereal about you, a delicate grace that made you stand out among the crowd. Your yellow dress seemed to shimmer with a soft glow, as if capturing the very essence of spring's first light.

Joel’s eyes lingered on you, the sight of your genuine smile and the way you interacted with others tugging at something deep within him. You were like a lone daisy in a field of wildflowers, untouched by the wilting sun. His admiration for you was undeniable, though it was mingled with concern and protectiveness.

Suddenly, as you were handing out refreshments, he noticed a boy approaching you. He moved with a kind of familiar swagger, and Joel’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized him—Jamie Lee. The sight of Jamie sent a shiver down Joel’s spine, and a protective instinct surged through him. He watched, tense and alert, as Jamie neared you.

Jamie’s presence was like a shadow falling over your radiant light. Joel’s gaze hardened, his focus narrowing. He could see the unease in your posture, the way you instinctively took a step back. The fear in your eyes was palpable, and it made Joel’s fists clench at his sides.

Joel, unable to stand idly by, started making his way towards you. His movements were deliberate and calculated, every step driven by a fierce determination to protect you.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions before turning back to Jamie. The confrontation had left a bitter taste in your mouth, and you approached him with a cold, composed demeanor.

Jamie, noticing your icy response, shifted uncomfortably. “Hey,” he started, his voice trying to sound casual but laced with an apologetic tone. “I didn’t mean to, you know, I was just—”

"Get off from my face," you said quietly doesn't want to make a scene.

amie’s face twisted into a desperate mask of fear as he took another step closer. “Look, I’m really sorry,” he said, his voice trembling. “Just... just listen to me. I didn’t mean to—”

“Get off from my face,” you repeated, your voice barely a whisper but sharp as a blade. Your hands trembled slightly as you tried to push him away, but Jamie persisted, his fear morphing into a desperate, unsettling urgency. “Please, just leave me alone.”

Jamie’s panic grew. He began to reach out, trying to grab your arm. “You don’t understand. I need you to—”

Before he could touch you, Joel’s imposing figure appeared, his presence radiating a quiet, intimidating authority. His eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation, the protective instincts within him coming to the forefront. “What’s goin’ on here?” Joel’s voice was steady, yet carried a dangerous edge that made Jamie freeze.

Jamie’s eyes widened in recognition. “Mr. Miller!” he stammered, backing away slightly. “I—uh—”

Joel’s gaze shifted to you, noticing the fear and distress on your face. He took a step closer to you, his body language radiating both calm and control. “Gibson, you alright?” he asked softly, his voice a reassuring balm amidst the tension.

You nodded, though your face was pale and your eyes betrayed the turmoil within. “Yes, I’m fine. Just... I need to go," You trying to gave Joel a smile and then walk away continue what you were doing.

Joel watched you walk away, his protective instincts still simmering beneath the surface. Once you were out of sight, Joel turned his full attention back to Jamie, his expression hardening.

“Hey, Jamie,” Joel said, his voice low and controlled. “How’s your old man? Still keepin’ busy with the firm?”

Jamie seemed to relax slightly, though his eyes still flicked nervously between Joel and the direction you had gone. “Uh, yeah, he’s doing alright,” Jamie replied, trying to sound casual. “Still busy as ever. You know how it is.”

Joel’s gaze was unwavering, a subtle intensity in his eyes that Jamie seemed to sense but couldn’t quite place. “And what about you? What’ve you been up to lately?”

Jamie fidgeted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, just... you know, school and stuff. Nothing too exciting.”

Joel nodded slowly, maintaining a calm exterior while his mind worked through his options. “Right, right. Well, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you around. Thought I’d come back to the old church, see how things are goin’.”

Jamie’s eyes darted nervously. “Yeah, it’s been a while,” he said, his voice faltering. “So, uh, what brings you back? I thought you hadn’t been around for years.”

Joel’s smile was tight, the warmth of it not quite reaching his eyes. “Just felt like it was time to reconnect. Thought I’d check in on the old place, you know?"

Jamie seemed to relax a bit more, although his discomfort lingered. “Yeah, well, it’s good to see you,” he said awkwardly. “Things are... different, but you know how it is.”

