#prompt five camera

[agrinsosardonic]

Snapshots

(July 5th: Camera)

I found it in the junk draw of the kitchen one summer day. A pink tomb- a relic from the middle of the new millennium. In it, I suspected, phantoms from distant nights haunted its old SD card. And when I connected it to my new laptop, I downloaded one-hundred and fifty rose gold memories. I shifted through each picture. Looked into the pixelated eyes of each person. Dressed in their best Myspace top 8s. Side bangs and cross necklaces. Half of us in tripp pants. The other half in backwards caps throwing up fake gang signs. Then I came upon a picture that has circulated everybody's facebook memories at least once. Each with the same I want to go back! Twenty faces standing infront of a midnight sky. Some friends. Other acquainces. Some friends of friends of friends. Most of us tagged so we relive the same conversation. The remember when…what happened to…we should get together…

And that picture, I actually had developed. And on it, I put X’s over all the people I no longer speak too, and crosses over the ones who died, and bars over the two who got arrested–one for DUI and one for selling oxys to high schoolers ten years after this picture was taken. I put question marks over the ones who left the island and never returned and who managed to scrub their digital footprint from a Google Search. I noted the ones who had kids too early. The ones who became police officers. The ones who became teachers and firefighters.

I circled me. On the far left. In a beanie and Slipknot hoodie with a broken face and hazy eyes and a frown that screamed louder than my voice ever could. And I recognized I was still haunted by his ghost, even thirteen years later. So, I burned the picture in my sink. Let the fire eat away at summer memories. Fill the apartment with the stench of chemicals and flame. Then I thought about tossing the camera in the trash with the rest of my teenage memories. But then I remember I didn’t own this coffin. It belonged to one of the people with a cross over their head.

So I threw it back into the junk drawer to be forgotten. To get dumped into another moving box one day, shuffled across another bridge. To maybe be found thirteen years from now

And the ritual repeats.

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

After everything, after the dust has settled in the wake of the Red Hood’s rampage through Gotham, after striking an uneasy truce with his once-family, Jason is… tired. Without the rage, without the vengeance, what does he have left?

Or, Jason pondering his current state of maybe-maybe-not-undead-ness and visiting his grave to do... something? Nothing? He’ll make it up as he goes.

[robo-dino-puppy]

horizontober 2023 | 26: authority

[yanderedrabbles]

💕 Yandere Valentine's Day Gifts ♥️

Prompt: You own the local flower shop. It's Valentine's Day. Which customers will be popping in?

Yandere! Sugar Daddy calls you two weeks before Valentine's to order fifteen separate bouquets for his darling. Every exotic and rare shade that roses come in.

"I want them delivered fresh. Early morning please."

"Yes sir, I can manage that," you tell him, still reeling at the ridiculously large amount he just paid you.

On Valentine's Day, his maid let's you and your crew into his penthouse. You can't help but let out a low whistle when you see the size of the place.

He directs you to set the bouquets out around the living room. The morning light from the floor to ceiling windows catches on the glitter you dusted across the arrangements.

He has a sort of nervous energy - arranging and then rearranging the flowers. You sometimes hear a thumping, banging sound from deeper in his penthouse but when you ask him about it he says its just the building creaking. You don't know much about skyscrapers this high and so you let it go.

When it's all finally to his satisfaction, he tips you and your crew very generously. As you leave, you see him setting out a whole slew of iconic Tiffany jewellery boxes.

His darling will be showered with the most expensive love money can buy. Whether they want it or not.

Yandere! Bisexual Best Friend breezes into your shop like a true haute couture diva. He looks over his designer sunglasses and snorts with disdain at the traditional red bouquets.

"Nothing so cliche for my girl," he tells you.

He orders pink and white camellias, with sprigs of baby's breath. He has you wrap the stems in matching pastel paper. When you ask him if he'd like to include a card, he writes his message in a beautiful, looping cursive.

'I know no boyfriend will get you flowers that you actually like. That's why you have me. Happy Valentine's Day gorgeous.'

"Very elegant," you tell him.

"Thanks. I'm meeting her for brunch and drinks after this."

He shows you his other gift for his darling. A bottle of expensive perfume, in a glittery blush pink box.

When you ask him if his friend has any dates planned, he tilts his head and smiles without any warmth at all.

"Not if I can help it."

Yandere! Actor doesn't come into the shop or call you directly. It's his hurried, harried assistant that places the order.

"Five dozen roses in a single bouquet. I'll bring you some chocolate that he wants between the flowers. Oh, and a card. Don't forget the card."

When she drops off the chocolate for you to use in your arrangement, you can't help but want to look up the price. Everything from the packaging to the hefty weight of each chocolate screams luxury artisanal brand.

The final arrangement is beautiful, but in a looking-good-on-camera sort of way. You don't know the order is for him until his assistant accidentally let's it slip who her boss is. Your eyebrows shoot up but you manage not to ask any questions. A billionaire and now a celebrity. Seems like everyone wants to be extra romantic this year.

"What does he want on the card?" you ask, pen poised.

"Oh, he sent one for you to use." She hands you a card printed on thick cream paper, elegant in its minimalism. You glance at the writing before you can stop yourself.

'A star like you deserves all the flowers. Happy Valentine's dollface.'

Cute. The exact sort of thing you'd expect from a heart throb like him.

It's only when you see him and his darling on the red carpet later that night - his arm around their waist the entire night - that you begin to wonder if there's more to their relationship than meets the eye.

Yandere! Werewolf shows up right before you close, hands on his knees while he catches his breath. He ran straight to your shop after football practice and there's still grass stains on his chin.

"Oh god, tell me I'm not too late for roses." He looks so worried that you take pity on him and agree to look in the back for any bouquets that might have slipped under the radar.

He must be supernaturally lucky, because you manage to find a dozen red roses. When you get back to the front, he's taken out the rest of his gifts from his backpack.

There's an overstaffed werewolf plush, an extra large leather dog collar, some pre-packaged bones and a chew toy.

"Interesting selection," you say as you ring up his flowers.

He rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah. They uh... have a dog. It's mostly for the dog."

You get the sense he isn't being entirely honest, but you're not the type to pry. When you're done, he shoots you a gorgeous smile.

"I totally owe you one. You really kept me out of the doghouse."

He's just about to leave when he suddenly remembers something. He digs in the pocket of his letterman jacket and pulls out a clear packet of candy hearts. You look closer and realise he must have picked out individual sweets just for their message. They're repeated again and again.

'Be mine.'

'Yours forever.'

'Kiss me.'

"Do you think these are canine safe?" he asks you. You think about it for a second and then nod.

It's only after he's left that you wonder what sort of dog would want to eat candy like that.

[clarkeysbedchem]

slip ups

george clarke x fem reader

summary: you and George have been hiding your relationship from the internet but there’s been a few slips along the way before George finally bites the bullet.

masterlist | main masterlist

At first, your appearances were barely noticeable—just subtle background moments that, if you blinked, you'd miss. You and George had been officially together for just over eight months, having been talking for just under a year. So, when you started spending more time at his flat, it was only a matter of time before your presence began to be noticed.

Example A: In George’s one-shot-every-minute Halloween video with all his friends, you could be spotted for a split second, helping Arthur Hill get a bowl of water for the apple-bobbing challenge.

Arthur stumbled into the kitchen, half-blind from his ghost-face mask, rustling around in the cupboards. You were sitting on the sofa in the living room, watching the five boys with amusement when George nodded toward Arthur, “Help him, will you?”

You laughed softly and got up to join him in the kitchen. Kneeling down, you grabbed a saucepan big enough for their heads and held it up just as the camera turned to you. “I’ve never been in this kitchen before. I don’t know where the bowls are,” arthur joked, in a terrible attempt at the Ghostface voice - one that was slowly slipping into a Donald Trump impression.

The boys laughed, and the camera panned back to them as you stood up, filling the saucepan with water, and dropping the apples in. You carried it over to the table for them, prompting a drunken ArthurTV to laugh, “What a great assistant you have, George!”

You flipped him off with a laugh before taking your seat back on the sofa.

Example B: At George, Chris, and Arthur’s annual New Year's party, the fans a new girl made a random appearance.

You had been featured in a few of Florence’s TikTok’s and Youtube videos over the years so that lead the fans away from assuming you were dating any of the boys. But being pictured near George? That was new. Still, it apparently wasn’t enough to make fans speculate anything.

You were sitting on the sofa, squashed between your boyfriend and the back of the couch, while a particularly drunk Chip sat next to you, yelling over the music.

“You two make a good-looking couple, you know?” he slurred, taking a long sip of his drink. You and George both laughed, “Like you’d have gorgeous kids. Nice hair and eyes.”

“Oi, Chip!” Isaac yelled grabbing his attention, pointing his phone at him, the flash blinding him.

The two boys burst into laughter, and Isaac posted the video to his TikTok without a second thought. He didn’t realize that in the background, you could be seen with your legs draped over George’s.

The fans brushed it off, too busy laughing at Chip’s antics to notice that George was clearly cozy with someone – a few of them saying it wasn’t even George in the background.

But when Liv and Sabina posted photos the next day and you appeared in them, fans started matching the tattoo on your wrist to the one in the Halloween video, some of them started to get a little suspicious.

Then George started streaming on Twitch and you both knew it would be harder to stay in your secret bubble. Still, you were okay with it.

The biggest giveaway of your presence in his life happened during one of George’s casual streams where he had no set plan - just chatting with the fans while scrolling through ‘Private Clarking,’ laughing at some of the ridiculous tweets people were posting.

“Anyone else think it’s weird he has a willy?” George read aloud from the chat, making you snort from the bed off-camera, “What the hell does that mean?”

You laughed louder at his confused, defensive tone, which made him smile and glance over at you. His eyes flicked back to the chat as it suddenly flooded with question marks about the mysterious laughter in the background. But George didn’t acknowledge it; he just kept scrolling through Twitter.

His eyes landed on a poorly photoshopped picture of him. He opened it full screen, let out a sigh, and spun in his chair to face you, pouting.

“You’re such a drama queen,” you muttered, teasing him, but loud enough for the chat to hear.

George froze, not expecting you to speak. His mouth opened in shock, blinking like he’d been hit. He quickly spun back around in his chair, shaking his head with a shy laugh, “Ignore that,” he mumbled, reaching to mute his mic immediately.

He walked over to you, pulled you to the edge of the bed, and you let out a surprised yelp before laughing at his stunned face, “They’re gonna go mental,” he muttered, referring to his chat.

You shrugged, “So?”

Instead of replying, George cupped your face in his hands, pulling you in for a sweet kiss before returning to his stream, red-cheeked and smiling like nothing had happened.

That’s when the fans finally started to catch on. Not completely, but the seeds had been planted.

The moment it all blew up came during a podcast episode. George and Max had shown up for a recording, and you were off-camera as usual, sitting with Calum, Andrew, and Maisie. The boys were deep into one of their random tangents while Calum tried his best to steer them in a more normal direction.

But Max was in top form as he leaned back in his chair, smirking, “So, George, important question, because I’ve been seeing it all over TikTok,” Max began, “Do you have a new flatmate?”

George blinked, confused, and you slapped your hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter, “What are you talking about?”

Max grinned, “You know, the mysterious giggling, the random arm that keeps popping in and out of videos. There’s some off-camera entity in your flat. So, either a new flatmate, or a ghost.”

George sputtered on his drink, laughing nervously, “We’re not doing this,” he mumbled, eyes darting off-camera toward you.

“Oh, so we are.”

And that’s when the fans started losing it.

Old clips from nearly a year ago – from both your socials - were being shared all over social media, edits popping up within hours of the podcast dropping.

Slow zooms on George’s reactions, dramatic music, and screenshots of every moment you were half-visible. Stan Twitter threads started mapping every single appearance you’d made, complete with timestamps, and even theories about who you were - some of which were surprisingly close to the truth.

You had officially been dubbed “The Mystery Girl” by fans, even though many of them already knew who you were and followed your channel.

But with the love came the hate. Some people started sending you hate and threats, even though they didn’t know who you were. You swore it didn’t bother you - but it definitely bothered George. He did everything in his power to protect you, even posting a long message on his story and a stream where he ranted for an hour defending you.

And, of course, then there were the theories. Some fans swore you were just friends, others thought it was a PR stunt to boost George’s subscriber count, which made him laugh and turn it into a running joke.

George never expected to do a ‘hard launch’ to be honest, he thought they were a bit cringe. But there he was, at 1 a.m., having just finished a stream, with you asleep beside him, one arm flopped across his chest, the other tucked under your cheek.

His mind was racing, replaying all the questions he’d dodged during the stream. Almost every question in his life had become “Who is George’s girlfriend?” And yet here you were, peacefully curled up next to him, blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil your boyfriend was experiencing.

He exhaled slowly, brushing his thumb across your knuckles.

He could just keep denying it - say you were just a friend, a flatmate, or claim Max was joking. But the fandom wasn’t buying it anymore. They had screenshots, edits, and the timeline down to a tee.

And you weren’t a secret he wanted to keep. He wanted to show you off, share moments of you on his social media, involve you in his videos. He wanted you more than anything.

He carefully reached over for his nightstand, making sure not to disturb you, and opened his phone, staring at his camera roll for a moment before tapping on his favorite photo of you.

It was from the recent ski trip to Lapland: you smiling at the camera while George leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. It was his favorite photo from the whole trip, and he hadn’t been able to share it anywhere.

He posted it without hesitation, tagging you and adding a simple red heart emoji.

Then, in a panic, he tossed his phone across the bed, “What did you just do?” you mumbled, curling closer into him, your voice groggy from sleep.

He pulled you close, hiding his face in your hair, “Ruined my life.”

“Okay, but did you post the one where I look cute?”

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your head. “Obviously.”

“Then I think you’ll survive.”

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georgeclarkeey ❤️

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chrismd10 thank god abt time 🙄

arthurnfhill brilliant now i dont have to keep lying

userone THIS IS TOO CUTE 😭😭

usertwo shes so pretty i cant 🥰

bambinobecky those 🫵 are my parents

italianbach this is so cute dafaq

userthree she’s not what i imagined him to be with icl

┃usertwo good think nobody asked

arthurtv ah its my favourite assistant 🙂‍↕️

userfour she definitely timed this with her channel blowing up, don’t be blind

taglist: @jamiekluivert @reidyourpalms @roc-haze @whisperturnedecho @graceln4 @dopeysunflowers @super-gay-for-u @bethorwhateverr @livvymd @lilyyxoii @4ngelrealm @kiyoomology @canyouseethesainz

[leqonsluv3r]

hiii!! May i ask for a first date with Leon with a fem reader? Thanks!

bed chem

—re!4 leon kennedy x fem!reader

—a oneshot (request)

warnings: MDNI, 18+, some swearing, readers ex being a dick, leon charming it up on the first date, sweet but passionate seggsy time bc i say so, unprotected pnv, nicknames; baby, sweet girl, honey, heavy making out on the first date (it happens), reader being a horny mess over leon (relatable honestly), and a bunch of other shit.

