#the red pearl scene

[bb-eb-db-bb-eb-b-ab-f-b-ab]

THIS SCENE—

[dinahthediningcarr]

IS THE FIT HARD?!?

And a closer look at my Kandi 🤩

Ignore the mess in the first picture it's post-christmas 😔

[preraphaelitepaintings]

Pot Pourri

Artist: John Everett Millais (English, 1829-1896)

Date: 19th century

Medium: Oil on canvas

[brotherhoodoftheblade]

I feel like I'm the only queer in Outlanderdom who read that scene between John and Jamie in BotB (you KNOW the one, it's surely infamous by now 💀) and just went NOPE, and pressed the eject button on Jamie Fraser. Because he is not allowed back in the tent of my fond regard until he amends his grossly homophobic ways.

And he still hasn't.

Treating Lord John as the sole exception to his repulsive (however period typical) attitude to "sodomites", the one rare honourable man among an otherwise perverse and fundamentally untrustworthy people, is NOT amendment.

He has not really changed at all, not in all the decades since.

And we know he's quite capable of seeing things from a radically different perspective beyond the limits of contemporary morality - just ask Claire and Breanna. He hasn't changed because he doesn't want to. Period.

And therefore he stays outside the tent. No homophobes allowed. 😐

[cloudwisp]

✮ sylus x wife!reader (2)

contents: tooth-rotting fluff. arranged marriage au. sylus as your sweet and doting husband who's simply in love with you and anything that you do. 1.5k wc.

꒰ note ᰔ thank you for everyone's patience who requested a part two!! I truly hope this meets your expectations <3

part one here. ꒱

⭒ You’re an early bird married to a night owl. After gradually moving your belongings into Sylus’ master bedroom, your different sleeping schedules were made acutely aware. His day is just beginning when you’re heading to bed and he’s more or less mentally retired after a long night of business dealings and meetings when your body decidedly rises with the first rays of light at dawn. Because of this, you both compromise to meet somewhere in the middle—Sylus sweetly tucks you in later than your usual bedtime and leaves only when you’d fallen asleep, and you snuggle with him in the mornings until the very last minute and you’re forced to get ready for the working day. However, his sleeping patterns are more on the irregular side and he’ll check in on you when he’s supposed to be resting.

⭒ When Luke and Kieran witness you and Sylus bid each other with a goodbye kiss—an affectionate and wholesome display between lovers as your husband sees you off to work at the front door, they are stunned and lose it from the sidelines at the budding romance. “Wait, what just happened?” “Was there a development while we were gone?” The crow twins would share glances and decipher the scene before them together. They both have been rooting for you and their boss since day one, and they marvel at the way you both are completely smitten with each other. As though you two are like newlyweds who can't get enough of your shared love, unwilling to separate just yet even as you slowly step away from Sylus.

⭒ His touch linger with purpose to hold onto every last part of you and his hands move from your waist and slide down your arms to hold your hands until his fingers curl slightly and mourn the loss of your warmth when he eventually has to let you go. When Sylus watches your figure disappear and return back inside his home he receives a thumbs up and pending double high fives respectively from his two henchmen. He walks past them and ignores their antics by giving them orders, but Luke doesn’t leave his brother hanging and celebrates that their boss is officially and undeniably in love.

⭒ Anniversaries were an unexpected thing to celebrate with Sylus—along with holidays and birthdays. You were caught by surprise when you received a gorgeous dress and pearls inside a pretty wrapped box adorned with ribbons after being married to Sylus for three months. You weren’t quite romantically involved with him at that point and went along with what he planned for the evening, and you had a feeling it wasn’t just a performance for the public at an upscale restaurant but he genuinely wanted to make this night special for you. Then something in the air shifted and became sweeter and you suppose you wanted to start making the smaller things in life count. Even if there wasn’t a particular milestone coming up, you decide to make one up yourself. After all, there’s a true saying that the secret to marriage is keeping it fresh and interesting.

⭒ With the help of the cute twins, they set up a cozy tent in the verdant space of the garden meanwhile you decorate fairy lights all around in swooping arcs and tight lines, arrange pillows and blankets inside, and place a deck of kitty cards in the center. After everything is where you need it to be, you show the boys your gratitude and send them away as you work on the finishing touches. You gather the plate of chocolate-covered strawberries and two glasses for the red wine when suddenly your husband sneaks up from behind you and wrap himself around you, inquiring about how the twins wanted him to come find you… Oh those cheeky little things. Well, never mind them. “Don’t tell me that you forgot what today is. Happy 300 days since our first kiss, baby.” You admit that it may come off as a little silly and no one’s truly keeping count, but you simply wanted to do something nice for him.

⭒ Sylus never passes up an opportunity to take care of his darling wife. Even if that means going along with your unusual ideas like you suggesting to borrow his dress shoes after the auction show was over. He throws you a puzzled look followed by a bemuse chuckle, and he supposes he could oblige if that’s what you really wanted. You explain to him that being well dressed from head to toe to match his outfit came at the price of your painfully, aching feet. And he can’t resist giving into your demands when you ask with such adorable little pouts. There are more practical methods to go about the situation, but he certainly loves humoring you even if things don't work out the way you thought they would.

⭒ Sylus leads you to a nearby bench and gestures for you to have a seat while he removes his shoes and bends down on one knee before you, unworried about dirtying his expensive trousers. He works diligently to undo the straps around your ankles and place your heels aside to focus on slipping his shoes onto your feet. “Well, you look quite fetching in my shoes. Now shall we continue our walk or do you have any more requests to make?” He helps you straighten yourself as he returns to his normal height. You huff and make a discontent noise when you almost trip over your own two feet trying to take a step forward in your (his) much too large and too spacious shoes. “Actually, these won’t do. I changed my mind, I want my heels back.”

⭒ Sylus chuckles at your hopeless attempt, his hand going on your hip to keep you from toppling over and accidentally hurting yourself. “Ah, it appears my shoes are too big for you, kitten. You say you want your heels back, hm?” He kneels before you once more as he retrieves your pair of heels, his fingers brushing along the underside of your leg and he carefully tugs them back on your feet. He gives your ankle a gentle squeeze as he finishes securing the straps, his gaze flickering up to meet yours. "There, I hope you're satisfied now, my sweet wife." His arm then goes around your waist and he effortlessly lifts you off the ground without so much as a warning. He smirks at your precious reaction, your body flushed against his meanwhile your arms encircle his neck for balance. “Why don’t I just carry you the rest of the way instead?”

⭒ You’re snuggled up against Sylus’ chest as you bring a concern to his attention one night. “What happens when our arrangement comes to an end?” The main reason you agreed to marry him in the first place is because it was a contract marriage with a specific time frame of five years that you’d have to spend with him. And you realize that with everything he does, he’s always been considerate of you as a whole even with how he drafted this contract knowing that it could end at his own expense. He provided you with a means of freeing yourself from him if you for whatever reason wished to no longer continue your marriage with him after the term ends. The choice is left entirely up to you because he never wanted you to feel trapped but he won’t make it easy for you. “If I decided to leave, you’d really let me go?”

⭒ Sylus hesitates for a moment, his gaze fixed on you and he seems to be thinking about something as his expression grows serious. “You always know how to ask the tough questions, don’t you sweetie?” After a moment, he lets out a small sigh and nods. “…Yes. Technically, you’ll be free to go. I won’t stop you if you truly want to leave.” Another sigh escapes him, yet his voice remains soft and sincere and he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and his palm cradles your cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to stay. What do you want to happen when the contract ends, darling?”

⭒ You mull over your thoughts, teasing him with a pensive look as you purposely drag on the seconds. “Since you’re leaving it up to me, I think… I want to renew our vows at the five-year mark. How’s that sound?” A surprise and slight disbelief flit across his face at the same moment his countenance softens at your affirmation. “You want to renew our vows?” You offer him a demure nod with your sweet smile and he gently takes your hand in his, bringing it to his face and laying a kiss against your knuckles. “Then it’s settled. I would be honored to renew our vows when the time comes. There will be no more contracts or strings attached. We’ll be bound by our love and our love only.”

[loganhowlettshousewife]

we’ve all watched the scene of logan putting out the cigar on himself and it got me thinking about him with a reader whose mutation allows them to burn people. (he’s such a freak i need him).

-

he’s a squirming, whimpering mess underneath you. such a gorgeous sight, and one that only you get to witness - the big, bad wolverine turned into a moaning mess through the use of your power, completely at your mercy, his hands tied so he couldn’t fight you off even if he’d wanted to (not that he ever would).

you were anxious to try this. your power wasn’t one that could be used for good. it only ever caused pain, suffering, family and friends leaving you once it had manifested, spitting out words that felt like venom. you burn people when you touch them, like fire licking over their skin, making them cry and scream and beg for mercy. 

you have gloves of every colour of the rainbow, an array of different fabrics and patterns and textures, pairing them with your outfit every day. you hate touching people, hate hurting them.

but logan has a thing for pain. he’d admitted it to you, under the cover of a dark and cloudy sky, when you’d asked him how he could possibly stand to be with you when you’d never be able to touch him, never be able to kiss him without hurting him.

he’d begged you, actually begged you to touch him, to burn him, to hurt him.

for the first time ever you can touch someone without a layer of fabric in between. you can drag your fingers along his thighs and watch the red burn marks it leaves behind, watch the colour fade and the texture smooth over as his body heals itself. it’s like he was made for you, a perfect match, both with cracked and broken edges, but somehow you fit.

“fuckin’ touch me,” he spits, “c’mon.”

“i am touching you,” you reply, pressing your hand down onto his hairy chest. his skin is warm, slightly damp from a thin layer of sweat, alive and real. he cries out, but it’s not the sound you’re used to hearing when you touch people. it’s a whine, higher than you thought his voice could go, pain and pleasure mixing into something he hadn’t been able to describe to you in words.

“y’know what i mean,” he pants. you just smile, serene. you’re not teasing him on purpose, though you must admit it’s certainly entertaining to watch him fall apart, rather you’re taking the opportunity you thought you’d never get, exploring your lover's body with your touch, breathless at the feeling of skin against skin.

you finally grab his cock, feeling the thick, warm weight of it in your hand. you can feel the telltale buzzing under your skin, the sign that your powers are burning him, but he doesn’t try to pull away from you. rather, his hips jerk up, chasing more of the feeling. a bead of precum pearls at the tip, and you rub it down his shaft.

“you actually like this,” you muse, “you’re such a freak.”

the degrading comment only makes him groan, rutting his hips up to fuck into your fist. and he’s just so pretty, so lovely when he’s desperate, so as much as you want to play with him, spend hours making him beg, you don’t. because you need to see what he looks like when he’s falling apart.

you jerk him off slow, never letting the pressure relent. it’s a fight with your instincts, your mind telling you to let go before you hurt him, before he decides that he doesn’t actually like this, before he leaves like everyone else. but he heals as fast as you burn him, again and again.

you watch his face instead of your hand, focusing on the way his lips part with each sound he makes, the pleasure contorting his expression. he gets louder, warnings filling the space between you, and then his hips stutter, faltering, and you watch his eyes roll back as he cums, shooting thick ropes of white all over his own chest.

your eyes widen slightly at how quickly you’d made him cum, but he’s already hardening again in your hand, chasing the pleasure of his orgasm even as it fades.

“do it again,” he orders, though really he’s in no position to be making demands. still, you oblige, because it feels good to be able to hurt him and know he’ll always come back. you could definitely get used to this, and isn’t that a terrifying thought.

[beloveds-embrace]

DukeDom Poly!141

So, in one of the things (Simon and pleasure), you mentioned boudoir paintings…

OMFG I CAN JUST IMAGINE HIM MAKING ALL OF THEM DO ONE, I bet you he hangs them in his room. OH OH OH! also, I bet Simon can draw skjsudisndh 😭😩! HED SIT DOWN WHILE ONE OF THE OTHERS IS GOING AT IT WITH THEIR DUCHESS AND JUST DRAWS IN HIS CHAIR ON THE SIDE 😩😩. Reader laying on her back or ass up in the air, all sweaty and glowing while one of the boys goes at her in bliss and Simon just drawing her from the side lines… 😫🤭😩

Also, can I be 🪭 anon?

Dukedom 141 masterlist

God, Simon painting them himself? Absolutely yes.

He’d do sooo many paintings of you, it’d be concerning if you could actually think past the pleasure that clouds your mind. He has you in so many different lingeries, things that make you turn warmer than a furnace and your men’s eyes darken with want; silks and laces that snag around your soft skin, garter belts that frame the length of your thighs, custom panties with nothing more than a neat, glowy string of pearls to line your cunt with a matching jewelry set.

Simon dresses you himself, and none of the men say anything against it; he is in his element, drawing the stockings up your legs and kissing your ankles along the way, big hands carressing your calves. He takes his time lacing up your corsets and bras, kissing up your spine, cupping your tits in his big, warm hands and kneading and groping until your nipples are stiff enough for his liking, for what he needs to do his painting, and you have that lovely, desperate and needy expression on your face.

Simon may do the painting, but to him, the scene itself is art: you, you, you. Face down and ass up, bared to his gaze and brushes while Kyle keeps your hips up with a hand under your belly and three fingers pumping in and out of you, your noises, sweet moans and cries, a background melody with Kyle whispering praises into you ear until Simon can see how well you cream around those thick fingers.

Art, that’s what you truly are. No painting will ever truly capture your beauty, but still, Simon tries-

And that means he also has you in so many different poses. Another day, another lingerie sets, teeth marks indented over your body, your ankles and calves, while Johnny keeps you pinned and spread with his body. Simon focuses on your straining muscles, your pretty painted nails raking down Johnny’s back and leaving behind angry red lines that don’t compare to the way he pistons into you, your pretty cunt stretched around him and your combined cum drenching the bed. Your legs, adorned in heels Simon specifically got for you, shake and tremble, your pleasure visible and audible to all.

And John… Simon doesn’t think he’s ever seen a better seat for you than his face. You look perfect, twitching and whining, your hair and makeup a mess of a canvas, John’s hands around your hips like unbending snakes. He’s made you cum so many times, your nub swollen and sensitive under his heavy tongue, you’ve soaked his beard, his face, his neck- and yet he doesn’t stop. A queen has no reason to leave her seat, no? And yet it’s your expression that has Simon fixated, the way you look around, look at him as if you want to beg him to save you or join you. Maybe both.

Simon paints each and every one. Moments frozen in his paintings, never comperable to the real thing, and yet adored all the same.

(And you stare at the finished paintings with awe, in spite of your blush. The way he’s drawn you… you never knew you were seen so beloved.

You turn back to Simon, bejeweled fingers wrapping around his cravat, and pull him close to kiss the corner of her lips. Your men continue to admire the paintings, but you are focused on the painter.

“I want one of you and I, Simon my love.”)

First time writing smut (if this can even be considered that 💀😭)

[koralcove]

prompt: for 800 years, rafayel has waited for you. and now, it's your turn to get a taste of centuries of longing and frustration. but he wouldn't make you wait that long. maybe only for 800 minutes. contains: edging, begging, praising, dumb fucked, rafayel calling you various pet names, oh, and did i already mention the absolutely indescribable blue balling for the both of you?, also hint of angst if you squint reaally hard.

a/n: help, y'all be panicking and asking that "who be fucking for that long, damn?" it's a build up. so no, they have not been fucking for 13 hours long. there's a build up of it throughout the day. i just wrote the particular scene where they be fuckin, just to clarify. my dumb ass just wrote this when i listened to too much spicy audios, so i got too excited and just went out with it. (and 13 hours of sex is a different kind of marathon sex now.)

"a-ah! fayel, please-!"

"ooohhh, miss... i'll treat you so right. so good. you won't want anything else."

the snap of his hips makes your mind delirious, squirming under him, all red-faced and teary-eyed. your body magnets his as he presses himself against you, as if any lick of skin of his won't be satisfied without your full touch.

"rafayel- hah! fayel..." you beg hoarsely at him. your clit aches with every snap of his pelvis against yours, so sensitive, yet also so numb. minutes, hours, time, or even infinity pass by as he continues to pound into your pussy relentlessly. the tight ball in your core never snaps, and he keeps teasing and pistoning into you without any sign of stopping. only when he feels the tightness of your walls going snug around him with your thighs pressed desperately on his waist does he will himself to do so.