Joel’s gaze remained steady, a quiet storm of thoughts behind his calm facade. “Yeah, I know how it is,” he said, his tone measured. “Well, Jamie, I’m glad we had a chance to catch up. I'll see you around,"

Jamie’s face was a mask of confusion and relief as he nodded quickly. “Yeah, see you around, Mr. Miller.”

As Jamie walked away, Joel’s eyes followed him, a thoughtful frown settling on his face. He knew there was more beneath the surface, and he was determined to uncover it, but for now, he kept his thoughts to himself.

Joel took a deep breath, his gaze returning to where you had disappeared. He knew that protecting you and making sure you felt safe was his priority now. The façade of casual conversation was just that—a façade.

Joel watched you slip away from the crowd, a cloud of worry settling over him. His thoughts were a maelstrom of concern and determination, but before he could follow, he was waylaid by several familiar faces. They were eager to catch up, their questions and greetings a barrier he couldn’t easily cross. He tried to be polite, nodding and offering half-hearted responses, all the while his mind remained focused on you.

Meanwhile, you navigated the church grounds with a heavy heart, your steps driven by a desperate need for solitude. You approached your father with a feigned urgency. “Papa, I need to leave early. I have a test tomorrow and I need a book from the library,” you said, your voice trembling slightly but with a determined edge.

Your father, engrossed in the after-church festivities, waved you off with little more than a distracted nod. “Alright, just be back before dark,” he called after you, his attention already shifting back to the conversation he was engaged in.

With a sigh of relief, you made your way to the edge of the church grounds, your thoughts a tangled mess of despair and shame. The path to the lake felt like a journey through an emotional wilderness. Each step seemed to echo the emptiness inside you, the trees and underbrush closing in like the walls of your own confinement.

As you walked, the weight of your thoughts felt like an oppressive fog, obscuring any sense of clarity or peace. The forest surrounding the path seemed to mirror your inner turmoil—dark, tangled, and impenetrable. The chirping of distant birds and the rustling leaves became a muted symphony to your solitary reflection, their sounds like distant whispers of a world you felt disconnected from.

Reaching the lake, you sank down onto the grassy bank, the weight of the past weeks pressing heavily on your shoulders. The water’s surface was a mirror of your own fractured soul—rippled and distorted, reflecting the tangled mess of your emotions. You fished out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a flask from beneath your jacket, your hands shaking slightly. The cigarettes were a crutch, a way to cope with the stress that had become almost unbearable.

Lighting a cigarette, you took a long drag, the smoke curling up into the air like a wisp of your own troubles being released. You retrieved the flask, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig of the whiskey you had managed to sneak away. The warmth of the alcohol spread through you, a fleeting comfort in the midst of your turmoil. It was a bitter solace, a way to dull the sharp edges of your pain, but it never truly erased the deep ache within.

The lake, now dimming in the encroaching twilight, seemed to embrace your solitude. Its surface reflected the last rays of sunlight, shimmering like scattered fragments of hope amidst the darkness. You leaned back, the grass beneath you soft and cool, the calmness of the lake providing a deceptive sense of tranquility.

As you looked out over the water, your thoughts drifted like the gentle ripples across the lake’s surface. The recent events played out in your mind like a series of shadowy figures, each one a reminder of how your life had spiraled into this moment of isolation and despair. You clung to the fleeting moments of numbness provided by the whiskey and smoke, trying to drown out the crushing weight of your reality.

Joel, meanwhile, managed to extricate himself from the crowd of well-wishers. His concern for you was a constant pull, a magnetic force guiding him towards you. As he scanned the area around the church, his eyes caught sight of your disappearing figure, and he felt a renewed urgency to follow.

The lake stretched out before you, its surface a placid mirror reflecting the fading light of day. The gentle rustle of leaves and the distant calls of birds seemed like distant echoes compared to the chaos in your mind. You lay on the grass, feeling the cool, damp earth beneath you, and the weight of Jamie Lee’s presence still heavy on your soul. Each ripple in the lake's surface seemed to mimic the turbulent waves of your thoughts—crashing, receding, only to rise again with relentless force.

You had managed to slip away from the crowd, the world around you feeling far removed from the comforting isolation you sought. As you stared out over the lake, the thoughts of Jamie’s unwelcome reappearance, the haunting memories, and the crushing fear of being trapped in this endless cycle of pain and shame twisted through your mind. You were desperate for a way out, a new beginning, a place where you could shed the weight of your past and start anew. But for now, all you could do was lie there, the whispers of the forest around you a faint consolation against the storm within.

