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sylusgworl · 2 days ago

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PACKED WITH CARE ft. zayne

content: hurt/comfort, fluff, fem!reader, pre-relationship, reader is used to having to take care of herself, until zayne shows that he, too, cares.

a/n: loved this request, i hope it's not rushed since i'm trying to catch up on the requests i received <33 wc: 1.2k. rbs are very appreciated <3 - check here to see the request - not proofred yet!!

m.list - TAGLIST - read here if you want to request - read on AO3

Everything’s ready.

You look at your packed backpack with a satisfied grin, while the familiar rumble of Zayne’s car reaches your ears.

Tissues, portable charger, wet wipes, waterbottle… you don’t want to find yourself in need of anything while being outside. You have everything planned out, your small backpack filled to the brim with everything you deem necessary for your outing.

It was a habit you picked up with the years, having only yourself to rely on, so with the passing of time, you’d learned what to take with you, in order to be safe.

The bell rings, so you run to the front door and open it with gleeful expectation.

The brunette you were so impatient to meet stands in front of you with the same confidence but tranquility you’ve always envied him.

“Hello,” he lets out with a tiny smile and eyes gleaming with joy, his hands tucked behind his back, that he soon stretches out to you, revealing the most beautiful, pearly white bouquet of Jasmine flowers.

“Hi Zayne—thank you for the flowers,” your voice thins to a whisper while admiring the flowered buds in his hands.

You take them from him, so slowly, as if they might break and he nods in response, a pink tint warming up his cheeks—yours are already on fire, you can feel them, as well as the quickening pace of your heartbeat.

Realizing he’d been standing there for a while, you move from the doorstep, “please, come in while I put these in a vase. I’ll be quick.”

You make a u-turn, and he follows suit, quietly walking behind you, his eyes never wandering around, in order to maintain your privacy. He’s never been the nosy type.

“Please, make yourself comfortable. Would you like some water?” You ask him, your gaze looking around to find the perfect flowerpot for the jasmines.

He shakes his head, sitting down on the sofa, and taking the place you previously were in.

It is then that you are reminded of the little mess of packets of tissues, make up stuff and just random—but useful—junk lying around.

Embarrassed, you turn away from him, hoping he’d just ignore everything. Because he is Zayne, and he never bothers with other people’s ways of life, unless they are a danger to their life. It probably came from his profession as a doctor.

A muffled clatter comes from your direction, as you turn the cupboards upside down, only to finally rejoice as you find a small green pot that is just perfect for the flowers.

On the other hand, the man who’s sitting in your living room can't stop his eyes from looking at your backpack, all packed and ready, in one corner of the sofa.

He chuckles, then clears his voice to mask the involuntary sound that came out without his permission.

He’d seen that very same backpack. You’d carry it around every time you had to go out—but not necessarily on dates with him.

Judging from the objects cluttering the floor and coffee table, he understood you’d usually load it with necessities.

He nods while glimpsing at some make up products, at no one in particular—it’s a habit that slipped out sometimes.

When you’re ready to go, Zayne and you leave the house, the thoughts of the brunette unknown to you for the time being.

Zayne was the caring type, although most people put him on a pedestal and judged him as cold and hard to get along with.

But to you, he was undoubtedly the sweetest and kindest man, a true gentleman that you’d only ever dreamed of.

So, on your next date with him, he sends a very unusual text.

Zayne: Don’t bring your backpack. A small bag will do.

You furrow your eyebrows, rereading the text message, and checking the contact twice to be sure it was actually from him.

Nervousness creeps up at you, tightening around your heart and mind, as useless thoughts slowly make way in your head.

You think he might be displeased by your backpack, that sometimes did appear too big and just not suitable for the occasion.

You throw your phone on the bed, gulping down hard, while you start your search for a small purse that won’t actually make you ashamed.

You find it after minutes of searching.

Too small.

It can’t compare to your usual backpack. The most you can tuck in it is your phone, wallet, keys and… nothing else.

You sigh heavily, praying you won’t need anything of the usual toiletries, snacks etc. you carry around.

The car ride is silent, the only filler sound being an old 90s song playing on the radio.

When the two of you reach your destination—a small but elegant seafood restaurant, new fears make way in your restless mind.

What if I get sauce on my clothes? What if I need sanitizer? What if the water doesn't work in the restrooms?

No matter how wild your thoughts are, you can’t stop them.

So, with a racing heart, you clasp your hands together in your lap, playing with the straps of your tiny black bag, as Zayne drives the car in an empty parking spot.

The dinner goes smoothly, your previous tension quickly forgotten, as the chats with Zayne lift your spirits.

You think you can finally relax, until you get something on your cheek and feel the need to reapply your fading lipgloss.

You try to wipe out the chocolate sauce from the dessert, but Zayne beats you to it.

He fishes out some wipes from his bag—you’d never seen him carry one, you are actually surprised.

Smoothly, he reaches for your face and skillfully wipes the slight mess.

You thank him embarrassed, your hands fumbling for the familiarity of your backpack, only to remember you’d left it home.

Resting against your chair with little elegance, you sigh, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Zayne.

“Do you need something?” He asks you with tenderness, clearing his voice while opening his backpack and looking at you.

His cheeks have turned pink. Cute.

You gulp, thinking whether to tell him or not. But before you can answer, he keeps going.

“I’ve noticed you’d been carrying around a backpack where you put your necessities. I think, at least for our future dates, I can bring everything you need,” his tone is almost hushed, shyness taking over his voice.

“It might be too heavy for you to carry everytime.”

You widen your eyes in disbelief, your previous misjudgment fading into thin air the same way it came to be.

Warmth spreads in your chest, and you feel your eyes tingle at the corners, but you blink back the tears and smile—sincerely, the actions of the too-caring man in front of you making you fall for him even deeper.

Some time passes by, none of you speak further, until, with a low tone, you mutter “lipgloss” and Zayne obeys.

“What shade? I brought a couple of each, you can choose what suits you most.”

And you smile again, tenderly, picking up your favourite shade, “thank you, really” leaves your lips, and Zayne nods.

His warm jade pools glimmer with affection.

“From now on, just tell me if you need me to get anything. You aren’t a bother.”

You’d kiss him then and there, if the restaurant was empty.

taglist: @silver--47 @lamogliedizayne @marinenox @digitalotu5 @mylifedoesntexist @didudjjd

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thatonebluehedgehog · 1 day ago

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hiiii i have a request plss. can it be a stray kids one? their reactions when she comes without permission in bed and is being bratty the whole time? you don't have to do it if your not comfortable i will totally understand! no pressure and take your time! tyyyy 🫶 (also, lee know is my bias so if you could just zoom in on his reactions a little more that would be awesome) tyyyyyy.

How would the boys react to you finishing without permission?

Thank you for the ask! I’m doing things a little out of order, but I’ve had some good requests, so I’m going to try to get to some of them.

Please excuse any time it takes me to write; I’m currently becoming a victim of the fanfic writer curse. Again.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: brat taming, light choking, spanking, rough handling (manhandling?), mean!skz, degradation, they are rather impolite

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One of the unspoken agreements between you and your boyfriend was that if you acted like a brat, you got treated like one. And today, you acted out of line all day. Rolling your eyes, ignoring him, testing him.

His patience had run out. By the third time you bet him he couldn’t make you cum before him, he was fuming.

“Alright, then.” His voice was quiet, but commanding. Your stomach dropped. You knew what was coming.

So really, you can’t blame him for the situation you’re in now! Leaned over the bed, him jackhammering into you and making your head fuzzy. He had left any regard for your body behind.

And, god, it felt good.

Your body felt light, the rubber band in your stomach tightening more and more against his relentless attack on that spot that made you see stars. You knew you weren’t supposed to give in.

You knew you had to behave, but before you could stop yourself, you were squeezing him like a vice and whimpering his name into the bed.

His hips stilled behind you.

“Did you just come?”

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Bangchan

Chan’s first reaction was to tighten his grip on your hips. After a moment of surprise, he cocked his head to the side. He pulled your head back by your hair, craning your neck to make eye contact with him.

“Did I give you any sign that you could cum without my permission?” His voice was low, menacing.

“No, sir.” You stuttered, still breathless from your orgasm. He smiled a little bit at that, seeming to find your answer incredulous.

“That’s what I thought. Well, now we’ve gotta keep it going, huh?” His voice sounded playful.

Oh, shit.

He was going to overstimulate you until you couldn’t feel your legs.

Your eyes widened as the weight of your own actions hit you, and he saw it on your face. His reaction was to shove your face down into the bed by your hair, giving you a harsh smack on your thigh.

“One day, you’ll figure it out, princess.”

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Lee Know

The moment you squeezed around him and whimpered lowly, he froze. His eyebrow rose, and a smirk spread across his face. You were trying to keep your legs still, to see if you could get away with what you had just done.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to when you heard a low chuckle behind you, a mix of disbelief and condescension. Your head fell into the bed with disappointment as he pulled out of you. Every move was too slow, and you were still eager.

But you weren’t allowed to be eager anymore. He stood behind you for just a moment before flipping you over and pulling you by the ankle until you were flush together, and his painfully hard dick was lying against your stomach.

“You said you would be good.” His smirk was humiliating. You knew you’d fucked up.

“I–”, you started to speak, but before you could get the sentence out, his hand was around your throat.

“Let’s put this mouth to better use than lying, yeah?” His chin tilted up, and he made eye contact with a quiet dominance that put you right in place.

“Don’t worry, you’ll look even prettier when you’re ruined.”

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Changbin

At first, he seems like he doesn’t notice. His hesitation to stop gave you a false sense of security, one that he quickly pulled away.

You knew by a sharp smack on your ass and then the feeling of his hand moving to your back. Your mind stalled with confusion until his fist pushed your spine down to manually arch your back. With him still inside you.

“You tease and joke all day, but when the consequences come, you really can’t handle it at all, can you?” You hear the grit in his voice, and you whimper with the new position he’s got you in. He’s pressing right into you, the arch in your back just pushing him deeper.

He slowly starts to pull out, and a short moment of disappointment hits you. Suddenly, he slams into you, and your arms falter. Your face hits the comforter, and he starts pistoning into you at speeds that make your mouth fall open.

“Act like a brat, get treated like one. You knew that. Now take what you knew was coming.”

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Hyunjin

Hyunjin tends to be a lover, not a tamer. But you knew what you were getting into when you bothered him all day. Teasing him at the mall, making fun of him in front of your mutual friends, it was only expected that he’d punish you.

But you didn’t expect him to completely pull out and away from you when you came unexpectedly. His knees rested on the bed behind you, and he sighed.

“You still can’t behave, can you?” You turned to look at him, and he just shook his head. Whenever he got like this, your body usually betrayed you. You wanted to be good so bad. He knew it.

He moved to position himself at the headboard and simply patted his thigh twice. You moved towards him slowly, settling on top of his lap.

His head tilted as he looked up to you, and a small smile settled on his face.

“Now you can do it yourself, brat.”

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Han

His hips only stuttered for a second. He groaned at the feeling of you gushing around him, but he was quick to furrow his brows together.

“All that acting up, just to fall apart when I finally get you alone.” His voice is almost small as he stuck his eyes to where you connected. Without much pause, he leaned over your body so that his lips were next to your ear.

“How many more can you give me, now?” His breath tickled the shell of your ear, and your chest shuddered with anticipation.

He started to hammer into you without much regard for the bed creaking or your pathetic whimpers. It wasn’t long before you were shuddering around his dick again, collapsing into the mattress.

A muffled groan of “too much” left your lips, and he smirked behind you.

“Oh, we’re just getting started.”

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Felix

Felix didn’t get angry often. You knew better than to push his buttons, but every now and then, you wanted him to get rough with you.

You didn’t expect rough to be denying you again and again. Every time you even got a little close, he stopped completely, leaving you to squeeze around his little bit of stimulation.

So, it’s surprising you were able to cum without permission at all. But he knew, immediately. He understood your body like nothing else, so he just stilled inside you through your high, simply feeling the frantic tightening of your walls.

When it calmed down, he leaned over you.

“Would you like to tell me when I said you could cum?”

“You–you didn’t.” Your words were breathy and uneven, and you squeezed your eyes in anticipation of the punishment.

“That’s right. Do you know what happens when you cum without permission?” Your head shook slightly into the blankets. You felt his fingers circle around and press to your clit.

“Ooh… that’s too bad.”

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Seungmin

As soon as he felt you spasm around him, he pulled out and flipped you over onto your back. Your widened eyes met his, and you started shaking your head, almost trying to pull away.

His eyebrows rose, and he started shaking his head along with you mockingly.

“What, you don’t want the consequences of your own actions?” He smiled, looking like sin in the low lighting of your bedroom. “Okay… what do you say?”

Your words started tumbling out of your mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to– Min, please– I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” You froze a little bit at his clipped answer and met his eyes again. As you nodded, he grinned at you and pulled your legs over his shoulder. He slid back into you with a maddeningly slow pace. He was pushed right up into that spot that made your mouth fall open every time.

“Then take whatever I give you. Don’t make the same mistake twice.”

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I.N.

The thing with Jeongin is that even if you cum, he’s not stopping. You weren’t allowed to cum, you knew that. So when you do, he stutters for just a moment and then starts thrusting into you impossibly faster.

You don’t get to be sensitive, not when you knew the rules and broke them anyway.

“If you can’t control yourself–” You were pressing choked moans into the pillow, but he continued muttering and hammering into you. “--then I’ll just have to treat you like the slut you are.”

You moaned loudly at his words, but he didn’t even slow his movement.

“Squeezing around me so hard, you want me to be mean, huh?” You could practically feel his foxy smile behind you. You nodded, face down on the pillow.

“Act like a slut, I’ll use you like one.”

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Sorry for the wait! Life is getting hectic, but I’ll try to write more.

General taglist: @seunghyoverse, @princesskrystix (2/50)

(Ask to be added to the taglist! I might make a couple different ones.)

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dreammfyre · 3 days ago

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box of memories ✮⋆˙ kang dae-ho

⚝ are you gonna marry, kiss or kill me? it’s just a game, but really i’m betting on all three for us two ⚝

summary: when you open the box of memories from your childhood you find lots of stuff: photos, diaries, and the same old gonggi you used to play with when you were a child. the surprise is that your boyfriend seems to be an expert and tries to teach you, along the way, you both talk about your childhood memories, and it seems like you have more in common than you know.

warnings: kang dae-ho x fem!reader, fluff, no games alternative universe, golden retriever!bf x black cat!gf, domestic scenario. english is not my first language, so please be kind.