“she had been weighing the pros and cons of doing this for the past three days. it was the nerves of getting back out there after being in a shitty relationship, that were getting to her. she wanted to move on from that. but still…was this the best idea? she couldn’t just forget about her ex? right? she needed to but something — maybe anxiety — was clawing at her guts. she sat in the restaurant again that they were supposed to meet at, a blind date of all things. she was never this…bold. never this much of a risk taker. but she needed this, she cant remember the last time she had — “is this seat taken?” she is snapped out of her thoughts as she looks up and sees the most handsome man she’s probably ever laid eyes on. her ex boyfriend didn’t even compare by a long shot. she looked at him like a gaped fish, “uhm…no…it’s not…” she blubbers out. she was in for it.”

— or reader meets leon on a blind date and thinks maybe her ex breaking up with her wasn’t such a bad thing

masterlist taglist prompt game

an: i’m sorry this took me so long to get up. hope this is what you had in mind, anon.🩷🩷

she didn’t think this was a good idea.

not in the slightest, she had been single for only three months. she wasn’t waiting to long right? no, she wasn’t. she could do this.

even if her gut was screaming at her to do something differently, to run out of this restaurant and away from her blind date that was setup.

she wanted to run.

she stared at her wineglass of water, taking a small sip of it. she sighs softly, looking at her phone. he was five minutes late. did she get stood up? did he see her then turn around and leave? she swallowed and tried to not jump to conclusions. that probably wasn’t the case.

she hated that she was back to square one, if only her ex hadn’t dumped her right before christmas. she felt like she was stuck, having dated her ex for two years, she felt so out of the game with flirting. she was just going on this date to humor her friends, they said she was moping, said she needed to stop eating ice cream in her sweats on friday nights.

she had to agree, she needed to start going on dates…but blind ones? set up by her friends? not the smartest idea.

but they had told her to trust them. so she was, even though she felt like her heart was beating out of her chest.

she couldn’t do this, she was going to get up and leave, go right back to her apartment and —

“is this seat taken?” she hears a voice drawl from behind her shoulder. she swallowed, her insides melting like jello just at the four simple words this man had uttered. she tries to find words as he quickly rounds the table and sits down opposite from her. it’s like her eyes and brain are working faster then her mouth is, taking him all in. he was so beautiful, so…god, she didn’t even have a word for what he was.

she finally found some words and opened her mouth, “uhh, your…uhh…” she takes a deep breath and tries again, “your my blind date?” she finds herself saying. it came out more quiet and feeble then she would’ve liked but in this mans presence she’s lucky she wasn’t a puddle on the floor already.

he nods with a small subtle quirk of his lips, “leon kennedy.” he says as he grabs the menu, his eyes scanning over her for a quick second then averting to the specials on the sheet in front of him. she ducked her head down to look at her own menu, trying to seem focused on it when in hindsight, she wanted to ask where the cameras were. she was obviously being pranked. right?

she looks up from her menu and chances a look at leon again, she smiles softly and nervously when he catches her stare. he puts his menu down slowly against the table and looks at her. “are you going to tell me your name?” he says with a small teasing brow raise. she chuckles softly, averting her eyes and then looking back at him before saying her name softly. he hums in acknowledgment, his lips quirking up again. “cute name.”

jesus, fuck the dinner. she could just jump his bones right now.

the waiter doesn’t giver her a chance though and comes by to take their orders for drinks and appetizers. leon looks back at her, his blue eyes burning deeply into her soul as if trying to read her from across the table. “so why are you not on the dating apps?” is the first question he asks her. she blinks at him dumbly for a moment, trying to process his question. “uhm…i just got out of a relationship in december. i didn’t really feel like joining when all guys on there are all looking for the same thing.” she manages to say with a surprisingly confident tone.

he nods slowly as if understanding, “i get it.’ he says as he sips on his own glass of water. “so your not like a commitment-phobe or anything?” he says as he looks at her, folding his hands on the table. she chuckles and shakes her head, her eyes briefly darting down to his hands on the table and then back up to him. “no, i’m the opposite. me and my ex were together for two years.”

he shakes his head, “must’ve been an idiot to let someone as beautiful as you go.”

she feels her cheeks heat up a little under the dim lighting of the restaurant, “he just…wasn’t feeling it anymore.” she says with a small nervous smile, “it happens.” he scoffs and his blue eyes darken for a second. “if he was really for you, sweetheart, trust me. he wouldn’t just stop feeling it.” he says with a small grimace. almost looking in pain for her, like he hated what he was hearing.

“why are you on a blind date then?” she says softly to him, trying to desperately change the subject. he sighs and leans back in his chair a little, looking at her, “i’m sick of bouncing around.” he says as he looks at her, his tone less teasing and more serious. “going from girl to girl…its not what i want. im not happy that way.” he says with a small glance at her.

she nods slowly in understanding as he talked, acknowledging his words. the waiter came and sat their drinks down in front of them, putting a brief pause on the conversation. his drink — a whiskey on the rocks, hers — a simple dr pepper. he notices the lack of alcohol but decides to wait until the waiter is done taking their orders. once, the waiter walks away, he nods towards her soda, “a dr pepper? no alcohol?” he says with another raise of his eyebrow.

“i doin’t like drinking on the first date.” she says as she looks at him then his drink, “you obviously don’t mind that.” her tone and edge of sarcasm as she sips on her drink pepper again. he chuckles lowly and shakes his head, his ash blonde hair moving with him, “giving me shit now for my drink choice?”

“yeah, you gave me shit for mine. don’t think i didn’t notice.” she says as she sits back a little in her own seat across from him, crossing her legs beneath the table.

they continue talking for hours, eating their food and sipping on their drinks as they talk. this was going better then she had planned, learning more about leon then she intended. he didn’t seem like the talkative type but when they started discussing jobs, past pets, family, really anything. he seemed to open up and tell her pretty much whatever she wanted to know.

after they finished eating, she went to order dessert but he stopped her. “i have dessert at my place.’” which made her stop, the rush of butterflies and nerves at his words was enough to make her nod, close the dessert menu and request the check.

which he paid, in full, with…a platinum credit card.

she knew he was working for the government but jesus, he just whipped out the platinum to pay for their meal. she felt measly with her silly little plastic card in her purse, letting him escort her out the restaurant. they walked down the sidewalk until they get to a sleek black escalade. “did you drive here?” he says as he digs his keys out of his jacket pocket. she looks at him and then the car, “yeah, i did.”

“how about…at the risk of sounding too forward, you come home with me? stay the night, you can take the bed if you want and…i’ll drop out back off at your car in the morning?” he says with a small tilt of his head, his blondish hair flopping by his ear as she looks at him. a small smile graced his features, she let out a small breath, turning the thoughts of potentially doing this in her head.

she nodded with a small smile on her face, “i would love too.”

he nods towards the escalade, “cmon,” he unlocks the escalade and opens the passenger door for her. she hesitantly moves forward and slides into the passenger seat, looking around the interior of the car. she was in awe, shed never been in a car this…big before. also, it made her wonder.

leon wasn’t flaunting his wealth, he didn’t even seem to mind that he was somewhat wealthy. it made her have even more questions about him. they didn’t seem to end the more she spent time with him. was he not aware of how fortunate he was?

she was torn away from her thoughts when leon got into the drivers side of the car. looking over at her with a small smirk, “what?”

“you drive an escalade.” she states with a small blink, he shrugs and chuckles a little, almost finding it humorous. “so?”

he doesn’t realize this does he? good god, he’s a humble guy. why is that such a fucking turn on?

“it’s just…the escalade, the platinum card…?” she says with a small blubber as she looks at him, “your rich.” she states with little to no care for how it sounded. he chuckles and shakes his head, “yeah? im not too bad, i’ve got money.” he says with a small flush of his cheeks as he puts the keys in the ignition. she rolls her eyes, of course he’s not going to admit it.

he starts the car, carefully pulling out of the parking spot. she swallows as she watches his hands from the passenger seat, the way his large hands encompass the steering wheel and turn it. she’s watching, almost drooling at how his veins in his hands. she sees him look over at her and she quickly darts her eyes away from basically eye-fucking his hands.

they were just…fuck, the things she would let those hands do to her.

he smirks in her peripheral vision, sliding one of his hands over the console and to the exposed knee of her dress, slowly squeezing it. she swallows, the touch was somewhat innocent but causing a herd of butterflies to swarm her stomach. she felt her underwear get uncomfortable already. she lets out a small shaky exhale, trying to act nonchalant.

she was so fucked.

she surprisingly made it back to his apartment in one piece. he was acting like a gentleman, even with his hand on her knee, keeping a steady hold on it as he drove. he didn’t raise his hand higher, a part of her wished he would’ve.

but he kept it on her knee, his whole hand practically engulfed that skin on her leg. she watched him drive out of the corner of her eye, studying him like a painting.

he was so gorgeous, even in the dim light of the streetlights. she was fully focused on him, his eyelashes, the way his eyes carefully and precisely watched the road.

the way he kept his lips — pink and full — pressed together as he studied every other car around them. he wasn’t afraid, he was focused. she wondered if he always focused on things like this, or if he was just like this when he drove.

but his attention seemed divided, one hand on her leg, his thumb even moving in small circles on her knee. she didn’t know how he did it all at once, all with ease. it was like he was handcrafted by some god, some amazing grace. she just couldn’t figure him out.

but it intrigued her.

even when he made it to his apartment, parking outside the building and pulling the keys out of the escalades ignition.

he moved with such precision and confidence, like he knew his next move before he made it. like he had a plan for every step he took. she wishes that she had that grace about her, she was clumsy and not put together at all.

but when they get out of the car, making their way to the doors of the lobby, he was holding onto her hand tightly. his hand engulfing hers as they walked. she liked the way his hand fit into hers, like it belonged that way. like it was meant to hold hers. she tries to fight the butterflies and the very obvious tension as they make their way to the elevator in the lobby.

once the elevator dings and they make their way into the elevator, she feels hotter, like the sexual tension of what’s to come is taking up all the air. she squeezes his hand a little, she feels his blue irises travel to her and stay there. he must’ve lived on the top floor, because they stood there for a moment. his free hand traveling up to her hair, pushing it away from her face.

“there’s those beautiful eyes.” he whispers, it sounded like he was saying it more to himself rather then her. her cheeks flushed all the same, connecting her own with his, a small smile sliding onto her lips. “i have beautiful eyes?” she whispers to him, almost afraid to break the spell, the tension that was slowly building as they got closer to his apartment.

he smirks slowly to himself, saying a little louder, “your eyes aren’t the only beautiful thing about you.” he says as he pushes more hair away from her face with his free hand, sliding his hand into her hair and holding it there. a small breath leaving her lips, letting them part as she looked up at him from under her eyelashes. this man was something else, making her act out on the first date. which she never did.

“look at you,” he whispers, “such a good girl, you look so pretty.” he praises lowly, still holding her hair at the base of her skull in a tight fist. he was forcing her to look up at him, she didn’t even hate how her underwear flooded with need for him — for his hands. she just accepts the praise with a small embarrassed smile. she didn’t know how else to react, no guy had ever praised her so openly, called her beautiful.

her ex, he took her out on dates and the sex wasn’t too bad. but he never showed her off, loved her openly, made her feel special. that was the ultimate lead up to him leaving her for some girl he didn’t even know.

and it broke her, she never thought she’d feel that way again.

but here, with leon, she felt that familiar want. that need to be his and his only.

and god, was it terrifying. he was such a good guy, so attractive. she was so afraid that she’d screw it up in some way.

but it’s better to say she tried and failed rather then give up altogether.

the elevator dinger for his floor, pulling her out of her thoughts and snapping her eyes back up to his. she felt his h=free hand slowly leave her hair and his hand with hers, pulling on it towards the hallway outside the elevator. her stomach was a mess of knots and nerves as she followed him. her eyes taking in the surroundings around her, letting him practically drag her to his apartment.

and as soon as she was inside of his apartment, his lips were on hers and she was getting pushed up against a door. the first thing she registers is how amazing his lips are and how they feel against hers. she feels like her legs are going to give out under her, her lips meld with his. everything is happening so fast and her brain doesn’t have time to catch up to all of it.

before she knows it, he’s carrying her into his apartment, kissing every inch of her neck and jaw with his tongue and teeth. she lets out small sounds as he kisses her in spots that haven’t been touched in months. he puts her down onto the bed, hovering over her as his blue eyes meet hers. he looks so haunting in the moonlight. his sharp jawline and features, the way his cheekbones reflect in the moonlight thats streaming through the window.

“i normally don’t do this on the first date but your just…” he runs his fingers over the side of her thigh, making her dress pool up to her hips, “so fucking beautiful.” he whispers between them, like its a secret. she feels her cheeks flush nonetheless. she feels his hand slide up her thigh to the edge of her underwear, lace that she put on and didn’t even anticipate this happening. she feels her breath quicken and her spine straighten under his touch.

he’s so methodical with his movements and it makes her think, the contrast difference between her ex and him. he’s so gentle, like she’s made of glass beneath his fingertips. her ex never had that, rough and demanding movements. she draws the difference as leon’s fingers slowly pull the lacy fabric down her thighs. she keeps wondering why his fingers and hands seem so calloused, she should have asked earlier at dinner, not when he’s exposing her to the cool air of his bedroom.

she exhales as her lacy underwear are tossed to the floor, suddenly his jacket is coming off and he’s rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. she can only let her eyes trace the way his biceps are practically straining underneath the confines of his dress shirt, the way they flex when he grabs her ankles and drags her to the end of his bed. she feels her heart beat almost entirely out of her chest.

she can’t help it, she’s a soaking mess by now and the fact he can see that by looking in between her thighs is enough to make her cheeks heat up. she closes her thighs, pressing them together. he chuckles low in his throat as he looks down at her, “don’t hide from me. cmon.” he says as his blue eyes seem to darken under the harsh moonlight coming into his bedroom.

he gently opens her thighs, letting himself glance at her glistening arousal. “so wet already?” he says it as if its more of a statement, rather than a question. she nods under his gaze as if he has all the power over her right now and in a way, he does. and he knows it. “this all for me?” he says with an almost haunting smirk on his features that it causes her to sharply inhale. she nods again and feels her chest rise and fall beneath her dress.

“your boosting my ego too much, baby.” he says as he crawls over her, his hands bracing on either side of her head, he leans down so he’s nose to nose with her. his blue eyes almost blown out with lust for her, she recalls never being looked at this way by her ex. even when they had sex, he refused the intimate side and made her go face down in the pillows. but leon, he’s devouring her with his eyes right now and it almost makes her cry, but she doesn’t.

“what’s wrong? did i do something wrong?” he asks when he sees her eyes become glassy, surely he knows. he has a feeling that he maybe rushed it. should’ve let you go home after the date but…you looked sad. he cups her chin, looking down into her eyes. that action seems to make it harder for her to speak but she forces words out of her mouth. “my ex…he never…” she swallows more tears down her throat.

he watches her expression so closely — so methodically — that he’s afraid if he blinks, he’ll miss something. but he lets her speak, his hand slowly cupping her cheek, rubbing his thumb over cheek in a soothing gesture. even though he’s hard as steel right now and her pussy is out in the open, he is solely focused on how she feels right now. she notes in her brain that this is another reason why she likes leon so much already.

but she forces herself to finish her thoughts, “my ex never…he never…” she chokes on the words again. she realizes that it sounds stupid coming out of her mouth now, she almost wants to push it to the side and jump leon’s bones. but he’s not going to let it go until he knows she’s okay. “he never looked me in the eye, never…he wasn’t gentle.” she whispers as she looks up at him. she feels choked up and she hates how silly she sounds. like a hurt little girl who skinned her knee.

he sighs softly against her lips and brushes some tears from the crevice of her eye. he understands what she’s saying, her ex wasn’t intimate. didn’t take his time with her, didn’t put her needs first and that just doesn’t sit right with him one bit. in fact, it bothers him beyond recognition. how could someone just abandon their partners needs, the need to be validated and be intimate? he couldn’t change that for her but he could show her that he wasn’t like her exes.

