#two goats in a lift

[f1archives]

[lev1hei1chou]

A What?

Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Synopsis: You ask for a baby out of nowhere Masterlist Requests open!

"Hey, Satoru, I want a baby."

The man choked on his cereal. Milk splattered across the table, and he coughed, looking at you with wide, incredulous eyes. "You what?"

You grinned, loving his reaction. "I want a baby."

Gojo blinked, processing your words. "Like...a human baby? With diapers and all?"

You laughed. "Yes, Satoru, a human baby. Not a cursed spirit baby or a baby goat. A tiny human."

He leaned back in his chair, still stunned. "You can't just drop a bomb like that while I'm eating my Froot Loops, babe. Give a guy some warning."

You shrugged, leaning over to wipe a speck of milk off his cheek. "I thought you could handle anything."

"Yeah, curses and evil sorcerers, sure. But this...this is a whole new level of scary." He ran a hand through his white hair, making it stand up in more directions than usual. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious." You sat down across from him, your expression softening. "I think we'd make great parents."

He looked at you, eyes softening. "Of course we would. I mean, look at us. We're awesome."

You snorted. "Modest, as always."

"Hey, it's not arrogance if it's true." He grinned, then grew serious again. "But...a baby? That's a big deal."

"I know. But I want to start a family with you, Satoru."

He was silent for a moment, then his lips curved into a smile. "Okay. Let's do it."

You blinked. "Really? Just like that?"

He shrugged. "Why not? I've always wanted kids. Didn't think about it too much because, you know, job hazards and all. But if you want a baby, then I want a baby. Simple as that."

You laughed, feeling a wave of relief and excitement. "Simple as that, huh?"

"Yep." He stood up, suddenly energized. "Alright, let's make a baby right now."

Your eyes widened. "Satoru, we can't just...it's the middle of the day!"

"Details, details." He waved a hand dismissively. "I'm the strongest sorcerer in the world. I can make time for baby-making."

You couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. "How romantic."

He waggled his eyebrows. "Oh, I can be romantic. Just you wait."

The next few days were filled with Gojo's attempts at being "romantic." You came home to rose petals scattered all over the living room (which the cat was now batting around), a candlelit dinner (where he nearly set the kitchen on fire), and a bubble bath for two (where he splashed so much water that the bathroom flooded).

"You're really trying, aren't you?" you said, toweling off your hair after the bath fiasco.

He pouted. "I'm trying to set the mood."

You kissed his cheek. "I appreciate it, Satoru. But we don't need all this. Just you and me, together. That's enough."

He smiled, pulling you into his arms. "You're right. As always."

That night, lying in bed, he turned to you with a mischievous look in his eye. "So, about that baby..."

You laughed, swatting his chest. "Okay, okay. Let's do this."

A few weeks later, you found yourself holding a pregnancy test in your hand, heart pounding. Gojo was pacing back and forth in the bathroom, looking more nervous than you'd ever seen him.

"Okay, okay, okay," he muttered. "It's fine. Whatever it says, it's fine."

You glanced at the test, then at him. "Satoru, you need to calm down."

He stopped pacing and looked at you, taking a deep breath. "Right. Calm. I can do calm."

You held up the test, a smile spreading across your face. "We're having a baby."

For a moment, he just stared at you, then he whooped, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. "We're having a baby! I'm gonna be a dad!"

You laughed, holding onto him. "Yes, you are. And you're going to be amazing."

He set you down, his eyes shining. "We're going to be amazing."

Months passed in a whirlwind of doctor's appointments, baby shopping, and Gojo's over-the-top preparations. He baby-proofed the house, even the ceiling, "just in case the baby is super strong and starts climbing walls."

"Satoru, that's ridiculous," you said, watching as he padded the corners of the coffee table with foam.

He looked up at you, serious. "Safety first, babe."

When the day finally came, Gojo was more nervous than you. He held your hand in the delivery room, eyes wide as he watched the process.

"You're doing great," he whispered, though it seemed like he was saying it more to himself than to you.

Hours later, when the baby finally arrived, Gojo stared at the tiny bundle in his arms, tears in his eyes. "Hi there, little one. I'm your dad."

You smiled, exhausted but happy. "And I'm your mom."

He looked at you, his expression full of love and awe. "We did it."

You nodded, feeling a surge of emotion. "Yeah, we did."

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Peter Anderson: Hi, my name is Peter Anderson. I'm from Peter Anderson Studio and we created the title sequence to Good Omens Season Two. So this scene is quite literally a continuation from Season One.

An interesting detail with this scene is the fly. The fly is significant because it stores Gabriel's memory.

Gabriel is hidden in every scene. This is the first time we see it.

This goat is half bird, half goat, representing a mistake in a moment of transformation.

In the pickled herring barrel, we have literally red herrings sticking out.

A lot of the gravestones have hidden engravings, easter eggs, all written by Neil.

[This one says: HERE LIES THE FORMER SHELL OF BEELZEBUB referncing Beelzebub having a new face in S2 :), another ones are: EVERYDAY, JANE AUSTEN, Here lies ADAM (the Adam from Adam and Eve is meant)]

Another hidden Gabriel.

Our same character that was trying to escape Hell in Season One titles is also trying to escape here, moving in the opposite direction to the rest of the procession. Except this time he's apprehended and dragged back into the procession.

Our Hell spider from episode four makes a little appearance in the background here.

Can you tell where the bus is going? Director Douglas McKinnon selected Powell and Pressburger's Stairway to Heaven to put on the billboard.

Another thing to note here is the type is all handmade specifically for Good Omens. The Alphabet only exists within the show.

The big floating turnip is a nod to Azirafel's magic tricks.

The Ladies of Camelot poster we pulled from the show.

We added plaques to the back of the chairs and Neil chose who to honour.

[There are: A TALE OF TWO CITIES by CHARLES DICKENS, PRIDE AND PREJUDICE by JANE AUSTEN, THE CROW ROAD by IAIN BANKS (twice!) and GOOD OMENS by TERRY PRATCHETT (Neil missing for some reason :) <3)]

Saraqael made an appearance from Heaven.

Our Space is back from Season One. Aziraphale and Crowley are having a little dance here. A moment of flirtation. There's a tiny planet in the middle that comes into existence at this moment.

Our Scottish tartan hills make an appearance here.

The aeroplane and the airline is a little bit of a clue here.

[THY KINGDOM AIRWAYS 👀]

It's raining love hearts in reference to Aziraphale's attempt at making Maggie and Nina fall in love.

Here are elevators to Heaven and Hell. A wee thing to spot. Here is Gabriel in the lift arriving from Heaven.

We've updated our flags to reference some of the plotlines in Season Two. For example, The Second Coming.

The movie poster artwork changes every week, representing the episode plotlines and the minisodes. We made the posters to look like the time period and in this case we've got a Good Omens version of Buddy Holly.

[The posters are:]

In the snack bar some of our popcorn is actually communion wafers.

There are specific characters from Season One in the boxes watching the movie as the procession goes by. This includes some of our original concept art from Season One.

The duck playing the accordion is from a newspaper headline that someone is reading in The Dirty Donkey from one of the episodes.

[this is also from the Good Omens book :): "Daily Mail. 'Letter From America.' Um, August the third," said Newt. "Just after the story about the woman in Worms, Nebraska, who taught her duck to play the accordion."]

Each episode is showing a new movie on the screen, each one selected by Douglas, and has clues about what's to come.

The season one phone box tumbles in the background.

The big mountain is made of all the ingredients from Season Two and a couple of remnants from Season One. We are heading towards the biggest Easter Egg, which is the lift. We're heading towards the Second Coming..

[23victoria]

“P1 BABY!!”

lewis hamilton x wife!reader

wc: 1.2k

warnings: smut

authors note: HE FUCKING WONN!!! SO SO SO HAPPY FOR HIM!! IVE BEEN CRYING ALL DAY!! I LOVE HIM SO MICH HE DESERVES IT!! GOAT OF F1! ❤️

wanna be tagged in my works? CLICK HERE

f1 masterlist

y/nhamilton

liked by lewishamilton, georgerussell, sza, georgerussell, mercedesamgf1, charlesleclerc, oscar piastri, and 4,444,444 others

P1 for my baby at Silverstone!!! I am beyond proud and amazed by this man everyday. His dedication, determination, grace, courage, and love for this sport and his fans is beautiful to see and experience! Thank you to the fans for all your support and love!! Seeing you guys out there today was beautiful! Such an emotional day for us all! I never gave up on him no matter how many times he gave up on himself, I believed in him and so did you. Today was proof that he is and will always be the Greatest Of All Time in F1! Lewis, I love you forever and always ❤️! Still We Rise!! 🙌🏾🫶🏾❤️🥹

view comments

lewishamilton i love you so much my love 🫶🏾❤️

landonorris congrats to lewis!!

sebastianvettel goat! congrats lewis!! 🤍

hamazinglew so proud of him!!

username22 it’s been so long!!

username16 he was crying, i was crying, we all crode 🥹

username1 love you lewis!!

username9 lh44 forever!!

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You can hardly contain your excitement as you stand amidst the roaring crowd at Silverstone, the atmosphere electric with anticipation. The air vibrates with the sound of engines and the fervent cheers of fans, all eyes on the track. You’re right there in the thick of it, feeling every heartbeat, every surge of adrenaline as the race unfolds.

Lewis Hamilton, your hero, your partner, is in the lead. You clutch the edge of your seat, your breath hitching with every turn he takes. The final lap approaches, and the world seems to hold its breath. The finish line is in sight, and when Lewis crosses it, a wave of euphoria sweeps over the grandstands. He’s done it. He’s won!

Tears blur your vision as you leap to your feet, joining the chorus of ecstatic fans. The noise is deafening, but all you can think about is getting to him. You push through the crowd, your heart pounding in time with the chants of his name. When he steps out of the car, the expression on his face is pure joy.

You break into a run, the world around you a blur, and before you know it, you’re in his arms. He lifts you off your feet, holding you tight as both of you cry tears of happiness.

“I knew you could do it,” you whisper, your voice choked with emotion. “You’re so talented, and this is just the beginning. There’s so much more to come.”

He kisses you deeply, and the world fades away until it’s just the two of you, lost in the moment. “I love you,” he murmurs against your lips.

“I love you too,” you reply, feeling a surge of pride and love swell in your chest.

Lewis makes his way to the podium, and you watch him, your heart swelling with pride. The cheers of the crowd wash over you as he lifts the trophy, the culmination of all his hard work and dedication.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ☆ .*₊ .• ☆.°.• .

The evening finds you both at a club, the celebration in full swing. The music is loud, the lights are bright, and the energy is contagious. You dance and drink, savoring every moment. You’re surrounded by friends and fans, all celebrating Lewis’s incredible victory.

With a bottle of Almave in hand, you toast to the night, to the future, to love and success. The two of you dance like there’s no tomorrow, feeling the warmth and comfort of being together. The music fades into the background as you lose yourselves in the moment, simply enjoying being with one another

The celebration at the club has left you both exhilarated and slightly tipsy, the world a delightful blur of lights and music. Now, as you step into the quiet sanctity of your bedroom, the atmosphere shifts, becoming charged with a different kind of energy.

Lewis looks at you, his eyes dark with desire and affection. You smile, stepping closer to him, your fingers lightly grazing his arm. “Tonight is about you,” you whisper, your voice soft but filled with intent.

You begin with a slow, lingering kiss, your lips exploring his with a gentle but growing hunger. He responds in kind, his hands finding your waist, pulling you closer. You can feel the heat of his body through your clothes, the anticipation building with every heartbeat.

You guide him to the bed, your hands slipping under his shirt, feeling the taut muscles beneath. You lift the fabric, exposing his chest, and he helps you by raising his arms, letting you pull the shirt over his head. You take a moment to admire him, his skin gleaming in the soft light.

You push him gently onto the bed, straddling him. Your hands explore his body, fingers tracing the lines of his abs, the contours of his chest. You kiss your way down his neck, savoring the taste of his skin. He moans softly, his hands on your hips, guiding you closer.

Your lips continue their journey downward, kissing, licking, teasing. When you reach the waistband of his pants, you pause, looking up at him with a mischievous smile. He meets your gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of love and lust.

Slowly, you undo his belt, the sound of the buckle hitting the floor loud in the quiet room. You slide his pants down, revealing the growing bulge in his boxers. You kiss along the line of his hip, teasing him, making him wait. His breath hitches, his hands clenching the sheets.

Finally, you remove his boxers, freeing his cock. You take him in your hand, stroking him gently, your eyes never leaving his. You lean down, your lips brushing against the tip, tasting him. His reaction is immediate, a groan of pleasure escaping his lips.

You take your time, teasing him with your mouth, your tongue, until he’s trembling beneath you, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Just when he thinks he can’t take any more, you stop, moving back up to kiss him deeply.

“Please,” he whispers against your lips, his voice hoarse with need.

You smile, positioning yourself over him, guiding him inside you. The sensation is intense, both of you gasping as you begin to move together. The rhythm is slow at first, building gradually, each movement bringing you closer.

As the passion builds, he flips you over, positioning you on your stomach. His hands grip your hips, pulling you up so you're on your knees. You feel his fingers tangle in your hair, giving a gentle but firm tug as he thrusts into you from behind. The intensity of the angle makes you cry out in pleasure, the sensation overwhelming.

He continues to thrust in and out of you, the pace quickening, each movement more powerful than the last. You feel yourself tightening around him, the tension building as his name falls from your lips in a breathless moan. His grip on your hair tightens, pulling your head back slightly, exposing the curve of your neck. He leans forward, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers words of love and desire.

Feeling the edge approaching, he slows down, pulling out and flipping you onto your back again. He positions himself between your legs, lifting one of your thighs over his shoulder, deepening the angle. His eyes lock onto yours, the connection between you electric as he thrusts in and out of you.

The intensity is almost too much to bear, every thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. You reach up, your hands gripping his arms, feeling the muscles tense and flex with each powerful thrust. The look in his eyes is one of pure adoration, mixed with a raw, primal desire that sends shivers down your spine.

“Lewis,” you moan, your voice trembling with pleasure. “I’m so close.”

He responds with a deep, passionate kiss, his thrusts becoming faster, driving you both to the brink. The tension inside you finally snaps, your body arching as you come, a cry of ecstasy escaping your lips. The sensation is overwhelming, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. Lewis follows moments later, his release spilling into you as he groans your name, his body shuddering with the force of his climax.