The aroma of garlic sautéed in sesame oil wafts through the air as you take off your shoes at the entrance, listening to the music coming from inside the apartment. To satisfy your appetite, your boyfriend has cooked dinner, which is great because you're starving. You find him stirring a spoon in a pot, steam filling the room as if something were burning. Dae-ho tries to control the boiling pot and the pan with vegetables while cutting mushrooms, your favourites.

"Hey, you're here," he smiles at you from the kitchen, continuing to stir what appears to be a steaming soup. "I was starting to miss you."

"That smells amazing," you reply, entering with a medium-sized box in your arms. "What are you cooking?”

"Ramyeon with something decent on the side. I don't want you say I only eat junk food." He points at you with a wooden spoon, and you put the box down on the living room table as you walk over to the kitchen so you can finally be with him.

Dae-ho leans in to kiss you. His lips taste of steam and tea, while yours taste of a mixture of cheap coffee from a machine and a mint cigarette, and his free hand rests tenderly on your waist, as if he can't resist touching you, even if only for a second.

"Thanks for not burning down the kitchen." You smile against his lips. You have to stand on tiptoe to leave one last kiss on his mouth before washing your hands.

You go to the bedroom to change your clothes, preferring something comfortable, and take one of Dae-ho's long T-shirts without asking his permission—you don't need it—and a pair of shorts to cope with the damn heat.

"What's that?" he asks, nodding toward the box. "Did you buy something?"

"Oh, I brought it from my mom's house," you reply, walking toward the sofa. You collapse with a sigh, tired from walking around the city streets carrying that box, and run your fingers over the dusty cardboard lid. "Stuff from when I was a kid."

Dae-ho can't contain his curiosity, turning his head toward you. He's always been like that, and you knew he wouldn't be able to wait to open the box. He turns off the stove and dries his hands with a cloth before crossing the kitchen to join you.

"Can I see?"

You nod without giving it much importance, even though deep down you're not very excited about your childhood memories, but it's impossible to say no to him. He sits down next to you, barely touching your shoulder. He hands you the box so you can do the honors, and you rest it on your thighs, praying that a spider won't crawl out of it.

"Sure, if you want. Although I don't know if there's anything very interesting in there.” You say with a small smile as you remove the lid.

Just as you expected, it's a mess. with dusty photos that make you cough, a couple of colorful frayed ribbons your mother used to comb your hair with when you went to school, an armless doll, crumpled papers with crayon drawings that Dae-ho looks at fondly—while trying to figure out what the hell you were trying to draw—and a notebook with old stickers stuck on it.

Dae-ho leans in a little closer, resting an arm on the back of the sofa behind you.

"I really like this." He murmurs, picking up one of your old photos. "I don't know. It feels like opening a doorway to another version of you."

You take a stack of photos in your hands and silently begin to look through them, in a silence that your boyfriend doesn't interrupt when he sees how focused you are. Memories that, to your surprise, are still there, photos with your sisters whom you haven't visited in months, your first birthday, your mother holding you in her arms. You move on to the next image, it's you and your grandparents, you run your finger over the paper, remembering the love they gave you when they were alive. You don't want to get nostalgic, so you show Dae-ho the photo of your birthday party. He puts it next to your face, you have the same strong gaze and that smile that has him in love since they met.

"You were adorable." Dae-ho says in a warm, slightly amused voice. "What happened to you?"

You give him a playful nudge.

"Live with you.”

He laughs at your response, accustomed to your natural sarcasm. Dae-ho reaches into your old memories and pulls out a photo with folded corners.

"Let's see..." He looks at it and recognizes you immediately, letting out a soft laugh. You peek over and see your six-year-old version, with messy hair, dressed in ruffles, and your face covered in ice cream.

"No way." You try to snatch it from him, but he stretches out his arm and that's enough to put it out of your reach. You feel the color rising to your cheeks and hide your face in your hands, embarrassed. "It's not funny!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, baby." Dae-ho replies with a laugh, putting his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to him to ease your discomfort. "But why did you have that look on your face? You seem... confused about existence."

"It was my birthday." You explain with a hint of embarrassment in your voice. “And they made me wear that awful dress."

He puts the picture back in the box, still smiling, imagining that if he had a daughter with you, she would be the most beautiful girl in the world. Without saying anything else, he leans over and kisses you on the cheek. Slowly and quickly, you smell his scent, but it's enough for you to forgive him for his childish teasing. His laughter disappears, replaced by that soft look that is your weakness.

"You're still pretty." He murmurs.

"You're not going to buy me off with that, Kang Dae-ho."

You hear him laugh and throw his head back, at least he tried. To your own surprise, a strange curiosity emerged in you about the contents of the box, so you reach in again, your cheek still warm from the kiss, until your fingers brush against something hard and familiar.

"Wait a minute..."

Eagerly, you pull out a small bag of brightly colored stones.

"What's that?"

"Gonggi." You reply with a smile. Damn, you would have swear you'd lost it forever. "I was the best. I could play with one hand and eat my ice cream with the other."

Excited, you sit on the floor and open the small cloth bag. Remembering, you take five pink-painted pebbles shaped like flowers and throw them on the floor with the confidence of a forgotten champion. You pick one up, throw another into the air... and fail miserably. The stone falls without you managing to catch any of them.

"Ugh. I think I lost the magic.” Say, chuckling.

Dae-ho cheers up.

"Let me try." He says, crouching down to the ground and imitating your position. Although he reaches out his hand with a little hesitation. "That looks very... pink. I'm not sure if my manhood will allow it."

"Your manhood will be fine.” You throw him a small stone, and he manages to catch it with one hand.

Dae-ho settles on the floor and, in a prolonged silence, looks at the pieces as if they were a complicated national defense system, and then, with absurd seriousness, he tries.

And he does it perfectly.

You are so surprised that you open your mouth unconsciously. He picks one up, throws another, catches it, and continues without missing or hesitating at any moment. You have to follow him with your eyes because his hand moves too fast. All with a concentration worthy of open-heart surgery.

When he finishes, he looks at you with a flirtatious smile, knowing that his performance was excellent. He opens his hand, showing you all the stones.

“…Did I win?”

"How did you do that?!" You raise your voice, still impressed.

"Maybe I have a hidden talent for little girls' games." He replies with a half-smile, proud but feigning humility.

"You lied to me." You pointed at him. "You've played before."

"I didn't want to intimidate you." He leaves the stones on the ground. "I didn't knew you were such a terrible player."

"How considerate of you." But deep down, you're thinking about how hot that was.

Now it's your turn. Dae-ho leans back in the sofa, watching your every move. At first you're agile, but not as agile as him, and you fail miserably, with stones falling everywhere except in your hand. Your boyfriend has to bite his lip to keep from laughing at you. You look cute gathering all the pieces, determined to keep trying to achieve your goal. But even though you're careful, keep missing when you try to catch them in the air.

"You're rushing too much."

"I'm doing the sam as you.” You reply, tying your hair into a ponytail. Oh, things got serious now.

"No, baby. You're squeezing your hand like it's a kitchen tong." He says, taking your hand gently. "Relax it."

He sits down next to you with his legs crossed and carefully arranges the small stones in front of you. Then he picks one up, tosses it gently, and with his fingers curved in a smooth gesture, catches another one before the first one hits the ground, making it look like the easiest thing in the world. He has complete control over every movement.

"See? It's more about rhythm than technique." He hands you the stones. "Your turn."

You take a deep breath, memorizing the order of the steps. Dae-ho stops breathing for a second, analyzing each of your movements. You imitate him. Well, you try to, because you mess up.

"It's impossible.” You mutter, more out of annoyance with yourself than anything else.

"It's not your fault." He pauses. He looks at the pebbles scattered on the floor of your apartment for a second before adding. "It's just that I grew up with this."

"Really?"

"Yes. Well, you know I'm the youngest of four sisters. Afternoons were... chaos." His tone softens. "They played all the time. Gonggi, palms, rope... and sometimes, if I was lucky, they let me join in. I guess I learned without realizing it.”

The idea of Dae-ho surrounded by his sisters has always seemed adorable to you, which is why he is always especially attentive to you. He knows how to treat you, how to take care of you with that special sensibility that sets him apart from the other men who have been in your life.

"You were good."

"Not at first." He corrects you with a tiny nostalgic smile. "They yelled at me all the time, 'Don't touch the stones like that! You're ruining it! You're too slow!' But after a while... I guess I started to really try hard. Just so they would let me play a little longer."

You watch him, silently giving him your full attention, noticing a different kind of sincerity. Dae-ho plays with the little stones in his palms, feeling comfy with you. There's something about the way he tells it that feels intimate, as if he's just opened another box, one he's been carrying inside his chest for years.

"Do you miss them?" You dare to ask.

"Yes. Sometimes. Other times not so much." He chuckles softly, shrugging his shoulders. "But without them... I wouldn't be who I am now."

There is a moment of pause. One that is not uncomfortable. It is just there, you are there.

"So..." You say, picking up the game again, trying again, too stubborn to give up so quickly. "If I have three sisters, would I be good too?"

"It depends. Were they as controlling as mine?"

"Probably worse." You make a face of disgust.

"Then yes. You'd be an expert."

As you play, you feel more relaxed, even when you fail, even when you laugh. Your boyfriend keeps watching you, but instead of following the movement of the stones, he prefers to focus on your face, how you concentrate, the way you bite your lower lip a little when you're close to victory. When you laugh, your cheeks become rounder, or on the contrary, when you get frustrated, you snort annoyedly and whisper a bad word. The effect you have on him is inexplicable, not even Dae-ho himself can understand it. He just watches you fondly.

The pieces bounces off your palm and falls for the fourth time. You pick it up from the ground with an exasperated sigh.

"I'm starting to hate this game.” You mutter, ready to throw the bag out the building window.

"Because you're not winning," Dae-ho replies with a smile.

He does it again. Throws. Catches. Perfect. As if it were second nature, he even seems to be picking up speed, winning effortlessly, occasionally shooting you a look of exaggerated pride as if he were competing in the Olympics.

"Show-off."

"Jealous."

He passes you the pebbles carefully, brushing your fingers with his. To no one's surprise, you fail at the last move, the most complicated one.

"How come you were good at this?" Dae-ho asks, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand.

"I don't know. Maybe I tried harder back then."

"And why did you stop?”

You don't think much about the answer; it comes out of your mouth in a matter of seconds without you realizing it.

"I grew up." You stop playing for a moment. Dae-ho doesn't press you for more details, even though you have his full attention at that moment. He just waits for you to talk to him. "It wasn't easy to play at home. My parents worked all day. I took care of my sisters most of the time. Sometimes I made up games so they wouldn't cry... gonggi was one of them."

He nods, without interrupting. Your past is something neither of you talk about much, not because Dae-ho doesn't care, but rather because you prefer not to bring it up, and he respects that.

"And now?"

"Now they're older. My mom is still sick." You pause, and even though you didn't mean to say so much, it comes out so naturally that it scares you. "I find it hard to think about my childhood without thinking about responsibilities. As if it were made up of more duties than games."

Inevitably, you remember things that don't do you any good, like when you had to leave your home, the times you didn't talk to your sisters for months, when you had three jobs. All the people who hurt you on that journey to the present. Your heart beats fast and it's as if you've swallowed all the stones because you find it hard to speak, your throat tightens in a way you can't explain.

Dae-ho is silent for a moment and nods, both of you understanding each other, then he starts moving the pebbles again. His voice is soft.

"I grew up fast too." He confesses you for the first time. He plays with his hands, wanting to say it, but unfortunately it's not easy. "My sisters fought over everything. My parents yelled at each other. Sometimes the only quiet place was under the dining room table. I would crawl in there with a bag of cookies and try to disappear."

"Did you make it?”

He shakes his head and then sighs.

"No. But I learned to be invisible, which is almost the same thing." He picks up the small stones again, without any hurry. As if time in that apartment had stretched out just for you. "But with you, I don't have to disappear," he says suddenly. "And that... that feels fresh… good."

"Yes, it feels... good.” You reply, quietly.

And then he says it, without drama or emphasis. Just with the simple truth of someone who loves you unconditionally:

"Now you're my family I think." To start playing, repeating the same pattern of steps.

Your heart flutters in your chest and you feel it beating faster, and a genuine smile spreads across your lips as if your cheeks are being tickled. Dae-ho is the only person who has managed to break down all your barriers, and sometimes you feel too vulnerable with him, but you don't regret trying. You still feel a little afraid to trust a man so much, it's something you've been working on and you want to believe you have the right partner. There's something about that word — family — that carries a different weight when it comes from someone you chose.

It's those smiles that you feel in your stomach, that relax your body and make you want to cry, but in a good way. Because everything about him is good.

"I love you."

He doesn't respond immediately. Although he feels his hands tremble a little and almost fails in his perfect game. Instead, he picks up one of the pebbles and throws it into the air, catching another with the same hand, just at the last second.

Then he leans down, his hair loose just the way you like it, places the little stone in your palm, and looks at you as if he already knows everything you are.

"I love you too.” Dae-ho says, with a gentleness that makes everything else tremble.

You say nothing, but you feel that strange warmth in your chest, your cheeks flushed. And suddenly, without thinking twice, you reach out your arms toward him.

You say nothing. Just that: arms outstretched toward him, in a silent and direct signal that needs no interpretation. You look at him with that expression you always have when you don't want to seem vulnerable, but you are. A little.

Dae-ho stops the movement of his hands immediately. His eyebrows rise.

"Really?" He asks you as if he's not sure what you're asking for, and his tone is funny but surprised, with one eyebrow raised and a smile on his lips. "You? You want a hug? Are you sure?”

You nod. Almost imperceptibly.

Instead of throwing himself on top of you—as he surely wants to—he takes your hands gently, as if he doesn't want to scare you, and pulls you softly toward him to settle you on his lap, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if your place had always been there. His arms wrap around your waist, his chin rests on your shoulder, enjoying every inch of your skin.

He knows that physical contact isn't your strong point. Your love language is… different.

"I knew you'd melt one day," he murmurs in your ear, with a smile you can hear in his voice.

"Just for today.” You reply in the same soft tone, but you don't move. You don't want to move.

You feel your boyfriend's breath on your skin, caressing his arms around you as if it were your way of telling him not to let go.

"I want to close the box." You finally say, your voice on the breaking point.

