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A SHORT 9 MONTHS | h. lewis

summary: some of the most memorable parts of your pregnancy. [8.3k words.]

pairing: reader x bog (W2S.)

notes: hi!!! finally another post! (finally took a break from writing for our GC era to post!) i had a few requests and thought i would throw them together in this little sum up of the most memorable parts of pregnancyyy!! (i do have long fics in the drafts as well for a few of these things, gender reveal, building nursery, etc.) to get out too. this feels rushed, but for now! i hope you enjoy! 🫶🏼 don’t forget to reblog!!! <333

“SO . . . DO YOU NOT WANT TO take another one?”

“Harry, that was the fourth one, I think it’s pretty clear.”

Leaning on the doorframe, he pulled out another boxed pregnancy test from his hoodie pocket and passed it to you on the toilet, still apprehensive that the tests were dodgy and in fact, showing the wrong result.

You snatched it and shook your head, reaching for the litre bottle of water to build up your bladder.

That day felt like yesterday: the day the nausea and tender tits as Harry called you, all made sense. The day you’d sent your boyfriend into a state of disbelief for 48 hours until he had the little breakdown he needed over realising how old he was, yet, had more growing up than ever to do.

It was the biggest shock to get over for the two of you, for days, you would just look at each other, squeeze by each other in the hall or glance at in the car, and burst out laughing.

You were actually pregnant, and with his sperm. What the fuck.

The uneasiness didn’t fade but just shrunk day by day until you both had the talk whilst in bed that this was real and that it was really happening. “You okay?” You asked quietly, after watching him tap away at his phone in the dark of the room, your head comfortably on your pillow. You worried he’d gotten in his head the last few days if it wasn’t obvious from his lack of . . . Harry-ness. He was just a lot quieter than usual and dazed in everything he did, like always in a daydream, even the boys had noticed it in his lack of energy shooting videos.

“Hm? Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” You finger stroked his arm, and with a deep sigh, he locked his phone and curved his hand to set on top of yours to let you know he meant it. “Just . . a lot to take in the last few days.”

“Are you scared?”

“Yes. Obviously.”

“It’s okay. I’m scared too. I don’t feel grown up enough.”

“I don’t feel grown up enough,” he expressed, talking to the wall rather than you.

It made you smile. “Great. Our kid is going to be a childish fuck his whole life.”

The chuckles echoed between you as he eventually turned to you on your side of the bed, facing you with his head on the pillow. “We’re actually having it, right . . ?”

“I mean . . y–yeah,” you raised a shoulder, “I . . we can’t . .”

“We can’t go to Ibiza this year.”

“No. No we can’t.”

“Fuck sake.”

“Fucked it there, like,” you stressfully ran a hand through your hair. It hurt your heart at the reminder. You looked to him. “But . . we’ll be there again someday. Drop ‘em off at your Mums. Go for a week.” He knew you were trying to comfort him by explaining that your lives weren’t over because of this. “This isn’t the end of an era Harry, I‘m still fucking going to Ocean Beach and all my festivals, don’t know about you,” you spoke with such sincerity that he knew you meant it in your joking form.

It soothed a lot over for him.

Now he was just nervous to do the actual parenting part.

You cupped his face, his big face, pinky tucked under his stubbled jawline and tapped your thumb to his lips twice as you gazed at him. Oh the kids are going to be gorgeous. “You’re going to be great.”

He smiled.

Would he though?

Yes. Yes he would.

He was already and they weren’t even out your stomach yet.

Your first scan was the most nerve-wracking thing - trying to come up with a valid excuse to get Harry to miss out on a Sidemen shoot was stressful as you were obviously still keeping things a secret. But he’d come up with something, having to act like he’d hurt his shoulder a few days leading up to the scan so his excuse looked valid.

You thought viewers could survive a MoreSidemen video without him.

You’d already been at the centre and waiting for him, having reassured the nurse you were in fact not a single mother and your baby daddy wanted to be in the picture no matter how much she insisted he ‘might have gotten cold feet’.

Please don’t embarrass me, Harry, you mentally groaned.

And he didn’t. He showed up right on time.

You were reading leaflets with babies printed all over them, still in denial this was something really happening to you both. It just didn’t feel real.

You guessed, however, that seeing something on the screen would somehow make it all sink in, hearing it’s heartbeat would help it sink in.

However, you left the place even more shocked than you had been when you found out you were pregnant . . .

“Hello, Mrs! How are you?!” Your adorable midwife greeted you at the door. You had one official midwife appointed to you this pregnancy but you also had a trainee, Amy: a student-nurse you absolutely adored, who’d been there since your first unofficial scan (you say unofficial because you didn’t even get a sonogram you were early on) so you would say you’d been blessed with two.

“I’m good! How are you? How did your exam go?” You took as you got to talking. Harry took his seat on the chair by the wall, holding your coat in his arms.

When Amy lay you down and applied the gel to your stomach, she waved Harry to come over so he could see what would have been your first proper look at your baby. “Here we go! First look at Baby Lewis,” she built up your excitement, running the equipment over your abdomen.

Your friends had already named it Baby Bog, actually . . but you weren’t explaining that to her. It was hard enough explaining the reasoning behind it to your Mum and Nana.

The loud thumping had your heart thumping immediately as the sound of a very speedy heartbeat aired, creating a hollow feeling in your chest because, what the hell, that belongs to the thing inside me.

My baby.

My one.

Harry’s hand was gripping yours and you looked up at him to see the fearful look on his face, observing the screen.

He was so . . . disturbed-looking. It made you laugh.

Amy’s face was twisted as she moved the stick around, like she didn’t understand what she was seeing on the screen, which threw you off a little.

“. . is everything . . okay?”

“Yeah! Ye— everything’s fine! I just . . I can see — or can I see?—” she suddenly put the equipment down and stood up, “I’m gonna go get Anne.” Anne was your other midwife. You looked at Harry the same way he looked at you, and Amy stalled. “No! I promise everything is ok! It’s just — I think I’m seeing it wrong,” she rushed halfway out the door, wanting to make you feel anything but stressed.

“Probably just doesn’t know what she’s doing. I-I’d be the same to be fair,” Harry tried to comfort you as he swayed holding your hand.

Hmm. Fair.

Anne came in and ran more gel over you, Amy pointing over her shoulder to something on the screen to which she nodded at, confirming, “yes, that’s right. You’re right.” She left with an excited, knowing smile, letting Amy give the news to you herself.

You looked back to Amy who gave you an awkward smile, apologising for making everything feel chaotic for a second, and began to locate your babies again. “So! Here we are,” on the screen popped up a little funny shape that unexpectedly triggered tears to well on your eyes, catching you completely off guard.

Your baby.

You could make out the shape, could guess where the head was and what looked to be potentially a leg? Your hand covered your mouth as you didn’t expect to respond that way to the image. Oh my God.

“There he is – or she! We won’t know until your next appointment,” she voiced, “and if you look here,” she twisted the stick slightly to the right to show the exact same image but grainier, “we’ll see . . . their brother or sister!”

Their what?

Two?

Two of them.

Two funny shaped things displayed on the screen, almost identical to the other.

You looked to Amy to confirm you had heard her correct and that she wasn’t joking, that what she said meant what you thought it said, and her smile just broke out wider, “congratulations! You’re having twins!”

She watched both your faces, how both your lips parted with shock and your eyes zoned out, the silence echoing through the room. She peeled off her gloves and gave you a moment to take it in whilst running to the printer to get you a print.

Harry’s hand had gone limp but you were clinging onto it as he fell into a rut, your own heart racing and needing reassurance.

There was no way they were yours.

There was absolutely no way. She’d gotten you mixed up with someone else.

Harry felt like he’d been transported to another world, in an alternative universe where he’d just been told he was having more babies at once. More than he could ever handle.

How? How the fuck?

Why? Why him?

Why did shit like this happen to him?

Two? No. He couldn't do two.

He couldn’t even do one. Now he had two?!

He knew a baby was a big enough deal as it was — a huge responsibility with a million things to consider before having it — but fucking hell, two?! He had two to deal with now?!

He couldn’t even comprehend it.

Who’s twins were they ‘cause they weren’t his.

Who the hell was having twins ‘cause it wasn’t you.

Who even had twins in your family?! Who had twins in his?!

“Hello? You okay?! Answer me,” you shook his hand as he came out of his daydream above you.

You watched his Adam’s Apple bob and his eyes blink, joining you back in the room. You gulped too at his reaction, feeling like you were watching his life flash before his eyes.

Finding out you were pregnant - yeah he had his delay, but he took to it better than you expected, but that was because he kept Ethan in his head — Ethan who was the best dad already to little Olive, who was acing this dad thing and made it seem cool. Someone scarily similar to Harry and nailing fatherhood — if he could do it, he could definitely do it.

Harry felt like that reassurance had been yanked from his feet because Jesus Christ — Ethan had one baby to share with Faith — you now had a baby each to deal with.

Two. Two fucking babies.

What. The. Fuck.

“How. Like how,” he finally looked at you, becoming a stuttering mess. “H-how—how—how does this happen? Who—how? Why— why us? Who even — do — I don’t have twins in my family. Wh—no. No. No, it’s wrong. They — they’re not ours,” he went into denial while you tried not to laugh. “Not ours. Who even—” he just kept holding his arm out to the screen like it was feeding him lies.

Harry had been thrown off the entire day. For the next few days, if not a week or so. It still didn’t feel real. You both sat in the car afterward for about an hour, staring at the scan and confirming to yourselves there were, in fact, two.

You were in shock yourself but Harry kept going quiet which was worrying you, so you talked shit the entire ride home, not knowing what you were saying but basically speaking the words into existence that everything was fine and that everything would be okay.

Even though you were trying to convince yourself as well as — you knew your words were somewhat true inevitably.

Even if it didn’t feel like it right now.

So now he was going back into his little moments of denial, still trying to get it to sink in. He would talk about it and discuss plans — but nothing would feel real to that boy until he both seen and held those babies you had growing. Simple as.

If it wasn’t for the fact that you physically felt them growing in you — you would’ve been on the same page.

But it was hard to feel excited when he still felt so shocked all the time. He liked when the reality kicked in at times and he got that little fuzzy feeling in his chest.

“Right. Where we going? Where to first?” You looked to your notes to things you wanted to buy today, “IKEA?” you suggested.

Nothing.

Daydream.

“. . . you know, it’s not all that bad. I don’t want you to spend every day petrified,” you mumbled, swirling the hot drink in the cup.

“I just . . don’t want to be boring,” he tutted with his head on his hand. “No offence but I don’t want you turning into a bore after,” he looked at you, “one of these ones who make their whole personality trait being a mum. Jesus Christ,” he could honestly not imagine anything worse. He liked things exactly how they were. He didn’t want change.

“Harry, they’ll be getting sold for Tomorrowland tickets if it comes down to it,” you went to sip your drink, “I'm telling you now, I'm not missing it. A ticket each. One for me, one for you, now come on.”

Harry was expecting you to say something reassuring but he wasn’t expecting you to say that. He began to heavily chuckle in his chest, shoulders relaxing. For fucks sake. “I’m being serious! And I'll be raising no snowflakes. Don’t dish out what you can’t take,” you sipped your coffee, and almost on instinct, to only build on Harry’s laughing fit – spat it almost all down yourself immediately at the familiar bitter taste. You choked, “I forgot to say no caffeine.”

Harry’s stomach hurt as he forced himself to drive.

After that day, Harry seemed to daydream less and less, a large part of something had been accepted and he felt relieved, grateful for the lack of anxiety he had been feeling.

Two.

Two of them.

Two babies.

Being pregnant wasn’t on your bingo card this year, but pregnant with twins sure as hell wasn’t on any bingo card of yours, ever.

Harry tapped your foot that was propped on his legs on the sofa, your mugs of teas in your hands, he had realised, “we’re gonna have to two of everything.”

And so you did. Walking around and picking up a little onesie to dote on - you had to do it with two, dropping them into your basket as you eventually made a start on baby shopping. It was stressful doing it yourself, always on the edge someone would see you but you couldn’t do it with friends or family just yet as you were still yet to tell them. Harry still found it so strange when you came home and gave him a haul on the things you’d picked, a little bunch of nerves in his chest but a smile on his face always as he scratched his head, watching you fold the tiny clothes with a smile each time.

You threw him one and he couldn’t physically comprehend how someone could be that small. It looked like it could barely fit a doll! “This is crazy.”

“I know, right?!” You dug through your bag, folding even more.

He couldn't believe that one day, a tiny person would fit into this babygrow, someone he’d made, his. He would hold them in this.

He got goosebumps.

It was still crazy to take in that you were both going to be parents, the situation still not feeling at all real, even towards the end of your first trimester, however, telling friends and family made it that little bit more imaginable, but finding out the genders? Now that made every last bit sink in.

“OH MY GOD!!!”

Pink and blue.

Honestly, you didn’t think you could be anymore surprised as the months went on. A boy and a girl in the first go. To be surrounded by your friends ans family to experience that moment was magical. You realised how blessed you were to have such a large, tight-knit support system of a circle. It had also brought tears to your ears seeing how happy they all were for you. Seeing that look on Harry’s face as the boys jumped to him was something you’d never forget, the absolute shock and excitement spread across it triggered the tears.

He was so, so happy.

So stunned. One of each on the first go and a boy?! The first boy out of his friends?! He didn’t know who to thank but he was thanking them. The whole lot couldn’t believe it — there was officially about to be another Wroetoshaw for the next generation - and he’d have a sister for them to make fun of too.

“A boy, you’re getting your boy,” you smiled at the ceiling as he found his way under your arm, your fingers stroking through his hair. He had been stunned to silence the whole day, he was a stuttering mess after the reveal.

“And a girl,” he breathed out, that being just as big a surprise. Yeah, he’d wanted a son and he was getting one — but a girl?! Harry Wroetoshaw was having a baby girl to love and protect?! What did he do there. “I can’t believe it, I actually can’t believe it,” his hand covered his mouth again.

You watched him, how he smiled in disbelief as he thought ahead to what was to come in the following months; by the end of the year.

You watched as he laughed at the idea of having to look after a fucking child. Every day. “What the fuck are we doing?!” His high-pitched voice made you laugh.

“I actually don’t know,” you cuddled into his head, kissing the top of it. “It’s going to be a laugh.”

The boys bullying you as well throughout the whole thing was something you’d become used to by the end of your first trimester, their jokes now old and boring.

“Y/n you’re like a ball with legs.”

“Oh well done Chris! Haven’t heard that one before!”

“Poor girl.”

“Cheers.”

“Y/n! D’you want a pint— oh . . wait.”

“OH HA HA, CAL. CLEVER!”

You’d also grown used to the way they seemed to give Harry all the credit for your circumstances.

“My swimmers work.” Behzing munched on some crackers, speaking into the mic. They other three nodded, “you lot are yet to find out.”

“Mine are super swimmers.”

“Lad, his are fucking—” Simon began to laugh while Harry kicked his feet up on the table, pulling his arms behind his head.

“He knocked his Mrs up twice in one go!” Josh cut in, sending the four of them into deep laughs.

“Super swimmers.”

“Cheers, fellas.”

They looked at him practically flexing this stunt. “. . yeah, it’s going to be a team effort raising these kids,” Zerkaa commented, and once again they all laughed, including the camera crew, including Harry, who didn’t doubt that for a second. He’d take all the help he could get to be honest.

“What do you want them to be?”