"want you so bad. want all of you. need you. need to be in you. fuck- cutie, i don't wanna leave you. need to be in you. forever... haaaaah!" he babbles into your neck, the words caressing hotly in your ear and spinning your mind into a heated and mindless frenzy. rafayel doesn't know how he's still going, doesn't know how he can still stop when your gummy insides hug him so warmly, so invitingly. and yet without fail, he does.

the heat and pressure grow impossibly fast, coming into you like a big tidal wave that's about to wash over you.

"pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease, fayel-"

and then he does it again. cruelly stops just as you're about to reach that heaven that you've been craving for hours. it rips out a sob of frustration out of you, eyes glossed with mourning over the loss of your euphoria. a hand comes to gently take your arm out of your wet face, cooing so softly at you that you think he would've felt sorry for you. and he is. but his cruelty runs as deep as his love in this moment, and he revels in the perfectly pink flush of your skin, wanting to etch that colour into his mind and recreate it into a canvas.

"shhh, shhhshhhshhhshhh. pretty girl, don't cry. don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry. i know it hurts. i know it does, sweet pearl. but you're doing so good. doing so so great. didn't cum yet, just like i said."

he feels your body tremble, walls spasming so deliciously around him that it spills a raw guttural moan out of his pretty pink lips. and his cock aches hard. so hard, that he's doing the best he can to breath evenly. to not fucking come inside you like he knows you deserve, that you want. but you don't now. not yet.

"breath for me, cutie. need you to breath for me." he swipes away the stray strands clinging on your sticky forehead. though he's just as wrecked as you — pupils blown so wide that the flecks of purples are practically swallowed by it, heart racing and reverberating from his chest in rapid breaths, skin glistening with a glossy layer of sweat, and thighs quivering from the exertion of fucking into you for hours while denying himself as well.

somewhere along the throes of the heated moment, rafayel had decided to play along with holding off his own end as well. he's already had his share of his own release, his sticky essence coating your thighs and the insides of your pussy with your juices that his studio was filled with nothing but the lewd noises of your skin slapping and rubbing against one another for hours. and, god, did it hurt. it hurts so good that his abdomen strains with ache from the denial. his cock so fucking swollen inside of you that it almost hurts to even keep on pounding into you with how your velvety walls stimulate him so beautifully into madness. but the pained look of pleasure on your face eggs him, and he has to hide himself into your neck so he wouldn't end up getting off immediately just from your expressions alone.

"been so long... too long. please. wanna cum, rafa. wanna cum so bad, it hurts." you hiccup. you've been straining for hours physically and mentally. the seemingly innocent brushes and low whispered promises of earlier piling up in your body throughout the day like coal, blazing into a fiery pit of his doing. how foolish of you to think that you could withstand it, thinking he'll give in to you. but no. seeing his control and dedication to withholding through this challenge was something you've never expected from him. rafayel, who aches and seeks your touch. he, who was always so pliant under your hands from your searing caresses. but now, he was the one in control. and he was damn good at riling you up.

your back arches slightly, body strung up so tight that even just the smallest stir of his cock or the slightest shift of his mons brushing against your clit would send electric shocks through you and probably push you to the edge. and rafayel was very aware of this, fighting to keep still in you, trying so hard to keep his hands away from caressing and groping onto your skin when it practically burns for you. sometimes, it gets so hot that you think that his evol is acting up.

"shh, it's not yet time, lovely. you know how long you still have to wait."

you honestly lost track of time of how much time you still have to endure this hellish circle of your body crescendoing to a high only for you to be pulled down so roughly from it. sniffles rack your body as you taste the saltiness streaming down your face. rafayel kisses it away.

he coos gently at you, whispering soft and reassuring words like one would to a timid shaking animal that needs to be calmed. you retort back with mindless babbles of whines and cries of him being so mean, incoherent words filled with empty bitterness at the situation, of how cruel this test was to you. he only answers with a nuzzle to your neck, pressing light kisses on it, catching the salty taste of your skin and desperation. distantly, he thinks that he knows that feeling all too well. the longing and aching, the desperation and desire of having something so close only to be tugged away from your grasp the moment it becomes too good to be true when it nears you... he lives and breaths with that feeling all too well.

the soothing caress of your hair and his frustrating resilience of keeping still in you eventually calms your body. you could only sniffle as you are left powerless from his skilled hands, grounding you from the high that he so deliciously almost took you to, but also pulled away from. your face turns away from him, an image of silent defiance from a petulant child who was denied the toy they wanted. but he takes his time with you with a patience that you didn't know was capable from the bratty man-child that you know.

when the buzz of your body dies down, you only lay in silence now. rafayel's head rests on top of of your chest, the beat of your heart an instrument that soothes his own desires. he absently traces mindless shapes just above your breast, and your eyes take in the gradient hues of the sky. his eyes follow to where your gaze is, and he sighs lightly, breath fanning against your cooled skin.

he sits up slightly, tilting your head to meet his eyes that are only ever full of devotion to you. you can't help but melt from the sight. he's always so expressive yet so unreadable that he becomes a mystery to you at times. but when he looks at you with those eyes, full of fondness and longing that's incomprehensible to you, you can't help but mimic the affection.

he sweeps down for a kiss, tender and sweet, before he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. when he intertwines his hand into yours, you brace yourself for what's to come.

a slow, sensual gyration of his hips, making sure to not overstimulate your poor clit too much, and a few small thrusts test your sensitivity. you can't help the hitched gasp that leaves your mouth, squeezing his hand as his pace is steady. but you know it's only a matter of time before that changes.

your ears pick up his voice, but not the words of his native tongue. but they sound sweet to you, until it eventually changes into breathy gasps and desperate whispers as his hips slap hard against yours. the gentle squeeze of his hand in yours turns into a dull pain as your nails dig into his knuckles, feeling the slow heat of euphoria build into you once more.

your mind reels at the thought of him thrusting into you violently, the squelch of your fluids mingling into the dusk air. he'll take you higher again, body moving with a frenzied fashion that will mush your brain into only thinking of wanting and needing more. and then he'll stop again as you come closer to your peak, kissing your tears away. and then he'll do it again. again and again and again and again, ruining you and building you back up.

you still have 160 minutes left.

[ladygoth]

⛦˙♱⋆♱˙⛧ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ ᴄᴜᴍ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏᴜᴛ ⛦˙♱⋆♱˙⛧

warning - p!links

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when it came to you, no one could never shame ghost for the lengths he would go for his love, his responses to your affection and the responses his body would display just by your mere taste and stroke.

so there you were, cunt pressed down against his face while he had worked his magic, sucking and flicking every sense of your pearl, his bulge eager to pounce out of his briefs and his moans in return to your sweet taste, your juices a nectar he consistently craved, invariably open to pull apart your legs and kiss your soft skin and take you in.

he loved how rough you'd be, and how stiff your body will become as you could feel your orgasm peak, how jacked and inconsistent the move of your hips would become while your sweet moans would cry higher and louder by the second.

"right there!" you'd whimper, your eyes half-lidded but concentrated by the stiffness below his fabric, curious, you had wanted to see it yourself, how his cock would twitch and throb before his hot cum leaked in response to eating you out. what a man he was, so in love, such lust.

"yes daddy right there! lick there! lick there!" you whimpered, excited by how his cock easily stood tall once you had pulled down his briefs. his shaft tip red, and sac swollen, his length had then tilted and slightly jerked as it had been eager to release, the mere sight a nirvana as pre-cum gently slipped down his dick. the motion of his tongue increased as he began to fuck you with his mouth, his motions tight and possessive, as he greedily moaned against your heat.

"s'good!" he'd lustfully moan. "oh princess, oh fuck-ah--" he'd cry out whilst his sticky cum would shoot out of his cock, the whiteness landing against his chest. the entire scene enough to have your clit twitch in sanction before your body released it's tangy cum, ghost then swallowing your rush, his tongue moving around your sex, cleaning you up while you had slowly dragged your heat away from his mouth.

"that was a nice sight," you whispered as you had then turned to look at him, his cheeks red with desire. "want to fuck me now?" you had asked and with approval, ghost had sat up, eager to pull you within his arms he had then pressed his mouth against yours, taking you in.

reference once

reference two

reference three [so hot sorry]

[astralnymphh]

succubus!reader and loser!ellie tribbing? Like... with a vibrator...

Cursing you rn for plaguing my thoughts

if we draw on the basis of succubus strap, then we could imagine succubus!reader coming equipped with a vibrator. now, would it be just any run-of-the-mill vibrator? no. demons being demons, I think imp-intents would convince them otherwise into bringing something over-powered, stamped in warning labels (warning: your clit may just explode!), and of an intend to inspire fear; dauntingly looking. having ellie under your edict, an ankle cupped in your fist and spread wide 'till her hamstring stung, and forced to observe the way her and your cunt roll over the bulbous tip of a vibrator held by you— whining and weeping her freckled undereyes to puffed reds, is your prize at the crown of an inferno. cauldron of lusty tears at the tail of a rainbow. you can feel the force of her legs fighting back against that drilling sensation, the wants of enclosure around the vibration that made her clit feel pricked, engorged, oversensitive and screaming. and while you may not be the mother of demons, she'd still address you as if you were the mother of succubi. voice holding the vulnerability of a fucktoy. "h—hey.. can you turn the setting down? don't wanna come yet, m—mama." rasps transformed into elated gasps inwards, yet obstructed by the moans begging to filter out. she's staring up at you with these doey, watery eyes, ones you would see on kneels begging for forgiveness. and her mouth is slightly cracked, taking slim heaps of air her reddened, little button nose couldn't steady out. control being in your thrall, and the appeal of fragile girls under you relying on your mercy as their pussies happily eat up whatever you've got shoved in, or on them— is the exact persuasion that drives you on. either that, or just how her pussy: slicked from pearl to sheet in milky nectar your throat gulped to drink, and beautifully spreading folds over the vibrating head, so close to your own— drives you on. the details. the consequences of your torture. "mh-mn ellie, y'know whose rules we're playing by, right?" you ask sweetly, shaking your head side to side, and she nods with hesitation, folding her lip in to wetten it up prior to humming, "mhm." contorting her features softly, like she could loathe the sound if she wanted to. "mine." reminding her, you angle the vibes shaft upon her abdomen, and quickly scoot her further under you, throwing her into audible shock. impending your sensual shadow over her, pressing your own pussy into the toy so that it would press into hers. "fuuuckkk." you groan in delight. toss your head back, out of ecstasy, out of the ability to handle this. contrarily, ellie groans in overstimulation, "ughhh!" and scrunches her face like pain is present, breaking her lips open into a gasping, light-headed mess, choking and whining on overload, "f-fuhuck—" squirts all over the plastic without remorse for how filthy the scene looks, digging nails into the flesh of her lifted knees for dear life.

++ and she'd be bucking and knocking her clenched feet unknowningly into your backside the entire time. squirming around and laughing torturedly. screwing these worried little eyes down at her crotch. ughh I live for loser!sub!ellie.

definitely has a thing for wings though. takes one good look at yours and she's creaming unprompted. [big text version up for request] [ellie img from caitsgalaxy on pinterest]

[lovelyspring7]

White Pearl | Yandere JJK x Reader

Summary: You’ve been working as a str1pper for a month until billionaire Jeon Jungkook suddenly takes an interest in you, actually maybe too much of an interest…

Word count: 7,6k

Genre: Yandere, sugar daddy au

Pairing: CEO Sugar daddy Jungkook x str1pper sugar baby reader, short mentions of Cha Eunwoo & Jung Jaehyun.

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, obsessive behaviour, kidnapping, abuse of power, fight scene, non consensual touching, mentions of a dead father.

Disclaimer: This type of content is not suitable for all audiences and I do not condone any of the presented behaviours. This is purely for entertainment and fictional purposes and I don’t think any BTS member would act like this.

Authors note: Okay I’m really proud of how this turned out! I really hope you enjoy reading it! Don’t be a silent reader, show some support and feedback!☺️💜

Read Part 2 Here | Read Part 3 Here

In three days, Jeon Jungkook will become the heir of his deceased father’s successful real estate company. Jungkooks fate was written from the moment he was born, it was only a matter of time before it happened. The old man had it coming, drinking aged scotch and smoking the finest Cuban cigars since he could remember.

Jungkook has never been close with his parents. He despised them. His parents wanted nothing to do with him, his only purpose was to take over his father’s company, and Jungkook knew that. That’s why he wasted no time trying to get closer to his parents. It was no use. They made that very clear when they sent 7-year-old Jungkook to a prestigious boarding school with other rich snobs.

Although, being an only child, rich and privileged. All he had to do was to snap his fingers and he’d get what he wanted almost immediately.

The newest expensive car? Check.

Private jets? Check.

Luxury real estate? Check.

You could say he had it all, at least the materialistic stuff.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Ms. Jeon,” Eunwoo said with his usual charm, offering a polite nod to Jungkook’s mother.

She barely reacted, her lips curving into a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you, Eunwoo. Jungkook’s inside.” Her voice was light, devoid of grief. Eunwoo nodded before he entered the study, Jaehyun trailing behind.

“Hey, Kook,” Jaehyun said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “How are you holding up?”

Jungkook didn’t look up. Instead, he swirled the whiskey in his glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light. “I’m fine.”

“Your mom seems fine too,” Jaehyun added, his voice tinged with disbelief. He perched on the edge of the desk, glancing at Eunwoo.

“So,” Eunwoo began, leaning casually against the wall. “How much did you inherit, exactly?”

Jungkook smirked. “A lot.”

Jaehyun grinned. “Lucky bastard. Hey, how about we grab a drink? Celebrate your, uh, newfound wealth.”

“Sure,” Eunwoo added, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Or we could check out that new club. You know, the one with the strippers? Rumor has it they’ll do anything for the right price.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “You’re seriously suggesting we hit a strip club the same day as my father’s funeral?”

Jaehyun shrugged. “Excess was his thing, wasn’t it? You’re just keeping tradition alive.”

The comment shouldn’t have amused Jungkook, but it did. He pushed himself up from the chair, setting the glass down with a soft clink. “You’re both idiots.”

“But we’re your idiots,” Jaehyun said with a wink, throwing an arm around Eunwoo as they headed for the door. “Be there by eleven. And bring cash! Lots of it!”

﹉﹉﹉

“You’re late,” Bora called, not even looking up as she leaned toward the mirror, expertly reapplying her cherry-red lipstick. The fluorescent lights of the dressing room buzzed softly overhead.

“Yeah, I had to submit an assignment early today,” you replied, shrugging off your jacket and pulling your hair back. The soreness in your shoulders hadn’t left since your morning shift at the café.

Bora glanced at you in the mirror, her eyebrows raising as she watched you strip down to your work attire, a sparkling two-piece that felt far too bold against your skin. “Girl, you’re gonna burn yourself out at this rate. You know that, right?”

You shrugged, forcing a smile as you strapped on your pink glitter heels. “Gotta pay rent somehow.”

It has been a month since you started working at Black Pearl Club. When the bartender job didn’t pan out, stripping felt like your only option. Temporary, you’d told yourself. Just until you graduate, just until you get out of debt. But every time you caught your reflection in the dressing room mirror, the weight of it all made your stomach turn.

“Okay, well, hurry up. It’s getting crazy out there,” Bora said, as she fluffed her hair. “All the big spenders are here tonight.”

“Just give me five minutes,” you replied, swiping on mascara.

Before Bora could respond, her eyes widened, and she let out a dramatic gasp. “Oh. My. God.”

“What?” you asked, startled, almost smudging your makeup.

“It’s freaking Jeon Jungkook,” she hissed, peeking through the cracked door. Her voice was breathless with excitement, like she’d just spotted a celebrity, which, apparently, she had.

“Who?” you asked, genuinely confused.

Bora whipped her head around to gape at you. “You can’t be serious. Jeon Jungkook. The heir to Jeon Real Estate? Rich, sexy, and way too powerful for his own good?”

Your blank expression didn’t change, so she sighed dramatically. “Never mind. Just know he’s loaded. And he brought Cha Eunwoo and Jung Jaehyun with him. Jackpot.”

She tugged her top down a little lower, adjusted her already perfect hair, and shot you a wink. “Don’t wait too long, or the girls will snatch them up. But not before I do.” With that, she was gone, strutting confidently out the door.

You rolled your eyes playfully, muttering to yourself. “Wow. The power of Bora.”