Dae-ho kisses your shoulder.

"All right."

𐙚⋆°. MASTERLIST

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feelmyskinonyourskin · 2 days ago

Text

Judex, Judicum, Infantem - Chapter 13

(Eventual)Reader x Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

previous chapter | next chapter | series masterlist | my masterlist

summary: Matt begins to make up for the hurt he's caused and the two of you finally get a chance to reconnect.

warnings: SMUT/18+ (don’t interact if your age is not in your bio) AFAB Reader. Pregnancy. No use of Y/N. P in V, oral (fem receiving), pregnancy sex, Matt Murdock being a mushy gushy romantic. Mention of death and wills (Don't worry, no one is dying).

notes: There is something in this chapter that many a reader might interpret as foreshadowing to something bad. It is not, I promise. I do not do angst without happy endings. This story will end happy for everyone I PROMISE (except maybe Fisk, that remains to be seen)! So please don't freak. I'm also sorry, I feel like my ability to write smut is trash so I overshoot and try too hard and make it trash but in a different way.

w/c: 5,560

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on Tumblr to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platforms I currently post on are Tumblr and AO3. Thanks*

If Matt came to check on you when he got back, you didn’t remember it. Heavenly silk sheets lulled you into a deep slumber as soon as you crawled underneath them and even an earthquake with the epicenter in midtown probably couldn’t have woken you. In fact, the only evidence Matt had come home at all was the crumpled bedding on the floor of the spare room, sticking to his self inflicted penance. He was up and to the office by the time you woke to your alarm and he sent a quick text to let you know he’d be staying late tonight because the Madison case was still taking all his time. Other than that, it was almost like he didn’t exist.

In fact, the next few days followed in the same way— Matt would be gone by the time you were up for work, he’d return just as you were getting to bed, change into the Daredevil suit and then be gone not even ten minutes later. All that was said between the two of you were quick greetings and brief catchups. Even without his nightly activities, you knew he was in the trenches with the Madison case. Though whether that was the actual truth or he was just using it as an excuse to avoid being home with you and Frank, you weren’t sure.

After only two more days of resting on your couch and reading through pretty much your entire mystery novel collection, Frank was antsy. Grunting more as he fixed his coffee, staying up later and later each evening; his general demeanor of grumpiness cast a cloud in the apartment. Evenings were spent mostly silently in each others’ orbit, wading through the swamp of awkwardness as he only opened up to you in small amounts each time you spoke. He was, as you remembered him always being before, resistant to letting you in.

So when you were getting ready for work and he appeared in the doorframe of your bedroom— dark jeans crumpled at the bottom to accommodate for his heavy boots, black hoodie tucked into his waistband with no sign of a shirt underneath and curly long hair pushed neatly back— you weren’t surprised when he said

“I’m gonna stay tonight, but then I gotta get goin’ tomorrow morning.”

Even though you expected it, it didn’t break your heart any less that he’d be gone again for who knew how long. At least you had his promise to return to cling to.

With you and Matt still existing as passing ships in the night, both avoiding confronting how to move forward while hurt and betrayal plagued the few minutes a day you shared, you were disappointed that Frank’s departure meant you would be spending many an evening alone for the foreseeable future.

Before the two of them, which was not that long ago, you would have been excited to have an evening to yourself; often opting to spend it binge watching your favorite reality show or taking a nice long bath or enjoying some wine.

But how quickly life had changed and you found yourself most comfortable with their company, despite all the drama surrounding it.

That evening you and Frank sat at the kitchen island eating dinner, with you trying to distract yourself from the heavy feeling in your gut about him leaving in the morning by avoiding his gaze and making quiet small talk. The lock on the front door opened with a click and your head shot up just in time to watch as Matt entered the apartment. He had not been home this early all week.

“Matty!” you greeted him with excitement

He looked handsome as ever, white dress shirt rolled up to show his toned forearms and hair neatly styled in a way that looked tuggable. But behind the appearance of a smartly put together lawyer was definitive tiredness. You noticed the way his shoulders slouched lower than usual and how the smile he shot you tightened as he walked towards the kitchen, sensing your relief at seeing him home in the way you exhaled.

He set his briefcase on the island, coming over to give you a quick kiss and greeting Frank with a nod.

“I made dinner sweetheart, if you have the time.” you said

“I’d love some, yeah.” he replied, holding up his hand to stop you from helping “In a minute though, I have something else first.”

You bit your lip, wondering what else he could possibly try and juggle at this point.

“I didn’t expect you to be home by now, Madison case getting better?” you asked

“No, not even close,” he replied, pulling a stack of papers from his bag and setting them in front of you and Frank “but this was more important. Karen finished drafting them this afternoon.”

You pulled the documents closer, eyes roaming over the crisp white paper with sharp black ink in a serif font; the heading written in bold on top of the page.

LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT

Those were not at all the words you expected to read nor were you expecting to see your full legal name underneath them.

“Matt, what the hell is this?”

“Protection.” he reassured “I was thinking about Frank.”

“M’ flattered.” Frank replied sarcastically, eyes also following the words in front of him

Matt ignored the commentary and continued.

“If I’m going on the birth certificate, Frank won’t have any rights to her if something were to happen to the two of us. I thought of this as a way to fix that.”

You read on, skimming each paragraph and noting phrases mentioning guardianship in the instance of the passing of one or both parents.

“We’ll have to modify it once she’s born and we have a legal name for her on file with the county.”

You shuffled through the pages, seeing the same document underneath with Matt’s full name in place of yours, a line of braille under each statement; and then a third and fourth copy with both Frank’s name and his alias.

“And I had to make two for each of us, one with Frank’s real and fake names. Wills don’t get filed until the person they’re about dies, so depending on the circumstances when one of us or both of us goes, whoever is left can decide the best course of action regarding having Frank’s name being on a legal document. And usually, the county and state don’t even look at the will’s contents unless there is a dispute, so Frank’s name shouldn’t raise any red flags.”

Were things really that bad out on the streets? Was this serial killer Angela and Matt found so concerning that all three of you needed to consider arrangements in the instance of your deaths? You looked at Frank, trying to read what he was feeling about this in the way his brows knit together as he read over your shoulder. Matt tuned into the way your heart raced as you took in all the legal jargon and tried to process.

“Sweetheart, hey,” he sat beside you, running a comforting hand along your arm “This is not me saying any of us are in danger or going to go too soon. This is about making sure Frank is equally in this as me and our daughter is protected. I get to be her legal father, so he deserves to have some type of legal claim over her too. If something happens to either of us, or both of us, no one can take her away and Frank won’t have to fight for her. And if we find out genetically she’s his, I’m covered too.”

This wasn’t him fear mongering, it was him making amends. It was his showing that he meant it when he said he was okay with Frank being in both her and your lives. You asked him for action to make up for the lies and he delivered. In the most lawyer way possible.

“Thank you, Matt.” Frank gruffly whispered, nodding as he read the document again

Not Red, not Murdock.

Matt.

“Of course, Frank. And I’m sorry. To both of you. I hope this helps make up for everything, even if just a little.”

Matt was not only apologizing to you, but to Frank as well. Was that them getting along? Or at least Matt willing to back down and budge and let Frank be part of this life a little? Shit, you’d have to get angry with him more often.

“Also,” Matt continued “I’ve thought about it. I want to be Colin Firth.”

“What?” you asked confused

“If Frank gets to be Pierce Brosnan.”

Oh right, Mamma Mia.

Maybe it was knowing that Frank would be leaving in the morning or maybe it was that you and Matt had arrived to a better place, but for whatever reason you absolutely couldn’t sleep. It was nearly 2AM and despite how long of a week it had been, there you were laying in bed with nothing to do but stare at the ceiling.

You had gotten up every so often, softly making your way through the living room to watch as Frank breathed heavily while he slumbered on the sofa. You’d be lying if you said you were totally cool with his departing so soon. You’d been vaguely nauseous all day and you had to wonder if it was anxiety at all the unknowns that still lingered when it came to Frank.

It couldn’t have even been ten minutes later when you heard the distinct slide of the balcony door and listened to Matt quietly making his way through the apartment. You hopped out of bed and headed over to the bathroom just in time to catch him unzipping the suit and stripping out of it.

“What are you doing up?” he asked, having heard you laying awake from the last block

“Can’t sleep.”

Your eyes ran along his body, wincing at the collection of bruises you saw all over his flesh.

“Trust me, I’ve been in much worse shape before.” he reassured

With a shaky hand, you reached out to run a hand down his chest, observing his wounds closer.

“Matt, what happened?”

“Found the serial killer.”

“And he kicked your ass.” you replied

“Yeah. He’s good. He got away.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The police raided his hideout after I chased him off. I got close enough to hear what they know. He’s a street artist by the name of Muse.”

“Muse? Think I’ve seen some of his stuff around town.”

“Yeah, well he’s not just into graffiti. I won’t give you the specifics though, it’s not pleasant.”

You rolled your eyes, annoyed that he insisted on coddling you when you didn’t need it.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Matt said “But sweetheart, you should get to bed.”

The circles under Matt’s eyes were almost as dark as the bruises that littered his body. As he spoke his voice sounded deflated, like he was hanging on by a thread and trying his best not to snap.

“You should too, how much sleep have you gotten exactly this week?” you asked

“Maybe gotten two hours each night if I’ve been lucky.”

“Matthew!”

“Let’s call it getting ready for a newborn.”

Oh god, they were the same— him and Frank both absolute gluttons for pushing themselves to their limits and exhaustion.

Matt bent over and lifted your top to give a gentle kiss to your abdomen.

“Hey baby girl, tell mama to get some sleep. Okay?” he spoke softly to your baby, thumb lightly tracing the skin there

“Join me when you’re done?”

Matt swallowed thickly as he stood back to his full height, gnawing at his cheek from the sincerity in your offer. Did he really deserve to try and go back to normal with you? For a moment he let silence fill the room, eyes as close to staring at you as he could make them. When he spoke his voice sounded broken, cracking as he replied.

“Yeah? That’s what you want?”

“I never asked you to sleep in the spare room.”

“I know, I just felt like— I don’t know— I needed to earn my way back in.”

“You did. The will thing was romantic. And dorky, if I’m being honest.”

He shook his head with a dry chuckle.

“I’ll be right in, baby.”

You hadn’t felt his touch beyond a quick hello or goodbye kiss in days and you hadn’t realized how deeply the absence was affecting you until you were tucked back into bed, waiting for him to join you. Sleeping beside him had become such a routine and integral part in the connection of your relationship, that it just dawned on you how it was also partially to blame for why you hadn’t really slept well since your fight.

All your muscles seemed to relax as he finally slipped under the covers, clean skin warming yours as he wrapped his arms around you. With only the lights of the city coming in through the curtains to illuminate the room, you almost couldn’t see the multiple fading bruises spread across his bare chest as he snuggled into you.

You quickly found his lips in the dark and kissed him, really kissed him, for the first time in days. It felt like coming home after a long vacation away, stepping through the door and collapsing into the familiar.

And the way he kissed you back? Absolute heaven.

“I missed you, Matty.” you whispered, laying on your side with your nose touching his, your breaths mixing as you exhaled.

He cradled your face in his hands, letting his glassy eyes dart back and forth as he listened to you relax into his touch.

“I know, angel. I’m so sorry and I’ll never be able to say it enough.”

“I know. And I think I might be able to forgive you. Someday.”

He slid his hand to wrap around your waist, rubbing little circles into the skin of your hip where your shirt rode up. It was as if moment by moment you could feel the tension melting away from his body by just being beside you.

“Do you remember what I said when you first told me you were pregnant?” he asked

“That you didn’t care if she was Frank’s or not. But clearly you do.”

“I know. I probably would have told you if I’d found him right away. But when I didn’t and we kept building all this together,” he gestured to the room “We were so happy. I was so happy.”

“I was too.” you agreed

“I was so scared of losing it. It was the first time in my life I felt like everything was right, by building a life with you. And when I found him, I was already all in this and I was so scared you’d want to be with Frank and just leave me. ”

“I won’t, you know that.”

“I do, yeah.”

“Are you still happy? I mean now that he’s going to be part of it too?” you asked

“If I get to have you and our daughter, yeah. I can deal with pretty much anything else. But that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

“Oh yeah?”

“When you first told me, I said I was all in. I meant it then. I still mean it, honey. I’ll mean it until the day I die. I love you. I love our baby. And if Frank is going to be around fine, but I will not let you down again. That’s a promise.”

The definitiveness to his tone was reassuring. There was no demand or expectation to his statement; no call for you to choose between the two of them, no asking for you to be over the distrust. It was pure honesty from his heart.

“You know,” you responded, inching closer and hoping that if you stared at his eyes hard enough he would see you; see the way you were opening your heart like an exposed nerve and begging for him to heal it “when we first started seeing each other, before the baby, I was convinced you were gonna get bored with me. That all my shit would get in the way and make you not love me.”

“Never.”

“I know that now. I’m so glad I let myself fall for you, Matt. I love you so much.”

All you could think to do in that moment was kiss him, even deeper and more tender than before. To show him you meant every word you said. Yeah, he deserved your anger, but also deserved your reassurance that you would never stop loving him. And if you asked him for action to prove himself then you certainly owed it to him to show him with your own actions that you meant it.

He followed your cues, groaning into your lips as you ran your fingers down his chest until your hand reached the waistband of his boxers. As you toyed with the fabric, he shook his head and moved his body to press against you, rolling so that you were flat on your back and he was half on top of you with his leg tucked between yours.

“You’re not gonna let me take care of you, are you?” you asked, giggling into his mouth

“No, honey. You know that’s not fair. Come on, I still have some apologizing to do.” he replied, his hand sliding down your body to dip into the waistband of your panties

“You’re really going to tell your pregnant girlfriend no— Ah!”

Your argument died as he swiped a finger through your wetness, pressing against your clit with a gentle circle. No sooner had you processed the pleasure of his action that he was pulling his hand away.

“Shh!” he chided, delighted smile growing on his face “Sweetheart, as much as I love hearing you moan for me, we have to be quiet. You nearly just woke Frank.”

Shit, right. Frank was still sleeping on your couch. And you certainly didn’t want him to listen to this.

“I feel like a teenager sneaking around with her boyfriend trying not to get caught by her parents.” you giggled

“Try not getting caught by nuns” he replied

You had to wonder if teenage Matt had actually ever tried to sneak a girl into the orphanage. The thought left you as soon as his head disappeared beneath the blanket and he moved down your body.