“Lad, I honestly don’t care as long,” Harry began to laugh, “first off — as long as they’re okay, and they’re healthy, but I swear to God if they are born so much as a week before my birthday—”

“BOG!”

“What?! So!”

“November is off limits,” Simon laughed, finding that the most Harry answer ever.

You did laugh more during your second trimester — no longer being sick as much or as bad mood swings, however, you did begin to feel more tired and don’t even get me started on your boobs.

“WOULD YOU STOP LOOKING AT THEM? PLEASE. THANKS.” Your hand slapped the side of Harry’s head to actually crack him out of the trance he was in standing next to you in the kitchen. Your body was changing a lot and rapidly, your size and your skin and it was a little irritating. You were at a phase where you didn’t want anyone to look at you - not at your spotty face, dry skin and growing belly — and your boobs?! You knew you couldn’t hide them that well but come on, what’s so fascinating about them anyway? “HARRY! FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”

“Sorry!” He threw his arms up to prevent another whack, laughing as you became enraged for his lack of listening to your plans. Truly, it wasn’t even funny anymore, it was ignorant! “Sorry!”

“Wha—why—what’s so— why you keep lookin’ at them!“

His laughing only make it worse. “‘Caus—cause look at them!” He held an arm out, laughing as he pointed out the obvious. Just when you both thought it was impossible for them to get any bigger.

“LISTEN TO ME!”

You were having a bit of a rough time adjusting to the changes, but Harry did his bit of helping when he could - definitely not when he went to lie on top of you. “OW HARRY! MY FUCKIN’ TIT!” You shoved his big head.

Other times, he was a gem and you hoped you weren’t always as mean you accidentally were. “D’you want more cream?”

“Yes please,” you replied from the other end of the sofa as his hands rubbed and squeezed your feet in the most luscious way.

“I am going to fuck the shit out of you, tonight,” you picked a crisp out of the bag.

Oh, and horomones.

Oh yeah, they were all over the place.

“You’re gonna be the best daddy ever,” you kissed all up and across his jaw, hand gripping his face in place as you dragged your mouth all across him. “‘Cause you’re already the best to me. Getting me everything I want. Treating me like a princess.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you gripped him, “you’re the best boy.”

“Uh huh?”

“Yeah, you are,” you tilted your head, smiling bright as his lashes brushed his cheeks, closing them.

“NO, YOU'RE NOT!”

“I AM! YOU JUST CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!”

“‘Cause you’re not being funny? You’re just being rude?!” You cried, tears blotting under your eyes as your boyfriend laughed at the doorway.

His laughter was actually boiling your blood.

“YOU’RE SO SENSITIVE!” He just about breathed out through contained laughter.

Footsteps thumped through the front door and to the kitchen where they heard the dirty-fair boy rant from the doorframe, “HARRY!” His Mum shoved him hard and scoldfullt, mouth dropped at his lack of empathy, “don’t you EVER!”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?!” His sister joined in, having caught his last line also from the hallway, “you’re the biggest prick I know!”

“SHE— I D— SHE W—”

“WHY YOU LAUGHING?!” his Mum pushed him out the room as Rosie came to you drying your eyes.

“It’s not my fault she’s a snowflake all of a sudden!”

“Get out! You’re not even funny!” Rosie pointed at him, but Harry left for the living room, not in the mood to deal with the women again after unmeaningly upsetting you again. He never meant to hurt you, ever! His jokes just . . didn’t land anymore, now your hormones were up the left. You just took everything the wrong way now and he wasn’t used to it. It was funny, though, sometimes. Sometimes he’d say something, and you’d smile, and then he’d look at you five minutes later and you’d be holding back tears.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t even care. You said what you said,” you muttered, now tucked in his bed, rolled on your side with your phone in hand.

“Baby, I said it as a joke, I don’t actually think you have ugly fingernails.”

“You literally—” your arm dropped to your side, a ‘pat’ hitting the duvet as you didn’t even bother to explain your side again. You knew what he meant. He was comparing your nails to his ex or some girl he’d spoken to before anyway who always had them glossy pink in an almond shape.

He pushed off the doorframe and came to the bed, holding your hand, he swayed with it, unsure if it was safe to get into his bed yet. “I am. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Your hands are beautiful. I love your rag nails.” He kissed it.

You frowned at him, unimpressed, and snatched your hand back.

He chuckled and bent down, kneeling beside you on the bed, “I’m joking,” he kissed your limp hand repeatedly, laughing at your blank expression. He kissed your face after, your cheek until it eventually broke out into a smile and you had to get him off because it tickled so much. “Alright, Harry!” You craned your neck to stop the feeling.

He smiled at you. Eyes twinkling. “I love you. You know that. I don’t ever mean that.” He gave a judgmental look. Like c’mon, when did you ever take anything he said to heart?

“I know. I love you too.”

“You’re sexy,” he said like you should have known that, and he kissed your wrist, and then your face. And then your jaw. “I love you so much.”

“I know.”

You loved the nights in, in the weekday at home or over in Guernsey, chilling up in his room, when it was just the two of you — or four rather, watching something on TV whilst your friends were able to go out and get shitfaced in your favourite nightclubs in London.

You could remember chilling in your bed, Harry’s head on your stomach as you lay with back against the headboard, barely keeping your eyes open at the boring documentary. You’d become so tired.

You’d told him to go out with the boys, that you didn’t mind, he wasn’t pregnant and could drink if he wanted. But, he felt obliged to start staying in with you, not wanting to go out anyway if you weren’t going to be there. You assured him, but he was adamant, telling the boys he was giving it a miss to help you with any discomfort you were getting from the two sperm cells growing inside you.

It still didn’t feel real, which is why he felt so bored, ‘cause it felt like he was staying in for no reason. You’d only just started to look pregnant.

Harry could feel a discomfort by his head, like, you kept shifting when really you hadn’t moved an inch, only your hand scraping back his mop of hair he desperately needed cut. His face was furrowed, and he lifted his head to shoot you a look.

Upon lifting off you, you felt the most strange feeling of something pushing your skin from the inside, and you almost wanted to shrink with discomfort.

What was that?!

Harry shot up, holding his body up with an arm as he looked at you with his jaw hung open, eyes wide.

Goosebumps ran over his body. “DID YOU SEE THAT?!”

“What?”

His hand shot to your stomach, his large hand, settling to where he’d previously had his head and jolted back at the feeling, and you sat up intrigued, looking at him oddly. “What is it? Did one kick?”

“Y/n, oh my God,” he said in utter disbelief, flicking his eyes from you and back to your stomach, unable to close his jaw. His heart was racing as he searched for the same feeling. “Y/N! WH— EW! THAT’S SO WEIRD!”

You laughed, his slightly concerned face humouring you.

You smiled at him, seeing the shock on his face as he hunted to get another kick. “Y/n, I swear—”

“They must have been trying to kick your big head off them for the last hour,” you laughed, feeling movement to the right where you guided his hand. He felt it again!

He looked at you again, eyes sparkling with pure fascination.

Your heart melted to a puddle as he placed your hand where his had been, and you felt it too, the little weak kick within your stomach. You both looked in amazement at each other, unbelieving this was really happening to you both. They’re real. They’re really in there.

“Oh my God.”

Since then, Harry always found his hands subconsciously feeling the bump, just when talking to you in the kitchen or to move past, just in case he missed the opportunity to feel another kick. You adored him for developing that habit. He’d boasted and ranted about it for days, to the boys and his family, almost Herb at one point, trailing them over to see if he could get them to do it again, as if he needed to prove to them he wasn’t lying.

It was also a time for weird cravings, and you had Harry cut out for his work.

He truly deserved the award for ‘Best Boyfriend’. At the start it had been funny, catching you dip your salt and vinegar crisps in Nutella or eating festive gingerbread men nowhere near Christmas time.

However, he wasn’t laughing too much when you had him driving to shops at all hours in the morning for so much as a sip of a milkshake from Five Guys. “Harry, I’m seriously going to be sick. I know I need it. My heartburn is so bad.”

“Y/n . . go to sleep.”

“Harry, it’s really sore! I’m—” you fanned yourself with your hand, “I'm gonna be sick.”

So many times, he caught himself outside McDonald’s, the hood of his hoodie up to hide his spikey bed hair and keep him warm while you ate your McFlurry in the passenger seat, ignoring his stare at you. “I really needed this.”

“Oh you did, did you?”

You looked at him, shamelessly sucking the spoon dry of any ice cream stuck to it.

To be fair, had he not eaten snack you’d specifically bought for yourself — he might not needed to have done this.

“WHERE’S MY LINDORS?!”

“DID YOU EAT MY DORITOS?!”

“WHY’S MY BEN & JERRY’S TUB IN THE BIN!!!”

The sound of your kitchen cupboards slamming from downstairs had Harry’s blood running cold upstairs whilst streaming.

So, he did feel kind of entitled to get you what you wanted.

Also, he was the one who’d knocked you up, so, it was the least he could do.

But you did push your luck at times. “D’you know what would be perfect right now?” You scraped the rest of your McFlurry empty, “a nice pint of milk — from Guernsey.”

Harry loved you, but he didn’t think he loved you enough to get you to Guernsey at 2:30 in the morning for their unique carton of dairy. “And what’d you want me to do? Pull a Guernsey cow out my fucking pocket?”

Being over in Guernsey, you were able to include your mother-in-law and sister-in-law in some baby-related things as well as your own, to make them feel involved and share the excitement with. You looked at some furniture for both your house and the family house for when they came to stay over, or as Harry had put — ‘when I dump them on you last minute.’

You loved seeing how excited they both got, buying outfits and decorations for the shared room they would have, his Mum finding the perfect wallpaper for both her granddaughter and grandson whilst Rosie picked the cutest rocking horse to go in the corner. “Oh I love this one!” Harry’s Mum held her chest as she found the prettiest wooden and pastel pink high chair for her kitchen, “and it’s in blue!” She gushed, placing her hand on it. Oh they were perfect. She could see it now, the pair in the seats, slotted into the table where they would all sit and have breakfast together - Josh keeping his eye on his niece while she envisioned her husband cleaning down his grandson’s tray like he had to do every 5 minutes with Harry. She couldn’t wait. She bought the two with almost tears in her eyes.

“I hope I find one, I’ve had no luck with the shops over in London, you know,” you said surprisingly as you entered the baby shop, on the hunt for the pram of your dreams.

Pram shopping had been something you didn’t realise would become a core memory: both a sentimental and funny moment.

“How do you put it down?!”

“Oh for God’s sake!” Your mother-in-law got up from the seat to help her mind-fried son disassemble the buggie.

“Sorry it’s hard! It is a two-baby pram!” He defended, stepping away from it.

You didn’t expect to laugh all day. Bringing his mum and sister along had been the perfect idea, and although Harry insisted he didn’t need to be there, he knew how much it meant to you to see him give his input. “Harry you can pull the handle bar up, y’know. You don’t need to be so slouched.”

“I know! You look like the Hunchback of Notre Dame!” Rosie agreed, watching her brother walk around uncomfortably with a double pram.

You pulled the bar up and gave him the all good to stroll about the store to see how it felt, and he was much more comfortable being able to stand with a straight back now. “Oh yeah, this is good. Nice and smooth,” he crashed it into your leg where you clenched your eyes shut to ignore the pain.

“Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!” He tried not to laugh, genuinely not meaning to run over your toe. It genuinely moved too slickly for him to realise. He pulled your head to him, kissing your hair, “sorry! sorry!”

There were so many types of prams to choose from, and so expensive. You tried out lots and ones with secret compartments, with little tricks and extras, but some were just so, so ugly. “Why are the twin ones so bulky!” You whined, feeling hopeless, “and expensive!” It’s not like you’d asked to have the two!

“I know, surely that’s unfair. They should all be the same price,” Harry looked at his mum like she had the answers, but she only shrugged, seeing no issue with the pram.

“It’s not bulky.”

“It looks funny! Faith’s was so nice!” You huffed.

“That’s ‘cause Faith only needed a single pram. It’s lovely! What are you talking about!”

If you weren’t out off it, Harry’s unimpressed, almost disgusted expression would have put you off. It was clear how he felt. “‘Could be worse . .” he looked at you apprehensively, holding in a laugh, “could have been three. Could have been triplets.”

“Could have been triplets,” you agreed, dapping him up. Three of them? Now that WAS funny.

You looked at it, ready for the next one.

And then you found it.

The pram of your dreams, the one your heart was set on since first glance. “I really love this one.”

“It has loads of room too,” Harry’s Mum agreed, placing her handbag beneath it as a test run.

“Y/n you look so cute!” Rosie smiled at her phone, taking a pic of you perfectly posed with the beige, duo stroller. “Like a proper mummy!”

You did like the pram, and it came with a lot of little extras like a bag and had a car seat to match in all sizes — it was a beautiful pram. But you also didn’t want Harry to think you were taking the piss.

“I mean I really like it, but . . do you like it?” You looked up at him next to you.

Harry’s Mum was almost crying at the sight of you two just standing in front of a pram, one you were trying out for your babies!

“Yeah, I like it. I mean you get what you want, I want you to choose,” Harry’s hand rubbed your back before settling on your hip. He would get you whatever you wanted.

“I know but . .” you have him a look, “have you looked at the price tag?”

To be fair, they were all expensive, but what you pay for is what you get and . . he’d pay anything to keep that smile on your face. You were really in your element.

You hadn’t smiled like that since your last rave.

“I don’t care, pick your favourite one, I’ll get you it,” he gave a little chuckle. If anyone was putting a dent in his card it was you — and that was the only person he was okay with putting a dent in his card.

You tilted your head coyly at him, hoping no one heard how much of a gold digger he was making you sound. You were one blessed baby mama. “Well if you like it, I choose that one then. If you feel like a dilf pushing it,” you laughed, fixing your hair to one side, “and if you can get it up and down easily then I’ll give it the all good, because we agreed that was your job.”

He sighed, taking his hands out of his jacket. “Alright. Time me.”

Rosie and their mum had been flattered to have been invited on such a special day, and included in an important decision-making. They couldn’t wait their turn to push the most gorgeous pram around Guernsey, a week-long stay just not enough.

“I don’t want you to go!”

“I have to, Y/n! Stop doing this, now.”

“How does he think that’s fair! Why can’t you just skip it?!”

“Because! I need to go! It’s my job!” He almost laughed, cupping your face as the tears just sat in your eyes, your emotions all up the left.

“You’re a liar, you want to go,” you accused, “going to fuckin’ . . Vegas. For two weeks. To blow your money and go out every night, while I’ve to stay here and build this bloody nursery on my own!” You pushed his pity hands off you.

“Y/n,” he laughed. He knew it was dangerous to be smiling at you at a time like this; playing with fire. “You’re — you don’t need to build it on your own, I’m gonna be back by the end of the month! I told you we’re doing it together!”

“You’re not!” There was no way he was going to want to do that all after practically attending his boys trip.

“Y/n, I promise you!”

“Don’t go,” you tilted your head up at him, holding onto his forearm. “Please.”

His cases were literally by the door, his pillow around his neck.

“Y/n.”

You were being a little childish. “Harry.”

“What?” He was on his last straw here.

“Seriously! I’m here on my own for two weeks! Growing your kids, eating properly, getting uglier and giving up things while you go get to go party it up in your nightclubs! Getting pissed in casinos and your—”

“So what’d you want me to do? Go get you a bottle of Vodka so you can drink too?” He say on the window ledge.

“Yeah.”