Taking one last glance at your reflection, you squared your shoulders and stepped out onto the floor. The music hit you immediately, a deep, pulsing rhythm that matched the sway of bodies on the dimly lit stage. You moved cautiously, still new to this world and its unspoken rules. You weren’t like Bora or the other dancers, who walked with easy confidence, drawing men like moths to a flame. No, you stayed in the background, lingering by tables, feeding shots to customers, even helping to clean up spilled drinks.

The pole? That was for the pros. You didn’t dare try it on nights like this.

“Hey,” a voice called out, cutting through the music. It was low, smooth, with just a hint of amusement.

You turned, and your stomach dropped when you saw him. His dark eyes glinted under the club’s shifting neon lights, framed by long lashes that softened the sharp angles of his face. Tattoos peeked out from the sleeves of his tailored blazer, and a silver chain glinted against his silk shirt. He looked like he didn’t belong here, like he owned the place.

“Excuse me?” you said, narrowing your eyes at him.

“How’d you end up here?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. His smirk was small, almost playful, but there was something in his gaze that made you uneasy. “You don’t look like the type.”

You crossed your arms, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “Listen, sir, I don’t know what kind of weird roleplay you’re into, but I’m not interested.”

He laughed softly, the sound rich and low. “Wait, hold on,” he said, stepping in front of you before you could turn away. “I’ll pay you a thousand bucks just to sit on my lap.”

You blinked, startled by the casual audacity. “A thousand? For just that?”

“Exactly that, Princess,” he said, holding out his hand. His confidence was infuriating, but something about it also intrigued you. Against your better judgment, you took his hand.

He led you to a private VIP room, the scent of leather and faint cologne trailing after him. The room was as luxurious as you’d imagined, matt black walls, plush velvet furniture, and crimson LED lights casting everything in a sultry glow. A strip pole stood in the center, glinting under the chandelier above.

No wonder it cost a fortune to reserve, you thought. He sank into a chair, pulling you onto his lap with a fluid motion that left you unsteady. One hand rested lightly on your thigh, the other brushing against your waist as if it belonged there. You hesitated, unsure of where to place your own hands, before finally draping them around his neck.

For the first time, you took him in fully. His face was almost unreal, sharp jawline, perfectly shaped lips, and those dark, doe-like eyes that seemed to pierce through you.

“You’re staring,” he said, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice.

“Shut up,” you muttered, looking away. “It’s not that impressive.”

He laughed again, soft and deep, sending a shiver down your spine. “So, what’s your story?” he asked, his tone casual.

“What do you think?” you replied, your voice tight. “Student debt, rent, crappy part-time jobs. Same story, different girl.”

He tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. “No,” he said finally. “You’re different.”

“Right,” you scoffed. “Let me guess, I’m not like other girls?”

“You’re more of a white pearl,” he said, his voice softer now. “Innocent. Beautiful. Out of place.”

Your breath caught as he tilted your chin up, his fingers brushing against your skin. “You don’t belong here.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“I watched you, you know,” he continued, his eyes never leaving yours. “The whole time. You’re not cut out for this.”

You swallowed hard, heat rising in your cheeks. “What do you want from me?”

“A chance,” he said simply. “To show you something better.”

You blinked, “Show me something better?” you repeated, a flicker of disbelif in your voice. “What does that even mean?”

His lips curved into a small smile, one that didn’t offer answers but promises. “It means you shouldn’t have to do this,” he said, his voice low and smooth.

His hand, warm and deliberate, slid slightly higher on your thigh. The touch was slow, too slow. His thumb tracing lazy circles against your skin. The warmth of his palm seeped through the thin fabric of your outfit, and you froze, unsure of what to do.

Your breath got a bit faster, and he noticed.

“Easy now,” he murmured, the word rolling off his tongue like silk. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, your voice steadier than you felt. But your hands, still resting on his shoulders, betrayed you with their light tremble.

“Are you?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. His other hand drifted up, brushing against your waist as if testing your boundaries. His gaze pinned you in place, dark and unreadable. “You’re tense.”

“You don’t exactly make it easy to relax,” you shot back, trying to mask your nerves with sarcasm.

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling low in his chest. “Fair enough,” he said, his thumb continuing its slow, rhythmic strokes against your thigh. “But I don’t think that’s the whole story.”

You didn’t respond, unsure how to answer without giving too much away. The truth was, his touch wasn’t unwelcome, but it was overwhelming, like he was peeling back layers you weren’t ready to expose.

“Let me guess,” he said, his voice dropping a notch. “You’ve been fighting to stay afloat. Juggling school, work, life. And this place? It’s just survival, isn’t it?”

You stiffened, his words cutting too close to the truth. “You don’t know anything about me,” you said, but your voice lacked its intended bite.

His smile deepened, his fingers pausing for a moment before resuming their soft, hypnotic movements. “I know enough,” he said, his tone almost gentle. “Enough to see you’re not like the others.”

His words hung between you, heavy and undeniable. You swallowed hard, your throat dry, as his hand slid up just an inch more. It wasn’t invasive, it wasn’t even inappropriate, but the intent behind it was unmistakable. He was testing you, seeing how far you’d let him go.

“You’re bold,” you said, trying to regain control of the situation, though your voice betrayed your unease. “Does this whole act usually work for you?”

He laughed again, soft and rich, his head tilting back slightly. “It’s not an act,” he said, his gaze snapping back to yours, sharp and unwavering. “I know what I want.”

“And what’s that?” you asked, your heart thudding painfully in your chest.

His hand on your waist tightened slightly, anchoring you in place. “You.”

The single word sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you were certain he could feel it. His confidence, his touch, the way he looked at you, it was all too much, too consuming. You weren’t sure if you wanted to run or stay exactly where you were.

“You don’t even know me,” you said, but the words came out softer than you intended, almost a whisper.

“I will,” he replied simply, his voice steady, as if the answer was obvious. “If you let me.”

The weight of his words pressed against you, leaving no room for pretense. He wasn’t asking for permission. He was laying a claim, one you weren’t sure you could fight.

“I can’t,” you said finally, shaking your head. “This… whatever this is, it’s not me.”

His smile didn’t falter. Instead, he leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your ear. “You don’t have to decide now,” he murmured. “But I’ll make you an offer.”

“What kind of offer?” you asked in a quiet voice.

“Be my escort,” he said, his tone calm and measured, as though he were offering you a business deal. His thumb pressed a little harder into your thigh, the heat of his hand impossible to ignore. “Not the kind you’re thinking,” he added when your eyes widened. “Think of it like a sugar baby. Parties, events, dinners. No strings attached, just company.”

You swallowed, your mind racing. The word sugar baby sounded ridiculous, almost laughable, but the way he said it made it sound like a lifeline, a way out of this mess you called life.

“I’ll pay you well,” he continued, his fingers giving a soft squeeze to your thigh for emphasis. “Up to a couple thousands of dollars an hour.”

Your breath caught, and his smirk returned, knowing he had your attention now.

“You don’t even know me,” you said again, your voice weaker this time.

“But I want to,” he replied, leaning back against the chair as if he had all the time in the world. “So, what do you say, Princess? Ready to let me take care of you?”

You stared at him, your mind a whirl of doubt, disbelief, and something far more dangerous: temptation.

“What’s the catch?” you asked, still skeptical. Your voice was steady, but your fingers tightened around the edge of your outfit.

His smile curved slowly, his confidence as unshakable as the air of control that seemed to follow him. “No catch,” he said, his tone light, but his eyes sharp. “You show up when I need you, and I’ll make sure you never have to worry about rent or student loans again.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” you said, your voice softer now, though you fought to keep your composure. “Why me?”

His smirk widened, and for a moment, his gaze flicked over you, “Because you’re different,” he said finally, leaning forward just enough to close the space between you. “You don’t belong in a place like this.”

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. His words felt like a challenge.

“I don’t know,” you said, shaking your head. “This… it feels like a bad idea.”

He leaned forward, closing the small distance between you. His hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, his fingers pressing just enough to keep you close to him. “Sometimes the best ideas start out feeling wrong,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “Let me prove it to you.”

His gaze dropped to your lips for a fraction of a second before flicking back to your eyes, and the air between you seemed to crackle with tension. You hated how easily he seemed to unravel you, how your body betrayed you with every shallow breath and unsteady heartbeat.

“Okay,” you said finally, the word slipping out before you could stop it. “But I’m not doing anything I’m uncomfortable with. No strings, remember?”

“No strings,” his voice echoed. It was steady, composed, and carried an air of finality. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, pulling out a sleek silver pen and a small leather checkbook. The movement was precise, deliberate, like everything else about him.

He flipped it open, his gaze flicking to you briefly before he began to write. “I’ll arrange a meeting tomorrow,” he said, his voice a soft command. The sound sent a faint shiver down your spine. “We’ll go over the details.”

The scratch of the pen against the paper, each stroke deliberate as he signed his name with a flourish. He tore the check free, and held it out to you.

You hesitated before taking it, your fingers brushing against his, a spark that lingered even as you looked down at the paper in your hand.

One thousand dollars.

The number stared back at you, bold and undeniable, written in his confident hand. Below it, his signature sprawled across the bottom with an elegance that felt almost intimidating. It was real.

“You don’t waste time, do you?” you said, your voice faint as your fingers tightened around the check.

He leaned back against the chair, his lips curving into a faint smile. “I never do,” he replied smoothly. His eyes dipped to your hand, watching the way you held the check as though it might slip through your fingers. “Consider it a gesture of good faith. A down payment.”

You glanced back at him, your breath catching when his gaze met yours, dark, intense, and filled with something you couldn’t quite name. His hand slid to your thigh one last time, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. The touch was almost teasing.

“Don’t keep me waiting, Princess,” he said, his voice low and velvety.

Before you could respond, he stood, easing you off his lap with a care that felt almost... tender. He straightened his suit jacket, adjusting the cuffs with the kind of precision that only added to his air of control. As he glanced back at you, his faint smile deepened.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said simply, and then he was gone, disappearing through the door with a confidence that left no room for doubt.

You sat there for a moment, the check clutched tightly in your hand, the air in the room still heavy with his scent. You unfolded the check again, your eyes scanning it absentmindedly, until they caught on the name at the bottom.

Jeon Jungkook.

Your breath caught. No way.

Your mind raced, torn between disbelief and temptation.

Was this your way out, or a mistake?

The check felt heavy in your hand, a stark reminder of the offer he’d made. His touch still lingered on your skin, his words replaying in your mind. Dangerous. Tempting.

And maybe, just maybe, it was worth the risk.

﹉﹉﹉

You had just finished your lecture and were ready to head back to your apartment, exhaustion settling deep in your bones. Between work and school, the weight of your schedule felt suffocating. You rubbed your eyes in a futile attempt to shake off the sleepiness, your vision adjusting just in time to spot a sleek black Bugatti pulling into the campus parking lot.

The sight stopped you in your tracks.

The driver’s door opened smoothly, and out stepped Jeon Jungkook.

He looked different today, less polished but somehow more striking. Gone was the formal suit from last night, replaced by a black silk blouse that glinted faintly in the sunlight, tucked neatly into tailored trousers. The silver chain around his neck caught the light, matching the glint of his piercings. Even casual, he radiated a confidence that turned heads.

Your stomach twisted as he walked up the stairs toward you, his steps purposeful and deliberate. He greeted you with a smile, his undeniable charm radiating effortlessly.

“You ready?” he asked, his voice smooth.

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “How did you know where I go to school?”

He smirked, tilting his head slightly. “I have my ways.”

The evasiveness of his answer annoyed you, but before you could press him further, he extended his hand, the second time this week he’d done so, with the same quiet authority. Reluctantly, you placed your hand in his, his touch warm and firm.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

“And I won’t,” he replied, his smirk deepening as he led you toward the car.

You felt the weight of curious stares from other students as you walked across the lot. Jungkook didn’t seem to notice, or care. For once, though, their judgment didn’t faze you. You felt… safe.

He opened the passenger door for you, his hand brushing lightly against the small of your back as he helped you in. The gesture was brief but lingered in your thoughts as he closed the door behind you and moved to the driver’s seat.

The ride was quiet, save for the faint hum of the radio. You stared out the window, unsure if the silence between you was comforting or unsettling. Every so often, you could feel his eyes flick toward you, but he said nothing, his focus mostly on the road.

The tension in your chest grew as the car slowed in front of a towering building that looked more like something out of a movie than reality. Glass windows stretched skyward, gleaming against the sunlight, and the sheer size of it left you momentarily speechless.

“Where are we?” you finally asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

“My place,” Jungkook replied, parking the car. He exited swiftly, circling to your side to open your door before you could even unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Come on,” he said, his hand outstretched once more.

You took it, allowing him to guide you to the entrance. He typed in a code at the door, his movements smooth and practiced, and the lock clicked open with a quiet beep.

When the door to his penthouse swung open, you couldn’t suppress your reaction. The space was massive, with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city skyline. The minimalist decor was luxurious without being ostentatious, each piece of furniture carefully chosen to complement the space.

“Like what you see so far?” he asked, amusement dancing in his voice as he placed his hand lightly on your back, guiding you toward a sleek office space.

You nodded, unable to find the right words. The room smelled faintly of leather and something vanilla, a scent you were beginning to associate with him.

He gestured for you to sit across from his desk. “So, where were we, Princess?” he said, pulling out a file from the desk drawer.

“You said there were rules,” you reminded him as you ignored the nickname, your voice sharper now as the reality of the situation set in.

“Right,” Jungkook said, pulling out a sheet of paper and sliding it across the desk toward you. “They’re simple. I’m sure you’ll manage.”

Your eyes scanned the document, your eyebrows furrowing as you read:

Rule 1: Until the contract expires, you’ll be living with Jeon Jungkook.

Your head snapped up. “What?!”

“Hm? What’s wrong?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, his expression calm.

“I can’t live here!” you said, your voice rising. “I have an apartment. And it’s too far from school. And my jobs-”

“About that,” he interrupted, his tone still infuriatingly calm. “You no longer work there. I emailed both the café and the club this morning. You quit.”

Your jaw dropped. “You did what?”

“You didn’t think I’d let you keep working those jobs, did you?” he asked, his tone patronizing. “It would be too stressful. And besides, you have a chauffeur now.”

The audacity of it left you speechless. He had completely upended your life without so much as asking. You wanted to scream at him, but all you could manage was a strangled, “This is insane.”

“You’re welcome,” Jungkook said, his smirk returning.

You forced yourself to breathe, scanning the rest of the document.

Rule 2: Jungkook will pick out your clothing.

“Seriously?” you asked, glaring at him. “You’re not dressing me like a doll.”

“It’s not about that,” he replied, his tone soothing. “I just want to make sure you look the part. Trust me, Princess, you’ll thank me later.”

Rule 3: Always let Jungkook know where you are at all times.

Your eyes narrowed. “This is overkill.”

Jungkook shrugged, unbothered. “I like to stay informed.”

You set the paper down, exhaling sharply. “These rules are insane.”

“But they’re necessary,” he countered smoothly. “Do you agree?”

After reading through all three rules, you hesitated, the weight of the agreement settling on your chest. They were restrictive, sure, but not impossible. And when you considered what he was offering in return, the decision became easier than you’d anticipated. You picked up the pen and signed your name at the bottom with a steady hand, ignoring the way Jungkook’s gaze lingered on you, sharp and satisfied.

“Good girl,” he murmured, taking the papers back and setting them aside.

He then gave you a tour of the penthouse, which was as stunning as the first time you’d seen it. Every corner of the space exuded wealth, from the marble floors to the sleek furniture, and the floor-to-ceiling windows that bathed the rooms in natural light. When your belongings arrived later that evening, you unpacked in silence, settling into what would now be your home.

As you folded the last of your clothes into a drawer, Jungkook had casually mentioned a party tomorrow night- a celebration for him taking over his late father’s company. The weight of his words hung in the air, but you didn’t press further. It wasn’t your place, after all.

Now, you found yourself seated at the expansive dining table, the two of you at opposite ends. The food before you was nothing short of perfection, a feast prepared by a professional chef that tasted like nothing you’d ever eaten before. Each bite melted on your tongue, and despite your best efforts to maintain composure, you devoured most of your plate.

As the meal wound down, you glanced up at Jungkook. His posture was relaxed, a glass of red wine cradled in his hand, but there was a distance in his eyes. Taking a steadying breath, you decided to break the silence.

“I overheard that your father passed away,” you said cautiously, offering a faint smile. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been tough.”

The shift in his expression was immediate. His jaw tightened, his wine glass frozen halfway to his lips. For a moment, he simply stared at you, his dark eyes cold and unreadable. When he finally took a sip, his movements were slow.