He hadn’t shaved in days— a ruggedly handsome side effect to how little time he’d had between work and Daredevil. Not only were you grateful for the visual of it, you were also more than happy with how his beard now tickled at your thighs as he gently nipped at you flesh there. All it took was a light tap to your rear, hips lifted and panties tossed aside moments later. He worked slowly, teasing with tender and sweet kisses all around where you craved him most. There was no sense of urgency to his movements, both of you opting to enjoy every single gentle action as it’s own step to reconnect.

When he finally flicked his tongue along your clit, still staying soft and gentle, it was like a sigh of relief. You sunk into the feeling, letting him lazily work you up. He adored the way you tasted and every time he found himself between your thighs, he just wanted to stay there for hours reveling in the sweet nectar on his tongue and letting the sounds he drew out of you hypnotize him.

The pleasure was already beginning to build like a flower blossoming in the first rain of spring. The heat pooling in your core as he lapped and sucked on your clit tempted you to chase it to the finish line. But it had been too long since you’d had him properly and just so desperately wanted him inside you.

“Matt, please.” you whispered “This feels so good, but I just want to feel you.”

His actions remained unrushed, taking off his boxers and tenderly pressing his body against yours, opening your legs with docile hands to slot himself between them. Your shirt was also lost in the abyss of darkness and with nothing between the two of you, you couldn’t help but arch your back up into his touch. His hard his length sent waves of tingles through your whole body as he ran it through your folds, coating himself in the pooling wetness he’d worked up.

It was comfortable, the two of you content to rub against each other just for the sake of reveling in the feeling of being so close; chest to chest as your heartbeats synced into rhythm, cocooning you between his adoration and the clouds of silk beneath you.

He whined, feeling the heat radiating between the two of you and just as needy as you but not wanting to rush a thing.

When the blunt head of his cock pushed at your entrance, it felt like the most natural and easy thing in the world; letting him in with a muted mew and a timid tremble that ricocheted through your whole body.

He moved patiently, filling you inch by inch to ensure that you both felt it all. Pushing aside the carnal need to just take you, he remained devout to taking his time as the two of you laid there entwined. Grounding himself to the reality of your skin pressed against his, the heat of your core surrounding his length, your whimpers soft beneath him— all because of him. You were here and you still wanted him; still loved him.

You clenched at the fullness of him inside you, feeling like you could stay this way forever; not knowing where you ended and he began and feeling so right. He surrounded you and yet you still felt like you weren’t close enough.

“Is it just me or has the pregnant sex been even hotter than regular sex?” you asked, pressing a few kisses to his chest as you adjusted to his size.

“Think that might just be you, sweetheart. The hotter part. Not the— it’s hot, I mean.” he stuttered “It’s just that you’re hot pregnant or not. So I don’t really have a preference for— I’m just gonna shut up and do my job.”

Your chuckle was cut off with a pleasured sigh as he slowly pulled away just a little, only to bring himself right back to filling you totally.

When he moved it was a familiar dance, entangling limbs waltzing towards nothing only taking it movement by movement. The feeling behind every meeting of his pelvis to yours was unspoken but so known. All you could do was ride it out, letting the current take you as his pace steadied to a predictable rhythm. Matt’s hands moved each time he drove into you, finding a new patch of softness to caress and cradle.

Your blood buzzed when he nosed at your neck, plump lips attaching to the point where your neck met your collarbone. Gently, you let your hands fall, brushing against the curves of his muscles and scars, lighting his skin on fire and pushing him to more vigor. The cross he always wore dangled down, tickling your sternum with each push and pull.

“Angel, you feel so good. So perfect. Made for me.” he cooed, breath hot and airy in your ear

Your only response was to mewl in pleasure, giving into the urge to tug on his hair, which earned you a growl.

No matter the setting, the mood, the tempo; Matt was always able to melt you into pliable ecstasy with what seemed like no effort. Using his abilities to fine tune every kiss, every movement; it was always the most beautifully crafted symphony when he laid you down. And tonight was no exception, feeling that familiar heat gathering deep inside you.

“Please, Matty.” you begged

Matt gave a fervent nod giving you exactly what he knew you needed.

His pace quickened, trying his hardest to avoid making more noise but chasing the feelings of pleasure. It took all your effort too not to cry out at just how good it was, his cock punctuating the spongy spot inside you and pushing you toward your peak and leaving little room in your brain for thoughts about staying quiet.

When Matt gently rested his forehead against yours, a tear slipped down from his pinched eyes.

“Shhh, Matt, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” you reassured, taking his hand from where it rested on your jaw and entwining your fingers with his just as tightly as he held your heart.

“Sweetheart, please.” he begged, so clearly about to burst

“Where you lead, I’ll follow.” you assured

He didn’t need to hear any other assurance. Latching his lips back to your neck, he let the current of his orgasm drag him under, drowning in the way your scent consumed him. As promised, you followed closely after. Holding your breath as all the blood drained from your head and your walls pulsed to milk the last of him; frenzied fire engulfing you until you sizzled out with a hiss.

The two of you stayed that way long after, entwined and syncing your breathing once again.

You were so content and satisfied, you barely noticed as his warmth vanished from on top of you. Returning who knew how long later to clean you up and tuck you in, finding his home beside you with an arm drawing you into his chest.

It was as if the two of you were frozen in a dream while everything else moved around you; comfortable and warm in your closeness to let the world rush by. Your head spun as the high wore off, muscles relaxing and sleep tempting you with every passing moment. It was only when he spoke that your body seemed to catch up, finding time moving once again but soothed into it by his sweet voice.

“Have I ever told you that missionary is my favorite?” he asked

“Of course it is, you Catholic.” you teased

“That’s not why!” he chided, hand coming down to softly swat at your ass

“Is it because you can sense the most? Like hear my heart best and stuff?”

“The opposite actually,” he replied “When we’re that close, it’s like it all just blends together. Your heart, my heart, your scent, my scent. I can’t tell where you end and I start and it’s comforting. I can just tune it all out and just be, you know? And I feel like I can just protect you like that, from anything.”

“Mmhmm. Shame it’s going to be impossible here pretty soon. I get any bigger and we’re going to have to start consulting Cosmo for more creative ways to get around this bump.”

That earned a chuckle from him, proud of how you made his eyes crinkle in delight.

“We’ll figure it out, I’m sure.”

In the afterglow of it all, you still found your hands roaming, the both of you desperate to stay close and connected with nothing in the way as you laid naked together. Eventually, his caress moved to your face, beginning the familiar ritual. His fingers glided across your cheek bones, smoothed over each brow bone and each eye lid. Gently, he felt his way down your nose, rolled over your lips and came to rest cradling your chin.

“I hope she’s as beautiful as you.” he whispered

For the first time, you believed his praise, knowing his sight was different but what he felt must have been true.

“I hope so too.” you agreed

“You know, I’m really glad we’re having a girl.”

“Yeah, why’s that?”

Matt swallowed thickly, his eyes focused on nothing and yet, they were clearly lost in memories.

“My grandmother used to say ‘Those Murdock boys, they have the devil in them.’”

“Matt, you know—” you tried to argue

“But a daughter, it just gives me hope maybe she won’t turn out like me.”

Matt’s ability to always see the worst parts of himself devastated you. Whenever he got like that you just wanted to grab his face and scream all the great things bout him until he got the idea. If this baby turned out like Matt, all noble and empathetic, you’d be pretty damn proud. You brushed a reassuring hand through his hair, finding him in the moonlight to press your forehead to his.

“I think with you and Frank both raising her, we’ll be lucky if she doesn’t have a mask and a code name by her 16th birthday.”

“We’ve still gotta pick a real one for her first.” he retorted

Your gaze darted towards the door, hoping that Frank was still sleeping soundly in the living room and not making his departure before you were ready.

“You know, he’s leaving tomorrow.” you informed him

“He said he wasn’t—”

“I know, but he said he’s got something he needs to finish. Whatever he was working on. To keep us all safe.”

Matt’s frame tensed beside you, muscles locking rigidly as a hum of disapproval rumbled in his throat. You could feel his hands clenching into fists as they rested against your waist and watched his jaw tick before he spoke.

“He’s going out to kill more people.”

“Matt, hey,” you tried to calm him “He can’t leave a loose end. Even you know that’s a bad idea. He promised me after this, he was done.”

“Do you think he can be?” Matt asked, harsh judgement punctuating every word

“I don’t know, do you?”

“You know how many times I’ve tried to put Daredevil behind me?”

“But you can’t.”

Matt shook his head, unspoken traumas of the past stuck in the silence that lingered in the room.

“Can I ask you something?” you whispered softly

Propping himself up on one elbow and raising his brows, he shifted to hover over you with concern etched on his face.

“Yeah, anything.”

“If anything ever happened to me,” you ran a protective hand over your bump “or her. Would you let him— I mean what he did when he lost his family the first time. Would you stop him?”

“He’d have to beat me to it.”

You were moved that Matt could even think of going that distance. Loving you and your child enough to do the one thing that opposed everything he stood for and made him righteous. Both of you knew though, even such a dire and tragic circumstance still might not be the thing that pushed him across that line.

“Well I’m glad Frank is around just in case. Too keep you good.”

“You and him…” Matt trailed off

“What about us?”

“While I was away this week. The two of you didn’t— I mean, I’d know if you did. Even just kissing. I’d have been able to—”

“Matt, no!” you interrupted, offended at the insinuation “God, I was mad at you but I’d never dream of hurting you like that.”

“I know, but…”

“What?”

“She’s his too. The two of you used to—- And you both still clearly have feelings.”

“I’m not sure that Frank does.”

“Oh please, sweetheart. His heart sounds like the Energizer Bunny anytime you walk in the room. And yours is no better.”

“What does my heart do when you walk in the room?” you asked quietly

“It used to be like that,” his voice calmed “In fact, anytime I used to come to your office, I liked to flirt with you as hard as I could, just to see if I could get it faster than the last time.”

“You absolute menace” you chuckled, playfully elbowing his ribs and speaking with sarcasm“Here I thought I was just that charming and pleasant to be around but you made me a game? How could you?”

“Hey, it made you fall in love with me.”

“Damn right it did.” you giggled, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek “And now? Since we’ve been together a while?”

“It’s calm. Like how mine is when I finish meditating.”

“Exactly, Matt. Because you’re the most stable thing I’ve ever had and you make me feel at peace. You’re my home.”

“Stable? Please tell Foggy you called me that next time you see him.”

“What about hers?” you asked, moving his hand to rest on your abdomen

Cocking his head, he took a moment to listen, softly running a knuckle up and down over your bump.

“Fast. Growing. Every day it gets stronger and I can hear more and I—” his voice caught in his throat, bending down to press a feather light kiss to your stomach and resting his head right on top of it. He pressed his ear into your skin, listening closely.

“I already love her.” he croaked out, dampness falling on your skin as another tear slipped from his eyes.

“I do too.”

Laying there, he continued to listen as the night carried on, his head slowly bobbing up and down each time you inhaled or exhaled. You ran your fingers through the damp hair that was stuck to his forehead while he laid on you, both of you eventually relaxing into slumber.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag list: @xxdrixx @a-leg-without-fear @echo-ethe @capswife @xoxabs88xox @allmyn1ghts @laaadygisbooornex3 @ninacotte @uncertified-doc @moth-murdock @danzer8705 @endofthelinegang @buckyssugarchick @hellskitchenswhore @pixviee @themikkapika @bisexualbith @labellapeaky @theoraekenslover @sexyvixen7 @tanyaherondale @marysucks-blog @0callme-mimi @aesthetic0cherryblossom @lokifae42 @plutosbearr @kneelforloki @uselessnewt @its-in-the-woods @rapturousfrog

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voyarina · 2 days ago

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— voyager x kiperina ♡♡♡

[ please do not use / repost without my permission ]

#reverse 1999 #starrie's art #r1999 #kiperina #voyager reverse 1999 #voyarina

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misanthropicist · 2 days ago

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p1 hi

forgot to send this aha

check pinned post/sstrawpage before interacting. Oh and check my other drawings if you'd like.

I HATE MY LIFE I DIDN'T ADD A WATERMARK I'M GOING TO DIE TOMORROW hi so PLEASE don't use this without permission, and do NOT repost this without credits. My pinned post has my boundaries listed n shit so 👍

#postal #postal 1 #postal 1997 #postal 1 dude #postal 1 dude fanart #postal 1997 dude #postal fandom #postal dude #postal dude fanart #art #drawing #fanart #small artist #artists on tumblr #digital artists #digital art #tw slight nudity #tw religious imagery

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aestheticallynotdeerlightful · 2 days ago

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Mostly Tennas

(Please do not use, trace, or repost my works anywhere without explicit permission from me thank you)

#deersart #my art #deltarune #Tenna #mr ant tenna #kris dreemurr #susie deltarune #spam and elnina are also there but not enough to warrant a tag I don’t think #and a smidge of spamtenna #just a small smidge

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belli5 · 2 days ago

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Sweden Hearts .ᐟ ೀWE⁷²

╰ Synopsis William takes you to Sweden for the first time, meeting his family and spending a day on the boat with him and his family.

tags/contains William Eklund x reader. Fluff, kissing, established relationship, use of Y/n, kinda rushed cuz why not (actually I’m sorry😔), nothing more i guess??

➺ from Sera, to you📨. Easy there white chocolate, wouldn’t want you to melt 😼😼 THAT pic of him though ughh, he’s so hot 🙂‍↕️

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it! Please do NOT rewrite/repost my work anywhere else without permission!

You’d never been to Sweden before. In fact, you barely made it out of California most months thanks to work and William’s hockey schedule.

Between your deadlines and his travel days, the idea of crossing an ocean together had felt like a far off dream, something you’d talk about late at night, tangled up in bed, whispering plans you didn’t know when you’d make real.

But then one evening when hockey season began to end and summer began to stretch out in front of you, William looked at you and brushed a strand of hair out of your face and said, “I want to take you home with me this summer.”

You’d never been to Sweden before, you’d never even left the country, really unless when you went on a vacation for a couple of days. Europe felt like another world entirely, foreign signs, colder air but something about going with William made it feel more amazing.

You were nervous, terrified, actually. Sure, you’d seen William’s mom once before, waved politely from the stands after a game, exchanged a brief hug in the tunnel but this was different.