He gave you a look as to stop being so childish.

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Baby,” he pulled you into a hug, wrapping you in his warmth with the hell of the oversized hoodie comforting him, “I’m only gone a week and 2 days. Talia is coming to stay with you. Faith is coming to stay with you. The wardrobe and the cot and the changing table — they’re all gonna be waiting for me when I get back for me and you to do. Don't you dare lift a finger without me here,” he warned, not running the risk of you hurting yourself trying to do it on your own. “You��ll not even know I’m gone.”

You gave him a deadpanned look and he laughed at your face, wiping the threatening tears below your eyes. “I will be back and I promise you, I will — I will do anything you want. I’ll . . paint your fucking toes for Sunday so you can wear your heels,” he stroked your face with his thumb.

That brought a little grin to face. “Promise?”

“I promise. Please don’t cry. You’re making me feel bad,” he dried your face once more with his sleeve. He did feel bad going on the holiday and leaving you to deal with your pregnant struggles on your own.

“You should feel bad. You’re missing a check-up.”

“And Freezy’s going to go with you instead!” He whined, thinking you were over that.

You have a little laugh and held onto his arm, sniffing your nose. “I know. I’m kidding.”

He gave you a guilty look, seeing the straight fact that you were just going to miss him. He leant over and kissed you long on your cheek, nose to your cheek, hair brushing your head, he pulled you into him for another hug. “I love you. You know I wouldn’t leave you if I didn’t think you could be on your own,” he kissed your head after.

“I know,” but you just would. You were just going to miss him. You touched your stomach as the same butterflies filled them, already setting the discomfort, “I can sense the sicky feeling all too well, and it’s not them for once.”

Harry kissed the side of your nose (as you were too busy pulling a face or discomfort to lift your lips to his) and bent to his knees, placing his hands on either side of your stomach, the prominent bump sticking out. Your heart braced itself like every time it did when you saw him talking to them through your belly. “Be good for your Mum. Don’t give her such a hard time,” his soft-spoken voice hummed onto your skin, no doubt about to trigger the movement of the babies.

You sighed, messing your fingers through his hair as he moved his hands around, and you grabbed his hand to direct it to the bottom left where you felt the familiar feeling of one’s leg.

Every time, Harry looked at you in disbelief at the feeling of a kick; the vibrations of his voice always setting them off, or, maybe just the sound of his voice. He bit his lip nervously down from you, and you held his jaw, raising your brows at him for looking so fit, and down on his knees for you.

You shook your head. How were you going to last a week without him?!

But off he went, just about managing to force himself to get into the van that’d picked him up to take him to the airport, not two minutes out of sight, did you received the message:

love you with my whole heart xx

and the other two xx

You sent the selfie back of you with your mug of tea balanced on your bump, holding a thumbs up with the response:

daddy’s a dickhead ❤️

Your final trimester was a journey to say the least. The last push.

Gosh, it was so hard. Feeling as heavier as ever and as ugly — but in reality, every mum on earth envied you: because you made pregnancy look like both a beauty, and fashion trend — you felt rough.

It got harder and harder to believe the compliments others gave you, including your very boyfriend who would explicitly claim to you in your way just how sexy you were . . but you just couldn’t have him. Who was he to lie?! He wasn’t fooling anyone!

He took pride in you pregnant a little, he couldn’t lie, something about walking about with you always gave him an ego-boost, but pregnant? That was even better. It was like . . look what I did. Ha! He almost wanted specific people to see you pregnant with his child. His children.

“We should go to a Chelsea match.”

“Why?”

He’d shrug. “Just ‘cause.”

You shrugged back. “Alright.”

The fans were away supportive. They loved how you shared the genuine struggles — including your worst struggle of not fitting your clothes. The video you’d posted just a few days ago of Harry helping pull up your jeans had been the funniest thing ever. He had practically managed to raise you off the floor by your jeans in an effort to get them on, that you’d almost peed yourself, getting them off.

Oh, how you missed your old body.

Fans also still commented on your beauty anytime you were spotted, hyping you as they always did, even when you didn’t feel it. “I feel so ugly.”

“You don’t look ugly.”

“I said I felt ugly.”

The only thing Harry found ugly about you was that attitude.

He had never . . felt like this towards you . . ever.

He — he wanted to leave you.

He could quite literally not deal with the amount of emotions you went through in a minute. One second you were crying over using his butterknife for your Nutella and the next you were screaming and thrashing that if maybe he moved, you would have been able to have opened the drawer and get your own knife to use. It seemed like you’d also become a snowflake in that period because suddenly everything he said, the usual inside jokes he made with you – sent you into a flood of tears.

He was so over it.

He knew better than to just say nothing at all until you got your hormones in check.

You were just tired and cranky and warm all the time, waddled everywhere — you just wanted a holiday, 20 shots of Sambuca, and a festival to dance at the moment you got this baby — sorry, babies out of you. But you knew you were difficult and you did feel bad when you caught yourself on, but you were in the final and hardest stage - the one his Mum and yours had told you about, and yearned for him to cut you some slack.

Besides! You were carrying two as well!

It wasn’t all that miserable, you still laid your lovin’ on him and showed your appreciation - he just wanted his girl back to the way she was, though, and to stop letting the discomfort get the best of her.

He never really knew what to say when people asked how you were getting on, “my baby mama is well! Thank you very much for asking!”

You stared at him for a minute sleeping peacefully next to you, although you believed your body to be tucked into the body pillow and not him to be the reason for his scowling face he’d fallen asleep with. To be fair, he was like a radiator in his sleep, and you felt like your bump just got in the way of everything anyway.

But looking at him — you were filled with so much gratitude.

You didn’t understand what you did to deserve this life, but whatever it had been, just have been amazing. Like, lifesaving to the human race. You were so unbelievably blessed.

You didn’t know how lucky you’d got with Harry. Yeah, he was an absolute buffoon and complete chancer, but you’d never felt so made for someone. Even pregnant, you didn’t think there was one other person who could get away with telling you to ‘get fucked’ when you asked if he would ever help you out in the odd chance you may possibly get a trapped milk duct.

“ARE YOU JOKING ME?”

“Harry, no. They’re supposed to be really sore. You wouldn’t get it out for me?”

“NO!”

You looked at him with your mouth open.

“No!”

“You wouldn't —” you were shocked, honestly. Quite frankly, you called bullshit.

“This is the same thing as when you asked me if I would still date you if you were a worm.”

“AND YOU SAID NO AS WELL!”

“I actually said yeah but I would keep you in baggie—”

“YEAH! I remember!” You sat up, “you really wouldn’t help me?”

“No.”

“Why you saying it like that? nO . .” you have him a dirty look, completely offended, “. . not like you haven’t sucked my tit—”

“YOU WILL NOT CATCH ME—”

“You know who would probably?”

“If you say Faith you’re actually getting a slap,” he laughed out loud, holding a finger up.

“Well you can smack my ass, ‘cause she would so help— SHE’S OFFERED TO SHAVE ME BEFORE YOU DID!”

He laughed at that, finally throwing his phone to the side as he gave you his complete attention. “Alright fine. I’m kidding. I would help you.”

“Liar.”

“I would! And I would help you shave.”

“You’re just saying that,” you mumbled, letting him pull you into him, under his head where he tucked his chin on top your head. If you were tired, he was exhausted, but he wasn’t telling you that.

“I would. I would help my wife out.”

“I don’t see no ring.”

He scoffed at your teasing and rolled his eyes. “Please.”

“I need to be a Lewis too,” you drummed your fingers on your stomach, disturbing the two still in there. “Need to match my clan.”

“You will.”

“I swear, if they come out not only getting your name but look like you? With no trace of my DNA?” You breathed cautiously with a slight smile on your lips.

“They’ll be some smashing fucking babies then. 10 out of 10s.”

You rolled your eyes at that. “Humble.”

“Shut up. You’d cry if they didn’t look like me.”

“I’d cry if they were ugly.”

“But they won’t be because they’ll look like me,” he smirked, laughing at your amused face.

He actually gave you a sore head.

Same headache since your days spent in the same form class.

But you kissed him, agreeing, because he was right. You would cry if they looked like him — you did want them to look like him, to be like him – just smaller, different versions of him.

Then that way, you were guaranteed to have another two mini best friends for the rest of your lifetime.

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sofiasworld00 · 3 days ago

Text

TRENDING #3 | h. lewis

summary: the internets reaction to your pregnancy announcement. (part iii.) [social media AU.]

pairing: reader x bog (W2S.)

faceclaim: madison beer

notes: last part!!! probs my fav one — lmk what you think!! what’s your fav tweet?! 🥰 don’t forget to reblog!! <33

part 1 | part 2

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sofiasworld00 · 3 days ago

Text

TRENDING #2 | h. lewis

summary: the internets reaction to your pregnancy announcement (part ii.) [social media AU.]

pairing: reader x bog (W2S.)

faceclaim: madison beer

notes: i stg i loved doing these, like it’s embarrassing how funny i found myself coming up with them 💀 don’t forget to reblog!! <33

part 1 | part 3

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sofiasworld00 · 3 days ago

Text

TRENDING | h. lewis

summary: the internets reaction to your pregnancy announcement. (i) [social media AU.]

pairing: reader x bog (W2S)

faceclaim: madison beer

notes: THERE IS 3 PARTS TO THIS, I MADE 30 MEMES IN ONE SITTING AND OMFG. i actually made myself laugh. i hate to have need to pick a faceclaim so apologies 🥲 i went with madison just cuz there are a bazillion photos of her to pick from, basic ik but hey ho 😩 let me know if you like this, what’s your fav meme ?!!! and don’t forget to reblog x

part 2 | part 3

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sofiasworld00 · 3 days ago

Note

Imagine bog taking his kids to golf with him with like mini golf clubs and matching golf outfits omfg

golfing w baby bogs

you were gone for the day. a complete unexpected disaster of a day for your best friend, you’d fled to her aid for this emergency, postponing all plans and to-do’s. it also meant harry now had to cancel any plans he’d made for today to take care of the kids, unless, of course, he could bring them with him.

now there were two things harry had a special love for that he would easily blow off anything for - his kids . . . and golf.

oh, and you.

“yep, stand there, don’t move . . don’t get in daddy’s way . . yep,” he softly praised, guiding his son by the shoulders to stand next to his sister, a good metre away from his swinging space - he’d argue it was for their safety, really it was so they didn’t ruin his shot.

the twins were dressed wonderfully for the golf course, red polo to match his dad and black shorts, teddy also wore a white kids-size glove to match his old man. next to him, his sister wore her white polo with cropped white leggings, a white headband on her head. they were more than happy to spend the day with dad, even more outside in the sun, playing their dad’s favourite game. “is it my go?” the little blonde girl half-whined, wondering why on earth her dad had to stare so long after he whacked the ball. she lost sight of it the moment it was hit.

her uncle freezy laughed from the cart, sensing her boredom with the look of her face and her fiddling with her water bottle. he could tell she was getting tired from her ‘cartwheels’ too.

“yep, you go,” harry replied once satisfied with his shot.

once again, penny was between his legs, his back broken from arching over her little frame, trying to align his eyesight with her view without his glasses falling off. he was such a dad.

he was such a good dad. so natural. calfreezy would never stomach the sight of harry lewis being such a great fucking dad.

he used to do drugs with this guy, and now he was watching him teach his kids to play golf.

talk about life comes at you fast.

“penny, move your hair out ya face,” he moved her ponytail from her face, his large hands wrapped around her forearms. swinging them both familiarly so she got in the swing of things, he helped her hit the ball in a straight line . . . as the last time and the time before, well the ball had to be replaced and a tantrum was half-thrown thanks to her brother’s obnoxious laughter — his shot was no better but at least his ball shot in the direction of the hole. “daddy! DADDY! TELL HIM NOW!” she’d raged, stomping her foot with the miniature golf club between her hands. harry wanted to laugh at her too, her sore-loser attitude reminding him of someone, but as her dad, he reassured her he would held her with the next one and that it was fine.

he just had to stand and watch her for a minute so he didn’t snicker when telling her because oh dear god . . . did the world feel penny wroetoshaw’s wrath when she shouted the words ‘STOP LAUGHIN’!’

again, a famous phrase that reminded him of someone.

he knew she just took it bad because she could tell he was genuinely impressed with her brother’s attempt with the way he praised him differently from his ‘oh my god, ted! well done! well done boy-o! oh my days!’ and proud smooches to her ‘it’s okay! we’ll get you another ball, it’s ok princess, don’t worry!’ kisses.

jealously at its finest.

“ready . . steady . .” harry would sway him and penny before putting the ball, holding her tight while watching it role towards the flag. anyone watching would melt to the floor. it was his natural habitat, being with his two little ducks. he never felt like he was meant to be a dad, but he knew he was meant to be their dad.

he celebrated with his girl when it practically landed an inch away (still it would take five attempts for her to score) but celebrate he and freezy did.

when it was ted, it was more of a laughing ‘no no no no!’ and a grab of his small club when the 5-year-old would swing his arms all the way back to whack the ball. harry was such a bad parent because he laughed at these things which only encouraged them more to do so. it was hard to be serious, and he fully expected to be billed for the amount of balls his mini-me had whacked into ponds and trees. “stop being a daredevil” he twisted his son’s head away from his sister who he was evidently whispering for her to whack it in the water. he knew because penny purposely wanted him to get in trouble for it, “NO! I WON’T DO THAT!” and then of course . . the shoving . . and the shoving back . . and then the ultimate tears.

“right you two are acting like children,” he’d say, now holding a teary penny in his arm, again, trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness. maybe because freezy was there he couldn’t help but laugh.

maybe because freezy was laughing and turning his head to hide when he told them off.

but it was an insanely wholesome day. the sight of the three on the course warmed hearts, and the two had a fun time whacking things, tumbling and speeding around on the cart. harry also got to get on with his game with freeze, telling the twins to pass a ball between them which kept them occupied for ages. older men got to see the young dad pretend to throw his kids into the ponds and sit on the grass while they attempted handstands and cartwheels. the caught how he picked the tiny daisy flowers alongside his daughter and mess with his boy until their knees where green with rolling about on the grass. calfreezy had also flexed his skills hitting the ball with the kids’ mini golf clubs and ended up fighting penny for her headband - which he wore better.

a successful day harry would consider, and definitely not the last as he enjoyed the two little shadows trailing behind him, telling him how great a golfer he was. “wow! well done dad!”

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sofiasworld00 · 4 days ago

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Girl i need. NEED. Lando and reader sneaking out of their own wedding to fuck. i can’t get it out of my head pls pls pls pls.

like imagine himmmm: obsessed with how she looks, can’t stop being handsy and touchy and always looking for kisses and attention that at some point he drags her in some bathroom and gets under her massive bridal skirt AAAASSAASNFHDJS i can’t pls pls make it happen 😭😭

5 minutes. 7, tops | LN⁴

☁️ summary ──── Lando has never been the one to resist her. And on their wedding day, when she looks the most beautiful he’s ever seen her, wrapped in white and glowing just for him, he doesn’t even try.

☁️ pairing ──── Lando Norris x Wife!Reader

☁️ rating ──── explicit

☁️ warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, dirty talk, swearing, banter and emotional intimacy, smut, semi-public, brief fingering & oral ─ (f)receiving, teasing, possessiveness, unprotected (bathroom) sex.