“im not like that, princess. you know that by now don’t you?” he whispers against her lips as he gently brushes some hair out of her face. she nods almost immediately, “i know.” she says against his lips, solidifying that she knows. he could not even be compared to her ex, not even close. leon was far better than him and she’s only known leon for like five hours.

“good. now, im going to fuck you now. but listen,” he gently grabs her chin, a firm but soft hold as he angles her eyes to his. “i am going to take my time with you because you deserve that. you deserve to be loved and cherished.” he says softly with a small hint of compassion in his blue irises as he strokes his hand up and down her dress clad side. “and i am not going to let you look away, your going to look at me the entire time.” he says with a firm but rugged gentleness that suited him down to his very core.

she just nods slowly in his grip, that being the only thing she can do with his grip on her chin. he smiles — a little twitch of his lips — making him seem ten times more softer then he actually is. he leans back on the bed on his knees, looking down at her. “off.” he gestures to the dress thats still covering her. she swallows and sits up on his bed, slowly and methodically shimming the dress off of her frame.

once it’s gone and on the floor with her discarded lace underwear, she plays with the strap on her matching bra. he puts his large and calloused hand over hers, stopping her. “let me.” he mutters as he moved on his bed behind her, his fingers slowly tracing along her shoulder and going to the bra strap. he hovers his mouth over neck, his other hand brushing her hair away from her back, pressing his lips to her neck with such delicacy. she feels like she would miss it if she couldn’t feel his fingers slide down to the clasp of her lacy bra.

and once it’s discarded, he finds himself hoisting her backwards onto the mattress again. his lips finding hers in a sweet but delicate kiss that says — i have you, trust me. and she does, she finds herself trusting him as his hands hold her gently but firmly, a strong hold that weighs on her heart and mind.

she looks up at him through lustful eyes two moments later, her gaze locking on his as he strips off his pants and shirt, discarding them all on the floor. the body of a greek god, yet littered with small scars that catch in the moonlight. she thinks that maybe he has his own demons, the ones that haunt him when he goes to bed at night.

but she doesn’t have time to wonder, his cock, if not perfect like the rest of him. is now out, his hand slowly stroking the hard shaft for some semblance of relief. she gnaws on her bottom lip as she watches him, she was completely and utterly soaked now.

she didn’t know how much longer she could last. she needed him.

he didn’t wait long to lean over her body, his elbows on either side of her head, much like before. his nose brushing against hers and she was bare as him. it should’ve made her nervous, made her scared beyond anything. but she didn’t have it in her to be scared, not when he was eyeing her like she was the holy grail.

he pressed another kiss to her lips, a little more rough this time, his tongue prodding at her mouth. begging for him to be let in. and how could she not oblige him? she let him in and he swirled his tongue with hers, her brain on autopilot and the conversation about her ex was long gone. the furthest thing from her mind at this point.

it was just him. his mouth and hers, the way his cock barely brushed against her soaked folds. she parted her knees more for him, accommodating his wide frame as he let a hand drift down to her hip, squeezing it as they sloppy made out.

a small moan slipped past her lips and onto his, his large hand kneading the extra fat of her hip and thigh and slowly he moved his hand in between them, brushing over her clit slowly. her breath caught a little and she couldn’t find words, she was wrecked already.

he chuckled lowly against her lips, words not exchanged as he guided his bulbous tip though her folds. soaking his tip in her release and making her tremble, small squeaks of arousal leaving her parted lips.

he found it amusing, if the expression on his face was any indication.

he silenced her again with a smooth press of hiss lips against her’s, soothing her worries and the small amount of anticipation she felt. he slipped just the tip inside of her, breaching her entrance. she gasped against his lips, he was big. it was just the tip and she was keening. practically clawing at his bare back. he pressed his lips more firmly against hers, sliding in another inch, his thumb rubbing circles at her hip.

as he eased in inch by inch, she tried to focus on his kisses rather then how much he was stuffing her full inch by torturous inch. it felt like her body was buzzing, it was too much and not enough at the same time. she moaned softly when he slid in the rest of the way, she opened her mouth against his. she couldn’t handle it anymore. she lets out a shaky breath.

her hands held tighter to his back as he slowly moved his hips against hers. his hand squeezing hard at her hip enough to bruise but she couldn’t find it in herself to care as he slowly moved his hips, moving in and out of her. she bit on her bottom lip, almost drawing blood as his head dipped into her neck. she choked on moan after moan as he groaned and grunted against her neck, matching her noises in his own ways.

she let her nails sink into his back as he pumped his hips a little faster. her head fell back against his sheets, her lips parted, eyes shutting in ecstasy as he started hitting that spot within her repeatedly. she wasn’t going to last long if he kept it up, his harsh groans and breaths echoing along her neck and up into her ear. his lips pressing harshly to the skin. every time her nails dug into his bare back, he bit a little at her skin.

the pleasure and pain was intoxicating as he kept moving his hips, making her whimper and whine. she tried to speak but her words were caught and mumbles of pleasure were the only things to leave her parted lips. her expression wiped and dazed with lust as she took everything he gave her. never in her life had she felt this way with sex. she felt like she was floating and grounded at the same time.

she felt her stomach coil, knowing she was close to climax. she wordlessly moved one of her hands from his back into his dirty blonde locks, pulling his head out of her neck and pressing her lips to his. he just smirked against her lips and moved his hips a little faster, seeming to understand what she meant without words. she moaned louder against his lips as he pumped faster and faster, her head felt dizzy. her head dropped back against his sheets again, not enough energy to keep her lips locked with his.

“thats it baby, come for me. c’mon.” he growls as he nips at her neck, his hand sliding from her hip to her clit. rubbing it with small brushes of his thumb, she squeaked as she looked up at the ceiling. her eyes glazed over as the coil in her belly finally snapped. “fuck, your…squeezing me like a vice.” he muttered in a groan. he felt her spasm around him, his hips slowing as he fucked her through it.

he fucked her through it until she was squirming, he moved his hand off her clit. determined to chase his own release as he moved his hips again. he pressed his chest against hers and gripped her hip again. she let out a shaky gasp as he started moving again. her eyes watering at the overstimulation she was feeling in the moment. “shh, its…i’m close, baby. just hang on.” he grunts against her collarbones as he keeps moving his hips. she squeezed him a little again and he hissed.

she nods with a small whine as he pumps a little faster, practically shaking his bed. she was wondering if it was going to break but it didn’t seem like it would. his hips stuttering as he bit into her collarbone, she gasped in pleasure as she felt his spend fill her up and fill her belly. she blinked at the ceiling as he sighed against her collarbone. letting himself be vulnerable for a moment in the aftermath of their bliss. he just kept her filled with his cock, rubbing a hand up and down her side. his mouth gently pressing a kiss to one of her breasts. “your amazing.” he whispers as his eyes shut and he breathes some air into his lungs.

she felt his words deep down to her very soul as he pulled out of her, a small noise of loss as he removed himself from her snug walls. he laid down on his side next to her, sliding a hand down her stomach and to her entrance again. his spend mixed with hers was leaking out of her abused hole, his finger scooped up the fluid and pushed it back inside of her.

his eyes flaring with that possessive nature. he drifts his blue eyes to her blissed out face. he removes his finger from her entrance and traces it up to her jaw. he gently cups her chin and smoothes his thumb over her bottom lip. “good?” he whispers gruffly as he scans her expression. she smiles dazedly and nods as she looks up at him. it wasn’t how she imagined the night going but getting to here, it was good. leon unintentionally was making her move on from the slump her ex put her in. she couldn’t be more grateful.

he smiles crookedly, almost shyly, as if he didn’t just fuck her raw into his mattress.

“stay the night. i make good breakfast.” he says softly with a small chuckle, the boyish charm peeking out from his hard facade he had up. she nods with a small giddy smile, “only if you make me pancakes.” she whispers as her eyes stay locked on his blue ones. he was truly a sight to behold. every part of him was and she didn’t know how he could be single. she had to wonder if maybe he chose that for himself, for what reason? she didn’t know. he was a great guy.

an amazing kisser. funny, great in bed. the list kept going.

but he was nothing like her ex, that was the best thing about him. he wasn’t selfish, conceded and rude. maybe leon was the perfect one for her. maybe he wasn’t but she was trusting her gut this time. and her gut was telling her to stay, to let herself be coddled and be held like something precious. she was letting herself be happy for once and only time would tell if they were meant to be.

even if it was the first date, she was in love. silly, but true as she gently cupped his cheek and pulled his lips to hers again. she felt connected to him in more ways then one. she was diving headfirst into him and she didn’t even care. she was happy.

and thats all that truly mattered.

screw it only being the first date, she was his now. and that was a comforting thought as she slipped her arms around him again and breathed him in. this is what love was, or close to it, she was sure. his arms already felt like home, no matter how dangerous that was, it was hers.

and his, as it should be. forevermore. wrapped in each other, no matter what.

exes be damned.

taglist: @elihii @heartsforvin @adollrable @leonkennedygvrl @squazmine @spfoah @jmivenus @rcttendolly @yakamozhoez (if you would like to join my taglist, visit the link at the beginning or the one linked on my blog!)

[the-offside-rule]

Joe Burrow (Cinccinati Bengals) - Game Day and Grammys

Requested: no but someone asked about NFL imagines and the Pro Bowl and Grammys were on so how could I miss this opportunity?

Prompt: Joe Burrow x singer!girlfriend

Warnings: none other than it being long and full of fluff

NFL requests are open ♡

Y/n sat in the plush chair of her hotel suite, a stylist curling sections of her hair while another dabbed powder on her already flawless face. The room buzzed with quiet excitement—her team murmuring about last-minute dress fittings, run-throughs, and camera angles. After all, tonight was the biggest night of her career. Five Grammy nominations. Five.

But her attention? Completely divided. On the sleek flatscreen across the room, the Pro Bowl was in full swing. Her boyfriend, Joe Burrow, was out there, tossing passes and leading drives while she got glammed up for music’s biggest stage. She’d wished she could be there, but the Grammys and the game fell on the same night, and there was no way to be in two places at once.

Her phone vibrated in her lap. Another text from Joe.

Joe: This is so much fun. Wish you were here

She grinned, typing back quickly.

Y/n: Wish I was too. But you better be focused, Burrow. No interceptions.

Another buzz.

Joe: No INTs. Just vibes. Also… scored a touchdown. No big deal.

Y/n let out a laugh, her lips quirking as she typed her reply.

Y/n: A touchdown?? Damn, you haven’t scored one of those in a while.

Her stylist stifled a giggle behind her. "Good news?" She smirked. "Joe just ran one in himself." Her phone buzzed again.

Joe: Wow. The slander.

Joe: But fair.

Joe: Good luck tonight, superstar.

Joe: Ja'Marr said if you win two tonight, that makes it 9 grammys you have ever won

Joe: And guess what my number is?

Y/n chuckled at the coincidence. No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, they were always supporting each other.

Y/n: Alright, QB1. Ill get the Grammy's you worry about not getting tagged.

With one last glance at the game, she turned back to the mirror, ready to take on her own championship night.

The flashbulbs were blinding as Y/n posed on the red carpet, her dress hugging her perfectly while she effortlessly smiled at the cameras. The energy was electric; reporters calling out her name, fans screaming behind the barricades. She was used to this, but tonight felt different. Bigger.

As she moved down the carpet, she began her interviews, each asking the same old question that she had rehearsed about a million times. How does it feel to be nominated 5 times? She had been nominated for Album of the Year, Song of the Year, Record of the Year, Pop Vocal Album and Music Video of the Year. She had been to the grammys before but she had only ever been nominated twice each year. Granted, she did win them, racking up an astonishing 7 grammys in just 4 years, but her once edgey music had shifted to softer love songs, all thanks to a certain quarter back.

She smiled as she moved on down the carpet to her last interviewer, a little kid who she had seen on tik tok time and time again. "Oh my gosh, hello!" She smiled as she did her best to get down onto the kid's level. Her calf were killing her from the heels standing, nevermind squatting down. "You look beautiful. I love the dress." She said. "Thank you! And you look so beautiful too." The child replied. "I have a few questions for you if thats okay?"

"Of course! I would love to hear them." Y/n said warmly as she held her own microphone. "So, obviously this is your record for the most amount of Gammys that you have been nominated for. If you could go back in time and tell your younger self that this would be happening, what would you say?" Finally a way to answer the question of how she felt about being nominated that didn't involve her rehearsed answer. "I think I would tell my younger self to keep going, to believe in myself and don't put the guitar down because it's gotten me this far." Y/n replied. "Your album Nine Sunday Mornings was a very abrupt change in your music. It was more edgey and angsty the last time you were here-" Y/n laughed at the very blunt question. "Why do you think this change happened or is it because you just got bored of that genre?" Now that was a good question.

"I mean, as you said it was a big change. I mean any love song I wrote before was scrapped because I thought it was too sappy so I stuck to breakup songs or rage songs. I think the change came in meeting Joe. From the songs right down to the title it's all him. I remember the very night I met him I stayed up nearly all night writing about the like 5 minute encounter we had and now it's nominated tonight so. I have to give credit where credit is due." She answered. "Have you been keeping up with the Pro Bowl?" Y/n laughed, adjusting the Grammy-branded microphone in her hand. "Of course! I have it on in my hotel room. Joe keeps texting me updates, so I think I might have a better play-by-play than some of the commentators."

Her manager tapped her shoulder to tell her to make her way inside, so she bid the mini-reporter farewell and walked in to the packed venue.

Once inside, Y/n glanced around, trying to spot her team. The Grammys were always a production, but tonight, the room felt even bigger. Row after row of tables and glowing stage lights. She turned in circles, scanning the room. Where were they? Her manager, her producer, anyone?

"Y/n?"

She spun around to see Jack approaching, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. "Hey, are you okay?" She let out a slightly embarrassed laugh. "Yeah, I just… I can’t find my seat. I have no idea where my team is." Before Jack could respond, a familiar voice chimed in.

"She can sit with us!"

Y/n turned to see Taylor Swift standing a few feet away, a warm smile on her face. Taylor, dressed in an elegant yet edgy ensemble, motioned toward her table. "If you don’t mind sitting with us, of course." Y/n hesitated for a second. She didn’t want to intrude- Taylor was with her own crew, and this was a huge night for her, too. "Are you sure?" She asked cautiously.

"Of course! Come on." Taylor said, looping an arm around her gently as they started walking toward the table. "Besides, we have a lot to talk about. I can't believe this is the first time we're meeting." Y/n chuckled, relaxing a little as she took a seat beside her. "Are you going to the Super Bowl?" Taylor asked after a moment.

Y/n shook her head. "No, I’ve never actually been. I told myself I wouldn’t go until Joe is the one playing in it." Taylor’s brows lifted in amusement. "Oh that is goals."