This wasn’t just a small interaction, this was staying in her house, eating at her table, sleeping under her roof. This was her waking up in the morning and seeing her son’s girlfriend brushing her teeth in the hallway bathroom.

And you wanted so badly to make a good impression, to show her that William hadn’t just brought home some random girl from California, but someone who loved him, who took care of him, who understood just how lucky she was to be his.

You hoped she’d see that in you, that she’d approve, or at least not hate you. It was a quiet kind of fear, sitting low in your chest as you gripped William’s hand tighter on the drive from the airport.

The drive from the airport to his neighborhood was quiet, you watched as the scenery changed, city blocks melting into tree lined streets, the houses were way more smaller than they were in California.

Everything looked so calm, peaceful in a way California never really was. The houses were neat and close together, with flower boxes in the windows and bikes leaning against fences, some had laundry hanging out to dry in the golden evening light.

You turned to William, eyes wide. “It’s so pretty.”

He smiled, stealing a quick glance at you before returning his eyes to the road. “Told you.”

When the car finally pulled into a narrow driveway lined with hedges, you sat up straighter. The house was cozy and sweet, modest but full of character.

And there she was.

William’s mom stood on the porch, her smile wide and open, her hands clasped in front of her like she couldn’t wait another second. You were barely out of the car when she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around you.

“Welcome!” she said, her accent soft and musical, warmth radiating off of her like the sun.

You froze for half a beat, surprised but then you melted into the hug, smiling against her shoulder.

“I’m so happy you’re both here, we’ve been so excited, come inside,” she said.

Inside, William’s dad stepped forward with a warm smile and a firm handshake. “Welcome, we’ve heard a lot about you,” he said kindly, his eyes crinkling.

You smiled back, trying to hide the flutter in your stomach. “Thank you for having me.”

Then Victor appeared, “hey.” You said, offering a polite smile as he greeted you back.

The next morning you woke up to the sun shining over you and William. You knew it was going to be a boat day, so you dressed for it navy bikini, flowy white skirt, big straw hat you borrowed from William’s mom, and oversized sunglasses that made you feel cooler than you probably were.

William gave you a once over as you stepped out into the sun drenched backyard that morning, looking you up and down.

“Wow, Y/n, you look so good.” he said, clearly not caring that his mom was just a few feet away prepping snacks.

You rolled your eyes, blushing. “It’s just a bikini, Will.”

“Yeah, but you’re wearing it, so anything looks good.”

His mom laughed softly under her breath and handed you a bowl of strawberries. “William, you’re being very dramatic.. but it’s true, Y/n, you look very nice.” She smiled at you.

An hour later, the whole family was loading onto the boat, William’s parents, his cousin and little brother, Victor, and of course, William, who seemed determined to be glued to your side.

The boat gently rocked on the glassy water, the Swedish coastline stretching around you in little pockets of forest, rocks, and quiet beauty. The sky was a perfect, endless blue. The kind of summer day that begged to be remembered.

You sat on the cushioned bench in the shade, sunglasses on, your hand loosely gripping a cold bottle of water. William plopped beside you, stretching out lazily, his arm slung over your shoulder.

But you still stiffened slightly when you noticed his mom sitting across from you, smiling lightly behind her sunglasses.

“Will,” you whispered under your breath, nudging him with your elbow. “Your entire family is here.”

“So?” he said, leaning in closer, nose brushing your shoulder. “They know we like each other.”

“Like each other?” you echoed.

He grinned. “Okay, love. Whatever.”

You tried to hide your smile as he leaned in and kissed your cheek, lingering a little too long for a boat full of family members. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks, even as you leaned into him, letting his thumb graze lightly across your shoulder.

“You’re not embarrassed, are you?” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“No,” you said quickly, voice soft. “Of course not, it’s just not like I’m used to being this cozy with someone in front of their mom.”

“She likes you,” he assured, kissing your temple this time. “She told me she thinks you’re classy.”

You snorted. “Yeah, real classy.”

“She said, and I quote, ‘She’s very elegant. You’re lucky, Will.’”

Your heart fluttered a little. “She really said that?”

William nodded. “I think she already sees you as part of this, and if she doesn’t, she will.”

You didn’t say anything right away, just leaned your head on his shoulder as the boat continued to glide through the water.

Victor came over to hand William ‘something’ and shot you a small smirk. “Didn’t think I’d ever see him like this,” he said casually. “He used to be awkward when girls talked to him..”

You laughed. “He’s still awkward.”

William groaned, “Don’t gang up on me..”

Victor walked off with a shrug, leaving you and William chuckling, your hand finding his again, fingers tangling together naturally.

Despite the awkward little moments and the secondhand nerves, you found yourself relaxing. You even took off your skirt when the boat anchored for a swim, diving into the clear water with William at your side.

Later, when you dried off and lay on the bow of the boat with him, the sun warmed your skin and your head rested on his chest, you heard his mom call over from the shaded bench:

“You two look like a magazine ad.”

You laughed, squeezing his hand. “Guess we make a good picture.”

#belli5 #sera 🦢#william eklund #william eklund x reader #x reader #sj sharks #hockey #sweden #nhl hockey #nhl players #nhl #nhl imagine #san jose sharks #william eklund x y/n #william eklund x you #william eklund fluff #we72 #we72 x reader #we72 fluff

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barrettsangel · 8 hours ago

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𝒟𝑜𝓃’𝓉 - 𝑅𝒶𝒻𝑒 𝒞𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓇𝑜𝓃

main m.list ☁️𓂃 rafe m.list ☁️𓂃 send me a req

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ CW;; 18+ content! SMUT. sub!rafe, male receiving oral, hand job, use of a gun, edging, orgasm denial, gagging, praise.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ The one where… You suck Rafe’s dick with a gun to his head, and if he comes without permission… he dies.

“Don’t cum yet, baby… Hold out for me, can you do that? Can you be a good boy?”

Rafe writhes, his body shaking, legs so tense he swears they’re going to lock up to a point he’s unmovable. A muffled whine slips past his lips, the pair of panties you’d shoved in his mouth making words impossible to form.

A thin line of drool drips past his lips, a single tear slipping down his cheek as you push him closer to the edge again. Your mouth works him slowly, gently licking and sucking at his engorged tip while your hand works his swollen shaft.

You slide your mouth down his thick length, reveling in the way his body shudders underneath you as you slowly run your tongue along the pulsating vein that runs up the underside of his thick cock. Another muffled moan slips free as his cock throbs in your mouth.

You release him with a subtle pop, licking your lips as your eyes meet his blue ones. The blue of his eyes shines brightly through the watery tears welled up in them, and the sight has your pussy throbbing.

“Don’t. I swear to God, Rafe… If you cum… I will pull this goddamn trigger.”

You press the gun harder into his temple, emphasizing your point. Rafe’s eyes widen in shock, or maybe fear.. Maybe both, as he shakes his head side to side, a few more tears slipping past his eyes, the sight has a wicked smile spreading across your lips.

“Good boy.”

Taking him back down your throat, you lick and suck at him with vigor, moaning around his thick length every time he pulsed in your mouth. The sight of him below you, the kook prince, reduced to nothing but a whining, submissive mess… And all for you? It drove you wild.

You slowly slide your lips up his length, releasing him with a soft pop as you lick your lips, your eyes on him.

“If I let you cum, will that make you happy? Does my good boy need to cum?”

Rafe whimpers, a tear slipping down his cheek as he roughly nods his head.

You run the barrel of the gun over his cheek, swiping away the tear, a grin on your lips at the sound of his frightened gasp.

You pull your panties from his mouth, tossing them to the floor, “Words, Rafe.. Let me hear you beg me for it.”

He sniffles. “P-please? Please can I cum? I’ll d-do anything, I swear!”

You smile, a small groan escaping you at the pathetic sound of his begging.

“Anything?” You tease, gathering spit in your mouth and letting it fall onto Rafe’s swollen tip. You track your saliva, watching it roll down the engorged head and down his thick shaft before ending at his balls. Your hands squeeze at his balls softly, spreading the saliva before running your hand up his shaft to his head, toying with him.

Rafe whimpers, his cock twitching in your hand as you continue to tease him, torturously stroking and squeezing at him. “Yes! Any— fuck, I’ll do anything!”

You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, continuing your slow and deliberate strokes, pushing him further towards release while still actively denying him.

Rafe’s body twitches, the intensity of his whimpers growing with every passing second. You loved watching him squirm for you, loved hearing him whine and beg you to allow him the simple pleasure of coming all over your tits, in your pussy or ass or even just in your hand when you’re feeling extra nice and want to please only him.

“Okay,” you sigh, running the barrel of the gun down his cheek. “You can cum for me, go on, be my good boy and cum all in my hand.”

As if your words were all he needed to hear, Rafe lets out a strangled moan, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks as his body convulses on the bed, warm ropes of cum spilling from his sensitive cock and into your hand.

You smile, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you watch him fall apart beneath you, “You’re so handsome when you cum while crying for me.. That’s it, Rafe, let it all out.” You praise, continuing to lightly squeeze at his shaft, your wrist moving in slow, methodical strokes as you milk him for every last drop he has.

His body falls limp on the mattress, his breathing choppy. You toss the gun to the ground, curling up beside him and rubbing your hands across his chest, “You did good, Rafey. You did so good for me.”

#the angels work🪽#mdni credit: @/cafekitsune #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe obx #obx fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic

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johnnycadesmuse · 1 day ago

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･ ˖ · use your heart

— ceo!dallas winston x secretary!reader

in which .ᐟ you need dally desperately, and how could he say no to his favourite assistant? (@avroravia helped me out)

song 𝄞 use your heart by SWV

warnings: language, nsfw, semi-public sex, rough, squirting

you couldn't stop the aching between your thighs as you shifted in your shitty rolling chair that was sat behind your desk. paperwork scattered the surface, a pen in your hand as the end ran back and forth on your bottom lip, your red lipstick staining the tip.

you could feel your panties growing wetter, your thighs growing sticky from sweat. your eyes were laser focused on your boss in his office, pacing back and forth as he yelled at some delinquent assistant over the phone. and every time he ran his fingers through his slightly greased hair or took a quick glance at you, you couldn't help but clench your thighs and take a deep breath.

you weren't needy when you arrived to work earlier that morning, in fact, you were the opposite. a date from the night before had gone poorly. the man was obnoxious and rude to the staff, he made crude comments toward you and your outfit, and in the end he made you pay for half of the tab. safe to say, you wouldn't be seeing that man again.

you had only gone on the date to forget about your boss who you had been secretly "seeing" for the past few months. he had ignored you the day prior, shooing you off every time you came into his office. it hurt your heart, making your throat close and tears prick your eyes.

despite you not being emotionally involved, it still hurt to be ignored by him. you were sensitive and very, very sexually frustrated. you had been hoping to get a good lay out of your date— it was one of the only reasons you had accepted it— but you were left high and dry.

your anger levels were high and your muscles were tense as you sat down in your chair, huffing and puffing as your set out your work materials from your designer bag (which funnily enough, had been gifted to you by your boss).

"can you come into my office please and bring the partner file?" you boss called to you through the phone. you groaned, picking yourself up and walking to your bosses office with the requested file in hand.

you knocked, hearing a voice shout "come in!" before you entered.

you strutted over to him, setting the file on his desk. "thanks baby" he told you before slapping your ass roughly, making you jump from shock. you looked back at him with a smirk before slowly exiting. you bit your lip, sitting back down at your desk, leading to now.

you knew that you weren't supposed to go into Dally's office without his permission. but you were so needy, and he looked so handsome.

you swiftly glided Dally's favourite red lipstick over your lips, glancing in the mirror of your compact for touch ups before standing up and heading toward Dally's office. you didn't bother knocking as you were too hot and bothered to care about what he was doing.

he was on the phone, leaning back in his chair which was faced toward the window, showing a beautiful view of the city of Tulsa.

he turned to face you, giving you a nod with a smile, merely thinking you were here to give him a message.

you turned Dally's chair to face you, slowly making your way lower and lower to the floor until you were on your knees in front of him. you glided your hands up and down his thighs, giving him those fuck me eyes he could never resist.

"hold on a second Bob" Dally spoke into the phone before covering the speaker with his hand. "what are you doin' baby" he spoke softly, stroking his hand lightly over your hair.

"want you" you whined, kissing over his clothed cock which you could feel getting hard. your lipstick rubbed off against the fabric of his slacks, leaving red stains all over. he chuckled, raising the phone back to his ear.

"listen Bob, I got a meeting. gonna have to call you back" he told the man through the phone before setting it down onto the base. "listen honey, I really do have a meeting I gotta go to"

you pouted slightly with a groan, laying your face against his thighs as he continued to play with your hair. "please.." you begged, looking back up at him, batting your eyelashes. Dally sighed heavily, the tent in his pants now painfully obvious.

he couldn't go to a meeting like this? his dick painfully hard against his tight pants. it would be mortifying! it would ruin his reputation! not to mention the beautiful girl kneeling before him, begging for him to fuck her.

"heard you had a date last night." Dally told you sternly, making your eyes widen slightly.

"how did you-"

"heard some of the girls talking about it 'round the office" he whispered, his face now mere inches away from yours as he bent down to face you.

you had bragged a bit to the girls around the office about a guy asking you out, giving them something to gossip about. you hadn't thought about it getting back to Dallas, and you sure as hell didn't think he'd care as much as he did. "you think you can just go around fuckin' other guys, huh?" Dallas scolded you, grabbing your face harshly as he tugged on your ponytail.

you shook your head no, not saying a word as you felt yourself get intimidated by him. and despite the tiniest bit of fear that you felt in your stomach, you could also feel yourself getting even more turned on by his man handling. the way his rough, thick fingers squished your cheeks slightly as his hands tugged on your roots. he knew the power that he had over you, and he knew that you loved it.

"that's what I thought" he spoke softly, slightly shoving you back as he got up and walked over to the door, turning the lock before walking back over to his chair and patting his lap. "come here" he demanded, and you didn't hesitate to obey him. you bent over his lap, chest pressed against his thighs as your ass was in the air, your black lace panties peaking out from under your skirt. "you wear this for me?" he asked as he toyed with the lace of your underwear, though his words sounded more like a statement.

you nodded, hiding your smile by pressing your face further into him. he rubbed over the fat of your ass before giving it a harsh smack. "tell me your mine" he scolded before delivering another smack.