You collapse into each other, spent but utterly content. Your bodies are still tangled together, the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through you both. You lie there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside fading away, leaving just the two of you, basking in the warmth of your love and the triumph of the day.

✿ .° • everything taglist • °. ✿ : @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164

✿ .° • lewis taglist • °. ✿ : @yoncesgroove @tellybearryyyy @exotic-iris13 @magixpracticality

© 23victoria 2023-24 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate or claim my work as your own

[saintslewis]

𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

- drabble.

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x black! fem reader

summary: reader will never let the paddock forget who Lewis Hamilton is.

warnings: cussing.

saint’s team radio 🪩: this is just a lil something. I was pissed tf off yesterday because of some lewis “fans” and i will never miss an opportunity to let ppl know who my goat is 🫦. enjoy

ps, i’m not adding actual reporter’s names for this so i made up random names.

taglist: @mauvecherie-writes @perfecttrashface @non-stop-imagines @emjayewrites @purplelewlew @hopefulromantic1 @motheroffae @exotic-iris13 @httpsserene @queenshikongo3 @greedyjudge2 @cocobutterqwueen

-

The tag from your denim jacket had been irritating you since the second you put it on but you chose to forget about it, often adjusting it with your nails or a little shimmy of your shoulders.

Holding the mic from Sky Sports F1 wasn’t all too odd for you, the broadcast team only handing it to you when talking about Lewis and his achievements. Your support for the Stevenage driver was strong, often being as labelled as biased but you couldn’t care less. The support was mutual between the two of you, usually lingering on the line of friendship but doubt and time was always against you.

Your sunglasses sat on your braided head with a bored expression on your face, just wanting to get this segment over with so that you could go back to your individual blogging and interviews. Standing patiently in front of the cameras while other reporters ran around unorganised, you played with your beaded ‘44’ bracelet.

“My goodness, Y/n! I have no clue how you are so calm, this is always so hard!” One of them exclaimed, laughing in the process. “Not to mention the outfit! You look like you could go to a party!” Another laughed, her smile faltering when your eyes snapped to her, expression never changing.

After a while, the segment began and off the reporters went on a scripted tangent about other teams before getting to the main topic; Lewis. “Now, onto a different subject, Lewis Hamilton’s performance in that car has been nothing short of a…disaster if I could say.” Jimmy said, deciding to look at you as he spoke. Almost as if he was challenging you.

“For a specific race weekend or overall? His teammate, George is doing significantly better. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, it’s like he doesn’t know how to drive.” Jennifer spoke, poorly making an attempt of a joke.

“I’m not too sure why you’re speaking as if he is a rookie. You lot can see that Mercedes hasn’t been doing well as a collective yet you’re targeting one driver who has brought then 8 constructer titles rather than the other who has one win.” Lifting your mic, you spoke with a clear voice, never stuttering.

Frank shook his head and tried to chuckle. “Look Y/n. We understand he’s your boyfriend or whatever but we need to be factual here. What Ferrari has done is a mistake by signing him. I mean, there needs to be more space for others and he’s taking up space.”

“And Alonso’s dusty ass doesn’t need to leave? Using my support for Lewis to try and justify your dislike for him is unprofessional. I have no clue how you have the gumption to say all this.” You responded, still not moving from your spot.

The other 4 reporters stared at you in shock along with other people stopping in the paddock, surrounding the space just in front of the official f1 hospitality suite.

“There’s no need to use aggressive language, Y/n.” Jennifer lifted her hand to place on your shoulder but you moved away in time. “Aggressive for who?” You challenged, tilting your head.

It had gotten quite. “The viewers. It’s not a lie, Lewis is just not good anymore. He needs to make space.” One of them spoke up but you couldn’t be bothered to listen to anyone else other than Frank, your eyes trained on him.

“What? We need to speak with the producers, having an independent journalist was a mistake.” Frank smirked.

“You can take your opinion and shove it up your ass. Thanks for having me, Sky Sports F1.” You turned to the camera to blow a kiss then you gave the mic you were holding to whoever would catch it.

Walking away from the set, you knew what you did was undeniably unprofessional but those people had always had a vendetta against Lewis and any reporter/journalist who support him. Breathing out, you sashayed your way through the paddock with people staring as your braids glided in the slight breeze.

The buzz of your phone shook you out of your racing mind, a little gasp escaping your mouth as you read the notification from instagram.

lewishamilton no joke, that was the best thing i’ve ever seen. glad we have that interview together in 5 minutes :)

You first looked around the paddock after reading that message but you figured that he watched it live just like everyone else did. Your anger for that segment had clouded your thoughts so much, you forgot about the interview you were supposed to have with the champion.

Rushing to the large luxurious paddock club, you received all types of looks from those who either clearly watched the broadcast live or they’re looking at your outfit, although the latter was made up in your mind.

Luckily, he hadn’t arrived to the designated room you booked to have the interview with him but as soon as you got your phone out to record and your notes, the screams and excitement were heard from outside the door and a smile couldn’t help but sneak on your face.

You have only interviewed him three times in your entire career but every time you did so, he never wanted it to end, always trying to make it longer by asking his own questions to you or just sharing a laugh.

With security opening the door for him, he entered the room and spotted you with a smile on his face. He entered alone in the mercedes shirt already on. No words needed to spoken by either of you, Lewis opening his arms for a hug to greet you. Once in his embrace, you thought it’d be quick but to your surprise, it lasted a few moments longer.

“Hi Y/n.” Lewis spoke, a hand still on your shoulder. You took a quick breath and immediately relaxed on the spot. “Hey Lewis.”

“Your response to Sky was insane but I liked it.” He chuckled, sitting across from you with his legs open and a ring clad hand sat comfortably on his lap.

You didn’t want to show him how the sight affected you especially when your emotions are sky high so you remained calm on the outside. “It’s just…I’m pretty sure I lost my job just now because of how I reacted.” You sighed out, flicking a few braids back.

“Some of them had said worse things so you’re okay.” Lewis responded, his tone wasn’t all too sure but he just wanted to lift your mood. “Yeah but I’m black. They used micro aggressions too.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at everything once recalling back to that moment.

“I heard. I’ll have a word with Sky.” He reassured you. “Oooh okay, Sir.” You joked, masking how the reassurance made your stomach flutter. You’d like to think he was openly flirting with you but you quickly put that thought at the back of your mind.

“I just don’t want those people to forget who you are, you know? I’m sure you hear this all the time. You know what you’re doing and you’re the best at it. I wanna remind the people who the goat is.” You rambled a bit, noticing his smile growing as he listened to you.

“You’re too kind, really. I know what I am, it’s just a little tough right now.” He shrugged as he fully leaned back into his seat. “If you need me to fight anybody in your team, let me know.” You winked, flashing a comical smile that made Lewis laugh.

Giving you a once over, Lewis leaned forward and rested his tatted arms on his knees. “You look good today. You always do but today…phenomenal.” He spoke, his voice noticeably relaxed. “Don’t make me blush, Sir.” You smiled, failing terribly at hiding your feeling.

“That nickname, Y/n,” He chuckled. “Is that door locked?” He asked. All you had to do was nod at the man and Lewis smirked, licking his lips in the process.

“C’mere.”

saint’s notes 🪩: slightly rushed, george pissed me off, hope you enjoyed. bye. <3

[thealternateuniverse]

How did you handle it?

1st part here

A/N: Didn't expect the number of likes on the first part, thank you so much 😭

Also, I know now who does Paige's braids now. I saw her on tiktok.

Warning/s: Read at your own risk

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

Following Ice's most recent live stream, Y/N's phone is constantly vibrating, and her Instagram feed is overflowing with follow requests and mentions. She didn't leave her apartment on the weekends after hearing from her teammates about their near-brawl on Friday night. She was trying to blow off some steam at the time, but she lost her cool and almost got into it. Azzi gave them a good earful, and Geno had more to say. Y/N apologized to her teammates, explaining that she was acting out of character at the time.

She felt a little better and forgot about her parents' divorce for a while. Not until her father texted her that he will be at her game next week. Dad is always the one who comes to her games; mom is too busy and cannot make time.

Frustrated, Y/N drops the dumbels.

"Yo! "KK, give me back my phone!" KK is running for her life, clutching Paiges' phone. Paige, on the other hand, looks terrified as if her life depends on with whatever is contained within her phone.

"Whaaaat! Dude, I just caught you stalking---asfghgjjhkjlhlk!" Paige caught up with KK and placed her palm on her mouth.

"Shut up!" She took her phone.

KK sounds like a dying goat now, with Paige's hands still on her mouth. Paige lets go of her and KK gasped for air.

"Shit, Hah! I just did not saw you do that P!" KK is shaking her head, laughing.

"I swear K, if you open your mouth I'll make sure that you will nev---" KK immediately zipped her mouth.

"You got it P! Your 'lil secret is safe." KK gave her a mischievous wink.

These two are as mischievous as ever.

Shaking her head, Y/N slips off her sweat-soaked muscle top, revealing only her sports bra. She could see Paige and KK's jaws drop from her peripheral vision. She turned towards them.

"What? "You guys have some saliva here." Y/N pointed to the side of her lip. The two appear to have come to their senses and instantly pretend to do something. Weird. It's as if they're seeing each other for the first time, taking off their clothes. Y/N twisted her hair into a sloppy knot and resumed lifting. She was halfway through lifting when Nika slapped her bum.

"Babe, I need you to braid my hair. Do you have a sec?"

She nodded to Nika and followed her. They walk past the others who were working out, and Y/N couldn't help but notice Paige and the way her biceps and deltoids popped while doing that damn pull up. Get a grip, Miller; you see your teammate doing this on a regular basis. Y/N reprimanded herself.

"So is mine eye enthralled by thy shape," Nika recited dramatically.

Nika came out laughing after noticing Y/N glancing at Paige.

"Don't worry, babe; she gets it a lot. And... Damn, did you just realized she's fine? You have to keep up; you have a home court advantage here." Nika winked. Y/N gave Nika a puzzled glance. It's not that she likes Paige; she just admires the muscles. That is it.

"I don't know what you're talking about, babe." Y/N said making Nika snort.

"Okay, alright. I'm blind, I can't see, must be my poor eyesight."

Y/N endured Nika's teasing while doing her hair; she doesn't want to appear defensive, so she allows her friend and pretends that Nika Muhl seeing her looking at Paige Bueckers didn't affect her.

"Thank you, Baby. "I love the braids." Nika blew her a kiss before they returned to their routines.

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

Paige glanced around cautiously before scrolling through her phone. She couldn't afford to repeat the same mistake that had led to her being caught by KK. She wasn't stalking, though; the algorithm following Ice's live had led her to Y/N's tagged photos and edits on Instagram. It was kind of annoying that Y/N was now known for being the "pretty girl" from the team instead of for her talent as a player. Paige had witnessed firsthand how great Y/N was during her time at Stanford. If it weren't for her MCL injury during her second year, she would have been neck and neck with Nika's stats in the last 2022-2023 conference.

"Girly, you are still not done? Man you are really living up to be a stalker ." KK tried to glance at Paige's phone, Paige was quick to hide it.

"I am not!" Paige responded defensively.

"Of course, why stalk when you can see her every day. Home court advantage." KK playfully raised her brows and gestured towards where Y/N is, shooting 3 point shots. Yeah, Paige mused to herself. Paige knows she's got the home court advantage, always playing on familiar turf. Y/N, on the other hand, is a social media ghost, her posts as rare as a shooting star, reserved only for strategic brand alliances. Just like she guards the offensive players on the court, she protects her privacy with the same intensity, keeping her personal life shrouded in mystery.

"You are not gonna like this." KK's gasp breaks the silence, drawing Paige's attention as she leans in, sharing her latest sports article discovery. With rapt interest, they both delve into the words, their silent communion speaking volumes as they absorb every line, lost in the world of sports unfolding before them.

Sports Agent Katherine Taylor-Miller Entangled in New Romance Amidst Divorce

In a whirlwind of events, sports agent Katherine Taylor-Miller finds herself at the center of media attention following news of her divorce from husband Craig Miller. The prominent figure in the sports world, best known for representing basketball star Breanna Stewart, is reportedly embarking on a new romance with Los Angeles' top firm lawyer, Drew Ross.

While Taylor-Miller has remained tight-lipped about the circulating photos online, indicating her involvement with Ross, sources close to the situation confirm that the divorce proceedings are well underway. The couple, who share a daughter, aged 22, are navigating this transition as their family dynamic shifts.

Adding a layer of complexity to the situation, their daughter, a talented athlete in her own right, has been making waves on the collegiate basketball scene. Initially playing for Stanford University during her freshman and sophomore years, she has recently transferred to the University of Connecticut for her junior year, following in the footsteps of her mother's client, Breanna Stewart.

The unfolding saga has captivated both sports enthusiasts and gossip followers alike, as speculation mounts about the implications for Taylor-Miller's career and personal life. As the situation continues to develop, all eyes remain on the high-profile sports agent and her newfound path forward.

Paige's confusion bubbles to the surface in her question. "Wait, so... that is Y/N's mom?"

KK nods solemnly. "Yep. Didn't expect that."

Paige's brow furrows as she scans the article again. "That article is nasty. It was unnecessary to mention, Y/N."

The two exchange a knowing glance before their gaze shifts towards Y/N, who remains blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in the tabloids.

KK weighs the options for a moment before nodding resolutely. "Very. She's not gonna like it. Do we tell her?" KK's gaze seeks approval from Paige, who meets it with a shake of her head, silently acknowledging the delicate situation and opting to shield Y/N from unnecessary distress for now. "She'll find out sooner."

KK lets out a low whistle, her disbelief evident in her tone. "Unbelievable. I never thought her mom is Katherine Taylor. That woman was a badass, but yeah, whoever wrote this has some unpaid rent due." Paige nods in agreement, a hint of frustration tainting her expression as they both recognize the injustice of the situation.

The sudden thud startles both Paige and KK. Their heads snap towards the source of the sound, only to find Y/N on the bench-side taking a water break, her hand suspended and her phone on the floor.

"That's what we're talking about."

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

Y/N absentmindedly follows her teammates to Subway after they decided to grab some lunch there. Despite the buzz of camaraderie around her, she's lost in her own thoughts, savoring the simple pleasure of a break from today's events. Just as she starts to believe her day couldn't get any better, her world is rocked by the unwelcome intrusion of her parents' divorce being publicized.