“Don’t be,” he said, his tone void of emotion. “The old man had it coming.”

The bluntness of his words left you momentarily stunned. You searched his face for any trace of vulnerability, but there was none, only a hardened edge that hinted at years of resentment. He cleared his throat, setting his glass down with a soft clink.

“We should get ready for bed,” he said, his voice clipped as he dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “It’ll be a long day tomorrow.”

Sensing the finality in his tone, you nodded and rose from your seat, understanding more in his silence than in his words. Whatever relationship he’d had with his father, it wasn’t one he cared to revisit. You almost felt sorry for him, but the thought quickly passed as you excused yourself to your room.

The warm spray of the shower was a welcome relief after the long day. You let the water cascade over your skin, washing away the lingering tension from the dinner conversation. Wrapping yourself in a plush towel, you moved to the bathroom mirror, quickly brushing through your damp hair and applying a bit of moisturizer.

By the time you changed into a loose-fitting t-shirt and shorts, the exhaustion had fully set in. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you grabbed the hairdryer and began to run it through your strands, letting the rhythmic hum fill the quiet space.

“Princess, may I come in?” Jungkook’s voice broke through the sound of your hairdryer.

You turned it off and called back, “Yeah, it’s fine. Come in!”

The door creaked open, and he stepped inside, holding a large gift box wrapped with a pristine white ribbon. “I brought you something,” he said simply, placing the box on the dresser.

Your curiosity piqued, and you moved to open it, your fingers carefully pulling at the ribbon. Inside was the most stunning red dress you’d ever seen, its silky fabric gleaming under the soft light. You couldn’t help the way your lips parted in awe.

“I’m guessing you like it,” Jungkook said, amusement lacing his tone.

“I love it,” you admitted, running your fingers lightly over the fabric.

“There’s more,” he added, his excitement barely contained. He pulled out a smaller jewelry box, opening it to reveal a simple yet breathtaking white pearl necklace.

Before you could say anything, Jungkook stepped closer, gently taking the necklace from the box. His hands found your waist, guiding you toward the mirror. “Hold still,” he murmured, his voice soft.

He brushed your hair aside, his fingers grazing the nape of your neck as he fastened the clasp. You watched his reflection in the mirror, the intensity in his eyes as he focused on the task. When he finished, he didn’t move away. Instead, he stood behind you, his hands still resting lightly on your waist.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

Your throat tightened, a flush rising to your cheeks as you struggled to find your voice. “We should… we should go to bed,” you said, your words barely above a whisper.

Jungkook held your gaze in the mirror for a moment longer before he stepped back, his hands falling away reluctantly. “You’re right,” he said quietly. His lips curved into a faint, almost embarrassed smile. “Tell me if you need anything.”

With that, he turned and left, closing the door softly behind him.

You stood there for a long moment, your hand lightly brushing the necklace at your throat. The weight of it was unfamiliar, it felt like more than just jewelry.

﹉﹉﹉

Weeks had passed, and your new life with Jungkook had become almost... comfortable. He kept his word, sending more money than you’d ever expected, along with daily gifts that seemed to grow more extravagant. Designer clothes, jewelry, and things you never even dreamed of owning appeared in your room like clockwork.

Surprisingly, Jungkook’s manner had softened since the night you met. The sharp edges of his arrogance dulled ever so slightly, replaced by a quiet attentiveness that caught you off guard. He showed up at your campus during breaks to take you to lunch, ensuring you ate properly. He complimented you often, his words effortlessly slipping into your mind and settling there. His attention was unrelenting, and his affection, though subtle, began to feel natural, even comforting.

The nights you spent together weren’t spent in the dazzling chaos of parties, but in the quiet intimacy of his penthouse. You’d sit on the couch, sharing popcorn as black-and-white movies played in the background. He’d tease you for your poor choice in films, only to get drawn in himself. Mornings when he’d make you breakfast with your favorite tea, prepared just the way you liked it. For someone so commanding, Jungkook had an unexpectedly gentle side, one he reserved just for you.

One evening, after a long day of classes, you arrived at the penthouse to find another gift waiting on your bed. Your heart quickened as you unwrapped it, the soft rustle of tissue paper revealing a breathtaking gown in deep emerald green. The fabric shimmered under the room’s soft lighting, the design simple yet undeniably elegant. Beneath it lay a small white card, his handwriting precise and elegant:

Wear this tonight, Beautiful. Be ready by 7.

– Love, Jungkook

You traced the words with your finger, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. Slipping into the dress, you paused in front of the mirror, taking in your reflection. The way the fabric hugged your curves, the way it made you feel, it was transformative. Still, a flicker of doubt crept in. What does he see in me? you wondered. Why me?

The soft knock at your door broke your thoughts. “Come in,” you called, sitting on the bed as you searched for the perfect heels.

Jungkook stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over you with an intensity that made your skin tingle. He moved toward you, crouching gracefully as he took the shoes from your hands. “Let me,” he murmured, his voice low.

Kneeling before you, he gently slipped one heel onto your foot, then the other, his touch careful, almost reverent. His dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “Perfect.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening as he stood and offered his hand. “Come on, baby,” he said, his voice softening. “I have a surprise.”

﹉﹉﹉

The car ride was quiet, Jungkook’s hand resting possessively on your thigh as he drove. His thumb traced idle patterns against your skin, the touch soothing. You didn’t question where you were going, he liked his secrets, and you’d learned to trust them, even if they left you on edge.

When the car finally pulled up outside a towering glass building, you frowned slightly. The opulence of the place was undeniable, but it only heightened the unease twisting in your stomach. Sensing your hesitation, Jungkook appeared at your side, offering his arm. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, his lips brushing close to your ear. “You’re with me.”

Inside, the restaurant was just as grand as the exterior promised, the air thick with the scent of truffles and candle wax. Jungkook guided you through the space with practiced ease, every head in the room turning to watch as the two of you passed.

“This is beautiful,” you admitted as you reached the table, glancing up at him. “Thank you, Jungkook.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he replied smoothly, his hand briefly brushing against yours as you sat down. “Expect more of these in the future, Princess.”

Before you could respond, the waiter appeared, a young man with a practiced smile. “Welcome to Jungsik,” he said. “I’ll be taking your order tonight.” He turned to you, his smile widening. “And may I say, you look stunning this evening.”

You forced a polite smile, glancing at Jungkook out of the corner of your eye. His jaw tightened slightly, his grip on the edge of the table subtle but telling.

“Thank you, could I please-”

“Wait,” the waiter interrupted, his expression shifting to one of surprise. “Sorry, but… you look familiar. Have we met before?”

Your heart sank as panic bubbled in your chest. “I-I don’t think so,” you stammered, but he wasn’t convinced.

“No, I’m sure of it!” he said, snapping his fingers. “Black Pearl Club! You’re one of the-”

The sound of Jungkook’s chair scraping against the floor silenced the waiter instantly. His expression darkened, and before you could stop him, he grabbed the man by the collar, his knuckles white with fury. “Say another word,” Jungkook growled, his voice low and dangerous, “and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

“Jungkook, stop!” you pleaded, your voice trembling as you grabbed his arm. “Please, let him go.”

He turned to you, his breathing heavy, his eyes wild. For a moment, it felt like he didn’t see you at all. Slowly, he released the waiter, who stumbled back, his face pale. “We’re leaving,” Jungkook grabbed your wrist as you left the restaurant, his grip firm but not painful, yet. His jaw was clenched, his movements brisk and purposeful. You struggled to keep up with his long strides, the cool night air biting against your skin as you stepped outside.

“Jungkook, stop!” you protested, trying to pull your arm free. “You’re overreacting!”

“Overreacting?” he hissed, spinning around to face you. The intensity in his dark eyes made your breath hitch. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened in there? What they could’ve said? To me? To you?”

“They’re just words!” you snapped, yanking your arm again. He didn’t let go.

“Words ruin reputations,” he shot back, his voice low and dangerous. “And yours is tied to mine now. Do you understand that?”

You glared at him, your chest heaving as frustration and confusion clashed within you. “I didn’t ask for this! For any of it!”

“And yet, here you are,” Jungkook growled, dragging you toward his car. “Now, get in.”

You planted your feet, resisting his pull. “No. Not until you calm down and stop talking to me like I’m a child.”

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he might lose his composure entirely. Instead, he took a step closer, his presence suffocating, his voice dropping to a sharp, cutting whisper. “Don’t test me, Princess.”

You glared back, defiant. “Or what? You’ll drag me into the car?”

His lips curved into a smile that was anything but kind. “If that’s what it takes.” He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he added, “And if I do, I’ll make damn sure you stay there. Buckled in. Understand?”

Your pulse raced, his words infuriating. You wanted to fight, to shout back, but his dominance was overwhelming, leaving you feeling trapped. He straightened, his eyes locked on yours.

“Now,” he said, his voice cold but steady. “Get. In. The. Car.”

You hesitated, your gaze darting between him and the sleek black vehicle parked at the curb. Every nerve in your body screamed to defy him, but the sheer authority in his voice made you falter.

“Last chance,” he warned, stepping even closer. “Do it yourself, or I’ll do it for you.”

The challenge in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, and reluctantly, you moved toward the car. Jungkook opened the passenger door with a sharp motion, watching as you climbed in with slow, deliberate steps.

Before you could react, he leaned over, buckling your seatbelt himself. The closeness was suffocating, his movements rough but controlled. “See? That wasn’t so hard,” he murmured, his voice thick with sarcasm as he pulled back and slammed the door shut.

He rounded the car and slid into the driver’s seat, the air between you crackling with unspoken tension. Without a word, he started the engine, his jaw tight as his hands gripped the steering wheel.

The silence was deafening as he pulled out onto the road, the weight of his anger hanging over you like a storm waiting to break. You turned your gaze to the window, your reflection staring back at you, but you could feel his eyes flick toward you every so often, sharp and assessing.

It was going to be a long ride.

﹉﹉﹉

The car slowed to a stop, and you realized you’d arrived at his penthouse. Jungkook threw the gear into park with more force than necessary before turning to you, his gaze hard and unreadable.

“Let’s go,” he said curtly, stepping out of the car, waiting for you.

You hesitated, the thought of following him back in didn’t feel right. But as the cold night air seeped into the car, you realized you didn’t have much of a choice. Steeling yourself, you stepped out, your legs feeling unsteady beneath you.

Jungkook was waiting by the elevator, his expression unreadable but his eyes never leaving you. The tension between you felt like a live wire, crackling with energy that threatened to snap.

Inside the elevator, the silence was unbearable. Jungkook stood close, too close, his presence overwhelming in the confined space. The soft hum of the elevator only seemed to amplify the pounding of your heart.

As the doors slid open, you stepped into the penthouse, the familiarity of the space doing little to ease the unease gnawing at your chest. Jungkook didn’t say a word as he shrugged off his blazer, tossing it onto the back of the couch before running a hand through his hair.

“Jungkook,” you tried again, your voice softer now. “We need to talk.”

“Not tonight,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“But-”

“Not tonight,” he repeated, turning to face you. His expression softened just slightly, but the intensity in his eyes remained. “You need to rest, Princess. We’ll talk tomorrow, hm?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the weariness in his voice stopped you. Not knowing what to say and still shaken by the night’s events, you only nodded, your voice caught somewhere between fear and disbelief.

After finishing your bedtime routine, you sat on the edge of your bed, wrapped in the softness of your pajamas, wishing the night had ended differently. The image of Jungkook’s rage at the restaurant replayed in your mind like a haunting echo. Despite everything, a part of you wanted to check on him, to ensure he was at least calmer. Quietly, you tiptoed across the cold tile floor, your heart thundering in your chest as you approached the slightly ajar door to his office.

“...Yes, Son Jiho. At Jungsik restaurant. Take care of it. I want him gone for good,” Jungkook’s voice cut through the silence, low and sharp like a blade.

Your breath caught in your throat as you peeked inside. He was seated at his desk, his phone pressed to his ear. His jaw was tense, his expression unreadable except for the cruel smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. As he ended the call, he let out a low chuckle, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the desk.

You froze. Every muscle in your body tensed as the weight of his words sank in. Gone for good. The realization hit you like a cold wave, leaving your chest tight and your heart racing.

You stumbled backward, your movements slow and careful to avoid drawing his attention. Once back in your room, panic seized you. Your hands trembled as you grabbed your old backpack, throwing in clothes and essentials as quickly as possible. You couldn’t stay. Not after what you’d heard.

Changing into something practical, you peeked out of your bedroom door. The penthouse was shrouded in darkness, the silence unnervingly heavy. You tiptoed to the front door, holding your breath as you reached for the keypad. But when you typed in the code, the door didn’t budge.

Frowning, you tried again, only to be met with the same result. A sinking dread spread through you.

“Princess?”

His voice sliced through the darkness, sending a chill down your spine. Slowly, you turned to find Jungkook standing a few feet away, his figure partially illuminated by the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the windows.

“Where are you off to so late at night?” he asked, his tone calm but laced with an unsettling edge as he began walking toward you.

Your mind raced for an excuse. “I-I forgot my book at the library,” you stammered, forcing a casual tone. “I need it.”

Jungkook’s gaze darkened, his steps deliberate. “Oh, really?” he murmured, his voice dropping. “So you didn’t happen to overhear me in the office earlier?”

Your stomach dropped. He knows.

Panic bubbled up as he closed the distance between you, his presence heavy. He stopped just inches away, his frame towering over you as he leaned in slightly.

“W-what happened to him?” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling.

Jungkook’s hand came up to your cheek, his touch deceptively gentle as his thumb brushed over your skin. “Oh, you don’t need to worry about that, baby,” he cooed, his voice soft yet chilling. His dark eyes locked onto yours. “But if you really must know... he’s in a better place now.”

The smirk on his lips sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Every instinct screamed at you to run, but his presence pinned you in place.

“Enough about him,” Jungkook continued, his tone shifting to something almost affectionate. “You weren’t planning on leaving me, now were you?”

You swallowed hard, your head shaking in silent denial. “No,” you whispered, the lie barely audible.

Relief softened his expression as he exhaled, his hand moving to cradle your face. “My good girl wouldn’t leave me.” His lips curled into a possessive smile. “Not that you could, anyway.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice cracking.

He tilted his head, his smile widening. “From the moment you signed that contract, you’ve belonged to me,” he said simply, his voice both calm and dominant.

Your heart skipped a beat as you took a step back, but his grip tightened, keeping you in place. “What? No, Jungkook, I-”

“I’m the only one who can look after you!” he snapped, his frustration boiling to the surface. “I was the only one who helped you when no one else did. You need me.”

His voice rose, but he quickly paused, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “All you need to know,” he said, his voice eerily calm now, “is that you’re mine. I’m never letting you go, and the sooner you accept that, the better it will be for you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you nodded slowly, too afraid to argue. “I... I understand,” you choked out.

Jungkook’s features softened, a pleased smile spreading across his face. “There’s my good girl,” he murmured, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“You must be tired huh,” he said, frowning, his tone gentler now, though his grip remained firm.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go to our room and get ready for the night.”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

I’m not sure if you do nsfw words or phrases. But is there something you can post for the writers who need words for sex scenes? Ones that won’t make reader cringe or throw up? And ones that won’t sound repetitive?