"Plus, I’m heading to his family’s house to watch it with them." She added. "I think it’ll be more special that way." Taylor smiled knowingly. "There’s nothing like watching a game with the people who love him most. Honestly, I think you guys are gonna be there next year." Y/n nodded, already picturing herself in the Burrow family’s living room, wearing one of Joe’s sweatshirts, surrounded by his parents and siblings. It felt right. "Honestly, I don't wanna be too picky but I want a Bengals and 49ers Superbowl. That would cure the world, I think."

"That would be a good one."

Just then, the lights dimmed, signaling the start of the show. Y/n took a deep breath, ready to take on the night—Grammys, football updates, and all.

Joe stretched his arms over his head as he stepped into the hotel lobby, still buzzing from the Pro Bowl. The game had been fun, a rare chance to play a little looser, joke around with the guys, and even run in a touchdown himself—something Y/n was sure to remind him about later. His teammates followed behind him, still hyped up from the day. "Alright." Ja’Marr announced, clapping his hands. "Let’s turn on the Grammys. Gotta see Y/n win some trophies since Joe isn’t bringing any silverwear home."

Joe grinned as he nudged Ja'Marr for that dig, leading the way to the suite where they all piled onto the couches, flipping the TV on just in time to catch the ceremony in full swing. The room filled with snacks, drinks, and casual conversation, but anytime Y/n appeared on the screen, the guys would nudge Joe, who was watching intently, phone in hand, ready to text her.

Then came Best Pop-Vocal Album of the Year.

Joe sat forward, hands clasped as they listed the nominees. He knew how much work Y/n had put into this album—how many late nights, how many times she’d called him exhausted but excited, how much of her heart was poured into every track.

"And the Grammy goes to…"

Not her.

Joe exhaled, lips pressing together as he watched her smile and clap for the winner. She was graceful as ever, but he knew her well enough to see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. "She said she was gonna be surprised if she got that one. She like, knew Sabrina was winning that hands down."

Then came Record of the Year.

Not her again.

"She got robbed." Russell Wilson muttered. "Bro, you're gonna be the first one singing Not Like Us at the halftime show next weekend." Lamar Jackson replied. "She's in like the toughest categories." James Cook added. Joe didn’t say anything, just shook his head. He hated seeing her not get what she deserved, but he knew Y/n. Knew she’d keep smiling, keep pushing forward. And damn it, he’d keep cheering her on, just like she always did for him.

It didn't matter. 2 down, 3 to go. Music Video of the Year.

Joe sat up straight. He knew this one mattered to her, too. Her video had been a passion project, something she’d fought to bring to life exactly the way she envisioned it. The competition was stacked—the other nominees had incredible visuals, and any of them could take it. Y/n sat at her table, her hands clasped in her lap, holding her breath. Joe could practically feel her nerves through the screen.

"She’s got this." He murmured. "She’s got this, she’s got this, she’s got this, come on, baby."

The presenter opened the envelope.

"And the Grammy goes to… Y/n Y/l/n!"

Y/n gasped, letting out the breath she’d been holding. Taylor pulled her into a tight hug as the entire table erupted into cheers. Joe leapt off the couch, throwing his hands in the air. "Let's go! Yes! Wooh!" The suite exploded with excitement- Ja’Marr was shouting, some of the guys were recording Joe’s reaction, and others were laughing as Joe jumped up, singing along to the snippet of Y/n’s song that played as she made her way to the stage.

On the screen, Y/n’s smile was blinding, eyes slightly glossy as she accepted her award. Joe grinned, pride swelling in his chest. She’d done it. Just like she always did. "Oh my god, wow." She began. "I’ll be honest, I did not expect Music Video of the Year. There had been some amazing Music Videos so I just wanted to congratulate my fellow nominees and their directors." Joe clapped as he listened to her. "I want to thank my team, the fans, my family and all of you who voted for the video. My boyfriend Joe of course, who may or may not be still playing his game of tag football but I'm gonna thank him anyway." His face grew red. "I think that's all I have to say to be honest. Maybe I'll see you up here again pretty soon."

Joe lounged back on the couch, finally feeling like he could relax a little after all the emotional whiplash of the night ao far and he was still buzzing from it. "She’s performing next." Ja’Marr pointed out, nodding toward the TV. Joe sat up again, straightening his hoodie as the camera panned to the stage. The lights dimmed, and then—there she was.

His girl.

Y/n stood center stage, bathed in golden light, singing a balld version of her nominated song. She wore the most stunning outfit—a gold sparkling, elegant number that hugged her perfectly. She looked ethereal. "Jesus Christ." Joe muttered under his breath before saying a little louder, "Her outfit is so pretty." Some of the guys laughed. "Yeah, it is." Ja'Marr teased with a smirk. "You good over there, Burrow?" Russell asked, causing all the other guys to take notice of his blushing face and tease him further.

Joe just waved them off, eyes locked on the screen. Then, just as the song picked up, she reached down, grabbed the edges of her outfit, and-

Riiiipppp

The elegant gown was gone, revealing a bold, dazzling second outfit underneath—sleek, fun, and perfect for dancing. "Oh my God." Joe groaned, immediately hiding his face in his hands as the entire room exploded. The guys were shouting, laughing, some recording his reaction as they all clapped and cheered. "Ayyy! Okay, Y/n!" Ja'Marr called.

Joe shook his head, chuckling as his ears burned. He peeked through his fingers just in time to see her seamlessly transition into the next part of the performance, moving with ease, completely in her element. She was dancing, smiling, engaging the crowd like she was born for this moment. "I didn't know she could move like that! Damn!" Trey said.

Joe dropped his hands, watching as Y/n held the mic out, getting the entire crowd to sing along with her. She looked so happy, completely in control of the stage, like she was having the time of her life. Joe smiled. His teammates might have been teasing him, but he didn’t care. He was just so damn proud of her. As the song ended,she looked aroukd for the camera that would be zooming in on her. She spotted it and winked, before blowing a kiss right to it. Joe reached for the imaginaru kiss and put it to his heart as the guys teased him even further for it.

Joe sat back against the couch, his arm draped over the back as the next category came up—Song of the Year.

"Alright, this one’s huge." Ja’Marr said, leaning forward. Joe nodded, eyes locked on the screen. Y/n had poured everything into this song and she loved it the most for reason unknown to him, and even though she’d already won Music Video of the Year, he wanted this for her. Badly.

The nominees were stacked— some of the biggest songs of the year, including Y/n’s. The room quieted as the presenter opened the envelope.

"nd the Grammy goes to… Kendrick Lamar, Not Like Us!"

Joe exhaled, shaking his head, but before he could react, he spotted Y/n on screen, grinning and dancing along to the snippet of Not Like Us that played through the venue speakers. Joe burst out laughing. "She doesn’t seem too bothered." Trey snickered. "Bro, she looks kinda tipsy."

The whole room chuckled as they watched Y/n dancing up out of her seat singing along as Kendrick made his way to the stage. She was still clapping and smiling, showing nothing but love for the win, and Joe couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly cool she was about it. "She’s just vibin'." Joe said with a smirk, shaking his head.

And then finally came Album of the Year.

Her final nomination.

Joe sat up one last time, his heart pounding a little harder. He could see Y/n on screen, hands clasped together, her lips pressed tight as she waited. The tension in the room was thick, even through the television.

The presenter opened the envelope.

"And the Grammy goes to… Y/n Y/l/n, Nine Sunday Mornings!"

She didn’t move.

She didn’t react at first—just sat there, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Joe felt like the air had been sucked out of the room before he erupted. "Yes! Let's go baby!" He jumped up again, fists in the air as his teammates laughed, recording his reaction for the second time that night. "That’s my girl! That’s my girl!" He cheered, pacing the room as the suite filled with whoops and applause.

Back on the screen, Y/n finally stood, still in complete shock. As she made her way up to the stage, she kept shaking her head, her mouth open as if she still couldn’t believe it. She took the award in her hands, staring down at it, blinking before looking around. The crowd chuckled. She looked up at the mic, then back at the award. "What?" She squeaked.

Laughter rippled through the audience. Joe grinned, shaking his head. He could practically hear her thoughts—How? Against all those incredible albums? She took a deep breath, exhaling sharply, still looking down at the trophy. "I—I don’t even know what to say, honestly I'm a little drunk so-" Joe smiled proudly, watching her collect herself and begin her speech. She had done it. Two Grammys in one night. And even though he wasn’t there in person, he cheered for her just as loudly as she did for him on Sundays.

"I want to thank the incredible Jack Antanoff for helping me produce this album first and foremost, my team also. But there is one person in particular who I will ramble on about because he was the inspiration for every single song I wrote since the 9th of December 2023, when we first met." Joe felt his eyes watering upon hearing it. He didn’t lile seeing her cry, it often meant he would cry too. "The album itself is a hommage to the fact that it took just nine sunday mornings for us to decide we wanted to become a couple and honestly, those 9 Sunday mornings were the best I could have ever lived through because I got to fall in love with the love of my life." Joe wiped his eyes, lookong down as Ja'Marr patted his back in support. "Joe, wherever you are, I wanted you to know that this award is for you, you can put it right next to the Heisman and my other 8 Grammy's."

Joe chuckled lightly as her little dig. "And just in case this wasnt a clincidence enough already- I'm going to shout out Ja'Marr Chase for this information- this is my ninth Grammy, and its for Cinccinati's number 9." The microphone cut out, singalling that her time for speaking was up. She mouthed a very animated 'I love you' to the camera before smiling and heading off the stage.

As soon as Y/n sat back down at her table, she reached for her phone. Her hands were slightly shaking—part adrenaline, part sheer excitement. The night had been a whirlwind, and there was only one person she needed to talk to right now. She hit Joe’s contact, pressing the phone to her ear as the Grammys continued around her. The line barely rang once before he picked up.

"Baby!" She let out a breathless laugh. "Joe!"

"Oh my God!" He said, and she could hear the pure excitement in his voice. "You were insane. I mean first of all, two Grammys? And then that performance? What was that outfit change? You’re trying to kill me?" Y/n giggled, running a hand through her hair. "Did you like it?"

"Like it? Babe, I almost had a heart attack. These guys aren't gonna let me live it down." She laughed again, picturing Joe hiding his face in his hands while all his guys teased him. "I was just thinking about you the whole time." She admitted, voice a little softer now. "I figured you were watching."

"Of course I was watching." He said immediately. "Are you kidding? We had the Grammys on as soon as we got back. I was cheering for you all night." Y/n smiled, glancing down at her awards sitting in front of her. "It still doesn’t feel real. I mean…Album of the Year? What?"

"You earned that, Y/n. No one deserved it more." She bit her lip, warmth spreading through her chest. "I mean, Billie should have won it." She replied. "Oh my God, I'm gonna cry again."

"No, don't cry." He said quickly. "Not unless it’s happy tears." She laughed, leaning back in her chair. "How was the Pro Bowl? I feel like I barely got to ask you." Joe chuckled. "It was fun. I mean we lost, but it was fun."

"What was the score?" She asked. "Like 76 to 63 or somethin' like that?" He looked around for nods of approval. "Did I mention I scored?" Y/n chuckled. "Yeah and as I said before I haven’t seen you do that in a while."

"Okay, woah." He deadpanned, and she could hear his teammates laughing in the background. "I’m kidding." She teased. "I’m proud of you."

"I'm proud of you too, baby." Y/n exhaled, her whole body finally starting to relax after the chaos of the night. "I just wish you were here."

"Yeah, I know." Joe said softly. "But I’ll see you tomorrow. And then we can celebrate properly." She grinned. "Deal."

"I love you, Baby."

"Love you too, Shiesty "

As she hung up, she clutched her phone to her chest, still smiling. It had been a night to remember— and she couldn’t wait to get home to him.

[shhhsecretsideblog]

Keep That Crown 

Ask: No. 19 during a dystopian tv game show where contestants have to do ridiculous physical challenges while fully dilated and ready to push. Last one to fully give birth wins fabulous prizes. 

Thank you Anon, this is the most amazingly ridiculous prompt ever and was a joy to write. The story is completely satire, unrealistic, and purely for entertainment purposes. Special thanks to the talented @exponenshul for writing the third challenge, and to @gravid-transluna for being my incredible beta. You’re both amazing humans! 💜 (8k words)

Prompt: “I can’t stop it… nnghhh I’m pushingg!”

~•~

"Goooooood evening guys and girls. It's Saturday night, we're live, and welcome to another episode of..." "Keep That Crown!" Cheers the studio audience.

The TV presenter, Danny, continues. "For those of you who are new to our little corner of television, this is a game show where we take five mothers-to-be and put them to the test in a number of household challenges. Sounds easy enough, right? Well, the catch is that each mum-to-be is in active labour...and fully dilated! Whoever can complete all five challenges without giving birth has a chance to win our grand prize, and the last one standing will win a whopping £100,000.00!"

"Oooooooh." The audience awes on cue.

"Now let's meet tonight's contestants." Danny says with a staged smile, his overly white teeth glinting under the spotlights. Walking across the studio floor the camera pans to five heavily pregnant women, each standing behind a podium displaying their name. "Contestant number one is Mandy. She's 41 weeks pregnant with her first baby, a girl. How are you doing tonight Mandy?" The presenter asks casually.

"Ooof- I'm good thanks Danny. Focused and ready for the challenges. It's my first baby so hoping that works in my favour... hooooo...." A contraction cuts off Mandy's fighting talk and she grips the podium and hangs her head, panting heavily.

"First time mums are usually the most successful at this game, so good luck, Mandy! Next up we have Anna." The TV presenter walks across to the next pregnant woman, who's holding her contracting belly and swaying her hips side to side. "Anna is also a first time mum-to-be, 39 weeks pregnant with a baby boy. Do you think you're going to win tonight, Anna?"

"Mnnnghh I'm gonna g-give it my best shot." Anna says timidly with a grimace and a forced smile.

"Contestant number 3 is Becky. Becky is 37 and a half weeks pregnant with her third baby. Some of you eagle eyed viewers may recognise Becky from her second pregnancy and birth. You were unsuccessful last time, managing only two rounds before the head popped out during the dishwasher challenge. Reckon you can make it to the final round this time, Becky?"

"I hope so... hooohooo.... But ohh, this labour came on quicker than expected.... Mnnnnngh, three hours from first contraction to full dilation. But I'm hoping this little one can stay in a bit longer." Becky's cheeks were flushed pink and the sweat glistened on her forehead. Her tight leggings showed just how wide her gait was and every couple of minutes her knees bounced.

"Well, good luck to you Becky." Danny said before turning directly towards the camera. "Looks like she's going to need it." He added with a laugh and a wink.

"Now, next up we have Claudia. Another first time mum, 40 weeks pregnant exactly." The brunette was in the midst of a contraction and merely waved at the camera before holding on to the podium and groaning under her breath.

"And finally we have Niamh. Niamh is 37 weeks pregnant and this is a first for Keep That Crown - she's pregnant with twins!" Danny announced to a cheer from the audience. "You caused quite the discussion with our producers Niamh, as you're pregnant with two lovely healthy babies, we had to decide what the rules would be. Now, even though you're carrying two, you will need to keep both babies from being born in order to qualify for the final round. Reckon you can do that?"

"Definitely, Danny!" Niamh answered confidently. "Twins run in my family, but so do long labours. I'm here to win!"

She planted her hands on her hips and grinned. Her bump was bigger and lower than any of the other contestants and yet she seemed the most relaxed and sure of herself.