Her heart sinks as she grapples with the sudden exposure of her family's private turmoil. Y/N has always been fiercely protective of her personal life, preferring to keep it shielded from prying eyes. The earlier article had already crossed a line, but this latest development feels like a betrayal of trust, a violation of the boundaries she holds sacred. She can't help but feel a surge of anger and frustration at the unnecessary intrusion into her family's affairs, a bitterness that threatens to overshadow the sweetness of her teammates' company.

Y/N finds a glimmer of solace in the silent solidarity of her teammates. As they gather around the table at Subway, not a single word is spoken about the tumultuous news that has shaken her world.

In that moment, Y/N feels a profound gratitude wash over her, a deep appreciation for their unspoken understanding and respect for her boundaries.

"The salad won't eat itself," snapped Paige, jolting Y/N from her deep thoughts. Y/N mechanically took a fork, but her salad remained untouched.

"Eat up, Miller. You need your energy." Paige commandeered the fork and began mixing the salad for Y/N.

"How did you handle it?" Y/N's voice trembled with vulnerability, causing Paige to pause mid-stir.

Paige didn't respond immediately, her mind racing to grasp the depth of Y/N's question. It didn't take long for the realization to sink in—it was about the divorce.

"When your parents divorced? How did you handle it?" Y/N's eyes glistened with unshed tears, a vulnerability she hadn't intended to reveal. Paige felt a pang of empathy twist in her gut. Y/N's question caught her off guard.

"Nevermind," Y/N murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she wiped away the threatening tears. Determinedly, she finally began to eat her salad, hoping to distract herself from the emotional turmoil of the day.

As she savored each bite, Y/N made a conscious effort to push aside the weight of her parents' divorce. Her phone buzzed incessantly with texts and calls, but she only mustered the strength to respond to her dad via text. All she wanted was for their divorce to be finalized so they could all move forward with their lives.

Her thoughts drifted to the inevitable changes ahead. Her mom and dad would each go their separate ways, free to pursue new relationships if they so chose. While the idea of their family no longer being whole was a painful one, Y/N knew it was time to accept reality.

Above all, she yearned for one simple request: no more articles portraying her solely as her mother's daughter. She was determined to forge her own path, to carve out her own identity separate from her family's legacy.

-------

"You okay, babe?" Nika asked Y/N, slinging her arm around her shoulders. Y/N responded with her most convincing smile. "I'm fine," she assured Nika, though the skepticism lingered in her friend's nod. "Just so you know, we're here for you, okay?" Nika offered a comforting hug. "Thanks, babe."

As they strolled back to the university after lunch, Nika, Azzi, and Aaliyah had already forged ahead for their afternoon classes, while Paige had disappeared into god knows where. Y/N's afternoon lay open; no classes to attend. She pondered whether to take a stroll around her apartment's neighborhood or indulge in a swim in the pool.

Waving goodbye to her teammates as they reached the university's parking lot, she contemplated driving back home.

Sighing, Y/N parked her car and headed towards her apartment, only to be surprised by a waiting Paige Bueckers holding a pint of Ben & Jerry's chocolate fudge ice cream.

"Paige, don't you have a class or something?" Y/N asked, noticing Paige still in her training attire: a UConn Huskies hoodie, basketball jersey shorts, socks, and slides.

Paige handed her the pint without saying anything.

"You asked me how I handled my parents' divorce," Paige shrugged.

"W-well forget it. I didn't mean to ---"

"It was hard. I thought we were a happy family, that they had vows, through thick and thin, for better or worse type of shit. I was angry, wondering what could possibly make them decide they weren't meant for each other. They had me for Christ's sake. It hurt to think that one day they'd meet someone new and start over, and what about me if that happens?" Paige took a deep breath before continuing.

"The good thing is, I was able to understand that it's better to have that divorce than to pretend they're still happy. I saw how happy my father is with his new family, happier than he was with my mother... All I'm trying to say is, whatever you feel in your current situation is valid—all the thoughts running in your head, the what-ifs, they're all valid. You'll come to terms with it soon, just give yourself time to feel it. And don't forget, you have us. It sucks to be a divorce child if you don't have siblings. It's okay, Miller. You can mope, you can lash out, feel it all the way."

Y/N burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably, surprising Paige, especially considering they were in a parking lot. Y/N didn't know why the floodgates had opened—was it the news of her parents' divorce? The stress of the article? Or perhaps simply the ice cream? Regardless, she found herself releasing all the pent-up emotions.

"Christ, Miller. I didn't expect you to break down right here," Paige panicked, attempting to pacify her, though Y/N continued crying loudly.

Paige gently grabbed her hand, and together they walked towards Y/N's apartment, Y/N still sobbing loudly.

"People will think I made you cry." Paige said shaking her head.

They entered Y/N's apartment, with Paige leading the way as Y/N was too preoccupied at the moment. Paige settled Y/N on her couch and opened the ice cream she had brought. Y/N accepted it and took a spoonful, still teary-eyed.

Paige looked at her friend in disbelief, finding her oddly cute in this vulnerable state, with red, glistening eyes and puffy cheeks from crying.

They sat in silence, letting the ice cream provide comfort. It worked, as Y/N's tears eventually ceased.

"Thank you, Bueckers. I needed that cry and... the ice cream. How can I ever pay you back?" Y/N leaned her head on Paige's shoulder, grateful it was Paige who knew her favorite ice cream flavor.

Paige pretended to ponder the question. "You don't have to. Just get back to being yourself," she said, gently ruffling Y/N's hair. Y/N sighed in contentment.

"I mean it, though. Thank you for being here. I was resigned to being miserable today," Y/N said, her voice filled with gratitude. They exchanged glances, and Paige found herself momentarily lost in Y/N's mesmerizing eyes. There was something about them that drew her in. She quickly looked away, not wanting to get too carried away and do something she shouldn't.

"Yeah, it's nothing. Get yourself together, Miller," Paige replied, more to herself than to Y/N, feeling her ears grow warm.

"Are you okay? You seem... red?" Y/N asked, noticing Paige's flushed cheeks.

"Not as red as you are. You look ugly when you cry, Y/N," Paige remarked, trying to lighten the mood.

Y/N stiffened at the comment. This was the first time she had heard Paige address her by her first name. The surprise on Y/N's face caused Paige's brows to furrow.

"What?" Paige asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"Nothing, you've never called me by my name before. Or maybe you did, I just didn't hear you," Y/N shrugged, trying to downplay it. She didn't want to make Paige feel awkward.

"I just don't know what to feel hearing it from you. It sounds different," Y/N admitted.

Paige choked on her response, caught off guard by Y/N's vulnerability. This woman will be the death of her one day. -----------------

[gh0stlyfixation]

5 reasons you’ve cried while pregnant

John Price addition

Simon Riley addition here

Johnny “Soap” McTavish

1. You were very emotional as it was, but now? Four months pregnant it was a rollercoaster ride. Man, what John would do to avoid those tears, you want a cheeseburger from across town and that lemonade only the gas station in the other town had? He’ll get it. But sometimes things can’t be avoided.

You walk in with your shopping bags, eyes full of tears. You drop the bags and catch John's attention from the kitchen only for him to drop what he was doing to rush to you. “What’s wrong baby?” He asks you.

“A little bumblebee died on my car while I was shopping.” You sob, you felt so stupid but you just couldn’t stop crying. John was taken aback not knowing how to respond as he generally rubbed your back to try and console you.

2. You tried, you tried hard not to call John during his debriefing meeting with the team. John checks his phone as he speaks to the team, “hold on guys,” he sighs and walks out. He steps just outside the door keeping it open. “Love?” He asked, he sounds annoyed.

It was only month six, you felt useless and helpless. You heard the annoyance in his tone. You felt even more guilty for calling for such a stupid reason, “never mind. I’m sorry for bothering you.” You say sniffling.

John immediately feels guilty for the way he answered, “no baby, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to sound mean.” John says quietly as the team watches him through the door.

“I um, I can’t open the orange juice jug and I want the orange juice and I can’t have it.” You ramble crying harder.

He pinches his nose, “the meeting is almost over, I’ll be home soon so you can have your orange juice. Just stay strong. You can do it.” He says making all the men snicker, including Simon. Price hangs up after consoling you some more. “I suggest you shut it. Especially you Simon because not long ago, your petting zoo started.” Price says. All the boys laugh at Simon now, what started as a cat ended up as a baby goat that now rests happily in his house.

3. It was 3 am, your designated snack time. Tonight? Cupcakes WITHOUT the icing, but to your dismay, you didn’t have any cupcakes. Tears, immediately.

You waddled to your bedroom where Price slept soundly (not for long), you shake him awake not being gentle, did you eat my cupcakes!” You yell at him.

He’s half asleep, all he sees is your red face and angry tears streaming down your face. He’s groggy, “I- I don’t know?” He mumbles.

“You ate them!” You cry harder now realizing there weren’t any cupcakes.

“I’ll go to the store, and get you some more!” He says now realizing how dire the situation is. He works in two hours, this isn’t how he wanted to start his day.

“I don’t want icing on them!” You yell at him.

“I’ll eat all the icing, you won’t even notice there was icing!” He says quickly pulling on his shoes.

When he returns home, he sits at the dining table as he eats off all the icing and you sit happily with the naked cupcakes. He glares at you as his stomach starts to ache from all the sugary icing, he hates sugar, but seeing you smile after just screaming at him, he’ll deal with the aches.

4. You starred long and hard at the ground constantly shifting your body around, “what are you doing love?” John smiles as he lifted himself on his elbows on the bed to watch you.

“Can’t see my feet.” Your bottom lip trembled and he sees it through the mirror, he gets up to try and stop the tears, “I’m so fat!” You cry stomping your foot on the ground.

“No love, you aren’t fat! Your growing a tiny human in your belly!” John tries to argue.

“I’m fat!” You say sobbing, pushing him away, “don’t wanna be touched.” You cry even harder.

5. You’ve sent John through the wringer these last few months but month nine? Fuck, it was a challenge. You were angry or horny most of the time, even he couldn’t keep up with your pace.

“Johnn,” you whine, “it hurts.” You sniffle.

“What hurts baby?” He asks rubbing your lower back

“Down there, need you.” You sob into the pillow. Fuck, this was one of the times he loved seeing you cry. Crying for him, “please,” you ask looking up at him with tears running down your face.

“Oh baby, how can I say no to you looking like that?” He asks before lifting your nightgown and diving in.

[mediumgayitalian]

Will knows who it is at the first light brush on his shoulders.

He tips his head back back, bumping his boyfriend’s hip, leaning into the hand on his trapezius, his scapula, the base of his neck.

“Hi,” he says, grinning.

“Hi,” Nico says, leaning down to press his smile onto Will’s forehead. His hair tickles his cheeks, and he smells like woodsmoke and citrus, and Will slides his hand across his jaw and tugs him closer.

“Errand done?”

“Yep.”

“Lord Hades pleased?”

“As much as he ever is.” Nico shifts, kissing the corner of his mouth, the curve of his chin, the shape of his jaw. “My ears are ringing from five days of quiet. Even the echoing sound of lost souls cannot compete with your constant blabbing; I hardly knew what to do with myself.”

“Oh, shut up. You love my chatterin’.” He smacks the side of Nico’s head, but it’s hard to play mad when he’s smiling, shameless, wide enough that his teeth nick Will’s cheekbones, that his snickers are muffled into his skin.

“If I wanted to be stuck with someone who yaps nonstop I would’ve stayed down with Cerebus. In fact he might shed less, and he doesn’t drool when he sleeps.”

“…I do not shed.”

Nico plants both hands next to Will’s head, heaving himself up, and scans his camp shirt. Within three seconds, he locates a strand of hair, pinches it off, and flicks it at Will’s face.

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, for the love of — get over here,” Will demands. Laughing, Nico goes where Will tugs him, curling up next to him on the bench. “You’re such a shit. Normal people are much kinder to the significant annoyances they leave behind for five days, you know.”

“Are they.”

Nico lifts his arm in offering and Will accepts with relish, tucking himself under it and making certain to drag his curls down Nico’s face in the process.

“Yep. In fact I was expecting hand-written letters by day two, honestly, telling me how much you missed me and how the distance was physically painful, et cetera, et cetera. Maybe a sonnet or two. Italian, preferably, Elizabethan are not my favourite.”

“You’re very picky.”

Will sniffs haughtily. “Well, I’m a catch. You have lots of competition, you know. I was fighting them off while you were away but now that you come back and insult me upon reunion, I shall reevaluate my options.”

He feels more than hears the quiet laughter Nico presses in his hair, thumb brushing his collar, dipping onto bare skin.

“Is that so.”

“Indeed. My suitors have even offered a dowry quite handsome. I’m worth twenty-seven goats, didn’t you know.”

“Oh, well then. I might as well return what I brought for you, since I’m not sure I can outshine two dozen goats.”

The cool thing about being a son of Apollo is that Will has range. His dad is the god of arts, generally, up to and especially the dramatic ones. Will knows how to school his face into the perfect mask, how to smile on command and cry as desired, how to deliver a line and bow with a flourish. Playing a part comes as naturally as breathing, as naturally as healing.

“A present?” he asks, checking his nails as if the mere thought bores him. “That’s interesting, I guess.”

Nico doesn’t even bother to indulge him.

“Here, you massive dweeb,” he snorts. He hands over a small paper box, hand-folded and thin. “I can practically feel you vibrating.”

There is only one thing in this world, quite possibly, that Will likes more than proving Nico wrong, and that is letting his boyfriend spoil him. In all honesty it’s a real challenge sometimes, because Nico is really very good at being everything Will has ever wanted even if he has wrong opinions on most movies. Truly Will’s life is a joke at which the gods must howl with laughter.

Eagerly taking the box, he holds it up to his face, carefully inspecting every corner. The paper is regular printer paper, slightly waterlogged (from the Big House printer, then, ‘cause Will was carrying a giant bag of saline in from storage when he was eleven years old and tripped on the shipment of office supplies that someone had left, for some reason, in the middle of the fucking hallway, and the bag had exploded on impact all over four boxes of printer paper holding one thousand pages each) and carefully bent into shape. He recognises Nico’s handiwork from the dozens of origami paper sculptures he’s been gifted over the past few months.

“Open it.”

“What is it?”

Nico rolls his eyes. “What did I just say.”

“No, I mean — it’s not my birthday or anything.”

“So?”