☁️ word count ──── 4.2k

☁️ date ──── Jun. 22, 2025

☁️ a/n ──── Based on this ask, this os was highly requested for some reason, so take a slice until I find a way to finish the other 5 I started 🫴🏻🍰

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” a voice cuts through the air, loud and vibrating with excitement. “For the first time ever, I have the honor to present you: Mr. and Mrs. Norris!”

A set of double doors at the back of the hall swing open, and a wave of applause and cheers rolls forward as the newly married couple appears in sight.

Lando is holding her hand tightly, like he has no plans of letting go ever again. He looks like a fairytale, wearing a tailored black suit with clean lines down the legs, the kind of cut that says money but doesn’t scream it. His shirt is a stark white beneath, the collar buttoned all the way up, his tie coordinating perfectly with her dress without being too much. There’s a hidden message in those seemingly small choices that might go unnoticed. But they say more than words ever could. No loosened collar means a man who knows exactly who he belongs to, and the matching tie means that, from now on, every step is made with her in mind.

His smile is blinding, spreading all over his face and lighting his features with happiness. He’s not smiling for the crowd or cameras, but for her. His eyes keep flicking sideways to catch hers like he still can’t believe this is real.

“Let’s go, Landooo!” someone shouts, making the guests laugh, and his smile blooms even further.

They walk in perfect harmony toward the center of the room, surrounded by clapping and whistles, artificial fog and confetti, and her dress molds softly against her legs as they move, his steps steady and sure, despite the fact that on the inside, Lando already fainted three times, received CPR twice, and died once.

They reach the dance floor, and as the first notes of their song begin to play, everything shifts. The noise drops off almost instantly, the crowd falling silent, while the lights dim just a little. The music fills the room with something much heavier than melody just as Lando places a hand on her waist, fingers brushing the fabric of her dress. Her back fits perfectly against his palm, and when she gazes up at him with those eyes that still make his heart skip more than one beat, lips curling into a smile that’s been haunting his thoughts ever since the day he’s met her, Lando is gone.

Her dress glimmers, hugging her curves like it was crafted for the sole purpose of undoing him. And truth is, it was.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says, starting to guide her in the steps they’ve been practicing for months now. It became muscle memory, carved into quiet mornings before he left for work or rehearsed in his driver’s room between practice sessions; they’ve been stealing moments whenever they could, and now everything blends together effortlessly, like it was always meant to lead here.

She giggles, blushing a little but enjoying the way his voice drops when he’s being honest. Honest and absolutely in love with her.

“Don’t you have other lines, Mr. Norris?” she teases, eyes sparkling under her curled lashes.

He leans in, lips slightly brushing her ear. “Not unless you want to show everyone in here how you melt if I say something else,” he replies under his breath.

She looks at him again, emboldened by the intimacy in his words. “Like what?” she challenges him.

Lando’s jaw clenches. He spins her slowly, her dress fanning out, revealing just enough leg to make his vision blur. When she lands back in his arms, her chest presses against him, and he hisses softly.

“For starters, your boobs look insane in that corset,” he says, eyes flicking down for the briefest second.

She exhales a soft sigh, half scandalized, half thrilled, her fingers tightening around his shoulder.

“It’s torture,” adds Lando, his mouth hovering dangerously close to hers. “I was hard the second you walked down that aisle.”

The girl finally gasps, eyes darting to his. “Lando.”

“I’m so serious, baby,” he insists, laughing softly. “It hasn’t let up. I don’t know how I’m supposed to wait ‘til we get home,” he punctuates it with a look so intense that her knees nearly give out. She clutches his shoulder firmly, her pulse slowly rising, everything below her waist aching at the thought. “I just want to fuck my wife.”

Well, shit.

The word echoes in her head like church bells, giving her chills all over her body — wife, wife, wife! She loves the way he says it, like it’s something he’s earned. She melts further into his frame, their bodies brushing in a way far too suggestive for the room full of people watching them.

She lifts her chin, brushing her nose against his in the barest tease of affection. “You’re not the only one suffering, you know,” she whispers, her lips grazing his. “I’ve been a mess since I saw you in this tux,” she continues, smoothing the material with her palms sliding down his chest. “My husband looks like sex.”

Lando lets out a high-pitched chuckle. “Shoot me in the balls, it would hurt less.”

“I really appreciate the visuals,” she laughs in return.

He twirls her once more, slower this time, his eyes never leaving her. When she lands back in his arms, her back arches just slightly, pressing her breasts against his chest. It’s easy to feel the shift in him, and how his fingers tighten around every part of her body that he’s touching.

As the song is coming to an end, Lando’s hand slides up to her throat, holding her there. Her breath catches right away, but he doesn’t wait for permission. He already got it the moment she said yes to him in fornt of their families, friends, and the entire world. So he crashes his mouth to hers, putting up a show for everyone, without shame. It’s not the delicate kind of kiss people expect during a first dance. It’s months of tension and restraint, and the thrill of calling her his wife unleashed all at once. Her fingers curl into the lapels of his suit, so dizzy that she can barely hear the music anymore. But she feels it in the way their bodies sway together, the way the room goes still again, before the crowd erupts in wild applause.

Just as the final chord fades out, his lips leave hers, bringing her back to reality.

“Should we dip?” asks Lando, staring at her with a subtle look.

She arches a brow, grinning. “Dip?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs with a slight tilt of his head, completely serious despite the smirk. “Sneak out. Just for a bit.”

Her eyes widen. “We can’t leave our own wedding, Lando. We literally just got here.”

He smiles, leaning in closer, voice laced with enough honey to make her swoon. “Come on,” he insists. “Just a quickie in the bathroom,” his lips touch her cheek gently as he speaks, “We’ll be five minutes. No one’s gonna notice.”

She pulls back to shoot him a questionable look. “Five minutes?”

Lando rolls his eyes. “Alright. Seven, tops,” he says.

Her pulse is jumping wildly as she presses a hand to his chest, half to hold him back, half to steady herself. “Baby, our parents are here.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “As if we didn’t go at it in my childhood bedroom with my mum watching The Crown across the hall,” says Lando in a casual voice, studying her face. “What?”

“You’re such an idiot,” she says, fighting to hide a smile.

In response, Lando lifts his left hand to her eye level. “Your idiot,” he reminds her, pointing at the ring on his finger. “Forever.”

The girl shakes her head. “Your point?” she asks.

Lando grins. “I’ll make it fast, darling,” he assures her, his hand sliding around her waist, fingers pressing into the small of her back. “I’ll be in and out. Like, literally”

“So romantic,” she says sarcastically. “My husband, everybody!”

Just then, the voice of the wedding planner cuts in again, echoing through the mic like a divine intervention, “Now that the dance floor is officially heated up,” she calls cheerfully, “We’d love for all of you to join the lovely couple and let’s get this party started!”

She hesitates. For just a second, and that second is all he needs. He sees the flicker in her eyes, the war between logic and lust and, luckily, he knows her too well to know exactly which one’s winning this time.

With a playful wink, he intertwines his fingers with hers and gives her hand a gentle, insistent tug. “Come on, Mrs. Norris.”

As they weave through the crowd, hands still clasped tightly, guests stop them every few steps, offering hugs and heartfelt congratulations. They smile, nod, thank everyone politely, but there’s a quiet urgency in their movements, a shared look between them like they’re trying not to be swept up in the chaos. If they could melt into the walls unnoticed, they would, but right now, all they want is to be alone.

For just five minutes. Seven, tops.

The second they disappear around the corner, his hand is already on her waist, pressing her back into the wall beside the bathroom door. His mouth finds hers again as hot as earlier, pulling soft whimpers out of her.

The bathroom is nothing short of extravagant, like everything else at this wedding. Soft golden sconces glow against marble, casting a warm light that reflects off the tall mirrors lining on the walls. The sinks are sculpted from polished stone, ivory and veined with gold, with delicate faucets that look more like something made by Michelangelo than plumbing. Plush white hand towels are rolled perfectly beside trays of expensive perfumes and colognes. Everything sparkles, and it smells like luxury: jasmine, sweet vanilla, and a hint of champagne.

They stumble through the door like they’re drunk, her giggles breathless and lips kiss-bitten, while Lando spins her gently and backs her toward the counter. Her body presses to the edge, dress fanning out as she leans back whithout resistence. Then her leg slips out from the slit in her gown, forcing Lando to drop to his knees immediately, as if pulled by gravity.

He shoots her one look, with dark eyes and puffy lips from all the kissing. His hands trail slowly up her thighs, parting them delicately, then pulling her panties down. The white of her dress pools around his shoulders, brushing against his cheeks and collar, framing him in folds of pearlescent fabric.

Her mouth goes dry at the sight of him; he looks angelic between her legs, surrounded by pure white, but when his tongue touches her, there’s nothing holy about it.

Lando groans the second his mouth finds her folds, his hot tongue lapping confident strokes that make her head tip back against the mirror with a dull thud. He said quickie, but doesn’t rush. He tastes her like he’s savoring the first gulp of water after the Singapore Grand Prix, and hearing her silent moans only makes him thirstier.

“Lan…” she whines, fingers tangling in his curls.

He smiles against her skin, already pulling back, lips wet and glistening. “You are a fucking dream,” he tells her. “Such a mess f’me, you don’t even need prepping.”

He’s up in a blink of an eye, lips brushig her jaw so lightly that she’s sure she imagined it, until Lando cups her face gently, thumb brushing her cheek as he tilts her chin up, searching for her eyes. The warmth of his other hand slides back between her legs, fingers sliding through slick heat. All he gives her is just a couple of slow pumps, the kind meant to tease and announce their presence, not satisfy. His eyes stay locked on hers the whole time, reading every shift of her breath like it’s a private language only he understands.

“You like being sneaky so much that you’re dripping already, hm?”

She’s trembling, thighs closing around his wrist. “No,” the girl lies.

Lando hisses. “No?” he shakes his head, laughing softly. “I think you like knowing they’re all out there celebrating us, while you’re in here soaking my fingers.”

He’s well aware of the effect he has on her; always were. He knows all it takes is just a little look, and she’s done for. It’s a power he’s been taking advantage of countless times in the past, but this time, he uses it almost like a gentle reminder. While maintaing that look, he unbuckles his belt with the other hand, the soft clink echoing in her head like choir of angels. Then, he unzips with practiced urgency, pushing his pants and briefs down just enough to free himself.

And she realizes that Lando was nothing but honest, as usual.

His cock is already hard and flushed, the head swollen, leaking slightly at the tip. He wraps his hand around the base with a quiet hiss through his teeth, dragging it once down his length. He keeps his other hand working between her legs in the meantime, coaxing her higher with every stroke.

“See what my wife does to me?” he asks rhetorically, then slows, easing his fingers out with maddening care, watching her with a knowing gaze.

She can barely breathe at this point.

Deftly, Lando’s hands land on her hips, hiking her dress up her waist, until white silk bunches around them, revealing the heated skin beneath. He hooks one of her legs up over his waist, angling her until her core presses right against him. He knows it was the perfect choice, because her back arches in an instant, and breath starts stuttering when she feels the head of his cock sliding through her folds, catching on her clit and dipping back down, spreading her wetness over both of them.

The skin-on-skin contact makes her whimper in anticipation.

“My pretty liar,” she says, making Lando puff out a sigh. She lets out a shaky breath, body already aching, but the longer he lingers, the more her frustration bubbles up. Her fingers grip his jaw, forcing him to look at her. “You said five minutes,” she whispers, eyes narrowed but glittering. “And now you’re playing games?”

His jaw clenches as he pushes forward, just enough for the head to catch against her entrance. Then, continuing to hold her gaze, he thrusts in. All the way.

Lando chokes on a breath. “I said seven, tops,” he defends himself.

He stills inside, eyes closing for a moment, brain gone entirely blank at the feeling of her, as if it’s the first time. Her pussy grips him tight, warm and slick and perfect and his, and for a second, all he can do is focus on his breathing. No coherent thoughts, no words, just the mind-shattering realization that he’s buried inside his wife.

Each breath is punctuated by the slow beginning of his hips rolling, starting to move, dragging his cock against her walls again and again, as if trying to relearn every inch of her from the inside out.

She’s maddening around him, her body molding to his like it was made for him to hold. In his selfishness, Lando actually believes she was. Because it’s not just the physical. It’s everything that bonded them over time. And now, it’s the weight of the ring on her hand as it clutches at his shoulder. The way she gasps his name like it’s the only word she knows. The look in her eyes that says, I’m only yours.

His breath gets shallow and unsteady in a way she’s never heard him before. Like Lando’s unraveling in real time, coming apart at the seams just from being inside her. And she moves with him, meeting every thrust with the same need. Her nails scrape gently down the back of his head, then dig in when he shifts just right, making her entire body shiver in response.

“Mine,” he chokes on the words, thrusts slowing for a heartbeat as if to savor it, while she hums in pleasure. “Feel how wet you are? That’s all me, yeah?”

She nods, but it’s not enough. She turns her head, mouth finding his jaw, his neck, trying to stay anchored in the moment while her body rocks with his. “Always you, my love,” she replies, sounding like she’s on the verge of despair.

His laugh is breathless, like she’s just broken something open inside him. “Fuck, I won’t last. Two minutes,” he informes her. “Dropped to two minutes.”

She laughs, too. But his next thrust is harder, less controlled, making her cry out instead, all needy and high-pitched. She gasps his name, fingers clawing at the lapels of his tuxedo jacket as his hips continue to move in earnest, thrusting into her with a delicious rhythm. She fumbles with the tie and buttons, trying to peel the fabric from his shoulders, craving more of his heat and skin and the way his muscles flex every time he slams forward. But Lando’s pace only increases, and it ruins her effort.

His jacket slips halfway off, one sleeve hanging limp from his arm, the other clinging stubbornly to his shoulder. He can’t stop. The sight of her like this, with her legs spread, dress hitched up, and soft body pulling him in with every thrust has obliterated every ounce of patience he had left.

“Fucking, fuck,” he growls, burying his face in her neck. His mouth presses a small kiss there, but his lips twitch with restraint, the need to mark her thrumming violently through him.

“Don’t,” she warns, knowing every filthy thought that’s ever crossed Lando’s mind.

“Please,” he whines. “Let them know I fucked you in the bathroom at our own wedding.”

Her voice trembles as she moans loudly, her arms locking around his shoulders, pulling him in closer. Her back arches off the counter, hips meeting his, as her body folds to the rhythm.

“You’re already fucking up my wedding dress,” she gasps, breath hot in his ear. “Trust me, baby. They’ll know.”

Lando pulls back to look at her, sweat beading at his temple, a gremlin-like smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s the only time you’re wearing it anyway.”

After that, his hands clamp down on her waist, firm to fuck her harder, burying himself to the hilt with each movement. She cries out, head falling on his shoulder, completely unraveling for him as her slick walls tighten around his cock. Her body clings to him in every possible way, shaking with the promise of release, and all Lando can do is just hold on, driven by the feel of her, the sound of her, the truth of what they are now.

Husband and wife. And so completely owned by each other.

Her body is ready to give up under his force, every inch of her strung tight with need, already teetering on the edge. Her hair’s falling in messy waves around her flushed face, eyes glassy as she encourages him to take her harder.

Fueled by her demand, Lando does exactly as he’s told.

“My wife.”

Thrust.

“Mine.”

Thrust.

“Making me go crazy.”

Thrust-thrust-thrust.

His words slam into her as hard as his hips do, leaving her gasping, dazed, dizzy. And wanting more. She lets out a string of moans, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket still stubbornly clinging to his shoulder. Her entire world feels like it’s collapsing around the rhythm of his body and the ragged devotion in his voice.