"That's the spirit Niamh!" Danny said. "Okay, now that we've met the contestants, let's start the challenges!!" He walked over to a new part of the stage, which was set up like a mini grocery store. The contestants followed, albeit more slowly.

"The first challenge is our iconic grocery shop challenge." Danny explained to the five labouring mothers. "Each of you have been given a shopping list of 7 different items. Your task is to go through our pretend supermarket, collect all the items on your list, and make it back to your podiums. You can use either a basket or the trolly to carry your items, but all items must be back here before the time is up. And remember, no matter how much you want to push, you just have to..."

"Keep that crown!" Shouts the studio audience.

"On your marks, get set.... GO!"

Niamh and Becky were first off the mark and waddled quickly towards the pretend supermarket. They both grabbed a trolly and rushed up and down the aisles of food, searching feverishly for their items. Anna and Mandy were quick to follow, and they chose the handheld basket option. Claudia, however, hadn't left her original position.

"Claudia, you need to move if you're going to collect all your items before the time runs out..." Danny tried to encourage the mum-to-be, but she was groaning loudly and gripping the podium tight.

"Ohhhhhh god. It's so low.... The pressure...." She whimpered.

"Don't push, Claudia. You've got to keep that crown!"

She staggered forward on unsteady legs and eventually reached the supermarket trolly. Barely making it down one aisle, Claudia stopped and squatted, holding on to the cart with a white-knuckled grip.

"Looks like Claudia is already pushing...that was fast. She'd better hope the baby doesn't come out any further or she's not even going to make it through the first challenge!" Danny narrates the scene whilst the camera follows each woman around the store.

Anna and Mandy were throwing items into their baskets, rushing quickly between contractions. Niamh and Becky had already got the first few items in their trolley’s. Whilst Niamh was ploughing ahead, Becky was struck by a forceful contraction and was bracing herself against an aisle. The third-time mother had one hand between her legs and she was mooing slightly under her breath.

Claudia managed to get one item in her trolley but soon gave up completely, crumpling to the floor on all fours and actively pushing her baby out. The bulge in her leggings could be seen appearing and then slipping back again.

"And Niamh is the first one back! Impressive with her twin-filled bump. She's closely followed by Anna and Mandy." Danny joined the returning mothers who were bent over and panting back at their stands. "Becky is still working her way around the store, but seems to be struggling. And- uh oh, Claudia!"

The camera cuts to Claudia on all fours by the frozen foods, the distinctive outline of a fully birthed head now protruding her clothing.

"Aaaand we have our first birth, ladies and gentlemen. Unfortunately, Claudia was not able to get through the first challenge and is now delivering her baby in aisle 3!" Danny enthusiastically announced.

The cameras kept their focus on Claudia as she pushed and pushed, but cut back to the TV host when the medical team went over to undress the birthing mother and help deliver the baby.

The sound of a baby crying filled the studio, and the show went to commercial break.

~•~

"Welcome back to Part 2 of Keep That Crown! We have four ladies left in the competition with just as many challenges still to go." Danny said while giving an award-winning smile to the camera.

"Next up is our infamous dishwasher challenge. Looking at you, Becky!" The presenter jokes and the camera cuts to the labouring mother in question. Becky is sweating and holding her extremely low baby bump and rolls her eyes.

Danny continues explaining to the audience at home. "In this challenge, our mums-to-be are tasked with unloading a dishwasher. Now, I've never been pregnant myself so at first, I didn't fully understand why this task would be a challenge. However, since working on this show, I've come to realise just how difficult it is for a heavily pregnant woman to load and unload a dishwasher. It may sound easy, folks, but this challenge has got the better of quite a few mums over the years. Not to mention our current contestant, Becky."

Danny, followed by the camera, travels across the studio to talk to the mums. "Now last time Becky, when you were birthing your second child, this was the challenge that got you. Do you think you'll fare any better tonight?" The presenter asked.

"I don't know Danny... mnghhhh... this baby is pretty desperate to- ugh!- come out." Becky's hands were holding her bump as she swayed side to side, knees dipping whenever she grunted.

"It certainly sounds that way!" Danny's eyebrows raised at the deep groans coming from this third-time-mum. "Now, if you could all make your way over to your allocated dishwashers."

Danny followed the women to the dishwasher setup and began to instruct. "Each of you has an identical dishwasher filled with crockery, cutlery and glassware. Your task is to get all the items out of the machine and stacked on top. You can start on the sound of the buzzer. Three... two... one..."

A klaxon is heard blaring across the studio and the music starts.

Each of the four contestants seemed to approach the challenge in a different way, and Danny began commentating on the challenge as it unfolded.

"First-time mums Mandy and Anna, each carrying one baby and having the smallest bumps of the group, have gone for the regular, forward bend. Mandy is attempting the bottom tray first, starting with the plates and crockery in the most cumbersome of the locations, whereas Anna has decided to tackle the glassware on the top tray, perhaps waiting to build herself up for the more difficult lower level.

"And Becky, our darling returning mum-to-be, has clearly made a strategy after last time. She's taken a new approach of kneeling on the ground beside the dishwasher, picking up plates and putting them on top of the machine. There'll be less physical movement with this choice, but whether her strategy pays off - time will tell." "And lastly we have our mum of twins Niamh. With the biggest belly, carrying two very healthy babies, doesn't have the option of the forward bend and is clearly not sure about getting down onto her knees. What is she going to do ladies and gentlemen?.... Oh, wow. That's a risky move from Niamh!"

The expectant mum of twins was rather nimbly dropping into a deep squat, her obscenely large belly hanging low between her jackknifed thighs and brushed the ground. Collecting a few plates and holding them against her bump in one arm, she pulls herself back to standing to place them above the machine. Seconds later, she's squatting again, collecting the side plates and bowls.

"Wow. Our Irish beauty Niamh is flying ahead in this challenge, but her method is risky and we have never ever seen it used successfully before." Danny's tone showed he was impressed.

Becky had managed to unload half of the bottom tray before she started to obviously struggle. Her knees slide wider on the studio floor, another contraction tightening up her bump and contorting it into a hard round ball. Bracing the tops of her thighs her hips sunk low to the ground and she grunted long and deep.

"Oh no!" Danny cried out. "Looks like Becky is pushing again. Her third baby is eager to join us."

The camera zooms in on the labouring woman; her face red and splotchy with the effort of birth. She was panting and groaning heavily, and from the low angle of the camera, the bulge in her leggings was undeniable. Shouts began to arise from the studio audience. "Don't push!" "Keep that crown!"

"Come on Becky, this challenge bested you last time- don't let it happen again! Keep that crown, mumma!" Danny encouraged.

The third time mum couldn't stop pushing, so in desperation she placed a hand between her thighs to stop the baby coming out any further. Becky grunted forcefully again into her palm and when the contraction was over and her hand removed, the head still appeared to be at a full crown inside her clothing, but was no longer moving. Becky exhaled, shook her head, and continued to remove the remaining items in her dishwasher.

"Anna is flying ahead in this challenge, closely followed by Niamh - those twins seem happy to stay in her belly." Danny observed. "...But it looks like Mandy is starting to struggle."

The soon to be mum was bent over the dishwasher, bracing her thighs and circling her hips, all thoughts of the challenge momentarily forgotten. Her heavy belly squished up tight, contracting forcefully and trying to evict its occupant. She whimpered and wailed as her baby sunk lower and lower, stretching her wide, desperate to be born.

"Uh oh, looks like she's struggling to keep that baby in. The question is.... Will she push?" Danny teased joyfully, adding drama to the already chaotic scenes.

Mandy could be seen muttering to herself under her breath.... Don't push don't push don't push... And yet her efforts were in vain, as the labouring mother soon dropped into a deep squat and bore down, groaning loudly.

"Mandy- hooooo... no! Don't p-push!!" Anna tried to encourage her fellow contestant, breathing heavily as she placed her final item on top of the dishwasher completing the challenge.

"Nnngghhhhh... I can't stop it! I'm pushing!!" Mandy cried, letting out a primal grunt. The bulge between her open legs got bigger and bigger as she pushed, the baby slipping further between her folds and into her tight leggings.

"Aaaaand Anna is the first to complete the challenge!" Danny announces loudly to the studio. "But it looks like we have yet another mother falling at the dishwasher hurdle. Mandy, that baby is almost out.... If the head comes fully out, you are out of the competition."

"Oh god! No..... it's coming out!!!!" Mandy groaned, her body working of its own accord, bearing down and pushing the giant head through her opening. The unmistakable cry of relief that followed told everyone in the studio that the baby's head had been born.

"That leaves three remaining contestants; Anna has finished the task, closely followed by Niamh. Darn, I was sure all that squatting was going to result in a birth- but well done to Niamh! Who do we have left? Oh yes, Becky." Danny smiled and walked beside the labouring mother as she tried to complete the task. "How are we doing Becky?"

"Mnnghhh!" Becky apparently could not speak, putting all her focus and energy on the two tasks - unloading the dishwasher and not birthing her baby. Her knees were wide as she knelt on the floor, the baby's head way beyond a full crown but not quite fully born. She huffed as she picked up the last remaining item, her body trembling as she reached up to place the small plate on the top of the machine, the crockery clinking as she shook whilst stretching up, desperately trying to get that final item in place and complete the challenge that had previously beaten her.

"YES!!!" She cried when the plate slipped onto the pile of clean dishes, and panted heavily with relief. Whoops and cheers rang out from the audience.

"You did it!!!! Well done Becky." Danny exclaimed. "Now, let's go to commercial break, giving our mothers a well-earned rest-" ...the sound of Mandy grunting and pushing in the background briefly interrupted the TV host... "-and also to let Mandy birth her baby girl. Be back in five, folks!"

~•~

Shortly thereafter, Danny and the contestants were lined up for the next challenge, each woman now standing in front of a wardrobe.

"Welcome back to Keep That Crown, where we've had an exciting first two rounds!" Danny announced. "Let's take a moment to check up on our contestants before we move on, shall we?"

He walked over to Anna, who was holding out strong, but definitely getting tired. She was sweating profusely and cradling her low, heavy belly.

"So, what are your thoughts on the challenges so far, Anna?" Danny asked.

"Umm...hmm." Anna muttered, obviously not focused on answering questions. "It's tough. But...hngggh...I think I can h-hold on."

"Let's hope!" Danny said, striding over to the next contestant. "And how are you feeling, Niamh?"

"Feeling good!" Niamh proclaimed, patting her belly. She was breathing heavier and a few beads of sweat could be detected on her forehead, but otherwise she was looking fine. "Ready for another round."

Danny nodded. "Well, that certainly was an impressive feat you pulled off in the last challenge!" He chuckled, then continued on to the last remaining contestant. "And, Becky..."

Becky was standing shamelessly in a somewhat bow-legged position, a massive bulge still in her leggings, as big as before and dripping fluid through her clothes. Surely she was only one small push away from birthing the head. Her whole body was practically shaking from the effort of keeping her baby in.

"...I'm just surprised that baby hasn't budged at all," Danny said frankly.

Becky grunted and her jaw clenched. "Just...get on with the- huuuhh- challenge," She grumbled, stowing one hand between her trembling thighs.

Danny returned to his side of the stage. "All right, time for round three! This one is the Dress-Up challenge. Each contestant has been provided with a wardrobe. Inside is a dress which you must change into, as if you were getting ready for your very own baby shower! Once that's complete, you'll have to return the dress and change back into your regular clothes."

The contestants gave each other exasperated looks. Getting changed is hard work for a pregnant woman even on a normal day... doing it while deep in labour was going to be tough.

"On your marks...get set...go!!" Danny hollered.

The women turned toward their wardrobes and opened them up. They each had an identical dress, with loose, thin cloth that was sure to fit their maternal bodies. Getting it on would be the hard part.

Becky grabbed the dress right away, but she looked over and saw the women next to her starting to take off their tops and bottoms. She looked over at Danny. "Uhh...do we need to strip down to our underwear for this challenge...?"

"Yes, that's usually part of getting changed..." Danny said with a chuckle. The audience laughed along with him.

Becky gulped. "Nngh...o-okay..."

Niamh had already removed her top and was shimmying her leggings down over her hips, leaving her in only a bra and panties.

Anna followed suit, but had to stop before getting her shirt over her head due to a contraction. She doubled over and groaned, gripping her belly. "Oohhh...hoo, God, I dunno if I can do this..."

Meanwhile, Becky was still looking between herself and the dress, only slowly starting to lift her shirt up as her baby's crowning head continued to burden her. It seemed the stress was getting to her.

Niamh sat her clothes off to the side and grabbed the dress. She paused for a contraction, but it barely seemed to phase her. She bent over a bit and exhaled deeply before quickly righting herself.

Anna was now struggling with getting off her leggings. She'd chosen to wear extra tight leggings, hoping they would help hold in the baby in an emergency. But now, after working up a sweat, the fabric clung to her. She was able to roll them down past her hips, but another contraction struck. She squatted just a tad, on shaky legs. "Mmmggghh come on!"

Beside her, Niamh had pulled the dress up over her head, knowing that was the only way it was fitting around her big twin bump.

Becky had only just removed her shirt. She was standing there in her bra and tented-out leggings, clutching her firm belly and muttering to herself.

"Becky?" Danny called out, not sure what was going on. "You should strip down a little quicker if you want to carry on with the challenge..."

Becky gulped again, then nodded. "O-okay..."

Anna had gotten her leggings to her ankles, but as she tried to kick them off, her belly cramped again and she fell forward onto her knees. She grimaced and cried out. "Nooooo aghhh I can feel it coming! I-I don't wanna puuush!"

"Folks, Anna says she doesn't want to push...but will her body agree?!" Danny wondered aloud. The audience focused their attention on the poor labouring woman.

Anna clenched her fists, grunting through the contraction. Now in just her panties, it was all the more clear that she was starting to bulge from the baby's head...

Suddenly, a gasp from the audience. "Wait...what's that? What's she wearing?!"

People turned their heads toward the cause of her outcry. The TV cameras pointed toward Becky, and Danny's jaw dropped when he saw what was happening.

Becky had gotten her leggings down to her knees but the act had revealed her secret weapon. Beneath her leggings and over her underwear, she was wearing a thick leather belt with material that went over her crotch.

Murmurs began to rise in the audience. "Is that... a chastity belt?" "For real? Is that allowed?"

Becky blushed, both from embarrassment and exertion.

Danny was flabbergasted. "Well, I've never seen this, folks...Becky was wearing a leather chastity belt the whole time!"

More audience comments. "Wow, how did she hide that?" "No wonder she was able to hold that baby in!"

"Now, as we know, cheating or giving yourself any unfair advantage is strictly against the rules..." Danny said solemnly. "So, I'm afraid that means I'm going to have to disqualify you from the competition, Becky."

Cameras zoomed in as tears welled in Becky's eyes. "I'm...sorry," she whimpered. "I just...wanted to win so badly this time...but- hnnnngggaaah!"

She was cut off as another contraction hit her. She fell to her knees, and it was clear she was pushing as hard as she could. But no matter how hard she pushed, the baby's head couldn't fully emerge with the leather in the way. She groaned heavily. "Gghh...but...I give up! I'm done! Someone- nngngghhh- just get this belt off of me! The baby needs to come OUT!"