Then, breaking through the oppressive silence, a voice reached you. "Thought I found you here."

The sound of Joel’s voice was a stark contrast to the turmoil you felt inside. You turned slowly, your heart pounding as you saw him emerging from the trees. His presence was a tether to reality, grounding you amidst the chaos. His gaze was soft but intense, filled with a concern that seemed to pierce through the veil of your anguish.

Joel walked over to you with deliberate steps, his expression a mix of determination and empathy. He settled beside you on the grass, his body language a silent promise of protection and understanding. The familiarity of his presence was both a comfort and a reminder of the stark contrast between your own inner darkness and his unwavering support.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle but laced with genuine worry.

You didn’t immediately respond, the weight of your emotions rendering you almost speechless. The silence stretched between you, a fragile bridge spanning the gap between your fractured state and his steady presence. Joel’s eyes, dark and intense, held yours with an unwavering focus, as if trying to read the secrets written in your sorrow.

“I don’t know how to make it stop,” you finally said, your voice trembling. “Everything feels like it’s falling apart, and I keep trying to run away from it. But every time I think I’m getting away, it all just catches up with me.”

Joel’s expression was a mix of deep concern and frustration as he watched you struggle to keep your composure. “I’m here for you,” he said softly, his voice carrying a weight of earnest reassurance.

As Joel reached out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder, you flinched as though struck, your body reacting involuntarily to the touch. Joel pulled his hand back, a flash of confusion crossing his face. “Hey, what’s goin’ on?” he asked, his tone gentler now. “What’s wrong?”

You quickly shook your head, trying to mask the truth. “It’s nothing, Joel. I’m fine,” you insisted, though the tremor in your voice betrayed your distress.

Joel’s eyes narrowed with concern. It was clear to him that there was more to your reaction than you were letting on. “You’re not fine,” he said firmly. “You're hidin' something, let me see your back,"

“I’m fine, Joel,” you insisted, trying to back away from him. Your voice was steadier now, but your heart was racing.

Joel’s face was set in grim determination. “No, you’re not. If you don’t show me, I’m gonna keep pushin’. I can see it in your eyes—you’re in pain, and I need to know why.”

When you continued to resist, Joel’s frustration reached its peak. “You gotta trust me,” he said, his voice harsh but filled with a desperate edge.

Unable to bear his insistence any longer, you shouted, “Joel, stop! I said I’m fine!” The raw pain and fear in your voice were undeniable, and Joel’s eyes softened for a moment, but his resolve remained unshaken.

Joel’s expression hardened. “I’m not lettin’ this go,” he said firmly. He gently but firmly reached for the hem of your dress, pulling it down further to expose the scars on your back. His movements were deliberate and careful, but his eyes were filled with a cold intensity that brooked no argument.

As he revealed the cruel marks etched into your skin, his anger became more apparent. His gaze swept over the scars—long, angry lines, some still raw and others faded but no less painful. Each mark told a story of suffering, and Joel’s jaw clenched in response.

Joel’s eyes darkened, his voice strained with barely controlled rage. “Who did this to you?” he asked, his tone growing colder with each word. “Who did this to you?"

"It's... It's my father," you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. The confession felt like a stone lodged in your throat, its weight choking you.

Joel closed his eyes momentarily, fighting to contain the storm of anger threatening to erupt. His fists clenched at his sides, his jaw working as he muttered curses under his breath. The fury simmering just below the surface was palpable.

“How long has this been goin’ on?” he asked, his voice hoarse with emotion. “How long have you been dealin’ with this?”

“Since forever,” you said quietly, your shoulders sagging under the weight of your admission.

"Does your mother know?" Joel asked, you nodded.

“My mother knows, but she’s too scared to do anything. It’s... ironic, really. Just a few months ago, he was giving advice to Tommy about parenting, acting like some holy figure, but he's nothing but a hypocrite.” You try to lighten up.

Joel’s face contorted with a mix of disbelief and disgust. He stood abruptly, his movements sharp and decisive.