"i'm yours!" you whimpered, your fingernails digging into the fabric of his pants as your hand gripped on his leg. after a few more firm spanks, Dally was satisfied.

he pushed your skirt up to your waist, pulling your panties down until they were scrunched up around your knees, exposing your bare ass and wet pussy. he began to rub his fingers up and down your folds slowly, gathering your slick on his fingers, making you whimper. "already so fuckin' wet. haven't even touched you yet"

you hummed, biting on your thumb, a ring of lipstick staining your skin. "can't believe your making me miss a fucking meeting" he sighed, beginning to rub your clit. you moaned, your toes curling slightly, causing your kitten heels to lift off of your foot for a moment. and though Dally sounded annoyed, you knew he was enjoying himself. he loved to see your squirm. he loved to see you laid out for him, looking beautiful and needy. "your gonna make it up to me yeah? by letting me play with your pretty pussy?"

"yes" you whimpered as you spread your legs slightly, giving him better access to the area where you needed him most.

"that's my girl" he smirked before slipping two fingers into your cunt, a moan escaping your body. he pumped into you at a bearable pace, his thick, veiny fingers making you feel so full.

"fuck" you whimpered, kicking your legs slightly, squirming against his lap. "don't stop" you begged.

"wasn't planning on it" he chuckled with a cocky grin before picking up the pace, now fingering you faster and harder. he continued to hit all of the right spots, making your moans grow louder and louder. he delivered a few spanks to your ass with his other hand before it returned to your hair, occasionally tugging your strands when you let out a moan that was a little too loud for an office setting.

your mascara began to run down your face as you cried tears of both pleasure and pain, his occasional harsh tugs on your hair sending small waves of pain through your head. yet you loved it. you loved the contrast of feeling both pleasure and pain, just how you loved the contrast of the positions you and Dally both were in.

after a few moments, you felt Dally nudge that spot that made your eyes roll back into your head. "right there" you croaked, your nails now close to ripping the fabric of Dally's pants as you gripped onto him for support.

"yeah, you like that?" he taunted, now fingering you at a rapid pace as your pussy made a squelching sound that filled the room along with your moans and whimpers. you nodded, not being able to respond, your body practically frozen from pleasure. "you gonna make a mess for me?" he asked, though his tone sounded more needy. as if he needed you to make a mess all over his new carpet.

suddenly, as you felt yourself cum all over his fingers, clear liquid shot out along with it, practically spraying all over the floor. "that's it" he whispered to you, continuing to finger you through your orgasm. "good girl" he praised, delivering a few light slaps to your soaked pussy as your body stuttered, your legs shaking. he rubbed your clit lightly, making you whimper from overstimulation. "feel better?" he asked and you nodded, whispering a quiet 'yeah' before beginning to stand up.

your entire lower body was soaked, the back of your legs covered and panties in your juices— not to mention the rug that was now soaked. "i'll get the maid to clean it" he reassured as you stared at the mess that you made.

he stood up, helping you take off your dirty panties before tossing them in the trash. "but those were expensive!" you protested.

"i'll buy ya' a new pair baby. we can do it during lunch yeah? then maybe we can go back to your apartment for bit." he said smoothly with a grin, one that made your heart flutter. "now, go be a good girl and finish that report for me, yeah?" he pulled you in, smacking your ass before passionately kissing you.

you pulled away with a smile, your face flushed. you walked toward the door as he sat back down on his chair, adjusting his tie. you glanced back one more time with a smile before returning to work.

@browneyebby @r0seb100d @jamesdeanbby @fqdedtulips @seilahdiaries @johnnycadesslut @callme-holly

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selene-stories · 16 hours ago

Text

Prompt by @some-messed-up-writing-for-you!

********************

Hero soared through the sky, cape whipping around behind them. Their eyes scanned the cityscape in search of trouble and thankfully found none, bringing a pleased smile to their face.

A few civilians waved at them from down below, cheering at the sight of them. Hero waved back. They were practically oozing happiness, beaming like a second sun in the sky.

And of course, Villain had to come in and ruin it like usual.

Villain flew next to them easily, as if it was their birthright.

“Don't you think Becca is being a bit excessive with the yellow? Surely you'd see the sign without it.”

“What?”

Villain pointed towards one of hero's fans; They were holding up a sign that read Thank you Hero!! in these big, yellow letters. Hero's heart bloomed with warmth and villain, ever so helpful, was quick to dump ice all over it.

“Surely you remember your fans' names?”

“Well, i–"

“Because I have them alphabetised.”

With a flourish, a folder appeared, one full of people's names and pictures.

“Okay. . .” Hero said, “This is a bit much. Even for you.”

The Villain scoffed.

“I have these with permission. But now that you mention it, your fans had no issue barging into my lair. You might wanna tell them to be a little more polite.”

Surely they didn't hear them right. Their fans were very polite.

Did they. . .surely they didn't go inside their lair? What about the security system, the guards, the weapons?

If there was a way to mask their fear, their panic, their everything from the Villain, the hero had never found it. They knew nothing of how to not present their messiness on a silver platter.

“God, you're dramatic. Where's your Inhaler?”

Had ttheir fans gone to Villain's lair, thinking it was safe just because the Hero had visited once? Had they gotten hurt? Watched others get hurt?

“I swear,” Villain snapped, annoyedly searching their pocket. “I have to do everything. Have you ever actually flown with it with you? You're such a flying hazzard.”

They shoved a small object towards Hero, before the latter could even blink.

“Don’t expect me to keep bringing it, cause I won't.”

By the time Hero's eyes had focused, the inhaler had grown warm under the sun. They did keep forgetting, but what was worse was that the Villain never did.

“I. . .yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Under clear skies, and so close, the Villain's features looked far softer than they'd ever seen them.

“What are you doing here?” Hero finally asked, making them tense up.

“You don’t own the sky hero. I can fly freely too."

A chuckle left them unwilling and free.

Civilians were still looking up at the two of them, some leaning close to each other to whisper. It's not like the hero could hear them.

They must have made quite the sight.

“I take it you didn't hurt them, then.”

“Of course I didn't. You know I never turn down gifts.”

The hero blinked.

“Gifts?”

“For going easy on you,” the villain said, leisurely examining their nails. “And of course, for being your favourite nemesis.”

“I'm not– you're not– . . .You go easy on me?”

The sun set behind them, and it was almost like the Villain was blushing.

“That isn't important. What's important is that you tell your fans to stay away. My sidekick saw his daughter amongst your fans, he nearly fainted. He's fine," they added as an afterthought.

An odd sense of care swirled in them, even if they didn't mean for anyone to worry.

“I'll let them know.”

The inhaler sat in Villain's hands now, secure in delicate fingers. The hero didn't know why they stared for so long.

“You know. . .I could use some company. The Sky is awfully boring if you fly alone."

“I guess I can extend my morning flight."

“Great.” It was impossible for Hero not to smile. “You don't need to fly right next to me though.”

“I do. Besides. . .”

The Villain's eyes went low, scanning over the city, and for the first time since they came here, not daring to meet Hero's gaze.

The inhaler still glinted under the light.

“I hear it's the safest place to be.”

#prompt fill #heroes and villains #writing #other people's writing #my writing #some messed up writing for you #hero x villain #hero #villain #snippet #story #villain x hero #writers on tumblr #Do you have your nemesis fans' names alphabetised?

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versesbyaaliyah · 2 days ago

Text

A Life of Wants

Written by Aaliyah O'Neil

This poem was inspired by the prompt 'Ambition,' provided by @ghostingmyghosts and hosted by @picklemafia .

At five, I swore I’d join the stars—

A NASA suit, a seat on Mars.

With foil-wrapped boots and starry eyes,

I launched from gravel into skies.

At eight, I ruled the jungle green—

A zookeeper, both fierce and keen.

My lion roared; I roared back twice—

The garden pulsed with wild advice.

At ten, I trained for covert life—

A future agent, sharp as knife.

With torch in hand and bugged-out vents,

I filed reports and tracked events.

MI6 was where I’d go—

A licence for what none should know.

At thirteen, I began to fade—

Too loud, too odd, too much afraid.

I hoarded thoughts beneath my bed,

And only spoke with pens instead.

At fifteen, I would heal and mend—

An NHS doctor, wounds to tend.

I traced the heart in every book,

And studied pain in every look.

At eighteen, words rewrote my fate—

I turned from scalpels to create.

Poetry stole my will to fight;

I found myself in ink and night.

At twenty-five, I planned a life

Of Sunday shops and being a wife.

Two mugs, one sink, a porch, a song—

A quiet love, both safe and strong.

At thirty, motherhood took root—

Not just the child, the fierce pursuit.

Through sleepless dawns and Lego mines,

I shaped our world in softer lines.

At forty, I began to crave

Some time to keep, some peace to save.

I cut the noise, embraced the slow,

And learned the grace of letting go.

At fifty, I still danced alone,

But claimed the rhythm as my own.

I laughed, I cooked, wore what felt right—

And kept my clever tongue alight.

At sixty, memory blurred the view—

But scent and song still drifted through.

My daughter’s laugh, a lullaby,

Still simmered in my shepherd’s pie.

At seventy, I sought old friends—

The ones who knew my odds and ends.

We shared old sins and cups of tea,

And stitched the past with honesty.

At eighty, I became a guide—

No shame left now, no need to hide.

They came for cake, stayed for my lore,

And left with more than they came for.

At ninety, love was all I kept—

A hand to hold, a dog that slept.

No medals gleamed, no statues rose—

Just peace that only old age knows.

At one hundred—if I get there—

Let children charge the garden air.

Let dreams run wild, let laughter play,

And bless the dusk of one more day.

These original poems and content are my creative work and are protected by copyright. Please do not reproduce, share, or use them without my permission.

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formulafanfics13 · 24 hours ago

Text

The Secret Girlfriend - Chapter 20

Masterlist

Disclaimer:

This fanfic will contain mature themes and topics (smut, abuse, power imbalance, drug use, alcohol dependency, control, and eating disorders). There will not be warnings throughout, so if you proceed with this fic, please bear this in mind!

The air over Silverstone was thick with Sunday morning stillness and the threat of another downpour. The clouds were low and moody, the kind that always made photographers sigh and lighting techs pray, but it didn't matter. Not to Lily, anyway. She was too busy focusing on each careful crutch step, the soft click of rubber against tarmac, the weightless balance of keeping herself upright without falling on her arse in front of every engineer, media rep, and camera in a five-mile radius.

Lando walked just behind her, close enough that his hand kept brushing the small of her back like instinct. He carried her shoulder bag, her paddock pass, and every ounce of emotional patience in the building. His other hand reached forward to scan both their passes as they stepped past the turnstiles and into the beating heart of the paddock. Engines hummed low. Coffee cups clinked. Radios buzzed. The Sunday buzz was kicking in.

Then they rounded the corner.

And there, parked like a teenage valet outside a beach resort, sat Oscar Piastri. In a golf buggy. One arm slung dramatically over the wheel, sunglasses on despite the total lack of sun, and a smug little smirk plastered across his face like he'd been waiting for this moment all morning.

Lando blinked. Then blinked again. "What the fuck is this?"

Lily tilted her head, eyes narrowing at Oscar. "Why do you look like a 12-year-old going to prom?"

Oscar straightened up, pushed the sunglasses to his forehead like he was about to make an announcement. "Toto gave me the keys."

Lando raised a brow. "Toto gave you the keys."

Oscar nodded, smug. "Told me to make sure Lily has the best possible first race day experience. VIP vibes only. Golf cart included."

Lily stared, amused. "He gave you permission to drive me around?"

Oscar beamed. "I have a license."

Lando choked on a laugh. "You also nearly crashed into the catering tent yesterday."

"That was a gust of wind."

"It was a tray of croissants."

Lily stepped forward carefully, balancing on one foot and raising an eyebrow at the buggy. "Is this... safe?"

Oscar stood and offered his hand like he was inviting her to the Met Gala. "Ma'am, this is Formula 1. We've got safety down to an art."

Lando sighed, leaned forward and carefully helped Lily into the passenger seat, one hand steadying her cast, the other placing her crutches across her lap like she was royalty being armed for battle. She settled into the seat with a quiet sigh, tucking her bag in beside her and adjusting the hem of her dress over her good knee.

Lando climbed onto the backseat, tossing both their credentials and her sunglasses onto the dash. "This is gonna be chaos."

Oscar adjusted the mirror with exaggerated focus. "This is gonna be luxury."

He pulled away with the world's slowest acceleration. The golf buggy crawled forward at approximately the speed of a drunken snail. Lando immediately groaned. "Mate. What are you doing?"

Oscar didn't take his eyes off the imaginary road. "I'm being careful."

"You're being sedated."

"I don't want her to fall out."

"She's literally wearing a seatbelt."

"I don't want her to bounce."

Lando leaned forward, arms draped over the backrest, glaring. "She's a human woman, not a fucking water balloon."

Oscar shrugged, unmoved. "I'm aiming for a five-star Uber rating."

Lily, barely holding in a giggle, turned to Lando with a mock-serious expression. "He's trying his best."

"He's Oscar," Lando said dramatically, leaning back with a groan. "He's legally incapable of speed."

Oscar raised a hand without looking. "Insult the driver again and I'm taking you through the gravel."

Lily bit back a laugh as they passed a group of engineers outside the Aston Martin garage. A few of them turned and did double takes at the sight of Lily James, in papaya-orange leather, being chauffeured across the paddock by a grinning Oscar Piastri, with Lando Norris riding shotgun like he'd lost a bet.

"I feel like a fucking celebrity," Lily whispered, eyes dancing as a couple more cameras clicked.

"You are a celebrity," Lando muttered.

"Not like this."

"Everyone's looking at us."

"That's the point," Oscar said proudly. "You're the main character today."

"I was the main character yesterday."

Lando nodded. "And the day before."

"And every day before that," Lily added sweetly.

Oscar sighed. "Well today I'm the supporting comedic relief."

"And the designated driver," Lando quipped. "Like always."

Lily looked out at the gridlines of the paddock, the sky bruising overhead, the flash of team polos and lanyards and camera rigs. And she grinned.

Because she wasn't walking. She wasn't limping. She wasn't hiding behind sunglasses and painkillers and Lando's hoodie. She was being driven, like the most dangerous girl alive, like she mattered, by the softest boy in the slowest cart. And the boy she loved was right behind her, holding her bag like he'd always done, smirking through the chaos, ready for whatever came next.

Oscar turned the buggy toward McLaren hospitality, rounding the corner with a speed that felt like crawling in molasses. "Next stop: luxury," he said like a tour guide.