110 "Beautiful" Words for Your Sex Scenes

A-E

Agitate - to move with an irregular, rapid, or violent action

Amatory - of, relating to, or expressing sexual love

Ardor - sexual excitement; extreme vigor or energy

Assail - to encounter energetically; to afflict in a manner that threatens to overwhelm

Austere - harsh and threatening in manner

Bemoan - to feel sorry or dissatisfied about

Bestrew - to lie scattered over

Carnal - given to crude bodily pleasures and appetites

Cavernous - suggesting a cavern; composed largely of vascular sinuses and capable of dilating with blood to bring about the erection of a body part

Coax - to gently urge by caressing or flattering

Compulsion - an irresistible persistent impulse to perform an act

Concrete - to become physically firm or solid

Constriction - the act or process of reducing the size or volume of something by pressing

Curvature - a curved surface of an organ

Delectation - delight, enjoyment

Deluge - a great flow of water or of something that overwhelms

Devoir - something one must do because of prior agreement

Dew - moisture especially when appearing in minute droplets

Douse - a heavy drenching

Ecstasy - rapturous delight; a state of being beyond reason and self-control

Enraptured - to fill with delight

Entreat - to make an earnest request; plead

Entwine - to become twisted or twined

Erogenous - of, relating to, or arousing sexual feelings; sexually sensitive

Exult - to be extremely joyful; rejoice

F-O

Fervid - marked by often extreme fervor (i.e., intensity of feeling or expression; intense heat)

Feverish - marked by intense emotion, activity, or instability

Flushed - tinged with red especially in the face (e.g., from physical exertion)

Flutter - to vibrate in irregular spasms

Foment - to promote the growth or development of; rouse, incite

Fragmentize - fragment (i.e., to fall to pieces)

Frisson - a brief moment of emotional excitement; shudder, thrill

Fuse - to come together to form a single unit

Gasp - to catch the breath convulsively and audibly (as with shock)

Gluttony - greedy or excessive indulgence

Harmony - pleasing arrangement of parts

Ichorous - of a thin watery or blood-tinged discharge

Immovable - incapable of being moved

Impetus - stimulation resulting in increased activity

Imprint - to mark by pressure

Impure - lewd, unchaste

Incantation - a written or recited formula of words designed to produce a particular effect

Intensity - extreme degree of strength, force, energy, or feeling

Inundate - overwhelm; overflow

Kindle - to stir up; arouse

Lecherous - given to or suggestive of lechery (i.e., inordinate indulgence in sexual activity; lasciviousness)

Levitating - to rise or float in or as if in the air especially in seeming defiance of gravitation

Licentious - disregarding sexual restraints

Lissome - easily flexed; lithe (i.e., characterized by easy flexibility and grace)

Luscious - sexually attractive; seductive, sexy

Mantra - a statement repeated frequently

Murmur - a soft or gentle utterance

Nectar - something delicious to drink

Nimble - quick and light in motion; agile; responsive, sensitive

Oceanic - vast, great

Overflowing - a flowing over; inundation

P-S

Palpate - to examine by touch

Palpitate - to beat rapidly and strongly; throb

Partake - to take part in or experience something along with others

Pearl - something resembling a pearl; precious

Pining - to yearn intensely and persistently especially for something unattainable

Piquant - agreeably stimulating to the taste; engagingly provocative

Plaint - wail

Plunge - to cause to penetrate or enter quickly and forcibly into something

Propulsion - the action or process of propelling (i.e., to drive forward or onward by means of a force that imparts motion

Pulsate - to throb or move rhythmically; vibrate

Rapacious - ravenous (i.e., very eager or greedy for satisfaction or gratification

Rasp - a rasping sound, sensation, or effect

Relish - enjoyment of or delight in something that satisfies one's tastes, inclinations, or desires

Repine - to long for something

Rhapsody - rapture, ecstasy

Ripple - to have or produce a ripple effect; spread

Salacious - arousing or appealing to sexual desire or imagination

Silken - soft, lustrous; harmonious

Siren - resembling that of a siren; enticing

Slaver - to let saliva or some other substance flow from the mouth

Sluice - to drench with a sudden flow

Sob - to catch the breath audibly in a spasmodic contraction of the throat

Sodden - heavy with or as if with moisture or water; to be soaked

Stirring - marked by much life, movement, or activity

Sublime - to elevate or exalt

Succulent - full of juice; moist and tasty; toothsome

Succumb - to yield to superior strength or force or overpowering appeal or desire

Sumptuous - extremely costly, rich, luxurious, or magnificent

Supple - capable of being bent/folded without creases, cracks, or breaks; able to perform bending/twisting movements with ease

Supplicate - to ask for earnestly and humbly

Surge - to rise and move in waves or billows; swell

Surrender - to give oneself up into the power of another; yield

Svelte - lithe (i.e., easily bent or flexed)

Swirl - to have a twist or convolution

T-Y

Taut - tense; not relaxed; rigid, stiff

Tempestuous - marked by bursts of intense activity

Tenderness - sensitivity to touch or palpation

Throes - pangs, spasms

Thrum - to sound with a monotonous hum

Torrid - ardent, passionate; hot

Undulate - to move in waves; to rise and fall in volume

Unyielding - characterized by lack of softness or flexibility

Unyoke - to take apart; to force apart

Vehement - marked by forceful energy

Vigorous - carried out forcefully and energetically

Vitality - power of enduring

Voluptuous - conducive to or arising from sensuous or sensual gratification

Voracity - the quality or state of being voracious (i.e., ravenous; excessively eager)

Wanton - causing sexual excitement; lustful, sensual

Whet - to make keen or more acute; excite, stimulate

Winded - cause (someone) to have difficulty breathing because of exertion; panting, gasping for breath

Worship - extravagant respect or admiration for or devotion to

Writhe - to move with twists and turns; intertwine

Yearn - to long persistently; to feel tenderness or compassion

Hope you use these words in ways that won't make your readers cringe or throw up, dear Anon! But it's fine if some of them do—as long as you are satiated with your own writing :)

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 ⚜ More: Word Lists

[omfals]

Half the reason Pearl wasn't as deadly this season was because she was so focused on Gem that it somehow equalized her bloodlust.

Her love and care for Gem counteracted her want for her to die so well that she was basically a pup nipping on heels. She literally said this session "Why are people afraid of me at this point [after failing to elytra swoop arrow shoot Joel for the nth time]". This sentiment is a buildup of all her other failed killing attempts, most of which are on Gem.

And her interaction with Gem during the Mace Scenes, Gem went "It's like you don't actually want me to die" and Pearl goes "But I do" and she means it, but Pearl only does as good as her motivitation to the task, when she wants to hate and destroy.

This time though? Her want to kill is powered by love, to be friends with Gem again, and that is why unfortunately, she did not succeed. She was never going to be able to kill Gem. 1v1 or not.

Literally, in the middle of the mace scenes she pointed out Gem's snail when that would absolutely kill her. Continued to kill Gem ONLY with the Mace even after being informed by Cleo that Etho said it was pretty difficult to use. And then right when Red Gem says they can team she JUMPS for the chance, mourns what they could have had before Gem got killed by a Vex.

At some point you just gotta 🤨.

[laneywrld]

Oh Baby | part three

third and final part.

word count: 8.6k

Warnings: tame(er) smut. Pregnancy sex. childbirth.

progress is made, all thanks to your hormone gremlins.

It's safe to say everyone's favorite duo was back like they never left,  just with a lingering air of sexual tension and babies in the oven. 

You were never good at holding water, which is why you told your family and friends about it the very same night. Your friends were the most excited you'd ever seen them, and that was before you even mentioned who the father was. 

When Miles questioned who the father was with a meek voice interrupting said celebrations, Lewis stepped forward with a cocky smirk and a pep in his step that made you want to kick the back of his legs in. 

Instead, you gently motioned to Lewis with your arm thrown out. 

You'll never forget your friend's reactions like a scene from a telenovela; they all gasped dramatically and clutched their pearls. "Oh, I'm going to beat everybody's ass; why didn't we know y'all were together?"

"We are NOT together." You interrupt.

"So fucking?" Miles pipes up, and you feel like you are on stage with a literal spotlight directed at you, with the way they are all intently observing you, including Lewis.

"Not fucking either." You deny, slapping Lewis' arm as to say, help me out here. He shakes his head at you, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"It was a one-time thing that we both agreed would never happen again. This is the consequence of our actions that night." You put your hands on your pudgier stomach. "Yay!" you cheer quietly.

Whit stands first, and with tears in her eyes, she throws her arm over your shoulder, pulling you into a hug. Mori stands after already having been emotional since the initial announcement. She saunters over with a coo of "Aww, mama bear," joining in on the embrace. 

Lewis' boys stand up, Miles put his hand out to Lewis for a dap and ends up pulling him into a hug. "One step closer." He chuckles gripping Lewis' shoulder as he steps back. 

Daniel grins, approaching Lewis with his arms open and ready, "I'm proud of you, brother." He congratulates them through his own wide grin. 

You turn to Lewis with your bottom lip poked out as your friends kneel around your tiny belly. It doesn't even really look like there's a child in there, but that doesn't halt your friends from gently caressing it.

You wipe away an unsuspecting tear as Miles coos gently to your stomach, "Hope you don't get your dad's forehead, lil man."

"She's a girl!" Whit scowls, mushing his face away from your belly.

"We don't know what it is, actually." Daniel returns Whit's actions, mushing her to the right as he emerges front and center.

Lewis, who had stood off to the side watching your friend's love on you and your unborn baby, steps to your side, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him. He leaves a lingering kiss on your hairline before knocking Daniel over with his foot. 

"Don't call my child an it."

-

Your parents, on the other hand, were a completely different story.

Your full government name is shouted by your mother as she holds onto your dad for support. They both look like they've been shot, and the greater betrayal was that you were the one who pulled the trigger. "Oh, Lord in heaven, please!"

"Ma." You whine, "Don't look like that, guys."

Lewis parents are sat beside your own, his mom is eyeing you up and down a interested look dawning her face. When your dad wipes the suprise from his face he looks like he is beginning the five stages of grief. 

"My baby- I can't."

Lewis' mother slaps her ex-husband's thigh, motioning to the anxious look adorning their son's face. 

"Lewis," His mom all but shouts, "Are you the father?" It comes out in a squeal, one that has your parents pausing their dramatics and leaning forward in sync.

Lewis looks like a thief caught red-handed. And just as you looked to him for support earlier, he does the same to you. You shrug at him, throwing your hands into your pockets.

How does it feel to be thrown to the sharks?

He stutters for a while, so he avoids eye contact with your dad. When his father speaks up, his voice is demanding. "Be a man, Lewis, answer."

You almost feel bad watching as your guys' parents sit literally on the edge of their seats. Lewis has never felt more nervous in his life. Deciding to put an end to his misery, you close the distance between you two and intertwine your hands.

"The baby is mine," Lewis announces, and your family jumps up like they've won the lotto.

Unlike your friends, they don't rush to you guys; they rush to each other. Your mom and Lewis' mom bounce up and down as they hug, and like the annoying men your fathers are, they point at each other with wide grins on their faces before they are in each other's embrace as well.

You and Lewis face each other in perplexity.

He clears his throat, and you call out, "Umm, hello?"

"Aww, my baby," your mom cries, rushing to you with her arms held high. You still stare back at Lewis, and your face is set in bafflement as she presses her lips to your cheeks and then cups your belly. Your dad comes barreling through, quite literally pushing your mom out of the way, and he is enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug.

Your mom shouts your dad's name, whacking the back of his head, "The girl is pregnant. Be gentle."

He eases back and holds your face in his hands, eyes staring into you with such adoration that it makes you emotional all over again. "My baby is having a baby."

Choked up you see Lewis' parents loving on him in the same manner, you catch Anthony's eyes and he is unraveling himself from his son and pulling you into him. "I couldn't be any more happier, my girl." He talks quietly into your ear as he hugs you. 

As you talk to Lewis' mom, you see your dad and mom embracing Lewis, and you chuckle as he happily accepts their graces.

As time went on they just barely settled down.

"Oh please," you taunt. "You literally looked like you guys were ready to kill me." 

You watch on in puzzlement as they begin writing Facebook posts. 

"Yes, my darling." Your mother hums. 

"Before we found out Lewis was the father." His mom adds with a cheeky smile.

"So?" your dad motions between the two of you, relaxing comfortably on the loveseat. "How long has this been a thing?"

At your words, the grin is wiped from his face, "It's not."

"Have you defiled my daughter Lewis Carl Dav-"

"Dad!" you shout, groaning again as he turns to Anthony with an incredulity like no other. 

"So, maybe let's not do Facebook?" You suggest.

Lewis raises from beside you sauntering over to the dad couch, he sits on the arm of the chair beside your dad and talks lowly to them. You cannot hear what he says but by the way a grin covers the faces of the entire couch you know he's used his classic Hamilton charm on them.

He watches you as he speaks and shoots you a wink when he sees you trying to read his lips. 

"I think we're going to head back to our wing of the house." He announces and that's your cue to start lifting from the couch. 

You say your goodbyes, giving everyone smooches and welcoming the last of their congratulations. Lewis saunters over to you after doing the same and reaches for your hand. You graciously accept, waving one final time before he pulls you from the secondary house. 

"So how are we going to go about this?" You question as the two of you walk hand in hand.

"However you want."

"I don't like how you just agree with everything I say; give me some input; this is your child, too." You ensure, "I'm open to what you want as well."

"I want you to be close to me during the pregnancy. It'd make me feel better for sure." He hums.

"Can I ask how that'd work? You're going to be traveling for the season. I want to keep my job for as long as I can."

"I want you to be stress free, I meant what I said, I'll take care of anything you need. Please just- you don't have to quit forever; just let me take care of you while you're pregnant, at least."

He looks so concerned with the idea of you working that it has you reaching up to physically push the frown from his face. You stop in front of him and poke your finger on his face by the corner of his mouth.

"Stop pouting," you instruct, "I work for my dad, after all. I think he'll understand."

He breathes a sigh of relief, grabbing your hand again as you start walking ahead of him.

"I also want everyone to know the baby's mine." He adds. "Unless you planned on keeping them out of the light, which I get-"

"Done." You cheese. "I'll let the world know you knocked me up, Sir Hamilton. More requests?"

"Move in with me."

You don't say anything as you turn to face him. The moon creates a glow around the two of you as you glance up at him. 

"C'mon, I purchased the house because you liked it anyway," he shrugs. "You're there more than me during the season; Roscoe loves having you there; I love having you there. Plus, you love it there."

You stare up at him with an admiration like no other. It has him turning his blushing face to the side.

"I did say it'd be the perfect home for a kid one day, huh?" You squeal, wrapping yourself around him, "I'm so excited!"

He lifts you with one arm like you weigh nothing, and you wrap your legs around his waist.

"I'm excited, too." He hums as he walks you into the primary home. The lights are all off as he carries you up the stairs and into your room. He plops you down onto the bed, crouching down to pull your slippers from your feet. 

"I can do that myself, you know? I'm not that pregnant yet." You huff.

"What kind of man would I be if I had my baby mama doing anything?" He smirks up at you.

"All it took was me carrying your child for you to be awfully sweet to me, would've fucked you sooner."

"Always sweet to you," Lewis smiles up at you, "gotta stop talking like that to me if you don't want me to get the wrong idea."

"Mhmm." You fall back into the bed.

Lewis crawls onto the bed beside you, laying his head against your stomach; he pokes you, making you jump.

"Stop it, I'm ticklish." You warn; he only smiles, nestling further into you. "There's a baby in here." His voice is so low you almost miss it. 

"Thank you." You express gently, rubbing your fingers through his braids. 

"For what?" utters Lewis as his palm rubs in circular motions against your belly. 

"For giving me everything I've ever wanted."

"I always will."

-

Whoever came up with the saying that distance makes the heart grow fonder was truly right. Although it was less than ideal, you and Lewis were back as if it had never happened. In fact, it's like the time you had away from each other forced you into the beautiful dynamic the two of you have now. Neither of you wanted to be without the other again.

It had been three months since your beautiful discovery, so that put you at a whopping five months pregnant.

Your belly was now noticeably bigger and rounder, much bigger than it would've been if Lewis' family didn't have a history of twins. And it was most definitely getting in the way of things, literally. 

You huff as you struggle to squat down low enough to lift the box of blankets you packed. Just as you feel yourself get a good enough grip on the box and you begin to lift Lewis is by your side wearing a disapproving scowl.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop trying to carry stuff out of here."

"Lewis," you huff, "It's literally just blankets."

"I don't care, sit down." He orders.

You stomp away from him, plopping down on the couch. He walks out of the front door and returns only moments later, waltzing into your kitchen.

He appears again with a plate full of orange slices, and you sigh as he approaches you.

"Lewis, there's only so many orange slices I can take in a day, buddy."

"The doctor said oranges are a good snack for month five," he pouts, "my kids need vitamin C."  

"Trust me, belly's fine."

Almost like they can sense the presence of food, they kick at you, and you, still not used to the sensation, cup your stomach in a gasp.

"Mhhm," Lewis disapproves, "feed my babies." He is setting the plate of fruit in your lap, bending quickly to peck your stomach. "I have a few more boxes to help them load and then I'll be taking you home, okay."

You can only offer him a puffy smile, your cheeks filled with fruit. He chuckles leaning over to ruffle your hair and he's pulling your forehead to his lips pressing a chaste kiss there before he's walking towards the stack of boxes.

You dreamily sigh, watching his glistening tatted back contract as he lifts the heavy mass. 