“You have no idea,” he grunts, “How fucking excited I am to fuck you like this for the rest of our lives.”

“I might have a few ideas,” she replies. “Especially if this is you before our wedding night. What’re you gonna do when I’m wearing nothing but your last name and asking for more?” she asks, tilting her hips enough to make him feel the shift. “Think you can keep up with me, husband?”

A guttural noise tears from his throat as he slams into her faster, chasing the release like it’s his lifeline. Their bodies slap together with wet sounds, the soft rustle of her dress and the quiet creak of the counter drowned beneath their wild breathing.

“That answers your question, eh?”

“Shit. Yes. Fuck,” she replies. “Lando,” the girl pants, mouth brushing his.

And then she breaks. Her orgasm hits fast and hard, her thighs shaking, body trembling as she cries out, voice echoing off the walls of his skull. But before she can fully scream, Lando covers her mouth with his, swallowing the sound.

Their kiss is messy and soaked in panting breaths and wet lips, and with her convulsing in pleasure beneath him, is too much for Lando to hold back. He thrusts deep once, twice, then groans into her mouth as he spills all his love and lust inside her. The blinding sensation knocks the air from his lungs, their bodies shaking together as they fall apart and hold each other through it.

Trying to catch her breath, her cheek rests against his shoulder, arms wrapped loosely around his back, one of her legs still hooked around his waist. His hands stay firm on her hips, not wanting to let go, still inside her, connected, and in no rush to move, because time doesn’t exist in this little corner of their universe.

But a few moments later, Lando lifts his gaze, catching sight of them in one of the tall mirrors. The reflection hits him hard: his dark curls are pointing in every direction, his jacket hangs crooked from one shoulder, tie just halfway undone. Her dress is wrinkled and bunched around her thighs, and her lipstick is smudged everywhere on his face from all the kisses they never planned to stop. And what truly gets him is the look in his own eyes — he’s glowing. Like he’s just crossed a finish line, but this time it wasn’t just him in the car.

He sees her holding onto him like she always will.

He sees himself holding her like she’s the only safe place he’s ever known.

Suddenly, he realizes he’s a husband now. Her husband. And he’s going to wake up to this woman for the rest of his life. Through every challenge, every joy, and every storm, he has a partner that’s here to stay. Even when life throws everything it can at him, she will be his constant. His only source of peace. His home.

Lando’s throat tightens, emotion rising so violently it nearly drowns him. Gently, he leans in, pressing his lips to the shell of her ear, breathing her in as he closes his eyes.

“I promise to always be yours,” he starts whispering his vows again. “To protect your heart like it’s my own.”

Her breath hitches, her brain just coming out of the haze of pleasure caused by her husband.

“To love you when things are easy,” he continues, “And love you even harder when they’re not.”

With teary eyes, her arms squeeze him tighter. Even if she finds it hard to hold him like that, because her body melts under the weight of his words, she does it because she knows how important it is for Lando to remind her that, at the end of the day, it’s about this: them.

She’s just about to whisper something back after Lando stops talking, but he’s always managed to leave her speechles, one way or another. This time, he reduces her to a soft moan when he slowly pulls out of her. At that, her body clenches involuntarily as the absence of him leaves her sensitive and throbbing. The warm aftermath of their pleasure slips slowly out of her, making her thighs twitch around the sensation.

Lando sighs as he watches it happen, forehead dropping to her shoulder.

“Shit, sorry,” he says, voice raspy as if he just woke up. “Didn’t mean to ruin the moment, but fucking hell. It kills me every time I pull out,” he explains, drawing back to look at her, his hand trailing over her thigh, possessive and adoring all at once.

She exhales a breathy laugh despite herself, her chest still rising and falling from the intensity, cheeks all flushed. “You’re such a boy,” she scolds playfully, giving his shoulder a half-hearted push, still giggling.

“I’m grieving,” he says, faking innocence.

“You’re done,” she cuts him off, the affection in her voice making it sound more like a vow than a complaint.

Still perched on the counter, she leans forward, trying to tame the wild curls now clinging to his forehead. Her fingers thread through his hair with the kind of tender frustration only a woman in love can pull off, pushing it back, smoothing it, even if it’s completely in vain.

Lando closes his eyes and hums like a man being worshipped. “That’s your mess, by the way,” he says satisfied.

“Yeah,” she agrees with a smile. “My beautiful mess.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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sofiasworld00 · 4 days ago

Text

What's in my bag ?

Summary : While filming a “What’s In My Bag?” video for TUMI during a dreamy shoot in Lake Como, Lando Norris proudly shares his favorite travel items: headphones, cinnamon mints, lucky charms… and a stack of Polaroids of his girlfriend.

Until one very private photo slips into the mix, and suddenly the internet sees a whole lot more than he meant to show.

Genre : suggestive, fluff, oneshot

Pairing : Lando Norris x reader

Warning : mature content, allusion to nude and sex activities

Main Masterlist

Author notes : funny and soft oneshot to bring a little bit of joy after the race of Sunday. Everyone please stay safe and if you can, stay away from social media if it gets too hard after this week-end race, love you all <3

Lake Como glistened in the soft morning light, its surface scattered with diamonds of sun as gentle waves rolled against the dock. A light breeze rustled the cypress trees lining the water’s edge, carrying with it the scent of pine and polished wood from the nearby villas. Birds chirped, water lapped, cameras clicked.

And somewhere on a private terrace above the lake, Lando Norris was trying not to sweat through his linen shirt.

“Alright, we’re rolling in three, two, one...” the cameraman’s voice faded into silence as the red light blinked on.

Lando sat back in the sleek director-style chair, a black TUMI backpack resting on his lap. He adjusted the strap, cleared his throat, and gave the camera his signature, cheeky grin.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

His voice echoed softly against the terracotta walls behind him.

“This is my TUMI backpack. I take it everywhere, especially when I’m traveling. It’s kind of like my...survival kit,” he chuckled, unzipping the top compartment. “You’ll see what I mean.”

One by one, he began pulling items out, placing them carefully on the small table beside him.

“First up: my headphones,” he said, holding up a sleek black pair. “Can’t live without these. Whether it’s music, Netflix on the plane, or zoning out in the paddock, these save me.”

He paused and smirked at the camera. “They also help when I’m pretending not to hear Oscar.”

The staff behind the camera chuckled.

“Next... passports. Plural. Yeah. I have three.” He fanned them out like a hand of cards, laughing. “I’m international, baby.”.”

He dug deeper into the backpack and pulled out a small, velvet pouch. Opening it carefully, he revealed several stone bracelets in warm earthy tones.

“My mum got me these for Christmas,” he said quietly, his tone softening. “I don’t always wear them on track days, but I keep them close. Just… makes me feel a bit more grounded.”

He placed them gently down and then brandished a small tin.

“Cinnamon mints,” he declared proudly. “For the sweet tooth. Helps with cravings. Or when you want to pretend you don’t eat like a raccoon at midnight.”

More laughter. The atmosphere was warm, friendly. Lando was in his element, somewhere between boyish and bold.

“Now we’re getting to the fun stuff.”

He pulled out a tangled mess of keychains, one shaped like a tiny McLaren helmet, another a fluffy orange pom-pom, and the last: a piece of tissue with the initials LN sewn into it.

“A fan gave me this,” he said, holding it between his fingers. “I’ve had it for years. It’s falling apart but... can’t travel without it.”

He smiled at the memory, then paused as his hand slipped into one of the deeper side pockets. His brow furrowed.

“Oh... wait,” he muttered, pulling something halfway out before immediately stuffing it back in.

He looked up at the camera, suddenly sheepish.

“Uhh...yeah. Some stuff I definitely can’t show you,” he said, grinning and scratching the back of his neck. “Let’s just say... it's better to stay protected”

The staff broke into laughter. One of the camera guys let out a dramatic “ooooohhh.”

“What?” Lando laughed, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “You never know, okay? I like to get prepared.��

Still grinning, he reached again into the bag and pulled out a small, silver disposable camera.

“This guy comes everywhere with me,” he said. “I take film photos when I travel. Stuff that’s just for me, you know? Not for Instagram. Just memories.”

He held it up with affection, then reached in again and began pulling out little mementos: a handmade skull keyring from Mexico, a folded receipt with something scribbled on the back, a broken friendship bracelet.

“I’m kind of a hoarder,” he admitted. “These are all... pieces of places. People. Moments. I like keeping them close.”

His hand brushed against something in the side pocket. A small, rubbery bottle.

He pulled it out before he registered what it was.

There was a beat.

He stared at the camera.

The bottle gleamed in the sunlight. Bright pink. Labelled clearly ' Lubricant: Strawberry flavor' .

“Oh. My god.”

He blinked, went pale, then immediately turned red.

“I...okay, that’s not, this is not...this wasn’t meant to be in here.”

He stuffed it back into the pocket, eyes wide.

The cameraman wheezed behind the lens. A staffer covered her mouth.

“I swear this is not... I didn’t pack this bag this morning!” Lando stammered. “Okay I did, but not, like, not with this interview in mind so I didn't know I had to show it.”

Lando groaned. “Can we cut that out? Please? It’s for...dry skin.”

“Oh wich part of your skin?”

He buried his face in his hands and trie to change the subject.

Still flustered, he grabbed one of his tech pouches and unzipped it, desperate to pivot.

“Oh!” he beamed. “Okay. These are my favorites.”

From the padded pouch meant for a laptop, he pulled out a neat little stack of Polaroids tied with a red ribbon. He untied them quickly, holding the first one up to the camera.

“This... is my girlfriend.”

The way he said it, like he couldn’t believe his luck, was soft, sincere.

He flipped through the pictures with reverence.

“This is her in Spain last summer. Look at this, she was trying to take a serious photo and I made a face behind her.”

He laughed.

“This is us in Monaco. Don’t ask how I convinced her to get in the pool. She hates cold water.”

Another.

“This is her sleeping. And this... this is her at breakfast, in my hoodie.”

His smile melted into something private, like a quiet sunrise behind his eyes.

“And this...”

He held up the next Polaroid to the camera without looking at it first. There was a beat. A pause.

From behind the camera, someone made a choked noise.

Lando glanced up. “What?” Then looked at the picture.

“Oh...oh, no. No, no, no...”

He yanked it back quickly, his ears flushing bright pink.

“Shit, this isn’t...this was not supposed to be in that pile.”

He stuffed it deep into the side of the bag, clutching the remaining Polaroids protectively.

“Oh my god, please can you blur it,” he groaned, covering his face. “That’s from the other pile. Like...the private-private collection.”

The entire crew burst into cackles.

“I swear to god if that makes the cut, I’m a dead man. She’s going to kill me.”

“Was that a nude?” someone asked, not even trying to hide the glee.

“I am not answering that.”

“Was it?” the assistant pressed.

“I plead the fifth,” Lando said dramatically, still red-faced. “Blur it. Blur it, please. I’m begging you. I have a career. I have a relationship.”

He tried to laugh it off, but his smile was flustered, eyes wide and nervous.

Eventually, he cleared his throat, trying to move on.

“Anyway. My phone. My wallet. You know. The boring stuff.”

But even as he listed the rest of his items, he kept glancing at the camera, haunted. Regretfully boyish. Still blushing.

“Alright. That’s what’s in my bag,” he said quickly, snapping the backpack shut. “And apparently... a reason to get murdered by my girlfriend.”

He groaned again. “Can we cut that part? Please? I swear, she’s gonna make me sleep on the balcony.”

The red light turned off.

The staff burst into applause.

“Best interview yet,” one of the directors laughed, clapping. “Gonna break the internet.”

@TUMIofficial

WHAT’S IN MY BAG with Lando Norris: Lake Como Special Catch our exclusive behind-the-scenes interview with what Lando really carries with him👀

@_user1 WAIT. Did he just… show a nude of his gf on camera?? 😭😭😭

@_user2 THE WAY HE PANICKED. omg that was NOT staged. He looked like he wanted to die 💀💀💀

@_user3 No bc I NEED to know what was on that Polaroid. Was it like artsy nude or nude-nude?

@_user4 LMFAO he had the audacity to hint at condoms, then literally WHIPPED OUT A NUDE LIKE IT’S A FAMILY VACAY SNAP 💀💀

@_user5 He carries cinnamon mints for his sweet tooth AND spicy pics of his girl?? man’s layered fr

@_user6 Not Lando Norris accidentally exposing his thirst for his gf on a sponsored ad 😭 someone check on the TUMI PR team

@_user7 Lube AND nudes of his girl?? Lando Norris is not packing for a trip. He’s packing for a weekend of sin.

@_user8 He really said: “this is her being pretty, this is her sleeping… and this is her NAKED” lmao LANDO WHYYYYY

@_user9 This man is not traveling. He’s on a mission.

@_user10 Lando really opened that bag and gave us: emotional support bracelets, cinnamon mints, protection, lube, porn. He's got range.

@_user11 “Some stuff I can’t show you” and then five minutes later accidentally shows us 😭 this man has NO filter and NO chill

@_user12 This isn’t a “what’s in my bag” this was a “what’s in normally in my bedroom drawer but I somehow take it everywhere in my backpak”

@_user13 He said “I like to be prepared” and I believe him now

@_user14 “That’s from the other pile” UM. HELLO????? THERE IS A PILE??

@_user15 Protective AND obsessed with his girl?? I need a man like Lando

@_user16 He really said “what’s in my bag?” and the answer was: horniness

Texts messages

Y/N Just watched the TUMI video 😇

Lando Oh no.

Y/N The one where my nude photo makes a guest appearance in front of 1.2 million people? 🤗

Lando BABE It was an ACCIDENT But don't worry it's blur we can't see a single thing I didn’t mean to pull that photo I meant the cute ones!! The breakfast one!! The one where you’re wearing my hoodie!!

Y/N So you show the one where i’m wearing nothing at all?

Lando I’m sweating I’m actually sweating I’m gonna get sued. by you. By TUMI. By your parents

Y/N My mum did text me She said “interesting campaign... very modern”

Lando NOOOOOOOOOOOO I’m crawling into the lake

Y/N Also “i like to be prepared”? Really? What exactly are you preparing for mid-flight with lube? 🤔

Lando Dry skin!!! I said it's for my dry skin!!!!!

Y/N Right Because when i think of skin hydratation i think of edible lubricant 🙃

Lando I’m scared to check twitter Someone called my bag “frat boy coded" They’re not wrong

Y/N You do carry condoms, lube, candy and a Polaroid of me naked in the same backpack You’re like Dora the Explorer if she was addicted to sex

Lando DORA?!?!?! 😭

Y/N “What’s in my bag?” Everything but self-control

Lando Okay, first of all, RUDE Second of all… the lube smells nice Third of all… You didn’t complain last time

Y/N Oh so now you’re doubling down??

Lando Just trying to make the best of my public humiliation Besides What’s so wrong with carrying a few... essentials? A man’s gotta travel prepared

Y/N You sound like a horny boy scout

Lando “Always be ready” is a valid motto 🙋‍♂️

Y/N Valid until you drop a bottle of lube in front of a camera crew

Lando They laughed so hard i thought someone was gonna need CPR

Y/N You’re lucky i love you And you’re lucky the nude was actually a good one

Lando Thank you 🥺 i almost show the one where you’re biting the sheet but i had... instincts

Y/N INSTINCTS???? You mean your last two brain cells had a moment of clarity

Lando Pls Do you still love me?