“So you’ve wrapped me up a present! I want to know why before I open it.”

“Just because,” Nico mumbles, pressing a kiss to his temples. “Not everything needs a reason, nosey.”

“If nothing had reason then we would still be premordial soup,” Will mutters, but pops open the lid anyway.

He gasps.

“Oh my gods, Nico, you —”

Nico’s smiling smugly, but Will barely notices. Inside the box is a black chain darker than shadow, so dark it doesn’t even glint in the heavy sun, and dozens of little charms, from polished obsidian to a ball of slowly flickering flame.

“You like?”

“It’s gorgeous!”

He makes a triumphant nose, pumping his fist, and says, “Fuck those suitors, I fucking win,” and the funniest part is that he’s damn serious. There’s a glint in his eye identical to when he wins a sword fight, to when Connor loses a bet to him, to when twenty-odd bets are stacked against him and he’s got a full house. Something dangerous and wild and superior and Will is not an enabler, okay, he is not, but he is only so strong and there is only so much he can do when pretty boys wrap their arms around him and smirk at him and bring him bracelets they made in the Underworld. He’d like to meet someone who wouldn’t fold, actually.

“There were no suitors, you loser,” he says, but he’s flushed, pleased smile stretched wide across his face, and Nico’s grinning that too-wide grin and tilting Will’s face closer with the edge of his thumb, like he barely had to try. And there’s always a little bit of shadow leeching off him when he comes back from a quest, an aura surrounding him like he’s squaring off to the sun, and of course the wild churning in Will’s stomach has nothing to do with that but what’s he to do, really? What is a warm-blooded person with eyes that can see to do when faced with such a look?

“Of course there aren’t. They know I would reap their actual souls.”

“Possessive, much.”

“You’re literally going red.”

“Shut up.”

And he does, but only because Will makes him.

Although judging by the hand he shoves in his hair, he doesn’t seem to mind.

[talktonytome]

of beer facts and hoppy endings

a little something for @half-oz-eddie inspired by this post <3

Rated: E

Tommy licks the bead of sweat that’s rolling down Evan’s spine, as he grounds against his prostrate, but doesn’t thrust. It’s not the first or the last time. They’ve been at this for a while now, Evan steadily supplying all the facts he knows about beer, while Tommy drives him out of his mind with his cock, and he can feel the man tremble beneath him. They’ve covered most of the basic facts.

“Come on baby, give me another one and I’ll move again, hm?”

“Ungg,” Evan attempts to steady his breathing. “O- okay, did you know beer was brewed in China as early as 7000 BCE? B-but the first barley beer came from the Sumerians of Mesopotamia around 4000 BCE. They even had a goddess of beer— Ninkasi.”

“I asked for one and you gave me three, Evan. You being cocky, baby? Because if you are, I don’t know if I should reward it.”

“Please, Tommy,” Evan whines. “J-Just wanted to be good for you.”

“Shh, I know,” Tommy soothes, sliding a hand down his flank, his other arm wrapped around Evan’s chest, the only thing keeping him from slumping into the mattress. “You’re gonna take what I give you, okay?” He lowers his mouth to bite Evan’s earlobe, dragging his teeth in the way that makes him shiver so beautifully.

Tommy pulls out halfway and rewards Evan with a shallow thrust, not nearly enough, but he still whimpers and well, he can’t very well just leave him like that. He pulls out again until just the head of his cock rests inside the tight heat and slams deep inside, hitting Evan’s prostate dead on. He does it one more time and Evan tries to push back but he stills him, with a firm grasp to his hips.

Tommy tsks. “What did I say? You’ll take only what I give you… or we can stop, and I’ll make you watch me get myself off.”

“N-no!” Evan cries. “I’ll be good. Please don’t stop.” His knuckles are white where he’s holding onto the headboard of their bed.

“That’s what I thought,” Tommy smirks and leans down to lick the side of Evan’s neck. He applies just enough suction to the pulse point to make his breath hitch. “Alright, keep going. Gimme another one, surprise me.”

Evan groans, but readily complies, desperate for anything Tommy gives him. “Um. Uh, so old Vikings believed that in Valhalla, there is a giant goat whose udders would provide an unlimited supply of beer.”

That one makes Tommy snort. He’s gotta hand it to Evan, it certainly surprised him.

“Wouldn’t that be something?” He chuckles fondly, despite the lust-filled haze. “Good one, sweetheart. On the count of three, I want you to touch yourself- two strokes. If you disobey, this stops.”

Evan makes an unintelligible noise beneath him.

“I need words, baby.” He says in a softer voice. “Color?”

Evan lifts his head to look at him over his shoulder. His cheeks are flushed red, his sweaty curls are matted to his forehead and there’s a bit of drool at the corner of his mouth. Tommy thinks he’s never looked more beautiful. “Green,” he breaths out “M’good Tommy.”

“Good boy. Always so good for me Evan, so gorgeous.” He ducks down to press a soft kiss to his lips, and uses the arm wrapped around his chest to pull him back onto his knees and onto Tommy’s lap, until their bodies are pressed together.

“One.” Tommy brings his hands down to grip Evan’s hips. “Two.” He uses enough force to lift and slide him off his cock.

“Three.”

He buries himself back to the hilt at the same time Evan strokes himself and they both cry out at the sensation. In this position, Tommy slides into him even deeper.

Just as Tommy instructed, Evan only strokes himself twice. He lets go of his cock which is leaking obscenely with precome, and reaches down to hold onto Tommy’s arm instead.

“Beautiful.” Tommy murmurs, voice filled with awe. “Almost there, I promise. Let me hear another.”

Evan’s heart thuds rapidly beneath Tommy’s hand. He leans his head back onto Tommy’s shoulder as he contemplates.

“So. Uh. Darker beers can act as aphrodisiacs. The iron helps red blood cells with hemoglobin production, which carries oxygen around the body. This improves circulation, giving stronger erections a- and boosts libido. You clearly don’t need it,” he adds breathily.

“S’ that snark, Buckley?”

“No, just facts,” he says in a normal voice, but Tommy catches the cheeky dimple, as his mouth lifts into a smirk. And god, he loves him all the more for it.

“Hmm better not be.” Tommy uncurls the hand holding him and taps his fingers against his hip. “Lift yourself up and turn around for me?”

He can almost hear Evan’s pout as he reluctantly lifts himself off Tommy’s cock.

“Hey, I gave you a fact but I didn’t get my reward”, he frowns as he climbs back into Tommy’s lap. He wraps his arms around his neck and Tommy’s hands go back to gripping his hips.

“Brat.” Tommy chuckles. “So impatient. Just want to see your face when you come.” If Evan’s pupils could grow any darker, they would.

Tommy lets go of one hip and leans over to grab the bottle of one of his favorite craft stouts from the nightstand.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna ride me and you have until I finish this beer to come. If you don’t come before then, well…” He shrugs.

“Tommy,” Evan whines, hands tight on the nape of his neck.

“That’s the rule, sweetheart.” And because he’s generous like that. “You can touch yourself, too,” he adds.

Evan groans in relief and Tommy lets out a soft laugh. “I suggest you get to it.” He swats at Evan’s ass, who sinks back onto him with an almost comical urgency. He uses Tommy’s shoulder as leverage and begins to ride him in earnest.

Tommy downs a third of the bottle in one go, because let’s face it, neither of them is gonna last long.

Evan lowers one hand to fist cock, thrusting into it as he bounces on Tommy’s cock. Tommy watches, transfixed, feels his impending orgasm because even though he’s been edging Evan all night, he’s been denying himself too.

He takes another long pull of the beer, the strong, dark taste coating his tongue and filling his nostrils. Fuck a cigarette after sex.

Try a damn good beer during sex. His fingers dig into Evan’s skin on the side where’s he’s still gripping his hip. He’ll probably leave bruises. The thought alone makes his cock twitch and throb inside Evan.

“C-close.” Evan sighs, pace now erratic as his hand flies up and down his cock, completely smeared with precome. Tommy groans at the sight. His hand leaves its home on Evan’s hip to grip his wrist instead. He brings Evan’s hand up to his lips and makes a show of licking from the base of the wrist to the tip of his middle finger, collecting the precome along the way, while looking at him dead in the eye.

“Oh my god,” Evan shudders. “How are you so fucking hot?”

Tommy keeps the salty fluid on his tongue, as he brings the bottle of beer up to his lips for the last time. He swallows half and holds the rest in his mouth, then leans into to kiss it into Evan’s mouth.

The kiss is sloppy and so, so unbelievably hot. He pries Evan’s lips with his tongue and kisses him deep and filthy, making him taste himself along with the heady beer. Suddenly, he feels warms ropes coating his abs.

When he pulls back, he realizes Evan came just from that.

“Oh god, baby,” he groans. “How are you real?”

Evan only blinks at him, still in his orgasmic daze.

“Are you good if I keep going? I’m almost there.”

Evan nods, sighing dreamily. “Please.”

Tommy sets the now empty beer bottle back on the nightstand and gently pushes him back onto the mattress, cock never leaving his body. He makes sure Evan is comfortable before he thrusts in earnest, drawing little punched-out noises from his throat.

Tommy buries his face into Evan’s neck, kissing and mouthing at the skin, as he hurls toward the edge. “So. fucking. perfect.” He babbles. “How’d I get so lucky? God, Evan, you were made for me. No one else could ever—”

He thrusts one, two, three more times, before filling Evan with a frankly surprising amount of come, after teasing them both for so long.

“I love you,” he says into damp skin.

Evan’s smears a kiss onto his temple. “Love you.”

After they catch their breath, he reluctantly pulls out and rolls over to lay beside Evan. “That was-“

“Wow.”

“Yeah? It wasn’t too much?”

Evan turns to look at him and smiles. “Never. It was perfect. Although, if I start getting hard-ons around beer now, I’m blaming you!”

“Come on, ey!” Tommy laughs, pulling him to lay on his chest. He nuzzles his face into Evan’s curls.

“I’m onto you, Kinard! If only people knew how much of a menace you are” Evan mumbles, tongue darting out to playfully lick Tommy’s nipple.

“And you’re insatiable.”

“But you love it.”

Tommy grins, dropping a kiss to his forehead.

“Yeah, I really do.”

[vvynia]

smut ramble: ellie reading your body

pairing: e. williams x reader

genre: smut + fluff

word count: 440

warnings: language that explicitly denotes reader as afab, this is literally smut so reader's discretion is advised for that alone and MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mention of past erotic choking but overall very vanilla

author’s note: i was straight up in the middle of reading another fic writer’s smut and got a burst of inspiration, then i wrote this. yay !! also, as a black woman, i usually write for black readers but reader’s race doesn’t make a monumental impact in this little drabble x4, so go crazy !! also, these dividers are by @cafekitsune ! the goat.

just had the most random (not really, i’ve been thinking about this for the last week and a half actually) thought of how tender ellie is with you; how, when she has you naked under the heat of her eyes, spread open for her in the most testimonal manner, she presses her center to your’s with the utmost care; how she slots her body against your’s just right. skin to skin, breaths in sync. that harmony always comes to an end, however, when she begins to circle her hips. her goal is to catch your clit with her’s just how you both like.

you’re sopping wet and, goodness, she can hear so vivdly the way her essence mingles with yours—lovingly, carnally, desperately. the slick of you two is hightened by the silence and stillness of the room. after all, not much moves on the acres of a farm in the middle of jackson county, wyoming just hours before sunrise (except the two women occupying the house, of course).

the aura around you two buzzes, and as she grows more needy for her release, ellie’s grunts and pants waltz with your whines. her gait is getting you a little too worked up for her liking, however. she sees the signs: tremoring thighs, thready inhales, lost hands begging for a place to squeeze and tug for refuge.

these make her slow just enough to turn your cries indignant. you lift your eyelids so you can glare your annoyance into her, but ellie’s already caught you in her gaze.

she husks, “keep ‘em open, baby.” she leans further into you to put a calloused hand on your cheek and a soft kiss upon your lips. “you gotta keep ‘em open if you wanna cum harder, remember?”

you do remember.

you remember the first time ellie made you squirt. it was when she’d wrapped her hand into a near-fist around your throat and forced you to give her your undivided attention as she fucked her strap into you at a pace so brutal, you had bambi legs afterward.

though, like i said, ellie williams is gentle today. she realigns your focus by gradually finding the pace she’d kept before your burst of excitement. she splays her hand across your hip, smooches the plush of your calf, and manages to never lose your eyes the entire time.

a cracked moan and a yelp later, you cum unbidden.

the moral of the story lies here: ellie speaks the language of your body as though she’s been studying linguistics for the entirety of her life. to such extent and farther, that is how much she loves you.

@picklesarenice69 - girl, i know this isn’t what you’ve been asking me to tag you in, but i wrote something and i thought you might appreciate it 😂

[slickchickchocolatier]

Beauty and the Beast

• Part One •

Warnings: nothing too extreme…yet. Hints of suicidal acts/ideations and cat and mouse chase. Part two is going to be a bit gross though…definitley read this boring part to prepare yourself for part two. Also not proofread so please ignore the mistakes. ✌🏻

Lost in a hypnotic state of bewilderment, your attention is captivated by the beauty of the pink hue emerging from the glass bell jar. The crystal rose magically floats in mid air, leaving you amazed and perturbed. How incredible was it to see something extraordinary that defies the laws of gravity? You reach out to lift the lid when a grueling shadow suddenly casts the entire room. Your sight switches over to the open balcony and witnesses something out of this world staring back at you. The details of the inhuman entity staring became a blur. You didn’t want to stick around to study it–your instincts propelled you to run instead. Immediately, you turned and rushed over to the door when you felt its grip on your arm yanking you back. It shifts you around and takes a good look at you, forcing you to do the same. The creature had two large hooves that propped its magnificently strong figure. It resembled that of a man with large muscle and an extended height. Under his partially open cloak, his anatomy flourished in full display and you shamefully witnessed the creature to be male. His broad chest casted impressive pectoral muscles that were both lean and heavy. His arms were long and his hands were decorated with lengthy claws as the length of his smooth hair subtly drapes loosely over his wrists. His neck was also crowned with long strands that shined black as the granite. His head resembled a large goat head with two large horns that remained predominantly straight at the base, and curved at the tip. You were forced to watch as the rectangular pupils studied you from head to toe. Resembling the eyes of a sheep or a goat, this creature expresses every demonic feature that was written in the darkest tale.