Lando shook his head. "Next stop: your driving test."

Oscar grinned. "I'll pass with flying colours."

Lily leaned her head against the seat and smiled. "This is already the best race day of my life."

McLaren hospitality was already alive with the low, electric buzz of race day by the time the buggy rolled up. Team staff moved with sharp intent, camera crews positioned themselves at vantage points, and the smell of fresh espresso and tyre rubber clung to the humid air like tension waiting to crack. But none of that mattered to Lily when Oscar, careful as ever, helped guide the golf buggy to a gentle stop right in front of the entrance.

Lando hopped off first, grabbing her crutches and bag like it was second nature now. He extended a hand toward her with the kind of quiet instinct that had once been born out of secrecy but now just lived in muscle memory. She took it. Let him help her down with ease, cast protected, balance steady, hair swept back under her McLaren cap.

Oscar moved around the front, grabbing the pass from the dashboard and swinging it back around his neck with a pleased smile. "Five-star trip. No potholes. No collisions."

"No speed either," Lando muttered, but the corner of his mouth curved as he slipped his hand around Lily's waist and ushered her inside.

They moved through the familiar glass doors into the cool, polished warmth of the hospitality space. The McLaren crew barely looked twice now, she was part of the furniture. The girl in the papaya jacket, the girl with the cast, the girl they all watched Lando look at like she'd invented oxygen. A few smiles, a couple of waves. Zak was already gone, somewhere deep in the race strategy meeting, but Andrea popped his head out of the engineering office just long enough to give them a warm smile and a quiet thumbs-up. He didn't even have to ask. He just pointed toward the driver suite.

Lando and Oscar helped her up the stairs slowly, Lando's palm pressed gently against her back again like she might fall through the floor. But they made it. No missteps. No awkward stumbles. And when the door to his driver's room clicked shut behind them, she exhaled softly like she hadn't let herself all morning.

He set her things down, adjusted the little pillow on the sofa and nodded toward it. "You okay to chill here for a bit?"

She sat with a grateful sigh, stretching out her good leg. "More than okay. Go do your thing."

Lando hesitated, but only for a moment. Then he said, "George messaged earlier. Carmen's going to pop over in a few minutes to keep you company. She's already on her way from Mercedes."

Lily raised a brow. "You guys really do treat me like I'm on babysitting watch."

Oscar was checking his reflection in the mirror, smoothing down a stray hair. "You are. And we're proud."

Lily laughed, leaning back. "Seriously. Go. I'm fine. I don't need a chaperone."

Lando crossed the room and kissed the top of her head. "You say that, but last time we left you alone, you ended up in a group chat cult."

"Worth it."

Oscar swung the door open dramatically. "Don't move. Carmen will be here any second."

"I'm literally in a cast."

"Exactly. Don't even breathe."

They left with a wave of papaya orange and smugness, and the door clicked softly behind them. But as they moved down the corridor, race suits zipped to their waists and data screens awaiting them in the debrief room, Oscar turned to Lando with a quick glance over his shoulder.

"I wasn't joking about visiting," he said, quieter now, more serious than usual. "If you guys don't mind, I'd love to come to Monaco sometime. Just... hang out. Bring my Lily."

Lando looked over, eyebrows raised, and then smiled. Really smiled. "Mate, you're always welcome. Seriously. Come whenever."

Oscar exhaled, relieved. "She's dying to meet yours. Keeps asking if it's weird to have two Lilys in the same team."

"Only weird if you mix them up mid-conversation."

Oscar grinned. "She's nervous. Thinks your Lily is, like, cool and untouchable and terrifying."

"She is," Lando agreed, laughing. "But she's also going to love her. And your Lily's got that quiet genius thing going for her. Mine's a chaotic icon with a vape and no filter. They'll balance each other out."

Oscar nodded as they reached the meeting room doors. "You got plans later this week?"

Lando rubbed the back of his neck. "Max's Fewtrell and Pietra are coming to stay Tuesday night. She's doing a shoot for Missus Swimwear on Monday, and they're crashing at ours after."

Oscar blinked. "Pietra. That's Max's girlfriend, right?"

"Yeah," Lando nodded. "And Thursday, Max asked if we'd do breakfast in Monaco. Said Kelly and Penelope will be there. Finally wants Lily to meet them."

Oscar grinned. "Should I fly in Wednesday, then?"

"You can fly in Tuesday if you want. Stay with us," Lando offered. "We'll get brunch Thursday and get kicked out of the café for being too loud."

Oscar smirked. "Deal. But I'm claiming the guest room with the balcony."

"You can have any room as long as you stop calling yourself her babysitter."

"No promises."

The doors swung open in front of them and the lights of the debrief room flickered to life. Engineers. Screens. Strategy. Lap data already glowing on monitors. But even in the quiet hum of race day focus, Lando felt it, that shift. That soft click of the world realigning.

His life was here. But hers was woven through it now. Even Oscar knew that.

The door to Lando's driver suite opened with that soft pneumatic whoosh, and Carmen stepped in like a breeze of well-curated calm. Her hair was tied back into a soft ponytail, Mercedes team lanyard bouncing against her chest, and she had that easy smile that made her instantly likeable, the kind of woman who knew the exact difference between small talk and sacred gossip.

Lily lit up immediately. "Hi!"

Carmen crossed the room and hugged her gently, careful of the cast and crutches tucked at Lily's side. "Hi, gorgeous. Look at you. Papaya looks good on you."

Lily grinned. "You too. How's Susie?"

Carmen sat beside her, adjusting her linen trousers. "She's not here today, unfortunately. F1 Academy stuff. I think she's in Geneva. Meetings all day but flyong back later this afternoon for the meal."

Lily nodded, sipping from the iced coffee Andrea had sent up earlier. "She's magic. I like her."

"She likes you too," Carmen replied easily, then added with a grin, "Oh, and Toto asked if Oscar picked you up in the buggy this morning."

Lily cackled immediately, hand flying to her mouth. "Oh my God, he did. And he drove like we were on cobbled roads with no suspension. I think we were overtaken by a man walking his dog."

Carmen laughed. "He's too polite to drive recklessly. He's scared of hurting you."

"I felt like a protected artefact," Lily said, leaning back. "I love him. But next time I'm driving."

"You'd kill him," Carmen said, then bumped her shoulder. "So? How are you feeling really?"

Lily tilted her head. "Honestly? Good. Lando's been... ridiculous. And being here's actually helped. Everyone's been so fucking nice it's unsettling."

Carmen smiled, nodding slowly. "You're going to change this place. I can already feel it."

The hour passed quickly. They chatted about everything and nothing, about fashion week, Carmen's uni days, the time George tried to cook risotto for her and nearly set fire to their Airbnb in Tuscany. They compared shoes, swapped perfume recommendations, and argued about the best type of oat milk. It was the kind of conversation that only happened when both people understood fame but didn't worship it. Just two women, finally colliding in a world full of boys and noise.

Then the door clicked open again. Lando walked in first, race suit peeled halfway down, fireproofs damp at the collar, curls slightly flattened by his helmet and still stuck in that intense post-debrief haze. But his eyes softened the second they landed on her.

He crossed the room in two steps and dropped onto the sofa beside her, one hand curling around her knee gently, the other tucking her hair back. "Hey," he murmured. "You okay?"

Lily smiled at him. "I'm good. Carmen's been keeping me company."

Oscar entered behind him, dropping his bottle of water onto the table with a thud. "Told you she wouldn't even notice we were gone."

"She did," Lily said, fake-pouting. "I missed you. A lot. I was so bored and alone and unloved."

Oscar rolled his eyes and grabbed one of the McLaren fleece blankets from the corner, throwing it dramatically over her lap like she was a princess and he was a servant. "There. You're pampered again."

Lando smirked, then turned back to Lily, his voice casual but warm. "Hey, so... quick heads up. Max and Pietra are staying at ours Monday night."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"And Oscar's gonna fly in Tuesday, stay a few days," Lando continued. "Max wants us all to do breakfast Thursday with Kelly and Penelope. Says it's essential you meet them. Apparently P's a fan."

Lily flushed faintly, then nodded. "Thursday's perfect." Then she paused. Like her brain was buffering something in the background. She sighed.

Lando noticed immediately. "What?"

"The group's coming over Wednesday," Lily said. "For the night."

Lando groaned and let his head fall back against the cushion. "Oh fuck. Is it the last Wednesday of the month?"

She nodded, sheepish. "It's the full-moon dinner."

Oscar looked between them, intrigued and mildly terrified. "What group?"

Lily grinned. "My friends. You know. The ones that make Vogue editors panic. Kendall. Gigi. Barbara. Taylor. Bella. Maybe Jude. Depends if he's still in Spain."

Oscar blinked. "That's... a group."

"We do it every month. Dinner, drinks, themed outfits. Last time we did 'childhood trauma.'"

Lando winced. "They brought wigs. I had to leave halfway through."

"You cried laughing," Lily corrected.

"I cried because Kendall told your therapist my star sign."

"She guessed correctly."

Carmen was silently howling on the other sofa. Lily turned to Oscar with a soft smile. "It'll be chaotic. And loud. And possibly feral. But you can still stay if you want. You can have a guest room to yourself, I promise. We'll even hide your shoes so no one borrows them."

Oscar looked overwhelmed. But pleased. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Carmen laughed. "Oh God, you've already been adopted."

"Fully," Lando said. "There's no going back now."

An hour later, the garage buzzed with quiet intensity, a low hum of machinery and minds at work. Lando leaned back against the tyre warmers, rolling out his wrists and neck like muscle memory, his fireproofs zipped to the collar, eyes scanning telemetry screens across the room even though he wasn't really seeing them. The air smelled like rubber and adrenaline, and Oscar was perched on a stool nearby, stretching his arms behind his back, trying to look relaxed even though his foot was tapping a little too fast.

"Hey," Oscar said casually, flicking a glance sideways. "You sure it's alright if I crash at yours in the week?"

Lando looked over, the ghost of a grin curling his mouth. "Mate, of course. You don't have to keep asking. You're welcome any time."

Oscar's mouth twitched like he didn't quite believe it. "You sure Lily won't mind?"

Lando let out a quiet chuckle, running a hand through his curls. "She literally invited you herself. You could show up with a suitcase and a pet turtle and she'd make you pancakes."

Oscar grinned. "That's... oddly specific."

"She made Jude pancakes once because he showed up at 6AM in a cowboy hat," Lando said, deadpan. "Nothing surprises me anymore."

Oscar nodded slowly. "Alright. Good to know."

"And you can bring your Lily too," Lando added. "If she ever wants to come."

Oscar glanced up, surprised. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Ours is a chill place. We've got room, a killer view, and a fridge full of questionable snacks. She'd like it."

Oscar tilted his head. "You sure the house can handle two Lilys?"

Lando smirked. "We'll label your mugs."

Oscar exhaled a quiet laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. Then, more softly, "What about her friends? Are they... cool with guests?"

Lando looked down, smiling faintly like he was already picturing the chaos. "If you don't leak anything you see, they'll love you."

Oscar blinked. "Leak anything I see?"

"You've seen Barbara's instagram," Lando reminded him. "That is tame."

Oscar looked horrified. "That's tame?"

Lando gave a lazy shrug. "Let's just say there's usually champagne, themed outfits, suspicious playlists, and three different people crying for entirely unrelated reasons. If you behave, they'll probably braid your hair and make you sign an NDA."

Oscar stared. Then, very cautiously, "Are these like... the polaroid nights? The ones Lewis mentioned?"

Lando bit back a grin. A knowing, dangerous kind of grin. The kind that made Oscar wish he hadn't asked. "Yeah," he said finally, voice low and amused. "Exactly like those."

Oscar blinked. "Fuck."

"Exactly," Lando said, smirking as he pushed off the wall. "You still wanna stay?"

Oscar didn't hesitate. "Fuck yes."

In the distance, through the haze of pitlane noise and camera shutters, Lily sat at the pit wall like she belonged there. Draped in papaya, her cast resting on a pillow Will had stolen from someone's office, headset settled over her freshly styled hair, and an untouched espresso in front of her as she listened to Andrea, Zak, Tom, and Will chat strategy like she was the most important person in the room. And maybe she was. Because even surrounded by data, noise, and a thousand moving parts, she looked over at Lando just then, caught his smirk across the garage, and smiled. The kind of smile that said she'd seen chaos. Built a life with it. And come out gilded.

Lewis won. It was anticlimactic only in the way that a Lewis Hamilton win could be, inevitable, sleek, controlled chaos turned elegance. The garage had erupted, the crowd had screamed, and Lily had actually whooped loud enough to scare the intern beside her. Lando crossed the line P4, Oscar came in just behind, and everyone else more or less survived. Her cast had two new smudges on it from where Zak had high-fived her ankle.

And now they were back at the hotel. Late afternoon glow bleeding into early evening, the suite lit with golden light and the rumpled silence that followed every Sunday.

Lily sat on the bed, one crutch leaned against the nightstand, her leg stretched out across the duvet as she re-did the clasp of a gold ankle bracelet just above the cast. Her dress was a soft lavender silk halter that Lando said made her look like a wet dream in a Vogue editorial. Her hair was down, slightly curled at the ends. She looked up when Lando stepped out of the bathroom, towel around his waist, frowning.

"I hate these fucking dinners," he muttered.

Lily raised an eyebrow. "You hate every team dinner."

"Because they're always the same!" Lando tossed the towel onto the chair and rummaged through the closet, muttering under his breath. "Pierre and Charles will be whispering shit in French like they're in a high school comedy, Oscar'll be mentally playing chess or asleep, Max will down five gin and tonics and forget how to speak English, Christian and Toto will start arguing about brake ducts or wind tunnel allocations or some dumbass regulation from 2009-"

He emerged with a dress shirt and pointed at her dramatically. "And then Zak'll butt in just to wind Christian up. Like he lives for it. He's like a chaos goblin. And George will be trying to have a serious conversation about tyre politics and the FIA while everyone else is literally just trying to make it through the bread basket without throwing themselves out a window."

Lily blinked. "That was... a lot."

"I'm just saying," Lando said, dramatically collapsing onto the edge of the bed beside her, shirt still in hand. "It's boring."

She leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "It's not boring. It's tradition."

"It's hell."

She rested her chin on his shoulder, her voice soft. "Baby, I'm injured. We can't go clubbing or sneak out on a scooter tonight. It's a dinner with your friends. It'll be nice to see everyone outside of the paddock."