Y/N Debatable Might depend on whether or not you bring me almond croissants when you will come back

Lando Deal But only if you let me take a new Polaroid… One just for me to see😉

Y/N … Good luck on media day tomorrow Norris

Lando Oh no god I forgot about that

The paddock was already buzzing by the time Lando arrived, hoodie up over his head like he was trying to go incognito. Not that it helped, cameras turned as soon as he walked through the gates.

Media day.

He kept his head down, offering a few tight-lipped smiles to passing crew and journalists. He could feel the looks. The barely contained smirks. The PR team had already warned him to "expect commentary.” He hadn’t realized commentary meant the entire motorsport world was now intimately familiar with the contents of his bag.

He reached the McLaren hospitality unit and headed straight for the driver lounge.

Oscar was already there.

He looked up from his phone the second Lando walked in, and the smile started immediately.

“Morning,” Oscar said, way too casual. “Sleep well?”

Lando didn’t answer. Just dropped into the chair across from him and stared at the ceiling.

Oscar waited half a beat.

Then: “So… what’s in your bag today?”

Lando groaned, eyes closing. “No.”

“No what?” Oscar asked, blinking innocently.

“I’m not doing this with you.”

Oscar nodded slowly, tapping his phone against the table. “Right. Of course. Strict media day focus. No time for lube talk.”

Lando didn’t move but look at him shocked. “Oscar!”

“Yes?”

“I will actually fight you if you keep talking”

Oscar continued, unfazed. “I’ve learned a lot about you this week.”

“Please stop.”

“Your skincare routine. Your travel essentials.”

“It’s for my girlfriend,” Lando muttered.

Oscar nodded slowly. “Romantic.”

Lando looked at him. “I didn’t mean to show half that stuff.”

Oscar took a long sip of his water bottle, then added, deadpan: “You were really sweating.”

“I was panicking, Oscar.”

“Yeah. I noticed.”

There was a pause.

Oscar looked back down at his phone.

“I just didn’t know you were the type to carry… souvenirs.”

Lando threw his head back and groaned. “It’s private. It’s supposed to stay private.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “You handed it to a camera crew.”

“I didn’t know it was that one.”

Oscar hummed. “Risky system.”

Lando covered his face. “I’m not coming out for media. Tell them I’ve combusted.”

Oscar leaned back again, shrugging. “Might be safer. Someone from Williams asked if you’re sponsored by Durex now.”

Lando didn’t respond. He was too busy trying to crawl into his chair.

Oscar gave a tiny, satisfied nod.

Then, after a beat: “At least the mints were normal.”

“Thanks,” Lando said miserably. “Really comforting.”

Oscar took another sip from his water bottle, then looked back at Lando, who was still sulking in the chair across from him, hoodie half over his face.

After a moment, Oscar spoke again. Calm. Curious.

“Okay, but... I actually have a question now.”

Lando didn’t move. “Please don’t.”

Oscar ignored him, tone completely deadpan. “What’s in the pile?”

Lando sat up slowly, blinking at him in horror. “What the hell, Oscar?”

Oscar stayed relaxed, perfectly composed. “You said it yourself. There's the normal Polaroids. And then there’s the private-private pile. So… what’s in it?”

“I am not...” Lando pointed at him, absolutely done. “...having this conversation with you.”

Oscar raised a brow. “Just curious. For science.”

Lando stood up instantly. “I’m leaving.”

Oscar shrugged. “Fair.”

Lando stormed toward the door, muttering something about changing teams, changing sports, maybe even changing names.

He was halfway out when,

“Oi!” Oscar called after him. “Don’t forget your backpack, Norris.”

Lando froze mid-step.

Oscar was already grinning.

“You left it,” he added, far too casually. “Y’know… the one with your precious things in it.”

Lando turned around like a man walking back into a crime scene, snatched the bag off the chair with one hand, and glared.

“Stop talking about it,” he muttered.

Oscar just smiled. “I’m not saying anything.”

“You are thinking them.”

Oscar leaned back, unfazed. “I’m not.”

“You’re being insufferable.”

Lando slung the bag over his shoulder and walked out without another word.

As the door shut behind him, Oscar shook his head slightly and let out a quiet laugh, just enough to himself, just loud enough for it to echo in Lando’s memory for years to come.

taglist : @bunnisplayground, @vampgege, @chocolatemooncoffee, @sashisuslover, @gold66loveblog, @carlando4, @il0vereadingstuff, @lilith-123321, @ispywlittleeye-blog, @h-rtsnana, @anonomano, @guacala, @charlotteking27, @ninass-world, @scarletwidow3000, @taetae-armyyyyy, @mynameisangeloflife, @tsuniio, @sophxxkiss, @teti-menchon0604, @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @henna006, @stylesmoonlight12, @lilaissa, @sideboobrry11, @l3thal-l0lita, @lorena-mv33, @ispywlittleeye-blog, @lesliiieeeee, @sageskiesf1, @adynorris, @curlylando, @rebelliousneferut, @justcharlotte, @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies, @emneedshelp, @lando-505, @yukimaniac, @sashisuslover, @f1norris04, @dustie-faerie

3K notes · View notes

sofiasworld00 · 5 days ago

Note

“ a bb penny (6?) accidently going live on one of their phones and answering all the asks going thru”

why can i imagine the way harry or mrs bog realises shes doing it is because someone asks something and she cant understand it/cant read it so she just trots into their room to ask for help.

baby bog goes instagram live

no i really really loved this take, i love the domesticness!!!!

both of them sitting downstairs, feet kicked up on the sofa, harry subconsciously massaging mrs bogs foot as she watches the tv w the newest baby bog on her chest.

penny is upstairs, walking around the landing, phone in hand, blabbering nonstop about the most random thing, unable to read a single message coming through because there are thousands on thousands coming through a second. props the phone on the wall to show her new clothes, all the laundry drying in the back of new baby onsies, harry’s socks and her mom’s bright neon thongs. “look how cool” modelling her white airforce with baby blue ticks to match her tracksuit.

user OMG WHAT

user PENNY!!!!! 🩵🩵🩵

user penny where’s your mum! xx

user OOO love your shoes pen!!!

user she’s GORGEOUS

tobjizzle penny!!! go play outside!!!!

trots on in to her brothers room, teddy chilling on his bed with his nintendo switch, leg crossed over as she comes next to him. “what’s that?” she points to the comments. he’s so big brotherly. their the same age but it’s so cute how he ducks his head over her shoulder with his hand on her shoulder to get a look at the phone, having no clue. “i don’t think you should be on this,” he looks at her, and she looks back at him, and they just stare at each other until he’s laid back on his bed with his game in hand, a tight-lipped ‘i’m just sayin’ attitude on his face. “bye teddy,” she’d say, leaving before he shouts down to you.

she’s entranced in the phone, by the cute and pretty emojis spamming the screen.

user OMG OTHER BABY BOG

user omg 😭😭😭😭

calfeezy no freakin way

user look how big they are 🥹💔

user w2s clones

“freezy’s ringing me . . i’m not answering,” harry mumbled, throwing his phone to the side. he could hardly look at his phone, going to shut his eyes for the five minutes of peace he was getting.

penny bangs into the dresser at the top of the stairs, knocking over a photo, then another and another. you look at harry suspiciously at the faint sound but go back to the tv. she picks the frame up, deciding it’s a perfect side story. “oop . . i cant get it up,” she can’t stretch tall enough to stand it up again. she shows the phone, “this was my mummy and daddy when . . they . . when the— he was a little boy,” she shows the photo of you two on your first trip, just mere months together. he was about 17 but it was simpler to say ‘little boy.’ “look at him,” she pointed to harry’s face, how he looked soo different from now, not a hair of stubble on his face nor wrinkle. she then directed it to you, her pretty mummy, who always upstaged her dad in every pic. she’d always looked the same, never seeming to age a day. she was as beautiful back then to now, lovely straight teeth and soft eyes, her signature look of adoration. “isn’t she sooo nice,” she showed before setting it flat on the dresser. someone would fix it when they passed by. the other two photos showed glimpse of you and harry, one at a wedding and the other on another sunny holiday.

user OMG MY HEART ❤️❤️❤️

user y/n is the most beautiful 🥰🩷🌟🩷😍

user WHY HAVE THEY NEVER POSTED THESE PICS 😍😍😍

user they’re gorgeous!!!!

user your mom and dad are fantastic 😍😍

taliamar PENNY ANSWER THE PHONE DARLIN!!

“where’s roro?” she managed to catch a comment on time. “roro!” she called from the top of the stairs. ‘roro’ was the massive pitbull-like dog with the bravery of a mouse - rocky . . or rocket as harry called him because of his constant case of zoomies, and rock from you because you were convinced there was a rock where his brain was supposed to be.

the dog picked his head up, pausing from giving puppy eyes at the baby in your arms. penny came down the stairs, reading more words that popped up, almost banging into the wall as she turned into the living room. “what are you doing you numpty?” harry furrowed at her, her head glued to the phone. too distracted taking photos of rocky. fans saw harry in the back, your elbow barely in the cut at the side, but fans still lost it.

user BOG

user HARRY!!!!!!

user OMGG DILF

user HARRYYY 🤤🤤🤤🤤

user penny show your new brother / sister !!!!

user he’s so fucking fit

user DADDYYY

user OMFG 👅

user BOG!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

user penny your dad’s a dilf

user 🚨 D I L F A L E R T 🚨

“daddy what’s a dif?”

“eh?”

she looked at the phone again, the words going too fast. “a dif. dlif. a difd.”

she climbed up on the sofa beside him, scooting under his arm, he cuddled into her and glanced at the phone, and his face dropped. “penny, what are you doing you melon,” he snatched the phone.

you furrowed your brows, confused, “what’s she done?”

there were endless possibilities.

“she’s been fucking live the last 15 minutes,” he was trying not to laugh, but he was, because, what the fuck. what the fuck had she been broadcasting to these 215k people watching? fans were left to watch his widened eyes and growing smirk as he covered his mouth and looked down again, more views appearing than ever. he had to laugh because he didn’t know what else to do, and penny just looked at him, lost, not knowing if she was in trouble or not.

roro wasn’t the only one who’d be making puppy eyes.

he gave the middle finger to the camera and ended it, the last of the screen sounding penny’s humoured gasp of ‘daddy!’ with a pull of his hand before it ended.

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sofiasworld00 · 5 days ago

Note

Imagine harry needs to leave for a sidemen shoot and the kids are still young but old enough to go to school so alone time isn’t always easy to come by so when harry needs to leave, mrs bog won’t let him because she misses him already

“are you sureeee . . you could still make it in 20 minutes. you’re leaving too early.”

hand clung to his, trying to pull him back towards her but harry is trying to find his shoes. he’s just out the shower, hair wet and spiky, smelling like a million bucks, he’s so fresh and sexy smelling. mrs bog is losing it, she’s laid across the bed, wrecking the sheets trying to get him to sit down even for a second. “do you not miss me?”

“i do miss you but i’m running late,”

“LATE?! you’ve got an hour!”

the house is quiet for once. he’s laughing at her and she’s laughing too cus she knows she’s coming across desperate — but she is. the kids are in school, she has the morning off cus of an appointment she’s already attended. she’ll be on her own when he goes. he’s got work in an hour which is plenty of time for her for a lil sum sum. “i’ve got to go now, ya clinger,” he playfully slaps her hand off.

“you’re having me on,” she sits up on her hands, smelling divine herself after her shower before him.

“i’m not!”

“you don’t miss me.”

“i do!”

“liar, you wouldn’t even stay 15 minutes to have a cuppa with me.”

“y/n i can’tttt” he’s really trying not to laugh so obnoxiously at you.

“can i tempt you?!” she tries a new approach, sitting up a bit, wiggling her brows.

“fuck off!” he giggles in a hushed tone. its a force of habit. kids, y’know.

“you won’t even look at my ass!”

“i am lookin! i-i haven’t stopped lookin!” he points to your bare ass in just a basic thong. too lazy to get dressed properly yet.

“you don’t think i’m sexy, s’fine,” she lets go of him again.

harry’s eyes dropping in a ‘be serious’ way and she’s holding her hand up, blanking him, standing up to pass by him. that’s when he grabs her arm and pulls her back, humoured by her pettiness and smiles into his needy kiss cus duh, he does miss her and he certainly misses her days in a row when fighting two 5 year-olds for her attention.

“no its fine! i know who appreciates my time!”

“you are a melter.” he holds her face and pulls him against him becus one thing about harry lewis, he’s always selfish when it comes to him woman and he will appreciate her 24/7, it’s just harder when you have two little people shadowing you 24/7.

259 notes · View notes

sofiasworld00 · 6 days ago

Text

b.d.e

alfie buttle x fem reader <3

summary: alfie was big everywhere...but you finally decide you're ready for him.

a/n: first time writing fic in a few years yayyy also. yes i am american lol

wc: 4.5k

content: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it lads), vaginal fingering, big dick alfie, established relationship, implied chubby fem reader.

you and alfie had spent most of the morning swimming.

he didn’t want you to feel like your long weekend in harrogate was a waste and he was trying his best. not letting you follow him out of bed in the morning, instead kissing you breathless into the pillows and tucking you back into the sheets before he leaves you to sink between sleep and wakefulness in the warmth of the bed before you hear the door creak open again.

the breakfast wasn’t anything fancy, but the extra effort he put into it for you was very sweet. between bites he explained that he’d found a lake for you guys to spend the morning at. “like, a proper lake, not some shit little creek that has sewage runoff flowing through it.” you giggle to yourself and just nod at his enthusiasm, grateful that you actually listened to him when he told you to pack a swimsuit.

and you had to give it to him, it was a proper lake that he had found. not super big, but definitely deep enough for you two to actually float and swim in. the water was a welcome relief against your heated skin, the sun sitting high and hot in the sky. it seemed as if no one even knew of the lake’s existence, your morning of splashing about not interrupted by a single soul. it made you wonder how long he’d spent searching it out, imaging him spending hours driving around, trying to find the perfect spot for you two.

you felt like a little kid again when alfie tried coaxing you out of the water and into the car to go back to the grotto. the morning had been so peaceful, the water so refreshing, you didn’t want to leave. but your skin was starting to burn under the afternoon sun and your stomach was starting to growl. eventually you pulled yourself back up to the bank to towel yourself off and slip into the dry clothes you had packed.

and it’s not like you hadn’t been naked in front of each other before. while you guys don’t get to spend the most time together with your schedules not always aligning, he had started staying at your place when he came into the city instead of scrambling to find whatever hotel had vacancy when his train arrived. him crawling into your bed late at night after a shoot had led to a few sloppy handjobs that usually end with his fingers curled in your wet cunt. but the casual intimacy of being naked together without any real endgame isn’t something that you guys are quite used to yet.

you blush and giggle through stripping yourself out of your wet swimsuit and him out of his wet gym shorts since he still didn’t have a proper set of swim trunks yet. even though neither of you had seen a single person since coming to your little spot, the thrill of being caught naked together in public still sent a thrill up your spine. while you can feel his eyes lingering on your body, you know you’re not any better, watching the rivulets of water bead down his muscles. but your stomach growls and kills the mood, signaling the need for a food stop on the way back to the grotto.

alfie grabs a shower first when you guys get back, “i’ll be quick because i know you probably gotta wash your hair and shit.” and luckily he was quick, because you did have to wash your hair from the way alfie kept trying to cradle you to his chest like a baby in the water.

when you finally made it out of the bathroom he was stretched out on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, looking through emails on his laptop. as you filled up your water bottle from the tap in the kitchen you couldn’t help but notice how small the laptop looked in his lap. the impressive spread of his thighs and massive width of his hands making it look almost tiny in comparison.

he notices you staring as he bangs away at the keys, “just gotta finish this up real quick then i’m all yours, love.”

you hear him click around on the mousepad as you put the cap back on your water bottle and take a long sip from it. he finally shuts the laptop closed and sets it aside on the coffee table, shifting himself on the couch, thighs spreads and arms open at his sides. a clear invitation. you didn’t have to be asked twice.

but before you made a place for yourself in his lap you stood between his legs and held out your water bottle in front of his face. there were few things you’d change about alfie, his quirks were what caught your attention anyways, but his abysmal diet and lack of real hydration were things you were slowly trying to change over time. his scowl at the offered beverage was met with a pointed look from you which turned into a triumphant smile when he finally leaned forward to take a few long sips from the bottle.

satisfied, you set the bottle on the coffee table behind you and make yourself comfortable in his lap. his arms go around your waist as you settle atop his thighs, knees on either side. you’re wearing a pair of soft cotton shorts you packed and a well worn shirt of his that you snagged from his dresser after your shower. he’s dressed similarly, a loose pair of workout shorts and a baggy, soft t-shirt that you bury your nose in as you lean your head against his shoulder and bring your hands up around his shoulders.

you can feel the warmth of his hands against your back and giggle at the way he noses up your neck and takes a deep inhale. “you smell fuckin’ good.”

your face splits into a grin at the compliment, “thank you, i know how much you like the smell of my shampoo, but i did actually use your body wash, too, while i was in there.” the way he stiffens in your arms makes you hesitate, “is that ok?”

when he pulls back to look at you notice the flush on his cheeks and his sheepish smile, “you’re in my clothes, you smell like me, you’re in my lap. like, i must be fucking dreaming.”

you can’t help but laugh at his boyish earnestness, you could always trust alfie to tell you exactly how he felt about something. you brushed your lips against his, “definitely not a dream.”