You barely gained enough time to recover from the blasphemous appeal before you. A voice emerges from the creature, setting you back to a stunned state of mind. Your vision snapped forward and straight to his eyes when he spoke in a loud and deep tone. His pitch was not human, it carried the growling purr of a wild beast and the roaring vibration of a demon. “And you are?”

Despite the blank stare, his snarling snout flared his anger. He was every violation of the Holy Bible–the true image of Hell. “P-please let me go…” you shivered out under a shallow breath. It was hard to speak out. Fear overtook your senses as your hands clam up from his tightened grip. “Answer my question or I’ll tear you to pieces.”

Momentarily, the beast releases your arm and thrashes a nearby console table, splitting it in half. You collapse from the destruction cowering in fear. The shattering crack pierces your ear as you scream out begging for the monster to stop. He roars and continues to thrash all the beautiful antique paintings within the room. His beastly form appears in full display as the cloak flies off from the tantrum, revealing a whiplashing tail. Leaving the handsome portrait and the rose untouched, the beast destroys the entire study, leaving it in tatters. You curl up and begin tearing up. Covering your ears, you try to calm yourself when you notice that the clattering halts. You lift your head to view the room. It's empty. The beast was nowhere to be found.

Grabbing your phone and quickly making your way to the door, you rushed down the stairs and through the hall. You couldn’t remember how to get to the main hall where the exit was. Lost inside the mansion, the echoes of the beast's roars from outside caused you to take cover as you maneuvered through the narrow hall. “Shit…”

Seconds pass and the howling stir of echoes become distant, allowing you to rebuild the fortitude to move again. Frantically running, you reach the end of the corridor. Turning the corner, a pair of stabled hands grip your arms–pinning them together. Yelping, a burst of tears emerge when you realize that the one who has you is none other than butler. “Young lady–” his voice was calm, despite witnessing your distress. You shift within his grip. He was surprisingly strong despite his age. Appealing to his sensibility from earlier, you pleaded for his help. “Please–! You have to help! There–there’s something inside this house! It’s a monster!”

“Shh…” he coos you. “You’re alright. Nevermind my master’s rudeness, he’s always cranky when awoken from his slumber.”

You paused at the wording. “M-master?” your brows furrowed in confusion as you inquired for the butler to elaborate. Here all along you mistakenly assumed that the master of the household to be that of a child. “Th-that was the master you spoke about? The one that was napping? What is he? What is this place? Get me out of here!”

You become hysterical as you try to peel his hands off, yet he re-stabilizes you once more. “Young lady, you must calm yourself before he hears you. My master is not one to react kindly to foreign disturbances inside his home.”

His words convince you to calm down. Your sobbing quiets down as he places a finger against his lips and gently hushes you. Another roar from the beast emerges from afar. “He’s in the main hall, we will need to go back towards the study.”

You gasped at his insistence. “What?! No!”

He shushes you once more. “If we proceed forward, he will see you and I won't be able to save you then. The best course is to have you remain in one of the guest rooms and wait there until it is clear for you to leave. Please have trust.”

Hopelessness drapes over as the beast’s roar grows louder. The butler rushes to the nearest guestroom. “Remain here. I will have Mrs. Potts come in to check on you as I attend to my Master. Remember…you must not leave this room.”

Leaving you, the butler rushes in the direction of his master’s thunderous cries. “On my way sir!” he shouts, disappearing into the abyss of the narrow corridor.

Struggling to find comfort in waiting for the butler, you begin walking towards the same direction. “Sir?…” you gently call out, hoping to hear a reassuring response. You continue on the path until you reach the main grand hall, where the chandeliers gently warm the atmosphere with dimmed candlelight. The glass windows shutter, startling you. Something was banging the walls from the other side that resulted in a series of subtle booms and vibrations. You cover your ears as you continue walking, hoping to see someone kind and helpful to aid you towards the exit. In a split second your hopes experienced victory when you saw a figure ahead…yet it was short lived.

The beast stepped into the light and snarled. A magnificent form of power and strength, he slightly hunched over as if taking position to charge. Your heart sinks into your stomach as your vision blurs. What started as a few steps backwards quickly transitioned into a direct one-eighty turn and a sprint. Running away, you hear the pounding hooves behind clash against the marble tiles. They grew louder, stronger, and more dreadful as they closed the distance. Reaching the main study where you first saw the beast, you panic. Making all that progress just to be sent back to square one presented a feeling of hopelessness and the act of surrendering was at your fingertips. Should you just let the beast devour you alive? Or should you jump off the balcony? The options, while limited, were at your reach, however time was not on your side as you heard the beast clash against the heavy door. He rams his form against it a few more times and it begins to crack open. You peer over to the balcony and make your choice. Unfortunately there was no time to mourn and bid the world a farewell. Not even enough time to say a thoughtful prayer.

The beast continues with his destructive rage, beaching entrance as the door begins to hang by the loose hinges. You step onto the stone tiles and view the outside world from a heightened view and take a deep breath. Placing yourselves over the ledge, you station yourself on the opposite end and hang by the shaky grip of the concrete pillars, pressing your lower backside against the coolness of its smooth exterior. You don’t look down. It would only make it harder.

Chest up and facing the sky, you close your eyes. The final release will be based strictly on hearing. The final blow through the sprayed splinters of the mahogany panel will be your que to let go. Let it all go.

The final seconds felt like an eternity. But after hearing him burst through successfully, you release. Your eyes remain closed yet the teardrops find a way to escape from closed lids and decorate your reddened cheeks. You feel yourself slipping forward, knowing that there was no end until your body meets the ground. after fully embracing the end—the most challenging obstacle you’ve yet to overcome, a dreadful moment pangs you from within as you felt a harsh grab around your wrist. It was strong and tight. Your eyes jolt open as you whimper from the yank. Looking behind, you witness the image of monstrosity bringing you back in.

Bringing you back in…

Taglist: @strxwbloody @nshmrarki @aquariushiiiii @addictedtohobi @nuriicata @lilyuwon

[michibap]

post nap w/ ted

not even going to defend myself, peace and love

TW: fem reader, dacryphilia if u squint

nsfw below the cut

-ted dragging you out of bed at the asscrack of dawn so you guys could hit this farmer’s market he’s been hearing about

-blowing a stupid amount of money on artisanal coffee, freshly baked pastries and this fancy oatmeal goats milk soap?? idk

-along with some fancy farm fresh veggies and a nice cut of meat that the two of you agree to cook together for dinner 😋

-and you held out strong for most of the afternoon, you really did

-but by the time 2pm rolled around, you were fighting for your LIFE

-so obvi you convince him to join you for a girlnap

-shucking your pants and eagerly crawling under the cool comforter

-lifting ted’s side and looking at where he stands fiddling with his phone expectantly when he doesn’t immediately join you

“One sec, ‘m setting a timer.”

-he rolls his eyes when you groan, setting his phone on the nightstand before crawling in after you

“Whine all you want, you’ll be thanking me when you’re not waking up at 3am because you fucked up your circadian rhythm again.”

“Yeah whatever, nerd.”

-letting out a content hum as he drags you towards his chest, heavy arm settling over your waist

-warm palm slipping under your shirt to rest on your stomach, thumb absentmindedly stroking over soft skin

-he takes a little longer to slip off into sleep than you do, but once your breathing evens out, the slow rise and fall of your chest and soft puffs of breath rhythmically brushing over the arm he has tucked under your head lulled him to sleep

-he’s jolted awake by his alarm what feels like three minutes later, grumbling and removing himself from you so he could turn off the obnoxious sound he had chosen

-once the offensive sound is silenced, he leans over and runs a gentle hand over your hair in an attempt to wake you up, laughing when you grumble and swat him away

“C’mon, gotta get up.” he mumbled, cupping your shoulder and gently shaking you

“Nooooooo,”

“Baby.”

“Please don’t make me.” you whine, turning to hide your face in his chest, clinging to the front of his shirt

-he huffs and rolls his eyes, despite the fond smile spreading across his lips

“Fine. Five more minutes, and I mean it.”

-you relax again, content to rest against him

-until you hear the GRATING sound of him scrolling through instagram reels at an obnoxious volume

-lifting your head and blearily glaring up at him when he watches another video about how to get the perfect crust on a steak

-he only grins at you and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead before continuing his scrolling

-you huff and squish your cheek to his chest, looking up at him as he focuses on the little screen, watching the videos through the reflection of his glasses

-he glances down at you for a moment, lips spreading into a coy grin as he looks back at his phone

“You got a problem?”

-you only hum, shifting to bring a hand up to paw at the side of his face and pull him in to plant a kiss on his plush lips

-he hums back, smiling into it for a moment before pulling away, gently grabbing your wrist to pull your hand away from his face

“Three minutes.” he sings

-you frown and bring your hand back up to cup the side of his face, and he gives you an exasperated look

“What do you want?”

-he laughs when he feels you pulling him back in for another kiss, though it trails off into a surprised noise when he feels you nip at his lower lip when he tries to pull away again, hand sinking back to knot your fingers into his hair

-despite his confusion, it doesn’t take him long to drag you on top of him, eagerly sitting up to meet you in another kiss, hands placed firmly on your hips to keep you close

-he sighs into your mouth when you grind down into his lap, grip going tight enough to bruise when you take the chance to slip your tongue into his mouth

-you make a pleased noise and bring your arms to wrap around his neck, drawing him impossibly closer as you keep your lips slotted to his own

-a surprised yelp is drawn from his throat when you use your hold on him and draw the both of you down, using the momentum to pull him on top of you and locking your legs around his waist

-he looks down at you, bewildered

-you only give him a coy smile of your own, a little breathless as you shuffle to get more comfortable underneath him

-you make to drag him back down for another kiss, frowning when he remains hovering over you, leveling you with a suspicious glare

“What?” you laugh, though it awkwardly dies when he only narrows his eyes

“You’re trying to trick me into staying in bed.”

-he watches a guilty smile spread across your lips,

“‘s it working?”

-he tries to glare, but he can’t stop a grin from spreading across his lips,

“I could use a little more convincing…”

-it’s your turn to sigh when he descends for another kiss, forcing your lips open with his own and licking into your mouth

-pitching up into a whiney moan when you feel him grind against you, hardness dragging mouthwateringly against your clothed mound

-tilting your head as he moves to trail wet, open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, free hand coming to paw at your chest over your shirt

-gasping when his hips meet your own in another hard grind

-he groans and pulls away to sit up, struggling to catch his breath as he looks down at you

“So fuckin’ pretty for me,” he panted out, slipping one hand under your shirt and slowly dragging it up, warm palm leaving goosebumps in its wake

-he lets out a please sigh once your shirt is bunched under your chin, bare chest on full display , nipples pebbling after being exposed to the cold air

-you can’t do much more than whine as he meanly pinches at one of your nipples, chuckling to himself when you arch into his touch

“This what you wanted, sweetheart?” he crooned, condescending and sweet

-his brows shot up when you shook your head with a small frown, reaching to paw at the hem of his sweats

“Wearin’ too much.” you mumbled, looking imploringly up at him through your lashes

“Oh, am I?” he teases, lips curling into an entertained grin

-you scowl with a blush,

“Yeah, ‘s what I said, jackass.”

-your eyes go wide when your mouth is forcibly snapped shut by a large hand shooting up to grab your jaw, forcing your lips into a pout

“Watch it.” he warns lowly

-despite his stern tone, he still moves to push his sweats down his hips

-both of you laughing a little as he awkwardly shuffles to pull them off without getting off of the bed

-when he turns back to you, he sees you moving to pull your shirt over your head and darts out to stop you with a short “Aht!” and tugging it back down

-you give him a bewildered look when your head pops through the neckline,

“Keep it,” it’s more an instruction than a request

-you shudder as he runs a warm palm over your torso, flesh prickling in his wake

“Fuck, you look good.” he says more to himself than you, eyes intently roving over your form

-you move to sit up on your elbows, curiously looking down to see what he was talking about

-taking in your decrepit, stained garfield shirt bunched up over your tits and granny panties with an embarrassing damp spot forming over your center

“You serious?” you asked with a little laugh

-he only hums, hands moving back to your hips to drag you flush to him before hunching over to lave his tongue over the soft flesh of one of ur tits

-you sigh as he latches his lips around a nipple, carding a hand through his hair

-arching with the combined sensations of his warm, wet mouth and his hot, significantly more prominent erection rutting against the thin fabric of your panties

-ted pulls off of you for a moment, only to plant another trail of kisses up to the sensitive spot just below your jaw

-grinning at the sound of your moan right next to his ear, dragging his hips against yours again

“Y’ think you could cum like this?” he asks, voice lilting, giving you a sharp nip when you were too spacey to answer

“Please just fuck me,” you plead, growing needier the longer he rubs himself against you, sensitive with what little stimulation you were getting

“I am fucking you, baby.” he crooned, grinning when you yelp at a particularly good thrust and shifting to hit the angle a bit better

“Please, Ted, I- fuck-“ you’re cut off by your own whimper, whining dizzily when you feel a strong hand come back to your jaw and shake you a bit, bringing your attention back to the man looming over you

“Answer the question.”

-you sniffle, looking up at him with pleading, watery eyes

“I dunno.”

“You don’t know?” he parrots mockingly, lips curling into a wolfish grin when you let out a sobbing moan and buck your hips when he brushes a thumb over the growing damp spot on your panties

“I think you could,” he breathed “Probably pretty close already, aren’tcha, sweetheart?”

-you don’t have it in you articulate anything more advanced than some incomprehensible string of something vaguely similar to english, reaching to clutch at broad shoulders, nails digging into the soft fabric of his tshirt

-he leans down to give you another kiss, giving an appreciative hum as you moan into his mouth

-before reaching down to cup a hand under one of your knees and pushing it up and out of the way, foot uselessly dangling over his shoulder

-both of you moan when he slots his hips back to yours, new angle allowing him to drag his clothed head over the thin, damp fabric covering your clenching entrance, up to your pulsing clit and back down again

-you can’t do much more than hold on for dear life as he essentially fucks you over your clothes, pleading for him to actually fuck you between sloppy kisses and strings of moans

-your begging fell on deaf ears, not getting much more than a gritted “You’ll take what you fucking get”

-you’re shoved tumbling towards the edge first, thrashing a bit in ted’s grip

-you’re promptly pinned down by strong hands, keeping you still for him to rut against, unable to do much more than ride through it as you experience one of the most conflicting orgasms of your life

-caught between being far too sensitive and raw from the constant rubbing of damp material, and far too under-stimulated after not being properly touched

-either way, all you can do is tremble as he ruthlessly “fucks” you through it, meanly dragging himself over your sensitive, twitching sex

-he finishes with a guttural groan, quickly muffled by him sinking his teeth into the skin of your collarbone

-a puff of breath is forced from your chest when he collapses on top of you, pressing his face to the crook of your neck as he worms his arms under you to crush you closer

-you allow him to cling for a moment before uncomfortably shifting, sticky underwear becoming less arousing more icky

“Alright, git. I wanna shower.” you mumble, patting his back

-you roll your eyes when he groans, deflating further into you

“Don’t wanna.” he mumbled petulantly

“Dude, you just splooged your fuckin’ pants. Get up and take a shower with me.”