You scrambled to your feet, desperation gripping you. “Joel, where are you going?! please,” you said, your voice trembling. “Don’t do anything. Please, just let it be. This is my fault. I made him angry. I deserve this. Please, don’t make it worse. I can’t handle more trouble.”

Joel’s gaze was intense, his anger still visible but mixed with concern. “Are you fucking crazy?!” he shouted, his voice echoing across the still lake. “This ain’t your fault!” His outburst was raw, his frustration spilling over.

You flinched, your body instinctively drawing back from the intensity of his anger. The sudden surge of emotion was overwhelming, and you could feel the fear rise in your chest, a cold shiver racing down your spine.

Joel’s expression softened as he saw your reaction, his own anger faltering in the face of your fear. He took a deep breath, trying to regain control. “I’m sorry," he said, his voice rough but gentler now. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just... seeing what he’s done to you...”

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “I know, I know, Joel,” you whispered. “I just don’t know how to handle this. I’m scared, and I feel like everything’s falling apart.”

Joel’s eyes, usually so guarded, now reflected a rare vulnerability. “You don’t need to be scared,” he said, his voice softer, like a steady hand in the darkness. “I’m here for you."

The night air felt colder, but Joel’s presence was a warm, unspoken promise. His rough exterior hid a well of compassion, and though he struggled to find the right words, his actions spoke volumes. He gently pressed his forehead to yours, their breaths mingling in the space between them. “I’ll keep you safe,” he vowed, his voice a low murmur. “I promise,"

The contact of his forehead against yours was a silent, grounding connection. It was a gesture filled with the weight of his resolve and the depth of his commitment. The orange sky seemed to hold its breath, the world narrowing down to the two of you in that fragile moment of solace.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked softly, your voice tinged with confusion and vulnerability. “Why are you helping me like this?”

Joel pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching for the right words. He honestly didn’t know, not really, why he felt this way. Why the protective instinct was so strong, why his heart ached with a depth he hadn’t felt before. This wasn’t like his feelings for Ellie or Sarah; it was different, an enigma wrapped in the folds of his hardened exterior. He was trying to piece it together, to make sense of the emotions that seemed to defy all his usual defenses.

Inside your head, the sensation was equally foreign but profoundly powerful. It was as if, for the first time, you were standing on the edge of a cliff, gazing at an ocean of comfort and care you had only ever dreamed of. The feelings you had longed for, the protection and the tenderness, were now here, enveloping you like a warm, protective cocoon. The stark contrast between this new sense of safety and the pain you had endured made the emotions even more intense.

Joel’s presence was like a lighthouse in a storm, a beacon that cut through the darkness of your fears and insecurities. The connection between you was electric, a thread that wove itself into the very fabric of your being. It was as if every touch, every glance, was an echo of a deep-seated need for solace and understanding. In his gaze, you found not just protection but a promise of something more, something you had never allowed yourself to fully believe in.

As the sky deepened around you, the intimacy of the moment became undeniable. You wanted to close the distance, to feel the warmth of his lips against yours, to make this bond even more tangible. But there was a hesitation—a barrier of years and experiences, a chasm you weren’t sure you could or should cross. Joel was older, a figure who had always seemed out of reach, yet now he was the focal point of a desire that was both thrilling and terrifying.

In your mind, the longing was like a fragile flower blossoming in the dark—a tender, delicate thing that had been waiting for the right moment to bloom. You felt a pull toward him that went beyond mere comfort; it was a magnetic force that drew you closer, promising a kind of connection you hadn’t thought possible.

You wanted to kiss him, to bridge the gap between what was and what could be, but the uncertainty lingered. Would he reciprocate, or would the age difference and the complexities of your feelings stand in the way? The desire was there, shimmering like moonlight on still water, but you were unsure if this was a path you should walk or a dream too fragile to grasp.

Joel's presence was an anchor, grounding you in a moment of clarity and vulnerability. The depth of what you felt for him was new and frightening, like navigating a starless sea in search of a shore you hoped existed. In the silence that followed, you could almost hear the unspoken questions hanging in the air between you, a testament to the complex dance of emotion and need that neither of you could fully understand but both could feel.

Driven by the raw need to bridge the chasm between what was and what could be, you made a sudden, bold decision. You leaned in, closing the distance between you with a desperate and trembling kiss.