"We see them in the paddock constantly."

"Ihavent," she said. "Not when everyone's a little calmer. Not when they're not sweaty and in fireproofs and being followed by cameras. Just... human. Quiet. I want to know them like you know them. Beyond lap times and interviews."

Lando turned to look at her, hair still damp, expression softening. "You already know Max and Oscar."

"And Lewis," she added. "But even then, I've only seen Max and Lewis outside of the paddock. That's it. Everyone else... it's like I know them in theory, but not in practice."

Lando exhaled. "You're going to hate it."

She smiled, brushing a hand over his chest as she leaned back slightly. "Maybe. But I'll hate it with you. And I'll look hot doing it."

He rolled his eyes, but the edge of his mouth curled. "You're insufferable."

"And you're dramatic."

"I'm valid."

She kissed his temple. "Now put that shirt on properly before you get distracted and I have to do your buttons for you again."

He grumbled, but stood. "I'm going to tell Max you're bullying me."

"Max'll side with me. He knows good taste when he sees it."

Lando just shook his head, already buttoning the pale blue shirt. "God help us."

The hotel suite buzzed quietly with soft music, the hum of a hair dryer from the other room, and Lily's occasional teasing comments about how this was going to be her Roman Empire, watching Max and Charles get progressively more drunk while George tried to filibuster about track limits.

The night had only just begun.

The restaurant was candlelit, rich with hushed chatter and the soft clinking of glassware. Private dining room, obviously, they weren't idiots, but even still, the energy felt low and warm and intimate in that unmistakable post-race way. Most of the grid had arrived already, scattered down the long table that ran almost the full length of the room. At the far end: Toto and Christian, already mid-debate, arms crossed, wine untouched. Zak was seated across from them with a grin like a troublemaker in detention. Susie sat beside Toto, calm and elegant. Geri Halliwell, glowing in white, laughed at something Fred had just said. Carmen was perched halfway down beside George, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and smiling wide when the door opened.

Lando stepped in first, hand outstretched to hold the door. Behind him, Lily James, in a cream silk midi dress that clung perfectly above the edge of her cast, papaya-orange leather jacket over her shoulders, and her crutches tucked neatly under one arm. Her hair was up, soft tendrils around her face, and her makeup was that effortless glowy thing she'd mastered years ago. She looked like she'd stepped out of a British Vogue editorial and directly into a boy's team dinner.

Every head turned. Lando, dressed in a pale open-collar shirt and light blue trousers, sunglasses still hooked into the collar despite the evening hour, gave a little nod to the room as he took her crutches and let her lean into him. "Evening," he said casually, but the room was already reacting. Carmen lit up. Max gave a lazy salute. Charles smiled, nudging Pierre. Oscar, already seated, raised both eyebrows like a smug little brother watching the popular girl walk into prom.

Lily made her way down the table with Lando's arm steady around her, offering small smiles and quiet hellos. But the first real stop was Lewis, seated in his usual effortless corner, rings and diamonds sparkling, glass of sparkling water in hand.

Lily stopped beside him and smiled warmly. "Congratulations, by the way. That last lap was poetry."

Lewis stood immediately, grinning. "You watched?"

"Watched, screamed, made Zak spill his espresso," she said.

He laughed, leaned in for a quick hug. "Thank you, darling."

Christian, already eyeing their arrival with raised eyebrows, stepped forward slightly and gestured toward the woman beside him. "Lily," he said, tone weirdly reverent, "this is my wife, Geri."

Lily turned to her like royalty meeting royalty. "I know," she said, smiling. "It's so lovely to meet you."

"You too," Geri said, delighted. "You're even more beautiful in person."

"God, thank you," Lily replied, eyes wide. "I've had my hair up for twelve hours and I think my ankle's about to fall off, but that just saved me."

Geri beamed, instantly warming to her. "Sit by us next time."

Lily promised she would, then let Lando guide her the rest of the way. Their seats were at the heart of the table, intentionally placed between chaos and calm. To their left sat Max and Oscar, with Susie and Zak just across. To the right, Pierre, Charles, Andrea Stella, and a very smug-looking George.

No sooner had Lily sat down and propped her leg up slightly than Pierre leaned in, eyes wide. "Okay," he said, not even pretending to be chill. "So. Be honest. Was it hard pretending not to exist for the last two years?"

Lily blinked, then laughed. "I don't think I was pretending not to exist. I just didn't exist in your world."

"But you did," Pierre argued, "just secretly. Like an underground legend. We thought you were dating Jude Bellingham. You had a penthouse no one knew about. You were literally being passed around like a royal scroll this weekend and none of us even clocked it. That's insane."

"She's a very good secret," Lando said, completely unapologetic, sipping from the glass of wine someone had already poured for him.

Charles elbowed Pierre lightly. "Slow down, mate."

"What? I'm curious!" Pierre threw his hands up. "I have questions!"

Lily raised an eyebrow. "That was only one?"

"Oh, I've got more," he said. "But I'm pacing myself. I've already been told I talk too much."

Charles sighed into his drink. "I told you that this morning."

"I'm self-aware!"

"You're obsessed."

"Who wouldn't be?" Pierre said, turning back to Lily with a smile. "Sorry. But I am a fan."

Lily smirked. "It's okay. I'm a fan of your girlfriends' Instagram."

Pierre's entire face lit up. "You know Kika??"

"Not personally," Lily said, "but she wore a dress to a Jacquemus show last year that made me believe in miracles."

Pierre looked genuinely moved.

Lando leaned into Lily's shoulder. "See? This is why I kept you a secret. I wanted to hoard the serotonin."

George, across the table, looked between them, shook his head, and muttered, "You're a menace, Norris."

Oscar, was already texting something under the table. Further down, Christian was arguing with Toto over a regulation clause from Baku 2021. Geri was sipping rosé like it was a performance art piece. Zak was watching with barely contained glee. And Lily? Lily was right at the centre of it now. No cameras. No runway. Just a long table, full of champions and chaos, and a chair with her name on it.

The meal had settled into that warm, golden rhythm of clinking cutlery and overlapping conversations, the kind of dinner where every plate was half-abandoned between laughs, and waiters stopped trying to keep up with wine refills. The drivers were relaxed in a way they rarely were during a race weekend, and the team principals had, against all odds, surrendered their power struggles to low murmurs and dessert menus.

Lily now sat nestled between Lando and Oscar, her crutches tucked behind her chair, her cast peeking out from beneath the edge of the tablecloth, now marked with a few new drawings from Pierre and George, done during starters. Her drink was fizzy, something citrusy and bright, and she was halfway through a conversation with Susie about how paddock espresso didn't count as actual caffeine when a familiar voice piped up from a few seats down.

"Lily," Yuki said, leaning forward with his whole upper body like he was trying to swim through the air. "Can I ask a question?"

Lily blinked, smiling. "Of course."

Yuki glanced at Max, who was already grinning, then looked back at her. "Okay. Models. The diet thing. Like- do you eat normally? Because I eat like six times a day. I get nervous for you guys."

A few heads turned, amused. Lily tilted her head, playful. "I absolutely eat normally. I probably eat more than Lando."

"She does," Lando confirmed without hesitation. "Easily. She'll eat a bagel before dinner. Then a chocolate bar in bed."

Pierre snorted.

Yuki blinked. "Wait- really?"

Lily nodded. "I don't follow any kind of model diet. Never have. If I want a burger, I'll have a burger. If I want a cupcake, I'll eat six."

Oscar looked impressed. "Powerful."

Max raised his glass. "You ate a whole pack last week."

There was a pause before Alex, across the table, spoke a little more cautiously. "So how do you, like, stay in shape? If you don't have a diet or training plan or anything?"

Lily didn't seem offended. She just shrugged. "Honestly? Fast metabolism. Good genetics. I don't say that to be annoying- it's just always been like that for me, but i do love working out."

"She burns through food like it's air," Lando added. "She eats more than I do and still wakes up looking like a campaign."

"That's not fair," Pierre muttered.

George grinned, cutting into his dessert. "Are you friends with any of the big designers? Like properly good friends?"

Lily smiled, dipping her spoon into her sorbet. "Most of them, really. They're all so nice."

A ripple of amused disbelief ran down the table. Charles blinked. "Wait. Like who?"

Lily shrugged, clearly unbothered. "Like... Donatella. Anna. Olivier. Maria. I did Chanel for years before Karl passed, and he was my favourite."

Geri, who had been half-turned chatting to Susie, paused and turned back. "Karl Lagerfeld?"

Lily nodded softly. "Yeah."

Geri blinked. "He was your favourite?"

"He was hilarious," Lily said, fondness tugging at the corner of her mouth. "He always said Lando and I would end up together. Even before Lando and I were close."

Geri actually choked a little on her wine. "Sorry, what?"

Lily laughed. "Yeah. He'd always say, 'Ah yes, the young one with the curls. You will end up with him, I see it. The chaos one.' He called him the chaos one for, like, years."

Several of the drivers were laughing now, especially Pierre and Max. Geri turned to Lando. "Wait, did you meet Karl?"

Lando smirked. "More than once. He used to call me a pussy."

Charles raised both eyebrows. "Sorry, what?"

"He'd say I was too much of a pussy to ask Lily out," Lando said. "Every time I was backstage. He'd give me that look and say, 'You are letting her be stolen, you little fool. Grow some balls.'"

Oscar looked halfway between mortified and amazed. "Karl Lagerfeld bullied you into getting with your girlfriend?"

Lando nodded proudly. "Yup."

George leaned forward, fascinated. "So you actually know designers now? Like through Lily?"

Lando glanced at Lily and nodded again. "Most of them. Probably 90% of the ones she works with. They're actually all really nice. Even Anna Wintour."

"Anna Wintour," Charles repeated slowly, like Lando had just said he was best friends with the Queen.

Lando shrugged. "She treats me like her child. She makes sure I'm never in the sun at shows."

"She once gave him a fan," Lily said, smirking. "A literal handheld fan."

"And made sure I had snacks," Lando added. "While she was managing Lily doing eleven runways in one week."

Pierre was already pulling his phone out. "We need to start a group chat. For fashion gossip only."

"Fashion and food," Yuki said.

"And drama," George added.

Geri shook her head fondly, raising her glass. "Well, if Karl predicted this," she said, gesturing between Lily and Lando, "I'm glad he was right."

"He always was," Lily said, quietly, almost to herself.

Susie reached out and touched her arm, smiling. "He'd be proud."

The candles flickered slightly with the movement of servers clearing plates. The table had dipped into a quiet, hazy glow, food finished, drinks flowing, and stories trading hands like shared secrets. Pierre had just launched into a questionable story about nearly missing a flight to Singapore because he'd left his passport in a freezer bag full of skincare products when Max suddenly straightened in his seat, half-empty glass in hand, the tipsy sparkle of chaos glinting behind his eyes.

"No, no, sorry," Max interrupted, waving a hand. "You think that's a good story? Nah. You lot haven't heard about Lily's post-op smoothie crawl."

Lando's fork clinked against his plate.

Lily, mid-sip of wine, paused. "Don't."

Max grinned like the devil. "Oh, I'm telling it."

George leaned forward. "Please do."

Oscar's eyes were already wide. "Oh my God, I forgot about this."

"I didn't," Max said proudly. "Because it lives in my brain rent-free. Okay, picture this- Lily, post-ankle surgery, drags herself across the floor, on her hands and knees, like she's a haunted Victorian child looking for revenge."

Several people choked. "She was trying to make a smoothie," Max continued, unfazed. "Refused help. Refused reason. Looked me dead in the eyes and said, 'I'm not helpless,' while dragging a crutch behind her like it was a war trophy."

Lily groaned, head hitting Lando's shoulder.

"She crawled," Max said, dramatically, "because Lando was upstairs running her a bath like a very good, very domesticated boyfriend."

Lando was shaking with laughter now, his face in his hands.

"I had to pick her up," Max added. "Leg in a cast, smoothie in one hand, straw in her mouth. Looked like the final boss of health food. And when Lando walked in? He just went, 'What the fuck is going on?'"

"She wanted a smoothie," Oscar mumbled through laughter.

"She wanted war," Max said proudly. "She nearly fell off the counter and still tried to argue with me about portion sizes."

Pierre was crying. "I can't breathe."

"And then," Max said, eyes alight, "then. The bath thing. This man-" he pointed at Lando, who was trying to hide behind a breadbasket, "-this man calls me and says, 'Hey, can you bring Lily her vape?'"

George blinked. "What?"

Max nodded solemnly. "She was in the bath. He was sat next to the tub, like her bodyguard-slash-boyfriend-slash-nurse. And he couldn't leave her because she'd made him swear not to let her slip or drown."

"She had one leg in a cast!" Lando yelled, half-laughing, half-defensive.

"She had bubbles up to her neck!" Max shot back. "I walked in with the vape like it was a hostage exchange. I kept my eyes on the ceiling. She waved at me like a fucking siren."

Lily covered her face. "I told you not to tell this story."

"Too late," Max grinned. "Everyone needs to know the truth."

"He literally walked in with his hand over his face," Lando said. "Like he was entering a nuclear facility."

"I said 'tell me when it's safe!'" Max yelled. "And she said 'Hi Maxie' like she was about to ruin my life."

The entire table was in hysterics now. Even Christian was laughing, and Susie was wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. Geri was leaned over Pierre's arm, wheezing.

"She took a hit of the vape," Max added, "and exhaled like a Bond villain. In the bath. In front of her boyfriend. While I stood there like a priest in a sex dungeon."

"It was cherry ice," Lily muttered, deadpan.

"She looked divine," Lando said, dreamy. "She was glowing."

Max stared at him. "You're so far gone it's tragic."

"She's my girlfriend," Lando said, smug.

"She's a war crime," Max corrected. "And I say that lovingly."

Susie raised her wine glass. "To Lily," she said. "May she never change."

Geri clinked her glass against it. "God bless that girl."

And at the centre of it all, Lily James sat in a circle of millionaires and motorsport giants, sipping her wine with one working foot, the softest smirk curling across her face.

She looked at Max. "Next time I'm in the bath, you're bringing snacks too."

Max held up his hands. "I'm not your butler."

"You're already my vape courier," she said sweetly. "Might as well go full concierge."

Charles raised his hand. "I volunteer for next time."

"Charles!" Alex hissed, half-laughing, half-mortified.

And just like that, the meal descended into chaos all over again.

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