-he lifts his head to glare at you, cheeks still flushed, hair all over the place after having ran your hands through it

“You splooged your pants.”

“I am painfully aware.”

-he laughed a little, resting his forehead on your collarbone as his shoulders shook before bringing it back up and giving the outside of your thigh a pat

“Alright, let’s go.” he secedes, crawling backwards off of the bed, dragging you by your ankle once he’s stood at the end

“Maybe you can splooge somewhere other than your pants in there,” you simper, laughing when he gives your cheek a rough pinch,

“Watch it.”

[sintiva]

❝baby, can you suck it?❞ ✧ ೃ༄

ft. toji x black!reader

۵summary: toji’s day of festivities starts with you on your knees 🫶🏽

‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ۵content warnings: established relationship, fem!reader, chubby!reader, reader is into makeup, is a throat goat, slight degradation (toji calls us a slut twice), oral sex 😚, cock worshipping, impact play, spit kink, hair pulling, dacryphilia, throat fucking, cum eating, facial… // wc: 2.8k

‏‏‎ ‎ ۵notes: y’all thought i was playing about that oral fixation, huh👩🏽‍🦯this was supposed to be less than 1k……😭 (ac: @/beesflyy_ on ig!!)

“baby, can i suck it?” you plead. 

you paw and fondle your husband’s bulge that sits comfortably in his sweats. you cup it, rub it, and stroke it while you beg with big, doe eyes. he stares at your all’s shared reflection in your vanity mirror. unimpressed, annoyed, flattered you can’t really tell. maybe if you’re eyes didn’t pathetically dart back and forth between his eyes and dick you’d be able to read him.

you finally finished beating your face and spritzed setting spray to lock everything in. he’d been watching your entire process since the moment you patted your face dry from cleansing. you always started getting ready before him, but you both showered together.

a vanilla bean 3-wick candle was burning, he had the mood lights on in the room, and from your tv; ari lennox’s voice floated through the room. boy bye making you sing your heart out and reenact your own one-man dialogue. there he lay in bed, a towel around his shoulders, and his thumb scrolling through tik toks 

 toji didn’t find it necessary for you to get ready so early, more so, he didn’t really understand why you wore makeup, but he didn’t care. besides, he'd already spent hundreds of dollars buying you whatever products you desired, so he couldn’t complain. so, eventually, he’d learn your routine, and when he noticed you were finished he’d waltz on over. 

only hopping a mere foot off the bed and pacing forward with about twenty steps until he was right by your side. no underwear, no shirt; just sweats and his love-smitten grin, when he’d pull your face, c’mere you look so, sexy, for a kiss that involved way too much tongue. now you’d have to reapply your nude lip. 

grumbling an unpleasant “toji,” you shot a deathly gaze up at your husband. watching as he’d wipe a huge glossy layer off his lips with a smug look. 

“just cause it’s your birthday doesn’t mean you can get away with everything.”

“i can if you let me.” he dips down and pecks your lips again, ignoring the slowly mattifying lipstick you had on your cupid's bow. yet, you can’t really get mad, because you make the wrong mistake of taking too long to adjust your eyes — quite long if i may.

and you “mistakenly” get a look at the thing that has been slowly getting harder as he laid and watched you put on makeup. from watching you get up from your pink heart-shaped spinny chair, then over to the bathroom. he didn’t know what to focus on more, your ass swallowing up your thong; or the cute expression you’d make — especially when frustrated. safe to say both contributed to the small wet spot that formed along his right thigh. 

“it’s leaking, how long have you been hard for creep?” 

i forgot to mention that just before you too got in the shower, you were slobbering all over his dick. sucking on the tip, just so he would cum. you know he wanted to get one out, and you just had to assist. every chance you got you were on your knees begging for him to use your mouth. acting submissive and pouting until he tapped the dark, pulsing tip against your lips. 

you glanced up at him. fluttering your eyes shut — blinking two complete times before you smirked in the mirror. he chuckled; letting a puff of air zip out the corner of his lips with a pshh. the bright apricot-red powder that brought out the contour of your cheekbones lifted with your smile, and toji chuckled even more. 

you didn’t know why he was giggling, considering the fact that you saw the veins in his arms flexing as it moved down the length of his dick through his shorts. cupping it at the tip, and squeezing it real firm and nice when you’d moan out or whine from your arms being tired. 

“who knows,” he jutted his hips out, and crossed his arms over his chest, taking them out of the deep compartments of the sweat’s pockets. now it was more evident, you didn’t have to turn your head at all to see how his dick rested against his thigh, because it was right in your peripheral. the tip was the clearest thing. thick and hard; straining against the flimsy grey material. 

“so,” you peer up at him, and he peers down at you. the scar on the right side of his lip twitches when the corners of his lips raise up, “can i suck it?” 

you flip your wrist towards it and cup it in your hand again. you gawk at the size, and how you have to actually extend all your digits to get a grip on it. you squeeze it gently and fix your hand so that it’s situated “under” his dick. even though it is a bit harder since he’s wearing his sweats you still manage a good grip. 

“ ‘sss i’m still a bit sensitive from earlier.” he groans oddly loud, a bit out of character, but maybe he is that sensitive right now. you can’t really blame him, your mouth was feeling just a bit emptier earlier just like how it is now.  

“consider it another extra birthday present. just… dessert a bit early.” you clasp your arms around his thigh and press your cheeks against it. you bring it in for a hug and ruffle your hair against his leg since you didn’t want to mess up your makeup, and fuck! 

“and imma need dessert later.” he rasps. 

he just couldn’t find it in him to say no, no matter how short he’d last. 

two big arms swooped down to scoop you up bridal style. those two big, bulging arms had hands that lingered on your ass for quite a bit though; squeezing and fondling the jiggling flesh as he spun you in the air. he carried you both over to the edge of your california king and perched you on his lap. his hand slipped between your thighs, and his lips found purchase all over your skin. 

biting, nibbling, and sucking on your brown, glitter-covered skin. his lips tickled the skin of your collarbone and all up to your neck that he swore over and over tasted like honey. you used a tired arm to move your hair out of his path. the longer he kissed you, the more you slip off his lap, landing right by his feet. 

toji was aware of your impatience. you kept pawing at him through his sweats, take ‘em offs, and cute little cries rolled off your tongue. 

these th- take ‘em off, i wan’ ‘em off…

the well-filed shape of your nails, scratch and poke at the skin of his adonis belt making him twitch in a mix of plain and pleasure. 

“be gentle, princess, it’s not going anywhere.” 

you exaggerate an excessive eye roll and wait like a good girl. hands folded neatly against your thighs, and the top of one foot was crossed so it sat in the arch of the other. you wait and clench your fist, you dig your nails into your thighs as you watch him stand up. you’ll be “patient”, you’ll “wait”. when you think you’re just gonna stare and wait for him to drop his sweats his voice snaps you out of your daze. 

“up here,” he snaps his fingers and taps your cheeks with two fingers when you crane your neck to look up, “open.” your mouth opens immediately

he ducks down and spits in your mouth, tells you to “hold it,” with a smirk, “and you better not let any come out.” it’s warm and nearly slid down your throat because you adore every little thing toji gives you. he takes his sweet time with it. 

his fingers dance and skim around his waistband; playing with the elastic and snapping it away from his body. and surely, like always, he tugs them down painfully slow. shimmying out of them as if he’s you trying to get some jeans on. your calves feel sore from the weight of your butt, but you squeeze your eyes tight and shake your head to void that feeling. 

then in that instance, you hear it; the weight of him slapping against his stomach ‘thwack’. you drop your head foregoing any instruction, and moan at the sight, careful not to let his spit pour down the sides of your mouth. his perfectly trimmed hairs are the perfect background, and pre cum already dribbles down his stomach from his belly button. it rolls down and forms little beads in the hair. 

he takes it in his hands; smooths his fingers over his tip and carries the pre along his shaft. your brows scrunch together. you’re very impatient. not until he smacks it along your cheeks, and smacks it against your lips are you thinking this is going anywhere. it’s hot, and its weight has ghosting effects on you. you still feel the weight of it all over your face when he moves. he just slaps it against your cheek over and over. 

then he rubs the tip in between your thick lips. back and forth, “you better not open your mouth.” he moans. his

when he sits back on the fluffy mattress, he spreads his legs, and you scoot all the way forward so that there isn’t an inch of space. 

“i love your dick,” you praise and wrap your dainty hand around it, “‘s so big and perfect.” you suckle on the tip; lovingly and focused. your lips wrap perfectly around it, making it disappear from his view. his hips twitch when you do that, sucking on it like a straw trying to get all his nut out. “shit baby- jus’ tryna make me cum, huh?” 

“ ‘s working?” you look up. “i love it, i love it, i love it.”

you take your lips off him, but now without a well-emphasized smack of your lips, “is that a problem?” he laughed a short stream of air siphoning out his nose, before he dragged a heavy hand down his face, biting down on his lip when you warmed his tip in your mouth once again. he could feel his hips going crazy. rolling against the cushion and testing his shitty resolve.  

you suck his dick politely, but you manage to make it so nasty. slobbering, and drooling so that you both hear the tiny ‘pits’ ‘n ‘patters’ of your saliva dripping to the floor. small bubbles of spit coat his length and rid your lips of the beautiful matte lip you perfected 10 minutes ago. your hands are still planted on your thighs when you turn your head to rub your lips down his shaft. with each pass of your lips, you kiss and worship every part of it. 

“i just love your dick so much!” 

you poke your tongue out of your mouth and trace the veins that spiral his dick. two prominent veins, running nearly parallel to each other, and meeting just before it sprouts to the glans. you love to lick, poke and prod with your tongue then you kiss, suck, and love on it with your lips. your sweet lips drive him up a wall. 

he finds the teasing a waste of time. it’d be a waste if you weren’t spiraling yourself. when you bring your hands up, touch and rub, he grabs a handful of your hair; tilts your head back, and fits two fingers in your mouth. your tongue sucks on them, swirls around them as he pushes them as deep as his dick should be. he feels your mouth buzz around his fingers and your eyes are keen on what should be in your mouth.

you dismiss it and pull your head back. 

“i want this.” you wrap both hands around his dick, and stroke it. your wrap your fingers tightly around his dick. he bucks his hips up into your hand and keeps his hand in your hair. if you keep it up he’ll be cumming a little earlier than expected. 

“then suck it.” he pulls you closer and wraps another bit of your hair around his dick as he guides your mouth back to his dick. he yanks your head back and spits another glob of in your mouth, and you can’t lie his actions make you tear up. your eyes burn and a steady line of tears roll down your cheeks. when he manhandles your annoyance from the teasing, you always cry, because he gets a little rough; rougher than he’d like. the absence of your lips on his dick makes him groan. 

“come on don’t be crying on me, you know i love it when you do.” you attempt to protest, but when you open your mouth again he slides himself right in. he stuffs your face full — right to the hilt and he can feel your throat squeezing around him. you gag and choke around him. you place your hands on his thighs and squeeze the thick muscles of them; trying everything you can to relax your throat. you're trying every little thing possible to adjust to his dick that curves so obscenely down your throat. 

he’s stuffed himself so far down your throat it feels like he’s breaching your heart if he had just one more inch it feels like he’d reach it.

he pulls out, you breathe a short ‘gwah’ coming from you. 

“thought you wanted to suck it,” he grins, “or is it too much when i’m fucking your throat?” 

you ignore him and wipe your face; big mistake. if you know you know.

he returns to the usual; peering down at you for permission to continue. you nod and take a deep breath as he guides you back to him. he gives silent commands. he thrust back into your mouth and now does so in a steady motion. pulling out till only his tip is in your mouth then he’s rutting himself back into you. falling in love with the way your tongue curls around his dick. moaning at the curve of it down your throat. 

balls smacking your chin, and saliva falling all down the column of your throat, to your tits, and to the floor. “you’re a messy little slut, you know that.” 

your gaze raises when he says that, and he can feel the vibration of your whimpering around his cock. he stands up to make it easier to thrust himself in. the muscles of his thighs bulge as he gets up, and his deep purs and moans go straight to your head. making you feel light and capable. he situates both of his hands down your throat as your head bobs along his cock. 

“your mouth’s perfect. sucking dick like my personal little slut.” 

mhmm.

the salacious sounds of your mouth suctioning around his dick have his head feeling hazy. all he can think about is cumming, where? he’s unsure. but the way your throat continuously tightens around him has him ready to shoot white hot buckets down your throat. his tip twitches in your throat, and his fingers lace through your hair. taking a tighter hold. you take your hands and grab his ass. you squeeze tight, holding on for dear life because it feels like he could fuck your jaw right off. your nails dig into his skin tighter and tighter til the last snap of his hips against your face, and he’s pushing your head further into his groin. your nose is fully pushed against him, and you gag when you feel him emptying every bit of cum he has into your throat. 

then he’s pulling you off of him, and letting some of the spurts shoot up on your face. sticking to your lashes, pumping it out all over your cheeks, and groaning with each bit that shoots out the slit. he’s proud of his work, painting his favorite aspects of your face a pretty translucent cream. 

your cheeks puff out as you work to swallow the thick substance down.

it takes three big gulps for you to get it all down. three and then you're showing him your mouth; opening wide so he can see that it’s all gone, minus the bit of it that was stuck to the back of your tongue. your eye twitches from the taste, but you put on a happy smile disregarding the makeup that you’d have to redo. 

“you fuck me all the way up, you know that.” he plops his ass down onto the bed and catches his breath. getting sucked off by you! well… fucking your throat twice in less than two hours has stolen all of his energy. 

you kiss his tip one last time, and stand up on your feet. your thighs shift, and you can feel the wetness that grew in between your legs. you grow hot, but you bend down and give him a kiss, “happy birthday, my love.” 