“thank fucking god.” he closes the barely there distance between your lips and dips his hands underneath your baggy shirt, warm palms trailing up and down your back. he was always a surprisingly good kisser (“nothing worse than a bloke trying to swallow a girl’s face”), always letting you lead and set the pace. your fingers found their way back to the soft curls of his mullet, nails scratching his scalp in the way you know he loves.

you get lost in the feeling of his lips against yours and the feel of his hands sweeping over whatever skin he can reach, your hips twitch without a thought. he pulls back from your lips as a harsh keen escapes from his.

“oh,” you try not to laugh, you really do, “some kissings got you hard, buttle?”

“i’ve been rockin’ a semi damn near all day,” he exclaims, his eyebrows going up under his fringe with the effort. his hands settle again at the small of your back, pinkies slipping under the waistband of your shorts. “wake up to you in my bed, gotta watch you in that swimsuit, thinking about you in my shower. what’s a bloke supposed to do besides get bricked up, ‘ya know?”

you suppress your giggle at his unabashed honesty, instead leaning forward to whisper against his lips, “maybe you should finish what you started.” you delight in the gasp he lets out as you connect your lips again, knowing your words caught him off guard. usually, your intimacy leans a little more…goofy, you two are usually never able to take each other seriously, or he’ll usually say something that catches you completely off guard and unable to suppress your laughter. but sometimes you’re able to render him useless with a few sultry words.

his hands gripped your love handles as he pulled away to mutter against your lips, “don’t worry, i’ll get you first.” but before he had the opportunity to lift you out of his lap to lie you back on the couch you grabbed his biceps.

“wait, wait,” your heart did flutter at the look of concern that washed over his face, always preoccupied with your comfort. “i was thinking instead of what we usually do,” you took a deep breath, trying to build up your confidence under the heat of his gaze, “maybe we try…doing it for real?”

your stomach heats up with embarrassment as the words come out of your mouth, so unbelievably juvenile and unserious for such a request. but his eyebrows shoott up in his surprise and the grip his hands have around your waist tighten, “are you sure? because i know you’ve been kind of putting if off bec-”

“i haven’t been putting it off,” you slump in his lap a little bit, feeling just a little bratty about his assumption. “i’ve just been,” you adjust yourself in his lap again, feeling the hot girth between your legs again, “a little nervous.”

since you first met alfie you figured he must have been proportionate…everywhere. big hands, broad shoulders. thick thighs. but nothing could have prepared you when you reached your hand into his pants for the first time. he had come into london on a late night train and finally took you up on your offer of staying at your place instead of renting a hotel. there had been tension brewing between the two of you for weeks and during his last pop in to london he had finally kissed you in a quiet corner of a pub. he had cradled your jaw with a softness that meant he was serious about you.

so, you tried to keep yourself busy while you waited for his arrival but you couldn’t stop thinking about him and made a beeline for your door when the buzzer went off. you got him underneath you on your couch, his hands trailing across all the skin he could reach, lips kissing up the column of your throat. when you snaked your hands under the waistband of his loose joggers and finally felt the weight of him in your hand you had to pull back in disbelief, “you have to be joking, alfie.”

his eyes were unfocused and dazed, his lips were swollen, brows furrowed in confusion. absolutely adorable, “what?”

you couldn’t help but grin as you pulled his waistband down further, tucking it underneath his balls to put him fully on display. you wrapped your hand around the thick base, feeling it pulse underneath your fingers, barely even meeting each other around the girth of him. you had been transfixed on the thick, wet head before you finally ripped your eyes away to look back up at him. you couldn’t help but giggle at the absurdity of it all, “alf, i don’t even know if i can get this thing in my mouth.”

“well, lucky for you, if you breathe on it enough i’ll definitely nut.”

“are you sure?” he whispers, lips brushing yours and his dark eyes searching your face. he always had a way of making you feel seen and safe.

you wish you could stay in this tender moment forever, but you jertk your hips again and the feel of him hot and hard underneath you sends a zip of desire up your spine, your cunt clenching around nothing. “i’m sure,” you murmur back, “don’t you want to, alf?”

your big, pleading eyes make him swear under his breath and suddenly you’re being lifted up and off the couch. a yelp leaves your lips as you scramble to wrap your legs around his waist. his hands rest under your ass, holding you securely against him as he walks you back to his bedroom. “wanted to do this since the first time i fucking saw ‘ya.”

he sets you down gently on the bed with your hips at the edge of the mattress and his hands reach out to hold your ankles. he stands over you and just looks down at you with a boyish grin on his face. before you can bring your hands up to your face embarrassment he finally speaks, “god, you are just fucking gorgeous.” he leans down so he’s able to nose under jaw, kissing your soft skin there. “can’t believe you trust me to do this.”

you bring your hands up to cup his jaw, bringing his head back up to look into his eyes. “of course i trust you, alfie. i’ve been waiting for the right time to do this.” your fingers find their way into his soft curls, bringing his mouth to yours in a needy, wet kiss.

you could have stayed like that for hours, relishing in the feeling of your tongues meeting in a messy glide, your hands fisted in his curls, his hands wandering up your legs, spreading against your wet core over your shorts. but alfie had other ideas, fingers curling into the waistband of your shorts pulling them and your panties down your legs, tossing them away into some corner of the dimly lit bedroom. the cool air against your core made you gasp and his big hands trailing up the softness of your thighs made you squirm against the comforter.

you feel so exposed as you lay underneath him, his dark eyes roaming over your body, taking you all in. it makes you want to hide, cover up your softness and stretch marks so he can’t see them, but then you watch his gaze lower down to your cunt. his fingers are feather light as they stroke up your thighs.

“fuck,” he whispers, thumb ghosting over your glistening folds. it’s just a whisper of a touch, but it has you arching your hips up into his hand. “how are you already so fucking wet for me?”

the awe in his voice makes you whimper and reach your hands up for him, needing him close. you get your fingers in his hair to drag his face down to your’s so you can look him in the eyes. you take a moment to steel yourself, getting the words out before you chicken out, “i want you all the time, alfie.”

you try not to feel too smug when he drops his head into the dip of your neck, feeling him groan against your skin. you wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him closer to you as you giggle at his misery. but his hands were still stroking around between your thighs and you let out a moan of surprise as you feel one of his long fingers breaching your entrance and stretching out your hole. your arms fell from around his neck as you writhed on his finger, wanting to get him deeper. his gaze was hot as you pulled away from his spot against your neck, looking at your blissed out face. “gotta prepare you if you want me so bad, darling.”

your hips bucked at every thrust of his finger, wanting more and more of him but knowing that he’s right, he has to prepare you first. he straightens himself back up, standing between the cradle of your hips at almost his full height, head tilted down to watch your wet cunt grip around his digit. he brings his free hand up to your tummy, holding you down against the bed. it makes you pause, self consciousness creeping into your brain, pulling you out of your haze at the way his fingers squeeze against your pudge. but you’re taken out of your thoughts at the sound of his voice.

“squirmy little thing you are,” he whispers to himself, before dragging his gaze back up to yours, “think you’re ready for another?”

the little grin on his lips, the whites of his cute canines just barely visible, makes your breath catch for a moment. he was so cute and he was yours. you finally found your words, “yeah, i’m ready.”

his grin stretched bigger across his lips before he cut his eyes back down to your pussy, pulling his finger out to the opening of your entrance before pumping in two. the stretch burned but it made heat burst in your gut and your walls clench, trying to pull them in deeper. you whined and moaned and reached down to wrap both hands around his wrist, his hand still holding you down by your stomach. your nails clawed at him, senses overwhelmed by the fullness of his fingers.

after a few more moments of you uselessly writhing against the bed he asks, “ready for another one, sweetheart?”

your eyes were slits, brain already fuzzy from his fingers gliding against your walls. you nod your head without even thinking about the question, just trusting him to take care of you. you felt his lips on yours as he swallowed up all the pathetic little whimpers you made as a third finger stretched your cunt. your fingers gripped the long locks at the nape of his neck, feeling feverish at the way he draped his body over yours. it felt like he was everywhere and you were getting closer and closer to the edge every second.

“alfie,” you whined into his neck, his curls tickling your lips as you slurred into his skin, “i’m close.”

he pulled away from you and you whined again at the loss of contact, feeling clingy and needy due to the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling. you squirmed as he pulled his fingers out of your cunt, a wet sound filling the room as your walls fluttered around nothing. you watched him through half lidded eyes as he stepped out of his joggers, his hard, thick cock slapping against the ridges of his abs.

“i got you, i got you,” he mumbles as his big hands grip the back of your thighs, pulling your hips to the edge of the mattress to meet his. the feeling of his hot length sliding against your folds makes your head snap up from the bed, focusing your gaze to where your bodies meet. his length and girth are intimidating, but you can’t help but grind your hips against him, reveling in the way he groans, low and deep.

you gasp as he squeezes the back of your thighs, pushing them to your chest and keeping you spread open for him. “holy shit,” he marveled down at your wet folds, hips canting, cock covered in your wetness.

“alfie,” you whined, squirming against the bed. the wait was almost unbearable, you didn’t understand why he would tease you like this.

“wait, wait,” he reached over to his bedside table, pulling the drawer open and coming back to you with a half empty bottle of lube. “a little bit of extra help can’t hurt, right?” he explained as he dribbled the cold lube against your hot core, shushing your little gasp of shock at the sensation.

“i got you,” he reassured again as he lined himself up at your entrance and slowly pushed through your tender resistance. you whimper as his thick length stretches your walls deliciously, you body overwhelmed, not knowing if you should pull your hips away from the intrusion or thrust your hips to take more of him in. he decides for you, placing his hand back on your soft stomach, holding you down as he slowly plunges his length into your wet cunt.

he shushes the endless stream of noise spilling out of your lips, “just a little bit more, darling, i know you can do it.”

and you wanted to so badly for him, to take him all, prove that you could do it. but, when you felt his thick tip push up against your cervix painfully you pushed yourself up on your elbows as he stilled his hips for a moment. you brought one of your hands up to press against his abs, “i can’t take it all,” you confessed, feeling tears prick at your due to the disappointment you felt in yourself.

“it’s ok, sweetheart,” he reassures as he brings his knee up to rest against the edge of the bed next to your body, bringing him closer to your face so he can press kisses against your flushed face. “i think you might feel better the other way.”

all you can do is nod your head as he pulls out of you, leaving you feeling open and needy. he gets his big hands on your hips and urges you to turn over. one of his hands stays on your hip while the other trails up your back, keeping your chest down to the soft, warm bed while your hips are up to meet his groin.

his hand strokes down your back, grounding you as it stills against your ass cheek. he uses that hand to pull you apart, eyes locked onto your dripping folds. “still so wet for me.”

“alfie…,” it’s all you can say at this point, pussy stretched out and mind only filled with thoughts of him. your hands fist the comforter and the bed soaks up your guttural moan as he finally pushes the tip in again, your walls swallowing him like it was where he was meant to be. and alfie was right, it did feel better like this. it still felt like he was splitting you open, but in a way that made your clit throb and made you feel like your brain was leaking through your ears.

all you could was hold on to the comforter as his thrusts rock through your body, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. the only thing that slips past your lips is pure nonsense, mouth unable to form any intelligible words, but alfie wasn’t any better either.

“holy shit, i don’t care how long it takes me to finger you, i could do this every fucking day if you’d let me,” he confided between breathes, big hands squeezing your love handles with every thrust. despite the initial discomfort, you couldn’t help but agree with him and kick yourself for being too nervous to try this sooner. you would be face first in his mattress every night if it meant you got to feel him splitting you open like this.

you can feel heat pooling in your gut and you push your hips back to meet his thrusts, chasing the pleasure zipping through you. you’re getting close, but you know he’s getting close too. his thrust getting sloppier, his hands gripping your thick hips harder, his breaths coming out in harsh pants. you snake a hand underneath yourself, fingers landing on your swollen clit. the contact makes your pussy clench around him.

“fuck,” he exhales, big palm coming down harshly on one of your asscheeks, making you squeal underneath him. he wraps his arm around your waist, broad body blanketing your’s as his thick fingers nudge your’s away and press down on your clit, making your toes curl. you almost choke as your orgasm rips through you, pussy squeezing around his thick length relentlessly, “i got you, i got you.” he chants against your heated skin.

you melt into the mattress as you come down from your high, his arm around your waist being the only thing keeping you up. it’s overstimulating, sensations completely overwhelming and yet you couldn’t feel more content and boneless as his thrusts began to turn sloppy. you turn your head so the comforter is against your cheek and see his hand clenching the fabric by your head. you reach your hand up and loosely cover his before whining, “please, alf, i want it.”

“fuck, fuck you feel so fucking good and i’m so fucking close, sweetheart,” he adjusts your hands so his is covering yours and its like he’s everywhere. you try your best to meet his erratic thrusts and clench your walls around his twitching cock, but every thrust of his hips has your brain short circuiting. your clit gives a pathetic twitch as his thrust stutter and finally still against you, his hot cum finally coating your walls.

you whimper when he pulls out, pussy gaping and then clenching around nothing. he runs his warm hands up your back before reaching back down to your hips and lowering your legs down to the bed. you feel useless and unable to move but you hum in contentment as he blankets himself over you and kisses your shoulders, lips trailing up your neck. “fuck, that may be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

you give a tired smile at the earnestness in his voice, “what about all the sidemen stuff you’ve been doing lately?” you tease.