The medics rushed over while the studio audience reeled from the chaos. The cameras turned back to Danny, who was still somewhat in shock. "Well, that was certainly something, folks! We have only two contestants remaining, now. Let's see how they're doing."

Neither Niamh nor Anna let themselves be too distracted by what transpired- they had more important things to focus on. Niamh had fully put on her dress and was taking a minute to pose in it for the cameras. Anna had resisted the urge to push for the time being, and was now grabbing her own dress. She adorned it in a very stiff manner, trying not to move around too much and risk wanting to bear down again.

Niamh removed her dress with ease, but as she was reaching for her original clothes again, a contraction gripped her. This time, she leaned against her wardrobe and groaned, rubbing her belly. She turned her head down and winced, and it looked like she may have finally been starting to falter.

"What are you feeling, Niamh?" Danny asked, trying to sound engaged again after the previous incident. "Hang on, you're almost there!"

"Mmghh...not pushing yet, Danny!" Niamh said, returning to her confident demeanour. She grabbed her clothes and stood back up fully.

Anna had gotten her dress on, but was hunched over again, cradling her swell. "Hooo...gghh...it wants to come out...s-so bad..." She glanced over at Danny. "Can I just...nngggh...keep the dress on?"

"The challenge isn't complete until you change back into your regular clothes!" Danny insisted. Anna groaned and began trying to strip the dress off.

Niamh was once more working at a surprisingly fast pace. With her dress cast aside, she was able to quickly get her clothes back on. It took a bit of time to wrestle her shirt back over her big bump, but once it was on, she raised her arms in victory. The audience cheered.

"It looks like Niamh has completed the challenge! That just leaves Anna- will she make it?" Danny announced.

Anna now had her shirt back on and was gripping her leggings in one hand, but she was riding through another contraction. She leaned on her arms against the wardrobe, her hips angled back.

"Ooohh...ooh, no, baby...nnggghh!" The labouring woman moaned. She tensed up, and her panties bulged out just slightly. The baby was starting to crown. "Guh...I just...gotta get these leggings back on..."

After a few rounds together and only two contestants left, the audience was getting invested. They began to chant, "Go! Go! Keep that crown!"

Mustering her strength, Anna bent down and started to put on her leggings. She was sweating, and it took a great deal of effort to pull the fabric up around her shaky legs. She grunted and panted, trying to keep her legs together long enough to get the leggings over her thighs and hips, even though she desperately wanted to spread them and push.

After a couple minutes of struggle, Anna was finally able to hike her leggings up tight around her waist. She felt between her legs and gave a small sigh of relief, knowing that there was more of a barrier over the emerging head now.

Danny clapped along with the audience. "Well done, Anna! That's round three done. Let's take a quick break and set up for the fourth challenge!"

~•~

“Welcome back to Keep That Crown.” Danny said straight to camera with his best showbiz smile. “If you are just joining us you have missed one hell of an episode so far; three babies born, a set of twins still on the way and our first case of cheating by chastity belt. You certainly won’t get all that on any other show!” 

The camera zooms out and reveals Danny is standing between two heavily pregnant women. “We have two mums-to-be left in the competition - the lovely Anna on my left, expecting a little boy, and the incredible Niamh on my right, who is carrying twins. Now girls, we’re over half-way through the competition now and it’s just the two of you left. How are you feeling Anna?” 

Standing behind her podium Anna pants heavily, her face flushed, gripping her belly and forcing a smile. “It’s— it’s definitely getting tougher. Hooooo… it’s so hard not to p-push….” Her feeble voice whimpers with another contraction and Danny takes the cue and turns his attention to Niamh. 

“And Niamh, you have been storming through these challenges, and you are carrying two babies in there.” He nods and pats Niamh’s obscenely large belly drooping from her hips. “Have you been struggling to resist the urges to push as well?” 

“Well having two of them in there certainly adds a level of difficulty but… mnnnhhh… it’s been okay so far. Just need to breathe through those u-urges…” Niamh’s confident words ring out across the studio but her knees bend subtly, her hands cupping the underside of her gravid swell as one of the baby’s head sinks and presses even lower. 

“There are two more challenges to go. Let’s hope you both can make it through round four. For this challenge each of you will be given a baby doll, your task will be to change the baby’s nappy, dress the baby, and get them into the pram. Don’t worry Niamh, unlike real life you don’t have to do this twice. You each get one baby.” 

The Irish mum laughed through gritted teeth, trying to keep her cool through the increasing contractions. 

“If you two lovely ladies follow me.” Danny instructed, walking the labouring mothers to a new corner of the television studio. Both mothers were walking more and more bow-legged by the minute, but followed silently behind the host. 

“As you can see there are three parts to this challenge; nappy change, dressing baby, and the pram. And I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking “Oh but Danny, you’ve forgotten to set up the prams” but we haven’t.” The TV host smirked to the camera and the audience at home. “Prams these days are so nifty, collapsing into the smallest space to fit easily into the boot of your cars. You will have to work out how to open the pram in order to safely strap your baby doll into the seat.” 

Niamh nodded in understanding, her eyes already analysing the pram in question and its potential latches. Anna meanwhile looked hesitant, nervous, holding her belly and swaying her hips in rapid movements to try and alleviate the relentless pressure between them. 

“Right, Anna you stand here. And Niamh you stand here.” Danny ushered the labouring women to their respective stations for the challenge. “Any questions?” 

“C-can we get any h-help with the pram? Like a partner?” Anna stuttered, trying to steady her breath and her spasming womb. 

“I’m afraid no help is allowed. You have to do all parts of this challenge by yourself. And you can’t leave the baby on the changing mat when you set up the pram, they could roll off, so you must carry them and put them in the pram.” 

Anna paled briefly, looking like she might faint or throw up. 

“On your marks… get set… go!!” Danny cheered and the tense but upbeat music of the challenge sounded around the studio. 

It was neck-and-neck through the first part of the challenge, with both Niamh and Anna confidentially removing the nappy from the toy baby and wrapping a new one over the bottom half of the doll. They weren’t competing for the quickest time, they just had to complete the challenge from start to finish, but even without the time pressure the urgency was clear from the expressions of both women. They wanted this challenge done so they could be one step closer to birthing their babies. 

Unsurprisingly, Niamh finished the nappy change first. The Irish mother was already an audience favourite and steaming ahead in this game. However, before she could pick up the baby clothes to dress the doll her eyes suddenly widened and she curled forward over her large twin-filled belly, gripping the edge of the wooden change table in a death grip. 

“Mmmghhh— oh god!!!!” Niamh groaned loudly as her belly visibly contracted and squashed her babies lower towards their exit. “Fuck…. I can f-feel a head….hoohoohoo…” 

“Oh no, looks like our fan-favourite is starting to struggle.” Danny said excitedly. 

Groaning deeply. Niamh squeezed her grip on the changing table and screwed her eyes shut. “Nngh—! The pressure—” the Irish mother grunted and her knees dipped and widened. 

Seeing her competition struggling, Anna bit her lip through the contraction and quickly pulled the clothing onto her doll and finished the first and second part of the challenge in rapid time. As she stepped towards the pram, the toy baby in arms, it was clear that Anna was racing against more than just her competitor. Her hand lowered, trembling with the effort of denying her instincts, and felt the partially crowned head. “Come on baby…. Just a little bit longer.” Her quiet words to her child were picked up on the microphone and an encouraging cheer erupted from the audience. 

With one arm holding the fake baby, Anna had to work out how to open the pram single-handed. Huffing her way through contractions, red-faced and sweating, Anna pulled and twisted the handle but the pram remained in its collapsed state. 

Niamh meanwhile had survived the aggressive contraction but in her desperation had clamped a hand between her thighs to try and keep herself from pushing. She was now attempting to dress the baby one-handed which wasn’t very successful. 

“Niamh, you’re going to have to work with both hands if you want to keep your winning streak.” Danny said to the contestant over the audience's cheers. 

“But— but it feels like the baby is slipping o-out….” Niamh was frazzled, overcome with the sensations of birth and her cool confidence was fast unravelling. 

“Uh oh— Niamh says the baby is slipping out. What does she need to do ladies and gentlemen?” Danny asked the excitable studio audience who responded with a chorus of “KEEP THAT CROWN!” 

“Ooohhhhhh…. Danny!!! The pram… it just w-won’t o-open!!!!” Anna shouted and the camera pans around to find her on her knees beside the collapsed contraption. The doll was wedged in an elbow so she could use both hands and she was frustratingly pulling and squeezing and twisting every inch of the pram trying desperately to unlock and open it. 

“They do open Anna. They just have a little… knack to them.” Danny winked at the camera before it panned out to show both women struggling to open their prams while simultaneously crowning with their unborn babies. 

“Jesus, who the fuck designed this thing?!” Niamh cursed as she pulled the handle expecting it to expand but grunted with frustration when it didn’t. The Irish mum-to-be had stuffed the toy doll down her top after dressing it, wedging it under her shirt between her breasts and belly in order to use both hands on the final part of this challenge. 

“Ohhhhh god… this baby wants o-ouuttt….” Anna rocked on hands and knees, momentarily abandoning her pram and putting all her efforts into not giving birth. 

Niamh wasn’t looking much better, grunting and occasionally placing her hands between her thighs when her body automatically pushed. 

“This is going to be a close one ladies and gentlemen. Looks like both Anna and Niamh are pushing and it’s going to be a battle of willpower to see who makes it through this challenge.” 

“Mmngghhh….. no— don’t come out—!” Anna grunted, pulling the waistband of her leggings up and making the fabric taut and unforgiving at the crotch, creating a barrier against the emerging head. 

“Oh! Oh! I’ve got it!!” Niamh cried, finding the switch that when pressed allowed the pram to fully expand. “Anna… it’s on the left, by the l-logo…” Niamh panted as she pulled the fake baby out from under her top and almost threw it into the seat, quickly buckling the baby into the straps and clamping her hands between her thighs once more before the next contraction could strike. 

Anna scrambled on her knees, searching for the latch Niamh had mentioned. The pressure between her hips was building, the baby certainly at a full crown in her underwear. “Ohhhh god…. I need to push….” Rocking on her knees Anna flailed her hands over the pram and with a cry of relief found the button and the pram popped open. Placing her fake baby in the seat and buckling it in, tears fell from Anna’s eyes as she trembled against the raging waves of her labour. 

“Wow! Excellent work ladies; you have both completed the fourth challenge.” Danny announced, genuinely impressed that both contestants were still in the game. “Let’s take a quick break and we will be back with the fifth and final challenge. Who will keep that crown, and who will fall at the last hurdle? See you in five!” 

~•~

“Welcome back to the final part of Keep That Crown, the only game show that’ll have you pushing babies instead of buttons. As you may have guessed, we are getting in the Christmas spirit for the fifth and final challenge.” Danny wiggles his head slightly and the camera pans out to reveal a red and white Santa hat on top of his perfectly styled hair. “We decided to change things up as the holiday season approaches and we have a festive final challenge for you this week. Don’t worry folks, it is a relatively simple task, but… doing it whilst deep in the throes of labour?…” The wide and wicked grin from the TV presenter shines bright across the studio right into the television screens to all the people at home. “This may be our toughest challenge to date.”

As Danny continued talking to the camera the distinctive sounds of groaning and heavy breathing in the background grew louder. Danny walks across the studio, followed by the camera, and stands beside the two remaining contestants who were both now dressed up as Mrs Santa Claus. In hourglass silhouettes, the red velvet cinched at the waist but stretched tight across their pregnant bellies, the hem finished with luscious white fur. The dresses were short, barely covering their hips, allowing a clear view of the tight leggings underneath. Niamh’s hands were still clamped between her thighs as she sweated profusely, panting erratically. While Anna was groaning, her hands splayed wide across the velvet surface of her belly as if she could just hold the baby inside. 

“Ladies, I see you’re both dressed for the season.” Danny said cheerfully but his enthusiasm was not reciprocated. Anna’s face was blotchy and flushed as she held back her urges, sweat rolling down the side of her cheeks. Whereas Niamh looked fiery and frustrated, her knees dipping every few seconds, hands clamped firm at her crotch as she gritted “Get-on-with-it-!” 

Danny put his hands up in mock-surrender “Okay, okay. Let’s get on with the final task…. The Christmas Tree challenge!” In a corner of the studio there were two large Christmas trees, over 10ft in height, and both were completely bare. Beside each tree was a box filled with all manner of decorations from lights and tinsel, to beads and baubles. “Niamh, Anna, your challenge is simple; to decorate the Christmas tree. Your Christmas trees must be completely decorated, from the lowest branches all the way to the highest. Your tree must have at least 3 different types of decorations and it must have the star on the very top.” 

Two assistants on the show briefly came into shot, each placing a step ladder beside the trees and promptly running off stage. The ladders were clearly for the women to use in order to get to the very top of the Christmas tree. Anna visibly gulped with fear, while Niamh was staring at the floor very obviously pushing against her hand. 

“I would usually speak with each of you before the challenge, but erm, I’m guessing neither of you are up for chit chat..?” Danny asked with a laugh and got a grunting response from the Irish mother-to-be. “Okay then. Let’s dive into the challenge. On your marks, get set, GO!” 

Immediately Niamh waddled bow-legged and determined towards her tree, carefully removing one hand from between her legs and grabbing the set of Christmas lights from her box. Staggering side to side around the large tree, the labouring woman tossed sections of the lights with reckless abandon onto the different branches of the pine tree. Round and around she went adding the white lights up the tree but when she reached shoulder height she looked nervously up at the top of the tree, knowing what had to be done next. Niamh stood at the bottom of the step-ladder, gripping it tight with one fist while the other remained firm between her legs. She paused, waiting for the miniscule gap between contractions, before taking a hesitant step up the ladder. 

Meanwhile Anna seemed to be struggling to put one foot in front of the other, her head was dipped low as she held her large bump and breathed heavily. She tried to move but a squeaking whimper came out instead. 

“Come on Anna, you’re so close, don’t give up now.” Danny tried to encourage. 

“Oooohhh… I can’t— move—” Anna said with a fearful whine. 

Danny watched her struggle for a few seconds before taking pity on the girl and wrapped a supportive arm around her waist. “Come on, love. Let’s get you to your tree.” Angry voices came through the presenter’s earpiece as he then yelled to someone off screen “I’m just helping her get to the challenge, that’s all!” 

When they reached her designated challenge area, Anna gripped onto the step ladder, her wide legs trembling with the effort of not giving birth. “I can’t help you anymore sweetheart, but you’re so close. You can do this.” Danny encouraged quietly. Anna nodded, breathing deeply, preparing herself for the final hurdle. Then she abruptly let go of the ladder and dived into the decorations box grabbing as much as she could carry and unceremoniously whacking the decorations along the bottom branches of the tree. 

The Irish mother-to-be was now halfway up the step ladder trying to throw the Christmas lights around the top few branches of the tree. With a final effort she rose up onto her tiptoes and leant forward, lassoing the lights over the very top. The movement came with a price as a split second later the microphone caught her sharp gasp and the camera showed a clear bulge protruding between her thighs, her hand quickly moved to clamp hard against her crotch. 

“Niamh….” Danny’s words were jokingly stern as he stood beneath her ladder. “Was that a head poking through?” 

“No! Nnnghh— of course not. Still-ohhhh-very much c-crowning Danny!” She gritted loudly with a slight hiss through her teeth. 