“thank you, baby,” he gives a soft smile, and wraps his arms around your waist, “but do we really have to wait for dessert?” 

۵tagging: @eclpsess @venusflytrapstar @si00p @uwubraun @godhatesdimitri @sunnylovesfics @sirenh4ll @dimepdf @keke2fly06 @jellymantra33 @toji-dabi-wife @persona-enthusiast @luvrgalore

[altverse-invertverse]

(I got mediocre writing again so here y’all go, song here btw)

Writing

The violent storm raged outside for hours, bringing torrential rain and howling winds. The Lamb had instructed everyone to remain huddled in their tents until the storm subsided. Up on the temple's upper floor, Lamb and Xibalba found themselves alone. In the hushed atmosphere, Xibalba sharpened the blade of his axe on the bed, the rhythmic sound of the sharpening filling the air. Meanwhile, Lamb immersed themselves into the ancient history of the gods, studying the books they had salvaged from Shamuras's library at their desk.

In a moment of frustration, Lamb groaned loudly, breaking the silence as they put their hands to their face. They could barely understand anything in the books. It was all like a riddle or a puzzle, with every point leading to a dead end of even more questions and fewer answers. How would they ever get the hang of their new responsibilities if they couldn’t even make sense of them?

Xibalba glanced at Lamb, setting his axe aside before asking, "You okay over there, Lamby?" with a touch-tone of worry in his voice. Lamb glanced over at him, letting out a soft sigh before answering the Goat.

“ Yes, well- no.. not really. It’s just, these stupid books! “ the Lamb began, removing their hands from their face. “ Nothing makes sense, if it’s not one dead end it’s two, not only that but many of these books are in an entirely different language! How the hell am I supposed to read these, plus the only people who know how to read this text won’t even help-“ The lamb ranted before abruptly being lifted from their chair and held under the goat's arm.

Lamb, caught off guard, squirmed and shouted trying to get free. “ What- Hey! Xibalba, Xibalba put me down! “ the lamb kicked their feet whilst Xibalba hushed them, walking over to the radio and hitting the play button, letting the melody of music fill the room. Despite the Lambs struggling, Xibalba was able to get them to stay still for a moment, starting to dance with them, beginning to sing along with the song.

“ Yo tengo claro todo lo que siento,

que pa' dudarlo no me queda tiempo

Baby, yo me muero, no te supero,

Loco por verte de nuevo~ ”

As the goat sang, he twirled and dipped the Lamb, who couldn't help but burst into laughter, feeling their frustration melting away. As the music reached its end, the two came to a stop, both laughing, before silence filled the room once again.

“ Thank you, I... I really needed that “ the lamb spoke, clearing their throat while looking down at the floor. It had been a long time since they let loose and had some fun. They had been restricting themselves from having any until they could make progress with the books. Xibalba smiled, letting go before patting them on the head.

" Of course, what are friends for? Besides, you need to relax or you'll get burnt out, " he replied, crossing his arms before speaking again. " How about this? I'll help you figure out the books if you start taking proper breaks. Capiche?"

"Really?" the lamb said, excitement written all over their face, their tail wagging slightly.

"Really, I promise."

"Hah! In that case, count me in!

[eymie]

Billy x fem reader where she likes horses or tends to them and thats how billy and her meet?

i’ve been so so busy i’m sorry this took a while. also i was feeling like writing something fluffy but i might make a part two with smut. ((probably) definitely*)

It’s also been a hot minute since I’ve rode a horse so bear with me.

part two

SWEET TOOTH !

You kept to yourself most the times. Only coming into town when you needed to, soft smiles to people who nodded at you.

Your family owned a farm not too far past town, growing up spending most your time in the barn you became acquainted with the horses. You fed them and tended to them. They were like your closest friends. You were homeschooled by your aunt who used to be a teacher herself so you never met many other kids your age.

When your parents got older you started making more town trips for them, making business deals, the doctors, the bank. Most people in town were friendly with you, many bought your goat milk or your eggs.

You tied up your favourite horse to the fence post. Pulling a sugar cube from your pocket, which embarrassingly enough you always kept on you. They were expensive and your mother would have your head if she found out but you couldn’t help it, horses loved them

You fed your favourite horse, Aspen, a small sugar cube. Scratching in between her ears, kissing her cheek.

“Atta girl, don’t go talking to strangers.” She nuzzled against your shoulder as you walked off into a shop. Your father had asked you to grab a new hammer while you were out so he could fix up a few loose floorboards. You looked back out the window to make sure Aspen was still tied up.

“Oh, hello darlin’” You turned to see one of the ladies who was a loyal customer. She was a sweet older lady, always stopping by for some eggs. “Rarely see you in town.”

“Yeah, I know.” You smiled, admiring the way her clothes were neat and clean. Her husband made good money and her kids were grown. “Don’t got any eggs on me, sorry ma’am.”

“Oh don’t worry ‘bout that, still got plenty. I know where to find you if I run out.” You nodded, going back to your shopping. Usually you had a stand in town to sell your eggs, or some shops sold for you but you had your specialty customers.

You grabbed one of the cheaper hammers off the shelf, walking over to the register area. You placed it on the table, pulling out your cash. As you hand the worker your money you look over to see a man and your horse.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.” You quietly thank the worker, grabbing your change and hammer and running out the store. The man turned to look at you, backing off a bit. “What’re you doin’?”

“Oh, nothing miss.” He stepped away from your horse a bit, his eyes darting down to the hammer in your hand. “Not going to hit me with that are you?”

You look down at the hammer in your hand and quickly put it away in your bag.

“‘Course not, m’not an animal.” You stepped closer, he didn’t back away this time. You noticed a pistol in his holster. “You can’t be talking much anyway with that gun in your pocket.”

“I suppose not.” He muttered, lifting his hat off his head. “Got a nice horse here.”

“I know that,” You look down to notice an apple in the man’s hand. You step closer again, rubbing your hand along Aspens side. “Where’s yours?”

“Oh, Lady’s just over there.” He nods to a horse tied up across the road at a boarding house. You thought she suited him quite nice.

“So you just come over introducing yourself to every horse in town.” You ask, admiring his messy brown hair. He had a bit of dirt on his nose but you weren’t going to point it out.

“Well not every horse comes along with a girl as pretty as you.” You blushed, looking down at the dusty ground. Sure a few men flirted with you in the past, but none as handsome as this man in front of you.

“That for her?” You point out the apple in his hand. He grabs your hand, placing the fresh apple into it.

“She looked a bit hungry.” He said, watching as you held the apple flat on your hand for her. He admired as you rubbed behind her ear as she ate from the palm of your hand. “Looks like she’s got a sweet tooth.”

“She sure does.” You smile, feeding her the last of the apple. You rubbed her cheek as she leaned down to get some of the apple chunks that had fell.

“She got a name?” The man asked, tilting his head. He really was awfully pretty, nice too. His arm rested against Aspen, fingers tracing her.

“Not telling unless you’d like to tell me yours.” You never flirted with a man before, you didn’t mean to be now but it came off that way. He laughed a bit look down and then back up at you.

“Billy,” He told you. You liked the way his name sounded, the way if rolled right off the tongue. His name suited him.

“I like that name.” You admitted, feeling almost too honest and blunt once you said it. Your cheeks flushed a bit in embarrassment.

“Mmm, there’s better out there.” He hummed, stepping a bit closer to you. You would’ve backed up if it was any other man you were talking to. If you knew who he was you should’ve been. “Now you gonna tell me or what?”

He was playful with his words, not intimidating or threatening.

“Aspen, but I got a few more horses back at home.” You thought about what it would be like to invite Billy to your farm, show him around the barn.

“Yeah?” He looked up at you, almost like he was asking a question. You looked like the sweetest girl he’d seen in a while, innocent and honest.

“Maybe I could show you sometime, how long you stayin’?” You really did wanna talk to him, knowing you probably wouldn’t be back in town for a little while. You didn’t want to miss the opportunity.

“I’d like that.” He nodded, putting his hat back on his head. The dark brim shadowing his face. “What’s your name?”

“Well that’s a secret.” You giggled, untying Aspen from the post. Billy didn’t have to help you mount her like he would’ve tried with other girls.

“How am I gonna find you without a name?” He asked, looking up at you. You shrugged, and he furrowed his dark eyebrows.

“I better be headin’ home, bye Billy.” You clicked your heels, Aspen backing up a bit. You turned back to look at Billy who was still waiting your name. “I’ll keep my word, promise.”

“I’d hope so.” He tilted his head, nodding you a goodbye. He watched as you and Aspen rode down the dusty road.

“What you doin’ talking to the farm girl.” He turned at the voice, the butcher was leaving the shop purchasing new knives. He was a burly man, usually buying your chickens and pigs if you.

“Farm girl?”

“Yeah, she lives with her family on that farm on the edge of town.” Billy nodded, knowing just how he could see you again.

masterlist

[ilguna]

22 from prompt list 2 with Finnick please? Reader is taken by the Capitol after the Quarter Quell?

☼ anything for her (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, mentions of sex trafficking and prostitution, death, death mention, bomb mention, torture mention, a noose mention.

wc; 4.3k

notes; 22. "They won't take you away from me ever again."

--

“How did you meet Peeta?” Cressida asks Katniss.

She’s currently sitting on top of a fallen marble pillar, a result of the bombing that took place four days ago. Finnick, as well as many others, stand in the crater together, watching the Mockingjay. She has one hand in her lap, the other rubs the smooth rock while she thinks.

Katniss takes a breath, readying herself, and then breathes it out. “When I met Peeta, I was eleven years old, and I was almost dead.” She starts, before going on to tell the story of the awful day. She tells the camera that she had been trying to sell her younger sister’s baby clothes in the rain because they had been starving. 

By the time the market had closed, the hunting jacket that Katniss was wearing had been soaked through. She’d been shaking so badly that she dropped the clothes entirely, straight into a mud puddle, but instead of retrieving it, she left it there, afraid that if she bent over, she wouldn’t stand up again.

She didn’t want to go home, so she continued to stumble through the muddy streets of District Twelve, until she found herself behind the shops that served the rich. She explains that the merchants lived above their businesses, so she was basically in their backyards. She recalls seeing the garden beds not yet planted, a goat or two in a pen, and one wet dog tied to a post, hunched over.

At that moment, she decided that she’d tried to search the trash bins because they were fair game. She was hoping to find scrap, something that no one else would want except for her family. Unfortunately, all the bins had just been emptied. She still tried, going from shop to shop.

When she had gotten to the baker’s—Peeta’s family’s bakery—she was stuck. The smell of the bread was dizzying, the glow of the oven peeked out from beneath the kitchen door, and the heat held her there just long enough. Then the rain brought her back, she lifted the trash lid, and found nothing.

Peeta’s mother, the baker’s wife, appeared to tell her to move on, threatening to call the Peacekeepers. She told Katniss that she was sick of brats from the Seam pawing through her trash. And despite how ugly the words that came from her were, she had no defense.

She went to leave, but noticed him. Peeta. He was standing behind his mother, and Katniss recognized him from school, knew he was in her grade, yet couldn’t recall his name. He spent his time with the town kids, there was no reason for her to know who he was.

Katniss didn’t go far, only to sit behind the pen that held their pig, leaning against the far side of a strong apple tree. The realization that she would go home empty handed again had finally hit her. With this, she felt sick, sliding down the tree to sit on the roots.

Katniss’s voice is low when she speaks, “‘Let them call the Peacekeepers and take us to the community home,’ I thought, ‘Or better yet, let me die right here in the rain’.” 

She pauses for a second, and then says that she heard a commotion in the bakery, the wife suddenly screaming, the sound of a blow. She thought that it was his mother coming out to drive her away, but it was Peeta. In his arms, he held two large loaves of bread with crusts that were scorched black.

“His mother was yelling, ‘Feed it to the pig, you stupid creature! WHy not? No one decent will buy burned bread!’.”

Peeta began to rip off chunks of the burned bread to toss them into the trough. His mother had been standing over his shoulder until the front bakery bell rang, which called her to the shop to help the customer. 

Katniss says that Peeta never glanced in her direction, but her eyes were on him. They were glued to the red mark that stood out against his skin on his cheekbone. While she began to wonder what she hit him with, he took one glance back at the bakery, returned to looking at the pigs, and then tossed a loaf toward Katniss. The second one quickly followed.

Without a word, Peeta went back inside of the bakery, closing the door behind him.

Katniss was stunned for a long moment, unsure if he’d actually meant to toss them at her feet. When she realized that he must’ve, she shoved them beneath her shirt, pulled the hunting jacket tightly around her body, and walked away before anyone could come forth as a witness. She says that the heat of the bread had burned her skin, but she wasn’t going to let them go.

The loaves had cooled by the time she got home, the insides still being warm. She made her mother and sister sit at the table while she cut off the burnt part. From there, they ate an entire loaf, slice by slice. 

“We had never even spoken. The first time I ever talked to Peeta was on the train to the Games.” Katniss finishes.

“But he was already in love with you.” Cressida says,

“I guess so.” Katniss has a small smile on her face.

"How are you doing with the separation?”

“Not well.” She admits, “I know at any moment Snow could kill him. Especially since he warned Thirteen about the bombing. It’s a terrible thing to live with. But because of what they’re putting him through, I don’t have any reservations anymore. About doing whatever it takes to destroy the Capitol. I’m finally free.” She tilts her head back, looking at the sky. At the same time, a hawk soars above. 

She continues, “President Snow once admitted to me that the Capitol was fragile. At the time, I didn’t know what he meant. It was hard to see clearly because I was so afraid. Now I’m not. The Capitol’s fragile because it depends on the districts for everything. Food, energy, even the Peacekeepers that police us. If we declare our freedom, the Capitol collapses. President Snow, thanks to you, I’m officially declaring mine today.”

Cressida holds up a hand, the recording stops. Katniss gets to her feet, brushing the debris from her butt while the camera crew regroups. When she glances in Finnick’s way, he gives her an encouraging smile.

A few feet away, Plutarch Heavensbee has a crease between his eyebrows, eyes staring at a chunk of the concrete a few feet away, gears turning in his head. While Katniss’s story about how she first encountered Peeta was sweet, it wasn’t captivating enough. At least to him. He needs a story that will keep the Capitol citizens glued to the television screen for every second.