These fucking babies were turning you into a horny mess. 

It was the second week of June. A week later than the deadline, you promised Lewis that you'd move into his home. Well, your home now, too.

It was safe to say that Lewis meant business. You had spent the last few months bouncing from country to country, attending every race with him and basking in the free time with each other, which he had before and after races. 

When you opted to skip the Canadian Grand Prix under the pretense that you would go home to oversee the movers, he hesitantly drove you to the airport the day before qualifying. 

But when you got home and your preganacy brain got to you, you realized you scheduled your movers for the wrong saturday. You could've sworn Lewis was having a panic attack with the way he was in hysterics over the facetime call as you explained your situation.

He had booked himself a very late flight after his race and appeared at your doorstep with an armful of plant-based treats and a carton of strawberry fro-yo. "It's good for the babies." He smiled sheepishly as he rushed in. 

And here you were now, big and bored, spread across the couch as Roscoe snuggled into your side. You don't remember falling asleep next to your furry friend, but as Lewis gently shakes you awake with an adorable twinkle in his eyes you can't even be bothered to be irritated.

"Hey, mama," he coos. "You ready to head out?"

You nod, still groggy, swinging your legs over the couch and preparing to stand. Lewis catches you off guard as he swoops you into his arms, carrying you bridal style with ease. He calls for Roscoe as he slips through the front door. 

He opens the passenger side door of his car and sits you down softly, reaching over you to grab the seatbelt. And he's so close to you that it has your heart hammering when his hand swipes against your chest to pull at the belt. 

"I'll be back in a second, going to lock up here."

He smirks as he closes the door and you see him taking his precious time to make it back into your former home. 

You were no fool; truthfully, you were fully aware of the sexual tension that hung between you and Lewis since the night of his birthday. 

There were lingering touches and gazes that you were sure were sexually charged. You've even noticed Lewis' impure reactions to you, and it made your brain race with questions.

The driver's side door opening drew you from your thoughts as Lewis appeared this time covered in a white tee. You will away your disappointment and reach for his phone to play some music. When you do you see a message from a saved contact.

Marie

Isn't it about time for you to come see me again?

"You've got a message." You tell him nonchalantly even though your heart aches.

"From who?"

You try to hand him the phone, but he waves it off, reversing the car. "Can you read it to me?"

"Marie, she says, and I quote, Isn't it about that time for you to come see me again? You late to a link, Lew?" You laugh even though there isn't shit funny to you.

"You can block her." He declares casually. 

"Huh?"

"Block her for me." He orders, but he still hasn't turned to look at you. "She was just someone I saw when I was in Canada."

"Lewis, you don't have to end your fun on my account; I'm the pregnant one. You do know that you don't have to."

"Yeah." He pushes out hoarsely. You wait for him to continue, but he doesn't. In a way, you feel a sense of relief wash over you. Life with Lewis has felt so extra domestic lately. It was almost like the two of you were in a relationship, minus the physical affection. And even then, that physicality was there; you two just never kissed or, well, had sex.

You wondered if he felt it the same way you had.

But then the thought lingers in the back of your head: did he see her when you left to come home?

The way he was acting oddly uncomfortable with the conversation gave you your answer, and in the end, you couldn't fault him for it.

You do as he instructs, clicking Marie's contact and blocking her number, and then you continue on with your initial mission and scroll through Lewis' Spotify until you find music to your liking.

The rest of the drive is silent except for the soft melodies escaping his speakers.

When you pull into Lewis' driveway, he parks, turns off the car, and hurries to your side, opening the door before you even have the chance to do so. He opens the backdoor and holds onto your hand. "Roscoe, c'mon boy."

He leads you into the home like you haven't passed through the very same doors a million times before. 

"Which room did they move me into?" You question making your way upstairs.

"Oh," Lewis pauses, "I figured you'd be with me, in mine."

"Oh, okay."

You walk past him and further up the stairs as he trails behind you.

When you enter his room you beeline straight into his closet, well you guys' closet and sure enough there are more of your belongings taking up space. 

You stand on your tiptoes to reach for one of his tee shirts. He is behind you in an instant, one hand holding your hip firmly and forcing your feet back onto the ground. The other reaches up and grasps the shirt you had been aiming for. 

When you turn to take the shirt from him, he once again gives you the same disapproving gaze he'd given you earlier.

"Oh God, Lewis. I can't even get on my tiptoes anymore?" You question, pulling the shirt from his grasp.

"You could've tipped over." He argues, following you out of the closet. "You want a bath or a shower tonight?" He queries, already heading into the bathroom.

"A bath, please; my body is killing me." 

"Put this on," he orders, tossing you your robe. 

You strip from your shorts and tee-shirt throwing the robe on and waiting patiently for Lewis to emerge from the bathroom. 

When he does, he's shirtless, and the sweats are hanging low.

"I've got your bath running. Sit down," he orders, pointing to the bed. 

"Why?" you question, but you're already moving to the bed and plopping down. 

"Why do you question everything?" He chuckles. And he is slipping behind you in an instant, his hands instantly moving up to knead at your shoulders.

You can't help the moan you let out. "Fuck, that feels great. Thank you."

"It's the least I can do, letting my youngsters beat you up all day."

You can only chortle as his hands move along your back. 

"Gonna come out feisty, like you."

"I am not," you argue.

"yeah, okay." He whispers, his hands traveling lower and lower. His hands are gripping your sides firmly as his thumbs massage masterfully into your back.

"Fuck, Lewis." You mewl.

"Feels good?"

"Yeah." 

You almost cry as you feel him lifting behind you, but when he pushes you onto your back gently and cradles your legs, the whine in your throat is replaced with a nervous gulp. 

His hands caress your thighs, moving up and down expertly, and you bask in the comfort.

"I didn't sleep with her in Canada, never even saw her this year."

"Oh," you murmur with your eyes closed. On the outside, you were calm, but mentally, you were shrieking tears of joy. 

"Haven't been sleeping around." He announces again. 

When you say nothing, he persists, "Haven't been with anyone since you."

You know Lewis so well that you can predict his face even before you open your eyes.

His voice sounds a bit gravelly and shaky, and you know he's peering up at you through his perfect lashes, waiting to gauge your reaction. 

So when you open your eyes and see him hovering over your legs exactly as you imagined, you can only shoot him a purposeful smile.

"I figured. You've spent all of your time with me." You shrug. He nods relief washing over him. In all honesty he was happy that you recognized the switch in him. Recognized that all of his focus was soley on you and your unborn babies, who you've nicknamed belly. 

"Five months is a long time to go without sex." You declare, and he bobs his head to the side, 

"Not really, not for me. What about you?" 

He feels his heart leap with joy at your next words.

"I haven't slept with anyone else since you either. I've gone longer without sex, so five months would've been easier if I wasn't lugging around two hormone gremlins." 

You both share a laugh as you motion to your round belly. 

"You're suffering then?"

"Suffering like a motherfucker." You huff.

"I can fix that."

You sit up, coming face to face with him; he stares at you intensely. It was your idea, not to mention the night you two had shared, as well as your doing, to solidify the fact that you two would never sleep together again.

However, your emotions were running, and your hormones were at an all-time high, so could anyone really even blame you for pulling his mouth to yours in a searing kiss?

Like the time before, it's like Lewis is ready for you. He pushes you back down, his legs still holding him above you. This time, Lewis takes the initiative, spreading your mouth open and entering like it's home. One of his elbows is being used as leverage to hold him above your bump. His other hand has your jaw in a tight grip, holding you in place.

Your hands are exploring his body. Traveling the expanse of his chest to his back, anything you can reach. 

He disconnects his mouth from yours, his head turning towards the bathroom. "Shit, sorry."

He stands, shooting you a sorrowful look as he beelines into the washroom.

When he appears again, he is looking at you with hungry eyes, but his words are so domestic that you are ready to jump his bones.

"Made your bath too hot. Got time to let that cool down."

You smirk at him, beckoning him over. You're both sitting angled towards each other and just as you move forward to touch his lips with your own he is moving his head to the side forcing you to peck the corner of his mouth.

You lean back with furrowed brows. "What was that?"

"I want to clarify something first, this time. So we won't have a repeat of last time."

Damn, you scream to yourself. You were already extremely horny, and now you'd have to sit and listen to him declare that this was a means of pleasure only. Which in return would most likely turn you off. So yay, no life-altering dick for you tonight.

"Go on then." You wave your hand, and Lewis laughs.

"Patience, you horny beast." 

You gasp, thumping his head.

"But really, I, um, wanted to let you know this for a while. It's been on my mind even heavier since my birthday."

"Okay," 

"I love you." He blurts, "and not in the conventional friendship way, you're my best friend but I love you more than that. And I have for as long as I could remember."

You feel like you've been freed from hell's gates; everything in you feels so much lighter, so much more merrier. 

Like always, when Lewis tries to find the words to say, his head is tilted downwards to the side as he works through what to say. His heart is beating a mile a minute, and he can't find it in him to look at you quite yet. He has to say how he feels now, or he'll never say it.

"I'm the man I am today because of you. You've been with me every step of the way. You've never turned your back on me or gotten sick of me; you've been everything I've ever wanted from the beginning. I've tried to fill the void of not having you with other... distractions, should I say. And it never made me forget about you, never made me want you any less, always made me want you even more."

You choke up at his words. This was all you've ever wanted to hear spoken to you.

"I love you and I feel like I have ever since I've been able to have complex emotions. You are my childhood dream. Over the racing and the luxury lifestyle, over anything. I've always wanted you more than anything. I meant every word I said to you on my birthday, and I'm taking accountability now for the argument. I wanted to hear you say that you meant the words you said to me, like I meant the words I said to you. I should have just admitted it. But I didn't, and I was a fool; I regret it every day. But I love you all the same."

He peers up at you through his lashes and through his own teary eyes he can see the tears bubbling over the surface as you poke out your bottom lip in your classic pout.

"Oh, Lew," you whine, wrapping him in such a tender embrace. "You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say those words."

He nestles his head into the crook of your neck, and you can feel wetness glide down your collar.

You grasp his head in your hands, cupping his cheeks so that you can see him eye to eye.

"I love you," you state. "More than the entire world, I've always told you that, and I've always meant it."

His lips twitch, and his eyes soften. Finally, he breaks into a smile. "How much I love you is unexplainable, Lew. I've been fighting myself forever about it, frustrated that I'd never see anyone like I see you. I've been settling because I thought I couldn't have you. You're all I've ever wanted. And I meant what I said that night, too. I was made for you and only you, always only ever been yours. No one has had my heart but you."

This time, the kiss is passionate and slow. You taste saltiness as you succumb to each other. You separate with a gasp, hand coming down to soothe your stomach. "They're beating me up again." You whisper, watching as their tiny feet nudge against your stomach.

Lewis bends down, pressing pecks to your bulging belly, "Think they're just celebrating."

You watch from above with a loving smile on your face. "My little family." You coo, bringing your hand up to rest in Lewis' hair.

"I'm going to marry you, you know that, right?" Lewis peers up at you. 

"I sure would hope so." And you lean down to press a kiss to his forehead. 

"They're not stopping." He announces, his hand covering your own on your belly.

"They always get excited when you're close to me." You admit. 

His eyes crinkle at your words, and his mouth spreads into a grin.

"I'm happy to be with you guys, too," he coos to your gut, "but we have to let Mama relax, okay." At his words, the thumps from inside of you come to a halt, and you and Lewis marvel at each other.

"Wow," you whisper.

"Come on." He is standing from the bed, holding his hand out for you. 

He helps you stand from the bed, gently pulling you into the bathroom.

When you're inside, he faces you towards the mirror. He unclasps the necklace sitting it onto the bathroom counter and slowly his hands travel to your front to untie your robe. It falls off of your shoulders and he proceeds to drag it down your arms and from your body.

You stare at him through the mirror with no shame as he trails his eyes along your body.

"Most beautiful woman in the world." He hums. You're standing in front of him naked as he reaches past you to drop your now discarded robe beside your necklace.

As he does so, he presses lingering kisses to your neck. 

He steps back, holding out his arm to direct you into the bathtub.

"Get in with me?" You suggest as you notice him standing off to the side. 

Lewis curses himself for feeling like a shy virgin around you every time you even remotely flutter your eyes at him. 

"Please." You add submerging yourself into the warm water.

Lewis slips from his sweats, easing into the tub at the other end.

"Remember when we used to have baths together as kids?" You reminisce, blowing a pile of bubbles at him.

Lewis leans back, his arms dangling over the edge. "Simple times."

"You remember when you pooped?" You tease, leaning forward.

Lewis splashes you a tiny bit, bubbles landing on your face. "That was you," he denied.

"Big fat liar." you cackled. 

Lewis sees you inching towards him like a tiger on the prowl. You're in his lap before he knows it, your arms locked around his neck. He wraps his own around your waist.

No more words are spoken between you two. You lift your soapy hand and tilt his head up to you, pressing your mouth to his.

Lewis groans into your mouth as you settle over him.

"Want you so bad." You confess, your lips trailing from his mouth to his jaw and down into the crevice of his neck.

Your hand reaches down between the two of you, and you smile against his skin as you grip him.

So hard already.

Lewis throws his head back against the porcelain as you wrap your hand around him in a snug grasp. 

You're in his ear saying some of the most obscene words he's ever heard as you sit on top of him, tugging him. He can feel your belly rubbing against his, and it's driving him mad.

"Want to make love? Can we do that, Lewis? Make it even better than the last time."

Lewis gasps out his words as you sit back on his legs and use both of your hands to twist and tug on him. He bites on his bottom lip and grips you tighter. "Fuck, yes. Please"

You can only smile at him as you observe his resolve crumbling. You don't stop even as he begins to spasm and continually moan out your name. He grunts one last time before it transforms into a fit of masculine whimpers. He literally falls apart in your hands as you massage him through his release. 

"Got another one in you?" You ask, already positioning yourself over him.

He opens his eyes, pupils blown and wild. And then his bitten and swollen lips spread into a dopey smile.

You give him a peck; widening said smile before you line him up at your entrance. The smile is wiped from his face as his facade once again contorts to one of pure pleasure.

You can only gasp and move your grip to his shoulders as you sink onto him inch by inch until you feel him nestled tightly into you.

"Fuck." He groans.

You ease your body up and down over him slowly, he's so fucking big.

You moan as you continue your slow pace. You want to take your time with him. But it was getting increasingly hard feeling that delicious stretch every time you lifted over him.

Lewis hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sank down onto him. He is staring at you like you hung the sun, moon, and the stars yourself.

He uses both of his hands to pull your mouth towards his, "I love you." He breathes into you, pressing passionate pecks onto your lips. He holds your face close to his, maintaining eye contact as you roll over him. 

Your mouth drops open as you feel him lift his hips over and over. Between his eyes piercing into you and the slow, languid strokes he's giving you, you weren't sure what would throw you over the edge first. 

You moan quietly as you feel the blaze building in your belly. He's so big that it feels like he's entering you for the first time all over again.

You feel inebriated by him as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. He's still just as vocal as he was the first time, and it's putting you in overdrive.

Lewis is thrusting up into you with a force that has the breath leaving your lips in sharp pants with every re-entry.  

Your foreheads fall against each other, both of you watching your bodies drive against the water.

Lewis is lifting you from his lap like you weigh nothing. He turns you around to face the opposite way. You gasp as he pulls your arms up and directs you to hold onto the end of the tub in front of you. You're on your knees, arms holding your upper body out of the water. You feel his knees slide in between your spread legs, and his hands caress up and down your wet back. 

One hand settles on your shoulder, the other on your waist, and then he is sliding into you slowly. You hang your head, letting out a deep breath, "fuck." you cry out as he strokes at such a deliberately slow momentum.

As he pushes into you, his grip on your shoulders forces you back at the same time. He's going so slow but getting so deep that it has you tightening your grip. 

When he hits your spot, you lurch forward.

He pulls you back onto him, his hand tightening against your waist.

"Don't run. Stay with me." He orders, his voice is deep and raspy. "This what you wanted, remember?"

You nod your head, eyes closing shut as your thighs quiver. "Oh god."

"Want to make you feel better." He moans. "I was waiting for you to let me see this pretty pussy again." He hums, and you feel his hands spread you apart.

"So fucking pretty, so tight."

It was like he was tormenting you, giving you an inch and then taking a mile every time he pushed into you slowly just to have you wallowing for more when he pulled himself out.