“Good girl, remember to Keep That Crown!” Danny said, getting the audience to join in, everyone soon chanting the show’s iconic catchphrase. 

Over by the other tree, Anna had thrown all manner of decorations onto the bottom half of the pine tree. There was no style or strategy, the labouring woman frantically grabbing and hooking any decoration she could find onto the spindly branches. Sweat was dripping down her face and she took a breather at the decoration table, wiping her brow with the thick soft velvet of the sleeve of her festive costume. Anna lowered a hand between her legs, her eyes pinching hesitantly as she felt the crown of her baby’s head just inside her clothing. 

“Stay there little guy.” She whispered, exhausted but determined. 

“Anna, how are you getting on, sweetheart?” Danny asked, out of shot of the camera but carefully watching and narrating the scene to the audience at home.  

“I’m— ohhhhhh— hanging in there. And…I’ve got an idea…” Anna said aloud, then surprisingly picked up the whole plastic box of decorations and carried it over and up the step ladder. 

Gasps could be heard from the studio audience, impressed at her stamina and strength. Niamh looked up, worried at the reaction from the audience, and tried to look over at her competitor but couldn’t see past the thick branches of the tree. 

Higher and higher Anna climbed, the box wedged into the curve of her waist beneath her outstretched arm. Then, upon reaching the top of the ladder, she loudly dumped the decorations on the top step. The labouring woman proceeded to stand half-way up the ladder, picking up each item from the box and hanging it onto a branch. Her mis-mash of decorations meant she was already meeting the criteria of the task - to have at least three different types of decorations. Whereas her competitor Niamh, having chosen to add lights, meant she was having to go around the whole tree again to add the decorations. 

The tension in the studio could be cut with a knife, both women evenly matched in their birthing progress, but Anna was taking a surprisingly clear lead in completing the challenge. 

“It's neck-a-neck on this final challenge folks, but who will come out victorious? Can both Anna and Niamh hold off from giving birth just that little bit longer…. Or will they fall at the final hurdle?”  Danny riled up the studio audience who had started chanting support for their favourite contestant. 

Anna was getting higher up the step ladder, getting closer and closer to finishing the challenge. But Niamh was faltering. Badly. She was still on the ground, trying painfully slowly to add decorations to the bottom half of the tree. To the camera she was partially hidden behind the thick branches of the Christmas tree, the odd flash of red and white from her costume coming in and out of view. Her deep, rumbling groans and grunts could be heard over the speakers, because even though she was hidden, the microphone she wore captured everything… 

“nnnghhh—!! No! Don’t— gggrhhh—” the rough husky voice of the Irish mother-to-be echoed around the studio. 

The flash of red velvet behind the tree appeared to be sinking lower and lower, heading towards the ground. Danny, wide eyed, rushed over and beckoned the cameras to follow. 

“Oh…. Niamh….” Danny said as the camera showed everyone in the audience and at home the impending mother of twins. 

Down on her knees, Niamh braced her thighs with both hands, her whole body trembling. Her ass was raised up off her heels and the round shape of a baby’s head was forming under her leggings as she pushed. 

“Nnnnghhh—!!! It’s coming out—!!!!!” Niamh wailed, and then collapsed forwards onto her hands with a cry of relief when the head, very evidently, was born. 

“That’s it folks, our fan favourite is now out of the competition.” Danny said brightly to the camera, before adding “Niamh, you should be very proud. You did amazing. You’ve set the bar extremely high for any other twin pregnancies that’s for sure.” 

Niamh remained curled over on all fours, panting as she caught her breath, the medics rushing onto the studio floor to help her deliver her twins. The camera cuts back to Danny, who strolls between the Christmas trees talking to the audience. 

“So, that leaves us with one mother-to-be left in the competition. Anna,” he called up the ladder to the last woman standing “if you can finish this challenge, you’ve done it.” 

Anna was all the way up the ladder at this point, riffling through the box of decorations and throwing them haphazardly on the top few branches of the tree. The audience cheered and yelled, supporting and encouraging the last remaining contestant as she struggled through the final hurdle. She sagged against the ladder when the decorations were done, heaving deep breaths and gripping the ladder for dear life. When she started to descend the step ladder, Danny interrupted urgently. 

“No! Anna, you still need to add the star at the top!!”

Anna looked like she was about to cry, or scream at him. Her whole body was trembling with the effort of not giving birth, the constant low rumblings from her chest as she fought the back to back contractions. With quaking hands she rummaged through the box, trying to find the star as quickly as she could. Every now and then she’d grunt involuntarily, resulting in tense gasps from the audience, the camera zooming in on her closely. 

“Come on Anna, find that star! You can do it!” Danny yelled up the ladder. She held it proudly in the air when her hands found the glittery item and proceeded to step to the very top of the ladder. As she reached the top she fiercely threw the box of decorations to the floor to stand right on the highest step. 

The whole studio was silent, breaths collectively held as they watched the labouring woman atop the ladder, stretching,  reaching up and up and up, straining to get the star on the very top of the tree. 

A wild cheer erupted as the decoration was put into its rightful place and Danny announced loudly; “YOU DID IT! Anna, you did it!! You’ve won £100,000!” 

Anna didn’t even make it back to the ground before she was actively pushing and the head came out before her feet even touched the floor. 

~ if you like & enjoy my work, please show support via my ko-fi 💜 ~

[reiderwriter]

🔐 Password Protected 🔐

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Requested: "Hii Kacie, may I put in a request of a NSFW prompt? Any plotline or back story is fine I trust your talent :"> Reader's boobs/asscheeks recoill during sex turning Spencer on even more "I wish you could have my view right now" he grabs the phone to open the camera app."

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, DubCon Hidden camera, dry humping, free use, soft to hard Dom!Spencer, sub! Reader, creampie, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, implied oral sex, implied bondage, implied somno, pictures/ photos, degradation (slut, whore etc,) and pet names (Princess, sir, angel etc,), nipple play/torture, multiple orgasms.

A/N: Here's my second fic for the CM Kink Bingo 2024~♡ I'm definitely all over the board now, so who knows if I'I hit bingo this year, Imao? Anyways, I hope you enjoy~ And to my dear friend :"^ anon - thank you for your inspiring request.

Masterlist || Bingo Board

With a glorious lull in cases to close over the summer, the biggest mystery in the BAU was “What's in the locked folder on Spencer's phone?” 

The man had made the (technologically inept) mistake of leaving his new phone unlocked on his desk in a bullpen full of criminal profilers. To say you'd all descended like vultures to a fresh carcass was putting it extremely lightly.

“What apps does he have? Five dollars says there's a dictionary app,” Emily joked, leaning over Morgan's shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of the screen. You were similarly perched at his other shoulder. 

“He can probably recite the dictionary himself, and I don't think he'd know how to download apps,” you scoffed, scrolling up in the phone yourself to the app page. 

“There's got to be something good in the camera roll, right?” Morgan said, clicking into it to find some dirt on the much too innocent Spencer Reid. Which is where you'd found quaint pictures of the sky, some pages from a book and the folder. 

The one with a little lock on it signalling the boundary. Spencer had figured out how to use a locked folder - you'd be impressed if you weren't so curious about what was inside. 

“Placing bets, people? My money is on work documents,” Morgan chuckled, losing interest swiftly in the phone and pressing it into your hands. “It's not like the kid has a lot going on romantically, right?”

You kept your mouth shut as the others nodded in agreement. While Spencer Reid may not have anything romantic going on officially, he definitely had something sexual going on. You'd been in his bed five of the last six days, losing count on the amount of times he'd fucked you into oblivion, using your body as freely as he wished, cumming inside of you to finish before washing off all traces of your coupling and cuddling upto you as you slept. 

It wasn't quite a relationship, but dear god, did you never want it to end. You hadn't been so satisfied, so fulfilled (emphasis on the filled) in a long time. 

“What are you doing with my phone?” You heard Spencer question from behind you, and you turned, trying to mask your embarrassment. You really didn't want him to think you were some obsessive not-girlfriend going through his messages, and almost dropped the phone like it was a bomb when your eyes met his. 

“We were just debating what you could possibly have to hide in your gallery’s locked folder,” Emily laughed, clapping the man on the back and smiling up at him. “Help me win $20 and tell Morgan here that you made it accidentally and don't know the password.” 

“Hey, I didn't agree to any bet yet,” Morgan laughed, kicking his feet up on his desk. 

“Only because you know you're wrong.” 

They bickered just long enough to let Spencer take a step closer to you, slipping the phone easily out of your hand and back into his pocket. His voice was low, his mouth close to his ear when he finally sated your curiosity. 

“I think you may want to distract them from this topic, Y/N. I don't think you'll like it if they demand to see what kind of pictures and…videos I have in that folder.” 

His tone wasn't suggestive, but it still lit a fire in your belly with the implication alone. You'd warmed his bed for long enough to know that you were the only one sharing it, but you didn't remember him taking any pictures or videos of you. Shit, had you been so desperate that you'd completely blanked him capturing a folders worth of images of you servicing his cock? 

You took the hunt and stepped away from him, picking up a file quickly and glancing over it before turning to Emily. Distracting them with work was the only way to keep them off the scent and distract you must.

Even if it did mean you were inconvenienced with curiosity and lust for the rest of the day. 

When you finally finished work, you practically hammered down Spencer's door, trying to get answers to questions he'd left hung in the air earlier. You were a visual learner, so you dearly hoped he'd answer by simply just showing you what you'd missed. 

“Y/N,” he said, opening the door with a sweet smile, drawing you into the apartment with a slow, honeyed kiss. You felt him smile into you, his touch chaste enough around your arms to still your beating heart. You languished in the kiss as he pulled you on closer, shutting the door behind you as he opened you up to him, pulling you further under his spell than usual. 

“I'm so happy to see you,” he said once he'd pulled away, feathering his touch across your waist, settling his hands in the crook just under your breasts, stroking the bottom of them with his thumbs. You were suddenly glad the man's hands were so large, sure that this one interaction was heaven on earth. 

He almost distracted you from your purpose for coming here. 

Pulling you to the sofa in his living room, Spencer pushed back a strand of hair, hooking it behind your ear as he let you straddle him  wrapping your arms around his neck, your head falling comfortably onto his shoulder as you inhaled his scent. 

“I'm not complaining that you're here, or anything, Y/N,” he said, hands roaming your body and stroking your ass as he spoke. “But did you have something to say? You didn't message before coming.” 

You lifted your head to look him in the eyes before looking away out of embarrassment. 

“Earlier, you…” you started, tongue going dry as he tightened his grip on your ass. He shifted slightly under you and you realized he was grinding his leg up into your clothed pussy as you spoke. 

“Yes?” 

“Your phone…the locked folder, I want to see what's inside.” 

You were sure that he knew already what you wanted before you'd even arrived, but he just smiled at you again, almost too kindly. 

“That's my private business, Y/N. Why should I let you see it?” He asked, looking good a finger under your jaw to make you look him in the eye once more. 

“I th-think… I think there are videos. Of me. I'd like to see them.” 

“Where are your manners?” 

“Please, sir,” you whispered, tipping your head forward, begging him for a kiss. “Please show me the videos.” 

He huffed out a quick laugh and gave you one last peck on the lips before he pushed you off. You sat on the floor between his legs, a position you were so used to being in by now that you wouldn't be surprised to find multiple shots of you sat like this, lips wrapped around his cock, pussy grinding on his shoes. Even the thought of such pictures had you wanting to recreate those memories, you weren't sure what a folder worth is going to do. 

Stretching over to his coffee table, Spencer picked up the discarded phone and unlocked it, flipping through some pages before looking down at you again. 

Stroking your hair, Spencer neatly arranged it before wrapping the same hand he'd been using g around your neck and pulling you gently upwards. You landed back in his lap, but he'd turned you around this time. Instead of straddling him, your back was pressed to his chest, your legs on either side of one of his. He released your neck, instead pushing his hands between your thighs so you couldn't push them together for relief - he already knew your body so well. 

“Is this what you're curious about, Y/N?” He said, finally flashing you the phone screen. The first picture was obviously taken post-sex, and you recognised his bed sheets quickly. Your face hung off the end of his bed, eyes shut as his cum painted your lips, cheeks and eyes, lips parted in a lusty moan. From the angle it was taken at, you could see your breasts swell and your hand disappear between your legs as well, stroking yourself to release.

“Shit,” you moaned, pussy clenching on nothing as it begged for relief. With a hand on your hip, Spencer started encouraging you to rock back and forward, humping his leg as he whispered in your ear. 

“You didn't know about that one because your eyes were covered in my cum. It turned me on more knowing you had no clue I was going to jack off to it later as well.” 

He scrolled to the next image, and in this one too, you seemed unaware of the camera. Your hands were tied to the headboard, and he was fucking you from behind, the shot capturing his creamy dick pulling out of you and the discarded condom on the bed beside you. 

“That was the day we learned how much more you enjoyed being filled with cum than you enjoyed condoms,” he said, scrolling to the next picture. 

“And here's your first creampie,” he said, his spare hand pushing under your shirt, fingers clamping down on one nipple as you shuddered. 

Your pace was faster now, desperately thrusting up and down his thigh. Even through your skirt and panties, you felt your wetness against his pants, knowing you'd be punished later for such unladylike behaviour. 

As if Spencer had ever wanted you to act like a lady. He knew you were a slut and he enjoyed it. 

“The next one is a video,” he said, moving his hand to your other breast and slapping it as you moaned above him. “Do you think you can handle it?” 

“Y-Yes, Sir. Please let me see it, sir.” 

“Okay, but not a fucking noise out of you. I want to hear your screams from the video.” 

You could only silently groan in reply, nodding quickly as he scrolled and pressed play. 

This one was recent, maybe one or two nights ago. You recognised the outfit you'd partially discarded, the shirt that had been ripped open. 

How had you possibly not seen the camera pointed straight at you? 

In the video, his cock was pressed into you, fucking you at a pace most would call violent  but you called heavenly. The focus wasn't on your pussy taking his cock, though, but on your boobs, recoiling and jumping with every thrust. His other hand pressed to your stomach, feeling himself sheathed there, as you moaned desperately. 

“Spen…Spen-sher,” you tripped over your tongue, slurring the words as if you'd been drugged. Your eyelids were heavy, eyes practically rolling back in your head as his hand on your stomach tightened. 

“I think I fucked your brain out, baby,” he laughed deeply, cock not relenting even one second. 

“Your tits looked so perfect,” the Spencer of the present said, pressing the phone into your hand as he grabbed each nipple and tugged them forward, leaving you gasping. 

“And you didn't even realize I was filming it all. I could've done anything to you, anything at all, and you wouldn't have cared. You'd have enjoyed it, and I'd have had the proof.” 

You were soaked now, humping deliriously against his thigh, like a puppy experiencing their first heat, desperate for this feeling to go away and for it to stay and intensify all the same. 

“You were acting so stupid. At one point, I even got you to say hello to the camera, and you didn't remember a thing an hour later.” 

Releasing one breast, he swiped one more time to the left, and you saw the beginning of another video. 

Hitting the play button, his hands returned to your chest, this time pushing up your top and bra and freely clamping down on the nipples as hard as he could. 

What intrigued you the most about this last video was the start. Unlike the pictures and the videos, you weren't in the middle of sex at the beginning of this video at all. 

You were instead laid with your back to the camera - to Spencer - a leg thrown over some unfamiliar sheets. This wasn't his bed. This wasn't yours either. 