His eyes physically light up, head rising. His eyes land on Finnick first, beckoning him over, and then Haymitch. Finnick starts forward, pulling his hands out of his pockets, but never letting go of the rope that keeps him occupied. He runs his thumb over the worn fibers, eyebrows raising.

“We need more.” Plutarch says as soon as they’re in earshot. His attention is set on Haymitch. “A story with more,” He motions with his hands. Finnick gets what he’s trying to say, he wants grand. Something that will have the Capitol scrambling. “I was wondering if you had anything like that.”

Haymitch’s face screws in. “What are you suggesting?”

“Something that the Capitol hasn’t heard of before. Your Games weren’t rerun the same way the others were. No one knows the full story.” Plutarch is trying to lay it on gently, but it’s fairly obvious what he’s asking for.

Haymitch’s stare becomes hard, eyes narrowing. “I’m not doing that.”

“Not even to save Peeta?”

“No.” 

Now Plutarch looks at Finnick. “I know you have some to tell, or at least one that will work.”

“He doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do.” Haymitch says.

“This will help to get (Y/n) out of the Capitol.” Plutarch emphasizes. “Not everyone knows what happens to the victors following their win. Only the elite has access to information like that. If it gets out, then this will have the Capitol scrambling to silence us.”

Finnick can feel the blood run from his face and begin to pool at his feet. He knows what Plutarch is asking for. He wants Finnick to open up about what had been happening to him for years. What he was instructed to do as soon as he turned sixteen, and what he carried on doing from then on.

His forced prostitution—the sex trafficking. It’s not something that Finnick talks about openly whenever he wants. In fact, he takes care to hide it as much as possible, to make it a minor factor of his life. As if it’s not as big of a deal as everyone makes it out to be.

Because of it, he purposely adopted the persona that everyone sees. It worked out in his favor, not even Mags knew what was happening to him. It wasn’t until he started to date his sweet girlfriend, you did the mask begin to fall apart. He had to tell you what was happening to him to keep you from thinking that he was cheating on you. 

For four years he had bottled that detail inside of him, and as soon as he spoke it out loud, the glass shattered. He couldn’t reel in the uncontrollable tears that overcame him, as you tried to console him. At the end of the night, he was sure he’d scared you off. But you came around the next morning, never speaking about his darkest secret until he brought it up himself.

It became easier to talk about the more you listened. It didn’t feel like a hot iron was burning inside of his body each time he thought about it anymore. When he was sure that he had passed the first hurdle, he finally told Mags. From then on, he was able to live with it a little easier because he finally had the support he needed.

That doesn’t mean it made it any easier to do. It was like a knife was being held to his throat. President Snow could destroy his life if he wanted to. One toe out of line and his family would be gone.

What Finnick never took into consideration was that he could turn it around to be a weapon of his own. Right now. He can expose Snow the same way he stripped Finnick down to his bare bones. And it would be a way to help his girlfriend, to bring her back to him.

“Okay.” Finnick slowly nods. “I’ve got one.”

Plutarch raises his eyebrows, holding a hand out to the pillar as a way to direct him over. “Good, good.”

Finnick moves to sit in the same spot where Katniss had been moments prior. The camera crew notices this, Cressida watches as Plutarch draws closer, telling them that it’s his turn to speak.

“You don’t have to do this.” Haymitch tells Finnick.

“Yes, I do. If it will help her.” Finnick balls the rope up in his hand. “I’m ready.”

The crew takes a moment to find the right lightning for Finnick, adjusting several times until it’s up to Cressida’s liking. When it’s perfect, she counts down from five, but Finnick doesn’t start speaking until the red light on the camera comes to life.

Regret hits Finnick like a truck.

This is for (Y/n), he reminds himself, this is to bring her home.

“President Snow used to… sell me… my body, that is.” Finnick starts slowly, wanting to get this right. He watches as Cressida stiffens where she stands. “I wasn’t the only one. If a victor is considered desirable, the president gives them as a reward or allows people to buy them for an exorbitant amount of money. If you refuse, he kills someone you love. So you do it.”

He presses his lips together, eyes wandering away. This confession does not feel the same way it did when he told you and Mags. Then, it was shameful. Now, there’s a drive of power behind it. And Finnick’s in control.

“I wasn’t the only one, but I was the most popular.” He looks at the camera. “And perhaps the most defenseless, because the people I loved were so defenseless. To make themselves feel better, my patrons would make presents of money or jewelry, but I found a much more valuable form of payment.

“Secrets.” He hisses the S, “And this is where you’re going to want to stay tuned, President Snow, because so very many of them were about you. But let’s begin with some of the others.”

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face as he goes over his experiences in detail so vividly that it’s impossible to think he made it up on his own. He tells stories of abnormal sexual preferences, betrayals of the heart, endless greed, and power plays that ended in blood.

They were drunk and high secrets that had been murmured in the dead of night. 

Finnick had been bought and sold for eight years, which he will never be able to get back. The innocence was stolen from him, and this is Finnick beginning his revenge. The longer he speaks, the more confident he grows. When he started, he didn’t want to list names, but once one slips, the rest begin to tumble from his mouth, followed by their offense.

Finnick knows he’s heading in the right direction when he watches Cressida’s eyes widen with every important name spoken. He knows how the Capitol works. All it takes is a bad tattoo or the wrong haircut, and a person’s reputation is temporarily tarnished as it’s passed around like a plague. 

What will come of accusations of incest, back-stabbing, blackmail and arson?

What will become of their leader? “And now, on to our good President Coriolanus Snow. Such a young man when he rose to power. Such a clever one to keep it. How, you must ask yourself, did he do it? One word. That’s all you really need to know. Poison.” Finnick emphasizes.

He starts from the beginning, using the pieces he put together throughout the years to paint a picture for those who will be listening. He points out every mysterious death that had happened surrounding Snow. Mainly his adversaries, but sometimes even his allies who appeared as threats in his eyes.

Figures that had died suddenly or slowly. Blamed on bad seafood, silent viruses, or overlooked weakness in the aorta. Snow would drink from a poisoned cup himself to deflect suspicion. Antidotes don’t always work. That’s why there’s a rumor on why the smell of roses is so strong. It’s to cover the metallic scent of blood from blisters in his mouth that will never heal.

They say that Snow has a list and no one knows who will be next.

Even when it’s clear to Finnick that there’s nothing else to tell, he has to be the one to say, “Cut.”

The camera crew hardly murmurs a goodbye before they’re scurrying inside to edit the material to weaponize it. Plutarch places a hand on Finnick’s shoulder, giving him a solemn nod. There were a few surprised reactions that came from Plutarch, himself. Despite the fact that he’d been a Gamemaker for years and might have known half of those facts.

“Thank you.” 

Finnick stands from the marble pillar. “Anything for (Y/n). Anything.”

“In that case, do you have any other stories to tell that might help with propo’s?” Plutarch begins to direct him to the door to go back inside of the bunker.

“I’d have to think about it.” Finnick says.

With their little quest being done, there’s nothing left for him to do besides wait for the volunteers to come back with the prisoners. Finnick spends his time with Katniss, as they move from place to place. They start in Special Defense, tying knots, chatting quietly. They push their lunch around their plates, appetite absent.

Together, they go to bother Beetee in the shooting range, where he’s shown a trident he’s never seen before. He learns how to properly wield a bow, albeit terribly, just to be able to send explosive arrows at the target. 

With how dangerous the mission is, no communication is allowed to or from the rescue team. In the evening, Katniss and Finnick gather back in Special Defense, standing on the far side of the room away from the screens and computer, watching as Beetee and his team go hack through. His usual twitchy demeanor is completely replaced by determination.

He uses as much of Katniss’s interview as he can, but it’s Finnick’s confession that is the main show. Beetee remarks that their counter-attacks are weak, they aren’t trying to silence the rebels as much as he thought they would. Still, for the next hour, they battle back and forth. With the Capitol trying to wall off the interview with the afternoon newscast or blacking out the feed altogether.

The black out fails, as the rebel team takes control of the feed and manages to control it for almost the entire attack on Snow.

“Let it go!” Beetee declares, throwing up his hands. He reaches to wipe the sweat from his face with a nearby cloth. “If they’re not out of there by now, they’re all dead.” He spins around in the chair to face Finnick and Katniss. “It was a good plan, though. Did Plutarch show it to you?”

No, he did not. So Beetee wheels in front of them to take them to another room, where the plan is fleshed out in full. With the victors being held prisoner underground, they had to get creative. They’ve used knockout gas distributed by the ventilation system, a power failure, the detonation of a bomb in a government building several miles away, and now the disruption of the broadcast.

Finnick and Katniss find the entire plan hard to follow, but Finnick gets the gist of it. With so many failures happening at once, that means the Capitol will be strung out and they’ll have to tackle each task one at a time. He’s just hoping that this was enough to give the rebels time to get the victors out of the prison without being shot down.

“It’s good news you found the plan hard to follow.” Beetee adjusts his glasses. “Because then our enemies will, too.”

“Like your electricity trap in the arena?” Katniss asks.

“Exactly. And see how well that worked out?”

There’s nothing else to do but wait, and this becomes glaringly obvious when they’re not let back into Command. They choose to stay in Special Defense, moving to the hummingbird room to wait for an update. 

It’s torture. 

Finnick tries to tie knots, going down the list of the ones he knows in alphabetical order. It’s a lot, yet not quite enough at the same time. He goes down the list five times before the dark thoughts begin to creep in. What if the rescue team failed, and no one’s coming back?

Haymitch comes in briefly to tell them that there’s no news, and then he leaves. About an hour later, dinner is served, but both of them deny having it brought up to them. Katniss begins to bleed from her knots, wiping the maroon liquid on her jumpsuit, continuing to tie her noose.

Finnick can’t go down the list again, otherwise he’ll go crazy. So, he stuffs the rope into his pocket and hunches over on the bench, teeth grit. Katniss begins to hum a tune, holding up her noose in the air to look at it, before dropping it down onto the bench.

“Did you love (Y/n) right away, Finnick?” She asks.

“No.” Finnick murmurs, because it’s the truth. 

When you first won the Hunger Games, you were fifteen years old. By then, he was already seventeen. He’d already had two years of experience regarding Capitol abuse. And all he could see in you was the exact same fate. This is why he took special care to keep a distance between you two.

With you being so young and naive—absolutely no clue that your actions could have consequences—you did what you thought was right. You were sweet, you were kind to everyone you met before and after your Games. You took every compliment with grace and took your time to return with one, even if it wasn’t heartfelt.

That doesn’t mean you weren’t smart, because you are. Enough to the point where you managed to trick the Gamemakers into giving you a higher score than you deserved, getting you sponsors. In the arena, you found out how to maintain the appearance that you knew what you were doing. Despite the fact that it was obvious to every other person from the districts that you were clueless.

And you were pretty. You are pretty, beautiful, gorgeous, every adjective under the sun. If Finnick could see it, the Capitol could see it. He heard your name mentioned almost every time he met with a client, and yet, you were never pulled aside by President Snow.

Finnick would like to say that he wasn’t jealous of you, but he was. Which became loathing, that only grew worse with time. You knew that he didn’t like you, and instead of taking the hint and leaving him alone, you purposely got close. You got to know him, his habits, his feelings. 

He hated it in the beginning, but the truth is that Finnick was lonely and he felt misunderstood by everyone because of the rumors. You never let judgement get in the way, you never let Finnick hurt your feelings. And you respected his boundaries. Whether he liked it or not, you were growing on him.

In the course of a year and a half, he went from considering you a pest to one of his closest friends. He was able to let down his guard. Before he knew it, he had feelings for you. Which he was sure weren’t reciprocated, but you surprised him. Ever since, you’ve been by his side. 

Which is why this doesn’t feel right. 

“She crept up on me.” Finnick tells Katniss.

It must be midnight when Haymitch finally pushes open the door. “They’re back. We’re wanted in the hospital.” Katniss opens her mouth to speak, Haymitch doesn’t give her the opportunity. “That’s all I know.”

She’s back, a voice whispers.

Finnick is frozen where he stands, staring at Haymitch with wide eyes. Katniss takes a step toward the door, but when he doesn’t move with her, she reaches back to grab his hand. Finnick lets her lead him through Special Defense, into the elevator, and on to the hospital wing.

As soon as they step foot through the doors, she lets go. The hospital is in chaos, with orders being shouted back and forth, the wounded volunteers being wheeled across the floor. Immediately, they’re sideswiped by a gurney holding an unconscious woman with a shaved head.

Finnick recognizes her, it’s Johanna. Her skin is blemished with bruises and oozing scabs, a price to pay for being a rebel. For not telling the Capitol what they’d wanted to know about the plan.

Is this how (Y/n) will look? The thought lights an intense fire in his stomach, and even worse, fear begins to creep up. Did they hurt you?

“Gale.” Katniss says, gravitating toward her friend. He’s stripped down to the wait to allow the doctors to work at his shoulder, pulling out shrapnel. There’s sweat dripping down his face. Katniss doesn’t make it further than three steps before she’s shut out entirely.

“Finnick!” A shrill voice calls—your shrill voice calls.

Finnick’s head whips in the direction, feet starting even without a certain direction. He finds you, throwing off a sheet, revealing that your delicate skin has been compromised with cuts. They must not bother you, because you’re on your feet, a wide smile spread across your face, arms out to him.

“(Y/n).” He breathes, picking up speed.

His body slams into yours, arms wrapping around your body to lift you in the air. He can feel your fingertips running through his hair, nails lightly scratching his scalp as you pull him closer. Finnick presses his cheek into your collarbone, feeling your kisses against his temple.

A swarm of butterflies escapes the cage in his chest when he hears your laughter, but they die quickly when he feels you begin to shake with sobs. Finnick lets you back down, allowing your feet to touch the white tile, yet he doesn’t let go. His heart squeezes when you look at him with tear-filled eyes, bottom lip wobbling.

“I’ve got you, honey.” He murmurs, brushing the hair from your face.

You’ve got a tight grip on the front of his jumpsuit. His eyes lock on your discolored knuckles, a sign that you must’ve gotten into a fight while you were being kept prisoner in the Capitol. His face screws.

“I was afraid I wasn’t going to see you again.” You admit with a wavering voice. “It was getting bad, Finnick.”

“I’d never let that happen, babe.” He whispers. “They won’t take you away from me ever again. I won’t let them.”

“I know.” A tear escapes, running down your skin. 

Finnick’s quick to wipe it away.

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this was part of my 3k celebration!!