"You're being greedy, mama." He chuckles as you push yourself back onto him. "take what you want then."

At his words, you begin to swivel your hips back at a much quicker pace, feeling his pelvis brush against your ass with every motion.

"C'mon, take it." he grunts. "that's right, want it so bad."

You pull yourself forward, only to spiral back into him repeatedly. Lewis is a mess behind you, his hands reaching up to hold his braids from his face. He kneels there and allows you to use his body in any way you please. 

He takes in an unsteady breath when you tighten around him. As you drag your pussy over him, he feels himself being tugged with you. "So tight." he moans, "don't even wanna let me go."

He pulls you up by your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest, and begins hammering into you over and over. One hand travels to your throat, and his grip is temperate. 

"All you needed, huh? Feel better already?"

You nod your head, yes, head falling back onto his shoulder. He pummels into you stroke after stroke until he feels it. You constrict around him, hands coming to grip his arm, and you moan his name over and over. 

He doesn't show you any mercy. He keeps up his fast pace as you writhe in his arms. His head falls, and as he feels himself come undone, he bites down on your shoulder with a growl that lights your body on fire all over again. You feel him spurt into you, and you whine as he nestles himself into your core further. 

After a while, Lewis pulls himself from your gut with a hiss. He reaches down and unplugs the drain. He sits, spreading his legs and pulling you in between them. When you're nestled against his chest, he sighs, once again placing his hand on your neck to angle your face towards his. He places a sensual kiss on your lips before letting you go with a smile.

"Should I run us a bath, or do you want to hop in the shower for a quick wash?"

You turn to the left, observing the standing shower, and you scoff. "you've ruined my legs, Lew; I couldn't stand in there if I wanted."

"Bath it is." He grins, already reaching for the knobs.

"Plus, I want to sit with you like this for a while. Bask in this."

"I love you," he expresses, "I don't think I'll ever get used to this."

_

Spoiler alert: he never did. As the days went on and turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months, and Lewis never changed his affections. You two were in a constant honeymoon phase, which you were sure was permanent.

You two were perfect for each other in every sense and made each other whole. 

The dynamics that made you two the perfect friends bled over into your relationship, and things were flawless, to say the least.

Until, you felt a popping feeling and then a gush of water fall between your legs. Lewis was on his way home from the airport having left to race in Singapore he was relieved that he'd be back three days before your expected due date.

But when he gets a call from his best friend and hears your cranky voice in the background, his heart hammers with nerves. 

"Miles, I swear to fucking god," he hears you groan. "if he doesn't have his high yellow ass to the hospital before I push these goddamn babies out of me, I will kill him. Tell him I will kill him."

"You heard her, man," Miles stammers. He hears commotion over the phone, and he gives up his useless attempts to grab either of your attention.

"Oi Miles!" He hears a slap in the background. "Oh my fucking god," you cry out. "Where is Whit? I don't want your help, fucking men."

Miles reappears on the screen; he looks disheveled and like he's just been in a cat fight, "Hey, brother." he pants. "I'm trying here, just how far are you?" 

"Lewis leans forward, seeing his ETA on his driver's screen. "Only ten minutes. Is she okay?" His voice is full of concern, and Miles squawks.

"Brother, ten minutes is too long. She just absolutely beat my ass for putting the wrong treats in the bag. There are a million gummies in here. How am I sup-"

"Gushers, Miles. On the top shelf of the pantry behind the rice cakes."

"Why the hell are there gushers behind rice cakes?" He cries out, rushing to the pantry. Lewis sees you in the background as Miles breezes by.

You stand in the middle of the living room face set in a pout one hand grasping the a bag of organic gummies and the other holding your phone to your ear. 

"Whit!" He hears you cry out, "I'm about to have these fucking babies alone with fucking Miles! Fucking Miles! And he gives me fucking Annes organic fruit snacks, Whitney! Why the fuck would I want organic candy? And Lew hid the gushers, and he's not going to be here in time, and I don't know where he put them."

Miles drops his jaw, halting his reach for the treats. "Hey, I'm trying my best! I want the best for you and my godchildren. I'm trying here!"

"Your trying isn't enough; obviously, I need the god mom. Whit! Fucking men, can't even find my fucking candy." You call out again. 

"Ugh- did she just stomp away from me." 

The call disconnects, and Lewis lets out a sigh of relief as he pulls into his neighborhood. He rushes out of the car, running up the steps of you guys' home. When he enters the foyer, he rushes to where he saw you last on the phone. Only you're not standing in the living room in distress. It's Miles slumped onto the couch with a family pack of gushers in his lap. He notices the two gusher wrappers beside his friend, and he storms up to him, snatching the box and slapping the side of his head.

"Where's my baby?" 

"Upstairs, y'all are going to learn how to appreciate me one day. I'm the godfather to your children-"

Lewis smacks his teeth, rushing up the stairs and into your bedroom. He sees you lugging your baby bag onto the bed, and he rushes over to you, pulling it from your grasp. 

"Hey bunny, I'm here." 

Your lip wobbles as you look up at him, and you let out a relieved cry. Lewis opens his arms to embrace you, and you quickly pull the box from his hands, stuffing it into your bag. 

"I was looking for these." You cried.

Lewis, used to your pregnant shenanigans, allows you to cry tears of relief for the sudden appearance of your after-labor treat. It's all you'd been asking for for weeks, but your doctor had you on a strict diet.

"Bunny," he persists, his arms open. You sniffle, stepping into his embrace.

"How are you feeling?"

"My vagina hurts, and I was scared you weren't going to make it." 

He chuckles, holding you close to him, "always going to make it when it comes to you guys."

It's safe to say your mood didn't get any better when you made it to the hospital. 

Lewis was by your side as you held onto his hand for dear life.

"Baby," he coos, "you're doing great."

"Oh my god," you wince, pulling your hand from his as you clutch the sheets. "Get the fuck away from me."

He looks baffled as you curse up a storm.

Lewis takes a step back only to be nudged forward again by the doctor. "Trust me, she'll murder you if you get away from her."

He holds onto your hand again, using the towel to wipe the sweat from your hairline.

Even now as you take in deep breaths and hang your head like you're about to die, Lewis think you are beautiful. You're glistening with sweat and throwing out words that would make a pastor faint but you're still beautiful with your freshly done birthing braids and bewildered face.

"Oh fuck this! Count the shit, measure the shit, whatever, and check again. I don't care if I'm not dilated enough; make it enough! Get these babies out of me."

You were regretting your decision to go all-natural as another contraction rippled through you. You let go of the sheet and grasp Lewis' hand again.

You look up to him, and he is staring at you in pure adoration. "I promise, you've got this." He encourages.

You feel tears of relief pool as your doctor let's out a direct order. "And we're there, when I get to three you push, okay."

You only nod as Lewis crouches down, "Push like hell, bunny."

You don't count how many times you hear him count to three or how many agonizing pushes you give until you hear the first cry. You're momentarily distracted as you watch them hold your baby into the air. 

"Come on, Mom, got to keep going," your doctor orders. 

You exhale, taking another deep breath as you push again. Lewis remains by your side, holding your hand and coaxing you through the pain.

"You're doing so great, bunny. So proud of you. We're about to meet our babies; we just have to push a little bit more." 

His words are all you need to get through another insufferable ninety seconds before you hear an even louder cry. 

Lewis kisses the top of your head as you fall back in exhaustion. "So proud of you, baby, hmm. I love you."

You're no longer the angry woman you were twenty minutes ago. You're looking up at Lewis with tired eyes that still glow with love and excitement.

"Baby boy came first." Your doctor hums settling him on one side of your chest, Another nurse comes forward settling your second baby on the oposite side. "And his sister came to stake her territory after."

You cry out, but it comes out in the form of a laugh. Your hands come up to hold both of your babies against your chest. Lewis crouches down, eyeing you three in amazement.

"My beautiful family." 

He places a kiss atop each head, watching as they instantly settle down amongst your warm body. 

You've never felt so much love in your life. You think back to all of the times you felt you were destined to be alone, all of the times you craved for someone to love you unconditionally. You gave up hope that you'd find it in a partner, so a baby was all you craved. But here you were with a man who loved you more than it was possible for love to exist. Here you were with two products of that love. 

You order the nurse to remove one of the railings so the Lewis can nestle in beside you. The doctor suggest for him to remove his shirt and he does so quickly, gently sliding beside you. You motion for him to grab the babygirl and he eases her onto his chest with ease. You peck his head as you watch the tears glide down his face. 

"I just love you all so much." he cries. 

And you know exactly how he feels as you two bask in the moment.

You think back to the moment that made this all possible, laying in Lewis' bed as the words leave his mouth, "It's something about loving someone so much that you want to fill them up with another part of you."

Looking at your two babies, you could tell they each were going to represent a part of both of you. As your daughter lets out constant noises, Lewis turns to you with knowing eyes, "Just like her mama." Your son's eyes pop open at the sound of his sister, and you coo, "Brother bear."

"Do we have names ready?" The doctor hums.

-

y/u/n

liked by fencer, champagnepapi, and 2,786,901 others

y/u/n I want to share this love I found with everyone. you deserve to meet my happy family after all of this time. Of all of the things that I wanted to be, being a mother was always my true calling. It's not easy, but it's worth it. To my babies, mommy loves you always; when the world is cruel, and your heart makes you feel like a fool, know that I will be there always. To LJ, my daring little boy, I see your father in everything you do; you will always be my baby bear, so strong and courageous, but with a mind so strong and a heart so big, you're forever unstoppable. My baby, Giana, Gigi girl, you came into the world demanding to be heard. You're fierce and bold in all of the best ways. Already, I admire the way you think and the things I know you will do. You heal a part of me I didn't know needed healing. You're my favorite girls girl, I love listening to you yap puppy, I love that you love talking to me. Always stand your ground, girly; never dull your light or lower your voice for anyone or anything. If no one listens, know I will. And to the love of my life, who has given me everything I could've ever wanted, plus more. You've outdone yourself, Lew; there aren't enough words to articulate how much I love you. Still my best friend, soon to be my husband, forever and always, the love of my life <3

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lewishamiton I can never think you enough for all that you've given to me. I love you more than life bunny. ❤️

user okay but the family of crochet animals. PUPPY? BEAR? CHEETAH? BUNNYYYY? 🥲

whitwhit still so proud of you mama ❤️

y/u/n the best god mommy in the world! I love you.

landonorris Mother🤰🏽Literally. Beautiful souls, even more beautiful children.

y/u/n love love love you Lando

user i always knew they'd get together one day, my happy heart!

lewishamilton

liked by charles_leclerc, mercedesamg, and 7,796,801 others

lewishamilton Thank you will never be enough for all that has been given to me. I love you, bunny, and every time I think it's impossible to feel more than that, you prove me wrong. To the rest of our lives together, to our children, and to the life I've had with you. We're in this together, forever. Daddy loves you, LJ, and Gigi, forever here, forever loving you.

charles_leclerc So happy for you man!

sebastianvettel never have you been happier man, congratulations.

user you mean to tell me that all of this time we thought he was uncle lew and whole time HE'S THE PAPPYYYY

lewishamilton like these are my kids, that my son. I was so bothered by that ngl. THEY LOOK JUST LIKE ME.

user you tell us not to assume and then when we don't assume you want us to assume what do you want from us sir?!?!

so this is the end that's not the end, I'll most likely make blurbs for their future 🌚

hope you enjoyed it.

not proofread sorry for any mistakes I was rushing honey

@barcelonaloverf1life @mitruscity

[otkuhotgirl]

─── 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒 .

# with black leg sanji.

returning earlier from the crew’s usual strolling through the newest island, you’re startled to witness sanji viciously lapping his tongue at a stolen tangerine. pitying his position, you allow him to have a taste of the real thing.

⎰ & afab!reader. smut (mdni!). oral. slightly sub!sanji. he eats you out like he’s starving. no y/n used.

W.C: 3K

when you decided to announce an early retreat to the sunny, much too dizzy to withstand the island’s scalding heat and deciding the most suitable course of action would be to seclude yourself within the cooler walls of the ship, the last thing you had expected was to find sanji in such a compromising position.

minutes previous to that encounter, you were quite frustrated. the shore town was a beating heart of commerce and people, filled with opportunities to find useful acquisitions to oneself. you were looking forward to a shopping-filled afternoon; to observe nami’s wits in action — her bargaining that was nothing but diplomatic theft — and listen to chopper’s ramblings about the books he managed to find. of course, the midday sun and its ruthless warmth had ruined it all, meaning that a day of privacy with sanji was the second best thing.

he had been the one assigned to watch the ship while the rest of the crew explored the town. considering the high temperature and his never-ending will to be of use, you had no doubt that the cook could be found in the kitchen, slicing up fruits to prepare delicious cocktails. hence why you followed the scent of tangerines, growing slightly puzzled. he was one brave man — or a suicidal one, you could not quite decide — for picking up nami’s tangerines when she was not around.

you should have knocked, truly. it was a mistake not to have done so. but you hadn’t cared much for courtesies whatsoever, eager for a refreshing beverage and perhaps the chance to share a pleasant conversation with the cook.

upon entering the kitchen, you were expecting to be met with ice and diced fruit, yes, but not under those circumstances.

half a tangerine was placed on the counter, as well as a glass cup with a singular and melting cube of ice. sanji busied himself with the other half of the fruit, swirling his tongue around the middle, his chin dripping with its juice, which caused you to clench around nothing; your legs forcing together as you observed the scene without a word.

after hearing the opened door, sanji froze in place, moving his head to catch a glimpse of the intruder as though he was experiencing the most terrifying seconds of his life. his shoulders slumped with a temporary sense of relief as he noticed your figure, before his entire frame threatened to burst up in flames out of embarrassment.

you cleared your throat, forcing a rough snicker in an attempt to lighten the shared atmosphere. then, finding yourself a seat, you grabbed the tangerine with one hand, placing the other on your chin. “having fun?”

although not aflame, sanji was as red as that one clown-pirate’s nose, averting eye contact as he placed the tangerine on the sink and searched for a cigarette. it became clearer that he had no courage to meet your eyes, stressing over the consequences of that endeavor. your glance, however, was tethered to the positioning of his fingers above his half of the tangerine, noticing polished and short nails, the well maintained hands, for a cook of his caliber could not indulge in carelessness.

the saliva sent to your dried throat was a fuel to a forest fire, rather than a soothing rain to a desert. your treacherous mind flashed sinful scenarios of those fingers. your juices of pleasure tainting them, warmth enveloping its skin as he curled them close to your sweetest spot before shoving his fingers into his mouth, loyal to his personal code of never wasting any food—

“pearl of my life,” he began at last, sounding a bit hesitant, yet calmer. “i can explain.���

sanji’s voice grew rougher due to the cigarette between his lips. inhaled nicotine that traveled past his vocal chords to settle on his lungs before he expelled them through his nostrils. you found yourself at a loss for words, wondering how one could differentiate the intonation of desire from the consequential coarseness of smoking. was there even a difference? oh, how desperately you wished to find out.

the cook seemed to have misinterpreted your silence, all of the sudden growing anxious, searching for a lighter despite not having finished his first cigarette just yet. luckily, for the both of you, the oven filled in the gaps with a repetitive beep, informing that the dish he had prepared was set to be served.

the scent of one of your most favored desserts danced around the talons of smoke from sanji’s unfinished cigarette. he smashed the tip of it against the ashtray, and hid his hands from your luscious eyes with the kitchen gloves. sanji had to bend to remove the sweet treat from the oven, offering you a clear sight of his butt and the powerful muscles of his thighs, strained against the fabric of his pants. as if hypnotized, you observed, with a certain hunger — for both the dish and the cook — as he then moved towards the counter.

sanji, at last, faced you. “a bargain, mon sirène.”

you raised an eyebrow with an expression of pure confusion, having your next words swallowed by hushed explanations as sanji’s composure crumbled, no longer bearing the weight of your silence. he knelt and encapsulated your hand with his, assuming a pleading tone.

“i thought i’d have a tad more time for myself, you see. at first, i was merely preparing you something sweet, planning to welcome you back with the luxury you deserved, but then my thoughts trailed entirely to you—”

sanji cleared his throat, the gears of his mind turning as he searched for a better explanation. “we’re discovering more of the new world, and oh, my golden star of the open seas, not a thing will ever be able to diminish your brightness and influence over my beating heart—”

“sanji,” you voiced softly.