“sidemen don’t have a pussy like yours,” his lack of filter seemingly even more present despite his obvious exhaustion. as you giggle he adjusts his position, scooting himself off of you, but still keeping his arm wrapped around your shoulder and face pressed into the back of your shoulder so his words drift over your ear.

you two fall silent for a few long moments and it gives you a second to catalog the delicious aches of your body. the ache of your cunt from being stretched, the ache of your thighs from the intensity of your orgasm, the ache in your ass cheek where you hope his handprint is still visible. you’re taken out of your thoughts by alfie’s voice, a soft whisper.

“thank you,” is all he says.

it shocks you a bit, the quiet honesty of it. you shift a bit, tucking your elbows underneath yourself, head raising from the bed as alfie rolls over onto his back so you can look each other in the eyes. as your eyes trace his face you watch his cheeks flush with color, his lips twitch with an embarrassed smile as he brings his arm up to cover his eyes.

you reach over to grab his hand, wanting to see his eyes, “thank you?” you repeat, just a question, not a tease.

“i don’t know,” he tries to explain, not always the best at voicing his true feelings but always trying for you, “it just felt special.”

the warmth that washed over you was immense. you knew that you were one of the lucky ones that got to see this raw and emotional side of alfie and you never tried to take it for granted. “it was so special, alf,” you leaned over, trailing kisses over his cheek, his nose, and then finally planting one against his lips.

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sofiasworld00 · 6 days ago

Text

BEING AB’s | a. buttle

summary: overlook of dating alfie.

pairing: reader x ab

notes: new girl unlocked! hope you all enjoy the vibe i have envisioned, hoping writing some ab will spark up the inspo to get other things done! let me know what you think and if there’s any other ideas i could add or change, excited to see where this goes! 💞 enjoy bbies! don’t forget to reblog! <3

• met in school 🏫

• only really crossed paths during GCSEs

• didn’t really know him well but going off by the stereotype of lads his age - you weren’t a fan

• in your eyes, he was your classic uk teenage boy in school: rowdy, annoying, rude and obnoxious, objectifies girls, has hyper-masculine energy, lads banter, embarrasses others for a laugh, where being nice is mockable and an overall superior attitude when running with the mandem

• you would never go for the type of him

• you and your friends hear all about the stories from girls in your year about their psycho boyfriends at this age 🚩 and you see no different in him

• buttt you both have each other so misjudged, it’s infuriating

• alfie thinks your quiet in a silent, stuck-up, judging way who doesn’t bother to engage with people you think are less then you. mean girl energy. thinks you’re better than everyone. plays nice and sucks up to teachers.

• you don’t hate each other but you’re always in a debate with each other

• 99% of the time, alfie does it for the sake of arguing with you to get under your skin

• if you said the sky was blue, he would argue it was green just to rile you up x

• you know he does it to annoy you and yet, you let it !

• when you both get into a debate during class about stereotypes, alfie’s allegations about you makes you realise how wrong he is and how wrong you could be about him (you doubt it though, you’re never wrong 💅 )

• again, you don’t hate him but he annoys you great amounts

• you have a weird tension when it’s just the two of you in certain classes because you don’t really know where you stand and if he really hates you/you hate him

• at the same time, neither of you care that much because once you leave school you don’t have to deal with him

• although alfie secretly wants to prove himself to you, he wishes he could just get you on your own to show you what he’s actually like

• you’re next level petty though and refuse to even give him a chance. you stand by what you say and he can’t change your mind no matter how nice he acts

• again. unbothered. tell you who’s not living in your head rent free

• however! summer time rolls around and guess who secured the same easyjet holiday package deal as you and your friends!!! ☀️

• long story short, your friendgroup kinda link with his friendgroup and your stuck to deal with him but it’s whatever. again, you don’t hate him, you can stand his company in small doses. is it ideal? not really. but life goes on and you’re not gonna let it ruin your holiday!

• alfie really trying his best to warm you up to him, tries to make conversation when your groups meet up (i mean, when you’re going to all the same places, you may as well link up and share transports and group discounts to save some £££)

• naturally falling into the dynamic that you two are always left to pair up together within the group, and alas, the more time spent together, the more you (shock!) realise he’s actually not the person you thought he was and is in fact - the funniest fucker you’ve came across

• like, belly laughs nonstop when you’re done forcing yourself to reject the enjoyment from his company

• kind of shook by how big the guy is, but you brain is wired to ignore how attractive he is in general - just feeds his ego if he knew

• last night of holiday, in your own little faded mind of drinking your bodyweight and other things, you give in to all temptation and drop your guard . . . and bikini bottoms

• best ride of your lifeee, between the combination of the messy state your in, the holiday vibe, the built-up tension, the undertones of doting and a lil free fallin’. . . chefs kiss. unbelievable high.

• and then you want to die when you land home because wtf you just slept with alfie buttle and have to face him in school for one more year after practically hating his guts the last couple years this is so embarrassing for your auraaaa 😔

• radio silence from each other + summer goes by + a lot of why did i do that + why did i think i was finished school a year early now i have these consequences to deal with

• back at school, you’re tweaking on the daily, waiting for him to tell everyone what happened when really he’s so chill and normal about it like he’s confused why you won’t even look at him

• like your teachers notice your weird behaviour when your in a class together they even ask

• buutttt somewhere in the mix of secret glances, knowing looks, dodged conversations, secrets kept from friends and defensive arguments during sociology - the end of the school year ends with AB on your arm - and yes! willingly!

• he once again proves your assumptions wrong by asking you out ‘cause he can’t do the one-night ting and not catch mad feels — with you at least

• and suddenly your in your lover girl era, absolutely head over heels for this boy it terrifies you

• it’s so freeing not having to hold back all those feelings you had buried below and my god - did you undermine them big time

• always been an independent girl + don’t feel the need to have a boyfriend + doesn’t really appeal to you + you only need your girlfriends + guys your age don’t appeal to you in any shape or form anyway + will never be caught lacking over a boy + will never completely hand over your heart to one either + quite high walls in general + would bash girls for being obsessed their boyfriends and choose them over their friends

• alfie fucked that for you

• you still refuse to let anyone know just how crazy in love with him you are

• but it’s so easy to love him, he’s literally perfect for you, he’s your other half

• you don’t trust anyone else the way you trust alf - you tell him everything

• not a day passes where he doesn’t make you laugh

• both very similar to each other, you just tone it down better in certain situations

• alfie is full lover boy behind closed doors, like ultimate soft boyfriend

• it would shock his friends and viewers how cute and caring he is to his girl when it’s just them and their lil domestic life

• plays it down by 1000 when on the pod/vids with the boys

• but also has a line he doesn’t cross ‘cause he knows you’ll call him off for being a show-off just for some clout for the lads

• absolutely winds you up something shocking on a daily basis, not a day goes by without you shouting at him

• takes boyfriend-being-your-stupid-son to a whole new level

• loves to embarrass you

• if people saw you interact at times, they’d think you didn’t even like him

• always shaking your head, rolling your eyes, shooting him a look when he’s acting a moron

• really, you love him so much it makes you sick ❤️‍🩹 he’s just ott at times x

• you’re a different girl when it’s just the two of you, like, it’s crazy

• being w him through his warehouse era + would pick you up straight after his shift still in his uniform

• never been a materialistic gf - just want his company

• staying over in the grotto when you’re not busy with work/uni !

• both nature lovers, love going out walking where he lives

• joining him on random outings when trying to film something for the vlog

• + walking his mums dogs

• i feel like you attempt to gym it with him but it ends up with you moaning 90% of the time and wanting to leave, having to watch him finish getting a pumppp

• can always count on him to eat filthy with you tho: maccies, nando’s, tesco trip for ben and jerry’s - he’s got no diet to follow, he’s getting food and eating yours as well

• since moving out, you definitely encourage him to have proper meals for when you come over so you’ll always make dinner n talk him through how to do it

• you’re no chef either, but come on, lasagne and fajitas aren’t that hard to make - will include in the vlog you teaching him easy meals he can make himself

• nights usually end w/ a movie and a munch in bed 🧁🍫🍿🍩🍪

• netflix n chillll

• alfie’d be a hotbox at night tho, so freakin hot but he’d always be snuggled right into you no matter what

• big dog thinking their a lap dog energy

• feel like he annoyingly always has to be touching you when sleeping

• his passenger princess 👑

• sharing the same music taste

• loves to spoil now with this new paycheque 💰

• brings you back little souvenirs on his trips

• can be a easily talked into giving a massage / rubbing your feet when chilling on couch

• quite a protective, possessive bf - not in a toxic way but people will know you’re with him

• highkey a silent rager - looks chill but is boiling on the inside if someone pisses him off

• will knock someone out if they’re disrespecting his mrs without a second thought - much to her dismay - she would freakkk if alfie started pounding someone’s face in eeekk

• don’t even get me started on drunk alfie

• having to drag said boy from taxi into bed takes an hour at least, hardest thing in the world, you have to leave him on the floor most of the time

• gives off cus he’d never leave you on the floor

• argues he has the strength to pluck you up like a toothpick while your convinced using a bulldozer would be easier

• seriously, he benches you in the house when bored

• if you do leave him on the floor, you will sleep on the sofa next to him to make sure he doesn’t throw up during the night x

• no drug jokes/mentions allowed

• make his grotto a home even if you’re not properly moved in yet

• helping him decorate the place with small touches - candles, plant pots, new cushions

• framed photos of you both over the years

• watching him game

• chillin in the background, reading your books when he streams

• leaving your stuff around the gaff (he def complains for the vlog)

• baking to pass time when you’re both bored

• having multiple trips / city breaks together — amsterdam, london, paris, etc.

• family holidays! ☀️

• his mum getting a break whenever you’re around

• packing his case, sorting outfits, minding documents, watching him in the pool, putting suncream on his moles - your big baby x

• his mum’s mini bestie 👭

• helping her with fashion advice, doing her makeup for her when she’s going out, giving her some much needed girl time etc.

• definitely times when you both give off to him at the same time when visiting the grotto n he hates his whole life

• your family would be very approving, know he’s a bit wild but see very clearly he worships the ground you walk on - could give him a medal for putting up with you 🥇

• alfie’d would effortlessly blend into your family, it’s like he’s been there over 10 years

• he’d be so worried about having dinner together cus he’s so picky but your mum makes him separate dishes and he always loves them

• if you had brothers, they’d casually watch his vlogs, no matter what age they are - he’s so entertaining

• soft-launching you into the vlogs when picking you up from somewhere/dropping you off places

• constantly acknowledges he’s in a relationship online but still keeps details private (sometimes he slips up and spills too much)

• you’re not fully sold on being an online presence but you don’t mind making an appearance every now and then til you grow used to it

• making mini vlogs on his camera when he leaves it at your place but not expecting him to post a snippet

• featuring on your tiktok when doing relationship trends

• you’re not high maintenance 24/7 but when you expect something from him- he does it

• guys lowkey head over heels

• does what you ask 99% of the time (complaining, of course)

• like you could convince him to blowdry your hair after a shower if you pushed hard enough

• very playful relationship, can take the piss out of each other quite a lot

• you wind him up by saying he’s going to leave you one day for some gorgeous influencer girl cus you know you can be a bit cray cray at times

• biiiit of an attitude problem on ya

• also suffering horrific case of petty jealousy

• but it’s fine, alfie knows how to handle you

• like you don’t doubt for 1 second ab would never ever cheat on you but my days, watching him film videos abroad hanging around him, breathing the same air as a girl makes your eye twitch

• you’re not even mad, it’s just like get off of him

• sometimes you like to keep him on his toes and have that lil petty argument over the phone but it’s really just ‘cause you miss him and you want to be there enjoying his jokes and company the way they get to

• does he find it annoying? yeahhh, but he kinda likes to see you get all possessive on him even though you’d never admit it

• like yeah lose your mind a lil 😏 let me see you all firey girl

• like you’ll act like you want someone to take him off your hands but really you’re losing your mind if a girl looks at him too long 🙂

• although you’re laidback 99% of the time, that 1% is scary when you’re not xx

• god forbid he gets jealous though, it’s rare but when he does, you get nervous at the thought of having to drag him away from someone

• he’s not threatened by other guys, he just doesn’t want the other guys looking too long is all 🤷‍♂️ n all he has to do is throw one of his muscly arms around you and he’s fiiine

• he can’t complain when you get jealous over stupid stuff ‘cause he gets jealous over stupid stuff, he’s just more lowkey about it

• he’s not major pda but when in certain situations, he might want to stake his claim a little more than others - he’s not afraid to kiss you in public at an event/party but he’s not gonna go swinging your hands walking around the fellas studios

• loves to have you come along on day trips to london - will film whatever he’s filming then it’s exploring the city for you two - shopping at harrods, nando’s date, going to markets etc. before getting train home (sometimes books a cheeky hotel overnight)

• you have him warned not to say anything online that he wouldn’t want his mum/your mum/your family to see

• like the amount of stuff he cuts because he knows you’ll go mad if he posts it

• the fam doesn’t need to know your business / see that side to youuu

• very vulgar boy though.

• very straight up when it comes to that - will straight up say what you’re probably thinking but would never word it how he does

• like when you’re taking him all in, gushing over his fresh trim and drooling over his huge arms in that muscle t, thinking about what you want to do to him, he’ll catch you staring and straight up ‘you gonna let me eat that pussy or’ and it’s always soooo casual

• like he’s joking but he’s also not

• always act like it doesn’t work you up

• my god though, the guys a munch

• HAS to be

• is a both guy 🍑🍒

• big hands that do damage 🍑👋🏼

• fake bangs from behind the second your slightly bent over for something

• you act like he’s disgusting when he does shit like that but you’re his own lil freak he knows you love it

• you’re as bad, pulling dirty actions when no-one’s looking

• wishes you would let the internet see you how he sees you but you’re to scared for your fam to see you that unfiltered ‘cause let’s be real like they don’t need to see thattt

• calls you girl (in a pet name way) which you’ll huff ‘what am i, a horse?’ but really you fall over him when he says it

• ‘easy there girl’

• ‘fucking hell girl’

• ‘cmere girl,’

• quite touchy, accidentally man handles a bit, doesn’t mean to pull and grab you so much x

• loves a cute little innocent cuddle when you haven’t seen each other

• loves his hair played with / head scratches

• regularly goes all soft on you

• won’t deny his simp behaviour to the boys if they bring it up 🤷‍♂️ like yeah god forbid a guy likes to be the little spoon w his back gettin tickled

• slowly introduces you to friends n pushes you to try and befriend their girls cus he knows you’ll get along

• love the thought of a pending friendship with tennese?! she could so convince you to go on the pod and have a nice yap about your boys

• although she’d probs try to talk you into having a baby which is a no-go for ab atm

• seriously, he gets freaked out when you pretend to be pregnant after eating something that makes you bloat, says don’t put that energy out into the world

• spoiling you a little more now with that new cheque

• not afraid to show you off to his new friends 💪 like yeah my mrs fit, i ain’t hide her

• i feel like gradually over time, you grow very used to him having a camera out and don’t mind being in majority of the video when doing everyday things - walks in the countryside, shopping trips, eatin n yapping in the back of his car, cooking meals together in the kitchen, couples holidays etc.

• maybe even join some of the yt girlies on their pods

• being so proud of your boyfriend and his journey into the youtube world, so wholesome xxx

• your lil influencer x

• fully prepared to fight any girls that are thirsting over him now

• except you’ve always been prepared x

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