The moment your lips met his, Joel’s eyes widened in shock. He had not expected this, and for a heartbeat, he was paralyzed, caught between instinct and confusion. It felt like an electric jolt had surged through him, awakening something deep and primal. His heart raced, and his breath hitched as he processed the reality of your kiss.

But as the shock wore off, something else stirred within him—a burgeoning need that mirrored your own. The kiss, so raw and honest, ignited a flame that Joel had long kept buried under layers of grief and stoicism. He felt the world narrow to just the two of you, a universe where the complexities of age and propriety faded into insignificance.

Without fully realizing it, Joel responded with a fervor that surprised even him. His hands cupped your face gently but firmly, drawing you closer. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and passionate, a dance of newfound desire and connection. It was as if each touch, each movement, was a revelation, a discovery of a shared longing that neither of you had fully acknowledged until this very moment.

Joel's kiss was eager, almost desperate. The way he pulled you closer, the intensity of his touch—it was as if he was trying to anchor himself to this fragile but profound connection. His initial shock gave way to an overwhelming need to reciprocate, to explore the emotions that had been unearthed by your bold move.

For both of you, this kiss was a turning point, a leap into a new realm of intimacy and understanding. It was more than just physical; it was an acknowledgment of the depth of feeling that had been building between you. The night around you seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for this moment to solidify into something undeniably real.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your faces flushed with a mix of exhilaration and uncertainty. Joel’s gaze was softer now, his eyes reflecting a blend of awe and desire. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch tender.

“Doll,” Joel said, his voice a rough whisper as he pulled back slightly. “I’m sorry, Joel.” The realization of what had just happened washed over you like a cold wave, leaving you feeling vulnerable and uncertain.

Joel shook his head gently, his gaze steady and reassuring. “No, it’s okay,” he said, his tone firm yet tender. “It’s okay. you're alright, you'll be fine, I promise."

You nodded, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. The sky was growing darker, the first hints of night casting long shadows across the lake. You knew you needed to head back before your father’s anger took a new form, a punishment you feared more than the quiet storm that had just passed between you and Joel.

Joel’s hand lingered on your shoulder, his grip warm and steady. “Do you want a ride back?” he asked, his concern evident.

“No, it’s alright,” you replied, shaking your head with a small, weary smile. “Just… go back to the church. Say goodbye to everyone, Joel.”

Joel hesitated, his expression a mix of reluctance and understanding. “Alright,” he said, but before turning to go, you couldn’t help but add a touch of humor to lighten the mood.

“Hey, are you gonna become a regular at the church again?” you said, forcing a grin. “You’ve been MIA for years, and now you show up just to connect with me? What’s next, a testimonial about divine intervention?”

Joel chuckled, the sound a rare and genuine escape from the weight of the moment. “I wouldn’t hold my breath,” he replied with a wry smile. “But maybe I’ll drop by once in a while, if only to make sure you’re still alright.”

You both shared a brief, understanding smile. It was a fleeting but comforting connection amidst the chaos of emotions and revelations.

Before parting ways, Joel gave you a warm hug, his embrace firm yet tender. He pulled back slightly and placed a soft kiss on your cheek, a gesture that carried more warmth and affection than words could convey. It was a promise, a silent vow of protection and care, even if he wasn’t entirely sure of the depths of his own feelings.

“Stay safe,” Joel said, his voice gentle but earnest. “I’ll see you around.”

As Joel walked away, his figure blending into the shadows, you turned and began your journey back home. The cool night air brushed against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that Joel had left behind. The path ahead was dimly lit by the moonlight, each step resonating with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

In your mind, the night’s events replayed like a vivid dream. The touch of Joel’s hand, the tenderness of his kiss, and the tangled emotions you felt were all swirling together, creating a new and unfamiliar reality. You felt like you had crossed a threshold, where the lines between safety and danger, affection and fear, had become blurred.

The lake, once a silent witness to your sorrow, now seemed like a distant memory. It was as if you had left it behind, stepping into a new world where the echoes of the night and the promise of something different lingered like a soft whisper.

As you entered your home, the weight of the night’s revelations settled heavily on your shoulders. Each step felt like a delicate balance between the pain you had known and the uncertain hope that now lay ahead. Today had ended with its own kind of twilight, a space between the darkness of the past and the uncertain dawn of the future.

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