“but, you see, what if a lady ever so happens to reciprocate my passion and desires? how could i live up to what she deserves? by training, of course—”

“sanji.”

“and oh, well, i meant to prepare tangerine cocktails to ignore those thoughts. but the fruit does resemble a woman’s intimacy—”

“sanji.”

“or so i heard. from zeff. i never had the honor of verifying it myself—”

“sanji!” you interrupted his ramblings, caging his face with your hands, not at all surprised by the high temperature of his skin.

the cook was a passionate man, with a heart that had been dipped in molten gold; filled with nothing but love and the urge to please. but you hadn’t fallen prey to fantasies of his embrace due to bashful flirting, well-pondered gifts and delicious dishes. though those were of aid, sanji, while clueless, managed to become the center of your affection because of his endless kindness, the infinite will to help those in need, those alluring and prestative eyes that never failed to brighten up in your presence.

processing his previous words, and the reasoning behind the decision to train his tongue with a fruit, you felt as though a sharp blade toyed with the fragile skin of your heart. the mere thought of witnessing his care delivered to someone else — a stranger at that — was both vexing and painful. for a second, under the burning and expectation-filled glance of his, you struggled to maintain your thoughts linear. what was needed for him to keep his attention focused on you, and you alone? the answer came with such easiness that you felt a bit ashamed.

sanji squeezed your hand, as if to tether your mind to the instance at hand. with a clear of your throat, you offered him a sympathetic glance.

“i’m not zoro,” you told him, aiming for a reassuring tone. “embarrassing you for the sake of having the last word isn’t something i’m interested in. if you want me to keep this interaction a secret, i will. no bargaining needed.”

he observed you as if the moon was kept in a pendant wrapped around your neck. for a second, your very name escaped from your mind.

“i have always known that you were as kind and merciful as a heaven sent angel. i’ll make sure to return the favor.”

oh! you were surprised that he caught on your desires. sanji was observant, but you were obstinate to a fault and thought that your behavior had been one of composure. well! at least you wouldn’t have to take the first step. he’d be the one to slide down the material of your shorts and panties and guide your hand to his blonde hair and—

sanji got up and moved towards the dessert, scanning the kitchen for the scarce fine cutlery in order to serve the sweet with a noble-worthy decoration. you shoved the revolt that surged due to the distance, mouth agape in both embarrassment and bewilderment. without a second thought or an ounce of patience, you gathered up the courage to act.

“you know, sanji,” you hummed. his sudden straightened posture made you feel a bit wicked, for he behaved as though a deer caught in the woods at the intonation shift of your voice. “if you wanted to practice, you could’ve asked me.”

the cherries he was carefully piling up on the plate crumbled like a house of cards. his nervousness was palpable. sanji turned his head towards your figure, face adorned with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“mockery isn’t a kind act, my seastar,” he said, voice strained. “but i would have forgiven you for committing even the most violent crimes.”

you blinked, straightening your posture. a bit disheartened, for he seemed unable to believe that you were capable of nurturing a genuine desire for him.

“sanji, i mean it. it would be my pleasure,” literally.

sanji shifted his entire body, facing you with certain hesitation. his adam’s apple bobbed up and down as his glance trailed to your lips; then to your breasts; then glued to your crossed legs. his pupils dilated.

with careful steps, as if fearing that a sudden move would tear him from what he believed to be a dream, sanji approached you. the cook breathed in, trembling with nitid nervousness and excitement.

“how do we—should i kneel? i don’t—”

somehow, both his innocence and lack of experience managed to soothe your own nerves. although sanji seemed a wreck, your confidence grew as you tapped a finger on the dining table.

“would you mind if i sat on it?”

he flushed immediately. “what?”

sanji then noticed his error, clearing his throat and gripping a fistful of his hair with an apologetic expression, almost as if expecting a reprimand.

you merely smiled instead. “i can sit on your ‘it’ later, but you should learn the basics first.”

he nodded with fervor, observing with certain desperation as you sat on the edge of the dining table, parting your legs with ease; beckoning him closer.

sanji remained glued in place as though a statue, stunned to a fault. “would you get on your knees for me?”

his reaction was immediate, and the sound of his bones meeting the wooden surface of the ground made you wince for his sake. if the impact caused him pain, sanji didn’t express it. instead, he crawled closer, his breath fanning above your thighs.

“don’t feel forced to do it,” he stuttered at last, offering you the chance to halt.

“this is the part where you remove my shorts,” you instructed instead, and his fingers eagerly worked to unbutton the piece of clothing.

with a raise of your hips, you aided him in the task at hand, watching sanji drool at the sight of your drenched panties. it was endearing, but the lack of contact was maddening.

“you’re allowed to touch me.”

“where?”

“everywhere.”

he placed a careful hand on your thigh. with a groan, your fingers encouraged him to squeeze the tender flesh, and so he did. sanji approached your clothed cunt, his hot breath fanning above the sensible spot. you shivered in anticipation, gripping the blonde locks of his hair with non-thought strength.

before you managed to apologize for the harshness, sanji moaned, latching his mouth to your core. his tongue lapped at it as though a beast, carrying nothing but desperation, with no regards for the piece of cloth that separated you both. you let out a yelp of surprise, breathing heavily at the contact.

“sanji,” you whined, pressing his nose to your folds. “the p-panties.”

he understood it well enough, moving his face afar, nimble fingers tugging on the straps. you raised your hips to help him, and watched as sanji sniffed the material before shoving it inside his back pocket.

sanji trailed his eyes to your cunt. a broken whimper tore through his throat. “where is it?”

“what?”

he flushed, pressing one of his fingers at your slick entrance. you shuddered, and his face inched closer, a temptative kiss pressed to your middle. sanji’s visible eye caught on whatever he seemed to be searching, and his tongue followed-in-suit. he circled the muscle around your clit, slowly, as if testing out the waters.

you tugged on his hair. “faster. use your fingers as well.”

he hummed, sending a wave of vibrations through your core. an involuntary noise escaped your lips once sanji inserted two of his fingers inside. removing your hand from the one he had above your thigh, you gripped his wrist, correcting the angle.

“it’ll hurt less for you,” you explained, and sanji hadn’t even answered, too lost on your pussy to pay your words any mind. he was reacting to your instructions due to mere instinct.

sanji’s lips closed around your bud, sucking on it before he used his tongue to lap at your folds, moving it up and down. you arched your back, controlling the speed of his wrist until sanji caught on it himself, dominating the field.

as he moved his jaw, you felt the roughness of his goatee caressing your warm flesh. “scissor it.”

he obliged, alternating his movements. sanji removed his fingers until the nails, only to insert them again with your desired speed. he curled them inside, exploring your intimacy with his touch while he busied his mouth with your clit and folds.

the hand once placed on his wrist returned to the counter’s edge. you gripped it without much thought, eyes trailed to sanji’s face in between your legs. he interlocked his free fingers with yours, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your palm — aching due to your previous grip —, coating your hand with saliva as well. your juices dripped down his chin and glistened on his nose.

“don’t hurt yourself, bien-aimée,” sanji whispered, tears of glee pooling in his pleasure-wide eyes. “hurt me instead.”

you opened your mouth to retort, but the protest melted into a broken moan as sanji spat on your cunt, replacing the fingers inside with his tongue. he whimpered at the taste; his thumb drew circles around your clit, while the longer fingers busied themselves with your folds.

your legs trembled, and your fingers tightened on his hair. sanji’s mewl of pleasure lost itself within your cunt, his thumb pressing harder on your clit as he plunged his tongue deeper, angling his head as if he was trying to devour you.

“l-left,” you told him through a broken moan, seeing stars when his tongue managed to reach a particularly sweet spot.

you felt the built pressure that indicated the nearing of release. sanji parted his face from your cunt for the briefest of moments. softly, as if handling a luxurious and delicate piece of golden cluttery, sanji grabbed a fistful of your thighs with both of his hands, dragging your body closer. your back met the wooden surface of the dining table, and before you managed to ground yourself, sanji had guided your fingers back to his scalp, allowing you to force his face into your pussy.

two fingers stretched you as he bit on your clit, soothing it with his tongue afterwards. you arched your back against the table, toes curling with pleasure.

“so good,” sanji moaned with desperation, his voice mingling with the wet sound of his fingers working on your cunt.

you felt him hump against nothing, nose teasing your folds, and kicked his sides meekly, searching for his dick. sanji caressed your ankle before guiding it to rest on his shoulder.

“ma belle,” he mumbled, kissing your leg, dragging your essence through your skin. “don’t worry about me.”

he fastened his pace, sucking on your inner thigh as his fingers led you to the heavens. you saw stars. your eyes rolled and your mouth parted to give way to a scream, yet your voice failed. somewhere amidst that cloud of pleasure, you caught the sight of his figure towering over your own, one hand grabbing your breast as he pressed his lips against yours. sanji’s tongue invaded your mouth and the taste of your essence, combined with the movement of his fingers, led you to the edge.

your climax came accompanied by a broken moan, diligently muffled by sanji. again, he knelt, removing his fingers lick at your leaking hole, swallowing as much of your cum as he could. you squirmed due to the overstimulation, tugging on his hair to force his face away from your cunt.

“too much,” you whispered, observing the ceiling while coming off from your high.

sanji’s clean fingers caressed your cheek, and he supported your weight once you gathered the will to sit. he pressed loving kisses to your neck, mumbling compliments against the skin. your eyes landed on his softening cock, the wet patch indicating that he came undone.

you tugged at the waistband of his pants, beckoning him closer. your fingers toyed with the zipper, and sanji shivered, his hand trembling where it laid above your hip.

“there’s no need to repay me, mrs. princess,” sanji voice out softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “it was enough a pleasure to get to touch you, and your dessert—”

“i want it,” you interrupted, grinning with newfound confidence. “and besides, it’s your turn to teach me, isn’t it?”

sanji had to resort to a tangerine before tasting the real thing. luckily for the bananas, you managed to dodge the same fate.

— 🐈‍⬛ : this was actually supposed to be about teaching him how to kiss. and then i had ten tangerines for dinner and thought “waiiiiit it does look like a pussy” and boom, 3k words. i ended it with humor because i need to be funny at all times, otherwise i die. it’s a medical condition!

[jmstoesblog]

— Date night gone wrong

Pairing: Yan!bf!JK x fem!reader

Summary: breaking up with your scary and crazy boyfriend goes the wrong way.

Word count: 1,2k+ (1,262)

Warnings: manhandling, toxic jk, he’s a HUGE red flag 🚩, spanking, he’s controlling and possessive,

Release: 12.12.24

Note: excuse the spelling and grammar mistakes 🫶🏽

———————-

You loved your boyfriend— no doubt, but sometimes….. he scares you.

Like right now, he’s glaring at the poor waiter. The waiter accidentally touched your hand while placing down your dish.

“This fucker.” Jungkook mutters, so you don’t hear him. His expression quickly changes when you look at him, “did you say something?” You ask, you heard some mumbling.

Jungkook sweetly smiles, “I said, you look beautiful.”

You smile back, “thank you. You look handsome as well.” You complement him back.

You’re not lying though. He is wearing a black suit, his hair is parted in the middle and is giving a ‘wet look’

(190811 Jungkook 🙏🏽)

You on the other hand are wearing a dark red dress that reaches just below your knees. You are wearing the necklace Jungkook gifted you last year on your anniversary and the promise ring (which you actually always wear) and the diamond earrings which Jungkook also gifted you. In the same shade as your dress, you’re wearing matching heels.

Jungkook is also wearing jewelry gifted by you. The bracelet you handmade for him, since the day you gifted it to him, he hasn’t taken it off. Except when he is showering or bathing, “I don’t want to get it wet. The pearls could loose their color.”

Then he is wearing a ring which has your name engraved on it. And a Rolex which he bought himself.

But no matter how handsome he is, you can’t look past his possessive nature. He gets jealous really easily, you always thought it’s cute, but now after sometime, it’s getting annoying. He’s too much. He would always make you forget by fucking you.

So you want to end your suffering.

You’re going to break up with him.

You figured it would be better to do it in a public place rather than home.

“Jungkook…..” you begin, immediately he puts his attention on you, “yes?” His eyes are shimmering, you gulp, “there’s something I want to tell you….”

Jungkook furrows his brows. Why are you so nervous?

“Sure, you can tell me anything, baby. You know that.”

You take a deep breath, reconsidering your decision.

“Iwanttobreakupwithyou.”

Jungkook raises his brows, maybe he heard you wrong? There’s no way you want to break up with him. Why would you? You love him.

“What did you say? Mind repeating that again.”

You hate it whenever he talks like that. Voice stern like he is about to punish you.

“I want to break up wi—“

“What!?” He snaps harshly, you gulp, sweat building up on your forehead. There’s pin drop silence, the voices of the people talking fading out.

“Why?” He lowly asks you with a deadly glare. Before you can answer he starts asking more questions, “Are you not happy with me? Do you not love me? Baby you promised to never leave me. You’re not going to break your promise, are you?”

Silence falls upon the both of you as you refuse to answer any of his questions. You indeed are happy with him, sometimes. You love him but you are doing no good to him. You’re not good for him. He is destroying himself.

“Alright,” he begins, “we are going to go home now, you are going to think about that again and when you thoroughly thought about this then we’re going to talk again.”

He gets up and leaves without waiting for you. Jungkook knows you won’t escape, he knows. Taking deep slow breaths you get up, walking towards the parking lot. After spotting Jungkook’s Mercedes, you walk towards it with wobbly legs. You feel like passing out, you want to let out all the screams and sob your heart out but you refrain yourself from doing that. You don’t want to make a scene and make him even more mad.

He is already in the car, waiting for you. He is not holding the passenger door open for you like usually. That’s when you know he’s really angry. Opening the door you slide in, once you wear the seatbelt he drives off.

The whole fifteen minute ride home is filled with silence and his heavy breathing. Not once does he look at you but you do steal some glaces at him. Hand gripping the steering wheel tightly, jaw clenched, tongue poking his inner cheek…….. you’re done.

It’s not like you’re not happy with him. He does make you happy but sometimes he’s too much. Too possessive. Too controlling.

You once suggested a little break and he completely freaked out. He punished you, hard.

You flinch when you hear the door slam shut, you sigh looking outside the window. You close your eyes and take a deep breath before getting out of the car and walking towards the front door.

The door is already open, a small gap. You take off your shoes, wearing your slippers and walk to the bedroom.

You don’t see or hear Jungkook anywhere which puts you on the edge and makes you sweat nervously.

How are on going to face him now? You’re too scared to look him in the eyes. What should you do? Knowing him he’ll probably lash out on you.

“Have you thought about your decision?” His voice breaks the silence.

You slowly look up at him, he is still wearing the suit and his hair is still wavy. His eyes are piercing through your skull, you feel like crying.

“I asked you something, didn’t I?” He harshly speaks.

You sigh, nodding, “yes, Jungkook.”

“Panties off.” He commands you. You instantly remove them and sit properly on the bed.

Jungkook scoffs and sits on the bed, picking you up and placing you harshly on his lap. He rolls up your dress and delivers a hard slap on your ass.

You wince and bite your lip in pain, “what did you say at the restaurant earlier?” He asks, when you don’t answer he slap your ass cheek again, “you answer when I ask you something!” He yells at you, “mhm, what did you say at our date?”

The way he said those last two words have you breathing heavily. You flinch when he starts rubbing your bare folds, “not answering?” He says with a tint of anger.

He hates being ignored. You of all people should know. You should also know to not leave him. You disappointed him, deeply. He excepted better from you. Looks like he needs to tech you a lesson. A punishment.

“I… I wanted to br- break up with yo-u.” Your voice cracks.

Tears start forming but don’t fall.

“Mhm,” he hums, holding your throat in a deadly grip, “you did say that. Why? Are you not happy with me? You don’t love me as much as I do?”

Again you refuse to answer any of his questions causing him to take a deep breath and slap your bare folds.

Tears spring free at the burning sensation, ruining your make up.

He rolls the dress down and makes you sit on his thigh, your back is pressed against his front. You hear his breathing very clear, his mouth is next to your left ear. His arm wrapped around your waist.

You wince when you come in contact with your dress, the texture making you arch your back for a second.

“I will fuck the thought of you leaving me out of you until you understand that you’re never going to leave me, breaking up with me isn’t an option. Once you start behaving like the good girl you are, I won’t be mad anymore. Understood?”

You hesitantly nod, “understood.”

—————

Do NOT copy or translate

Thank you for reading 🤍

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