Another minute of grinding against his leg, and you recognised the motel room from your last case. 

“Spencer, wh-” 

“Watch and see, princess.” 

The bed creaked under his weight as he climbed in behind you, removing the duvet covers from your body, replacing it with his hands. He made similarly swift work of your pajamas, only bothering to push them down to your knees before pulling out his cock and slowly pushing into you. 

If you weren't so close to another orgasm, you'd probably be shocked that Spencer had invaded your personal space and started fucking you as you slept. But that's what it meant to be his little free use slut. You allowed him access to you anywhere, anytime (including the motel room you'd given him the spare key for) and in return he dropped as many loads of his cum into your pussy as would fit there. 

Watching yourself get violated in your sleep was the last of what you needed to push over the edge. 

You grabbed Spencer's arm, gasping, and you felt him trail kisses along your neck and shoulders. 

“That's it, baby, just hold on a second while I…” he pulled the phone out of your grasp, opening yet another familiar looking app. 

You looked at the screen and found your own bare chest heaving staring back at you. He clicked the red button and forced it back into your hands as he began abusing your tits again. 

“Show the camera, Y/N. Show them how you get yourself off on my leg.” 

You complied, lifting the phone slightly to get the best view of your chest, heaving up and down as you humped his thigh into oblivion. 

Your cunt twitched and you felt fluids rushing out of you, even as your arms trembled. But you didn't let them falter  holding g up the phone to capture every second of your climax, knowing its exactly what he would want. 

“You're perfect, you know that Y/N,” he said, finally kissing the top of your head and pulling the phone out of your grasp as he saved the video into the file you'd been browsing. 

His gentleness was short-lived, though, as he pushed you off his lap and back to the floor. As you caught your breath, ass up on the floor, he took the opportunity to slip his dick out of his pants, and began stroking it up and down, inspecting your pussy with his free fingers. 

“I'll give you five seconds to get ready for the next round,” he said, and you panicked, lifting your legs off the floor. You weren't strong enough, though, or maybe you just didn't want to move. He kept counting down. 

“4….3….2…1,” you heard the predatory grin in his voice as he pushed his foot onto your head, holding your cheek to the floor with one leg. 

“As you wish then, my little slut.” He moved his foot away quickly and pushed inside of you, and your last coherent thought was of the folder again, and how long he'd make you wait to see the video you were about to shoot. 

[ilovemarvel97]

Elizabeh Olsen x Chef reader pleasee!! Happy ending as well, I love your ficss!!

Home-Cooked Love

Elizabeth Olsen x Chef Reader

Summary: Lizzie attends a talk show to talk about her new movie and end up talking about her fiancé. 

Word Count: 6,908

Request: Yes

Warnings: Fluff, mention of smut

A/N: Thank you for the request! I hope you'll like this.

Main Masterlist

---

There was a warmth in the apartment that had nothing to do with the simmering pot of soup on the stove or the tea steeping by the window. It was in the worn-out hoodie draped over the back of the couch, in the handwritten note stuck to the fridge that read “Love you, don’t burn the risotto <3”, and in the soft hum of music that played from the record player in the living room.

Elizabeth Olsen leaned back on the bar stool in their open-concept kitchen and smiled down at the photo in her phone. It was an old one — Y/N grinning through a flour-covered face, holding a nearly collapsing birthday cake that had obviously been rescued from disaster at the last second.

That was one of the first photos Lizzie ever took of her. Before the awards. Before the headlines. Before they’d moved in together.

She tapped the screen fondly, then locked the phone and stood to stir the soup on the stove. She was making chicken and dumplings — Y/N’s favorite comfort food when she’d had a long day at the restaurant. It was never fancy, and Lizzie knew it wouldn’t pass Y/N’s fine-dining standards, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Y/N would come home, tired and maybe smelling faintly of truffle oil, and her shoulders would drop the moment she walked into their kitchen.

Because Lizzie cooked this. For her.

And that, Y/N always said, made it perfect.

---

They met at an industry charity dinner three years earlier, hosted at a private garden in Los Angeles that was so polished it felt fake. Everything was curated — from the bespoke cocktails to the floral arrangements. It was the kind of place Lizzie was used to smiling through while secretly calculating her exit strategy.

She wasn’t expecting the chef behind the five-course meal to walk out from the kitchen at the end of the night, apron still tied, cheeks flushed from heat and stress — and be the most magnetic person in the room.

Y/N had smiled shyly as she greeted the table of celebrities, pausing at Lizzie’s seat with a quick, “I hope you liked the dessert. It’s not on the menu anywhere.”

Lizzie, intrigued, replied, “Why not?”

And Y/N shrugged. “Too personal. I only make it for people I want to see smile.”

That answer alone earned her Lizzie’s number.

---

Present Day – Studio Lot, Los Angeles

The lights on set warmed Lizzie’s skin as she settled onto the plush red chair beside the talk show host. She crossed her legs, tucked her hair behind her ear, and offered the audience a glowing smile.

The host, a tall man with a gleaming grin and a stack of blue cue cards, leaned in with familiarity.

“Elizabeth Olsen,” he said grandly, “star of the new psychological thriller premiering next Friday. Welcome back.”

“Thank you for having me,” Lizzie replied smoothly.

They bantered about the film for a few minutes — camera angles, intense scenes, the ethics of method acting — before the host’s expression shifted into something more playful.

“Alright,” he said, “let’s talk about something much juicier. Your love life.”

Laughter and a few whistles echoed through the audience. Lizzie only grinned.

“I heard you’re engaged to a certain culinary icon?” the host prompted.

“Guilty,” Lizzie said, holding up her left hand to show off the delicate engagement ring with its vintage band and subtle sparkle. “She’s very private, so I won’t embarrass her too much, but yes — I’m engaged to Y/N, the chef of Maison Lumière.”

The audience applauded. A few whoops from the back row.

The host fanned himself dramatically. “I mean, she’s incredible. Two Michelin stars. You know I tried getting a reservation at her place for six months?”

Lizzie laughed. “I could’ve gotten you in. But only if you like black garlic and three-hour meals.”

“Now here’s the twist,” he said, eyes gleaming, “I’ve been told — and I need you to confirm this — that you’re actually the one who does most of the cooking at home?”

She burst into laughter. “I am!”

Gasps. Chuckles. The host leaned forward, scandalized. “No way.”

“It’s true,” she said, smiling fondly. “Y/N cooks professionally almost every day — sometimes for twelve or thirteen hours straight. By the time she’s home, the last thing she wants to do is prep, cook, and plate again. So, most nights, I’m the one making dinner.”

“But she’s a chef!”

“She’s still a person,” Lizzie said gently, her eyes twinkling. “And honestly? I love cooking. It relaxes me.”

“Do you do all the meals?”

“She still cooks sometimes,” Lizzie added quickly. “Especially breakfast. She has this thing about making sure I don’t leave the house without something warm in me. And desserts — she loves making desserts for me.”

“Oh yeah?” the host asked, intrigued.

“There’s one she makes all the time,” Lizzie said, her tone softening. “It’s this vanilla custard tart with caramelized pears and almond crust. But here’s the kicker — she’s never once put it on the menu at her restaurant.”

“Why not?”

“She says it’s mine,” Lizzie said, smiling down at her lap for a second. “She calls it my ‘happiness pie.’ Says it wouldn’t taste right made for anyone else.”

The audience let out a synchronized “aww,” and the host clutched his chest.

“Okay, now that’s romance.”

Lizzie shrugged modestly, but the glow on her face gave her away.

“I got lucky,” she said simply. “She’s my favorite person in the world.”

---

By the time Lizzie got home from the studio, the sky had darkened to a cool indigo, streaked with faint peach at the horizon. Her heels clicked softly along the stone path that led to their front door, and as she stepped inside, she was greeted not by silence, but by the gentle sound of music floating in from the kitchen.

Billie Holiday. Y/N always played Billie when she was in a certain kind of mood — contemplative, romantic, just a little bit playful. And the moment Lizzie smelled sugar and pears wafting from the kitchen, she grinned.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Lizzie called, slipping off her coat and setting her bag on the entry bench. She walked barefoot toward the kitchen and leaned against the doorway.

Y/N was bent over the counter, torch in hand, adding a final touch of caramelization to a beautifully set custard tart. She was in her usual post-work ensemble: joggers, an old tee shirt, and a navy blue hoodie that had seen better days. Her hair was pulled back, slightly messy. She looked peaceful. At home.

“Watched the show, did you?” Lizzie teased, arms crossing as she smirked.

Y/N turned slowly, her mouth already tugging into a smile. “I did. You were radiant. Funny. Smart. Incriminated me entirely.”

Lizzie stepped closer, standing between Y/N’s legs as she leaned back against the counter.

“Everything I said was true.”

Y/N gave her a skeptical look. “You said I never cook at home. I cook all the time.”

“Oh, sure. Just not dinner.”

“Dinner is overrated.”

Lizzie laughed, arms slipping around her waist. “You’re lucky I like cooking.”

“I’m luckier that you like feeding me,” Y/N replied, nuzzling her nose along Lizzie’s cheek.

They kissed — slow and sweet, the kind that lingered. Lizzie rested her forehead against Y/N’s for a moment before asking, “So what inspired the tart tonight?”

Y/N tilted her head. “You told the world about it. Thought I might as well make it live up to the legend.”

Lizzie’s chest swelled, her fingers brushing against the hem of Y/N’s hoodie. “It does. It always does.”

They moved to the couch with slices of the tart and steaming mugs of herbal tea. A blanket was thrown over their laps, and Lizzie tucked herself against Y/N’s side, her feet up, her hair damp from a quick shower. The room was dim, the only light coming from a few lamps and the occasional flicker from a candle on the coffee table.

For a while, they ate in comfortable silence — the kind that only came from deep love and years of understanding. Lizzie occasionally hummed in appreciation with each bite, and Y/N stole glances at her with a full heart.

“You ever going to put this on the menu?” Lizzie asked, licking a bit of custard from her fork.

Y/N shook her head. “Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wouldn’t taste the same made for anyone else,” she said softly, repeating the words from the show. “It’s yours.”

Lizzie felt her throat tighten. She glanced over at her fiancée and saw the genuine warmth in her expression, the way her eyes always softened when they looked at her.

“I hope you never get tired of me saying this,” Lizzie whispered, “but I really, really love you.”

Y/N leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth. “Never. Because I really, really love you too.” Y/N whisper against her lips before kissing her tenderly.

---

A few days later, they had dinner guests. Just friends from Lizzie’s work — Chris, Scarlett, Jeremy, RDJ, and a couple others from the industry who knew better than to expect anything too formal. Lizzie had made mushroom risotto, her specialty, and Y/N had insisted on doing the salad and dessert.

By the end of the night, everyone was stuffed and lounging around the fireplace, glasses of wine half full, laughter echoing through the space.

RDJ gestured with his fork. “I just want to point out that this was hands-down one of the best meals I’ve had in months. And that’s saying something, because I’ve been to your restaurant twice this year.”

Y/N grinned. “All credit to the chef.” She leaned over and bumped her shoulder against Lizzie’s.

Lizzie smirked. “See? She only takes over for dessert.”

“What is this tart again?” Scarlett asked, scraping the last bit from her plate.

Y/N hesitated. Lizzie looked at her.

“Oh no,” Chris said suddenly, catching the look. “Wait — is this the happiness pie?”

Laughter broke out around the room.

“You told him?” Y/N turned to Lizzie in mock betrayal.

“She was on national television,” Chris pointed out. “It’s public knowledge now.”

Y/N sighed, then smiled sheepishly. “Fine. Yes, it’s the happiness pie. But this version was just a cousin of the real one. The Lizzie version has a slightly different crust.”

Lizzie arched an eyebrow. “You’re admitting there’s a secret version?”

“Only for you,” Y/N said with a wink.

Later that night, after everyone had left and the kitchen was quiet again, Lizzie wrapped her arms around Y/N from behind as she wiped down the counter.

“Tonight was nice,” Lizzie murmured against her back.

“It was. You crushed the risotto.”

“And you admitted in public that there’s a secret version of the happiness pie.”

Y/N chuckled. “Caught red-handed.”

Lizzie squeezed her waist. “Can I have some tomorrow?”

Y/N turned in her arms, arms circling her shoulders. “You can have it whenever you want. You don’t even have to ask.”

They kissed again — soft, slow, familiar. The kind of kiss that felt like home.

---

It was a slow Sunday morning, the kind where time felt stretchable — no obligations, no alarms, just the early sunlight spilling across their wooden floors and the soft rhythm of rain tapping at the windows. Lizzie was curled up on the armchair by the window, her legs tucked under a thick sweater, a novel open on her lap, and a half-full mug of coffee cradled in her hands.

Y/N had been quiet all morning. Not distant — just focused. She’d kissed Lizzie’s temple when she woke, murmured something about “needing the kitchen for a few hours,” and disappeared behind the swinging doors, hoodie sleeves pushed up to her elbows.

Lizzie didn’t ask. She loved watching her fiancée create. She’d often compare Y/N’s process to her own acting preparation: deliberate, instinctive, rooted in love. So she gave her the space — and stole glances through the glass panels every so often, smiling as she caught her stirring, whisking, tasting.

Just before noon, Y/N reappeared, a slight flush to her cheeks and a nervous energy in her step. In her hands, she carried a delicate white porcelain plate with a small, sculpted dessert at its center.

Lizzie looked up, startled, as Y/N set it gently on the coffee table and knelt beside her.

“Don’t say anything yet,” Y/N said quickly, brushing flour from her cheek. “Just… try it.”

Lizzie arched a brow, amused and intrigued. She leaned forward, setting her book aside and studying the dessert. It looked like something out of a five-star patisserie: a pale, glossy dome atop a thin layer of shortbread crust, topped with a crystallized edible flower. A fragrant citrus-honey aroma lifted to meet her.

She took the offered fork, pierced the delicate shell, and brought a small bite to her lips.

Immediately, her eyes fluttered shut.

The dome melted in her mouth like silk — layers of lavender cream, Meyer lemon curd, and a hint of vanilla that bloomed slowly across her tongue. The crust was buttery and just the right kind of salty, anchoring the sweetness with a quiet strength. It tasted like comfort. Like spring. Like love wrapped in sunshine.

When she opened her eyes, Y/N was watching her — nervously.

“I… don’t have a name for it yet,” she said. “I was playing with textures, and I thought about what you always say you love — lemon, lavender, not too sweet. It’s not the happiness pie, but it’s something new. Something…”

“Holy shit,” Lizzie whispered. “This is incredible.”

Y/N blinked, surprised.

“It tastes like…” Lizzie paused, searching. “Like the first time you told me you loved me. Remember that trip to Big Sur? That morning we woke up before sunrise and hiked out to that cliff?”

Y/N nodded, slowly smiling.

“That morning, everything was still,” Lizzie continued. “Just golden fog and sea air and your arms around me. This tastes like that morning felt.”

Y/N exhaled, her shoulders relaxing. “That’s exactly what I wanted. Something gentle. Quiet. Yours.”

Lizzie laughed softly, the emotion catching in her throat. “You made me a memory.”

Y/N leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “I made you a love letter. Just one you can eat.”

Lizzie kissed her again, deeper this time. She pulled Y/N up onto the chair with her, curling together under the blanket, the plate of dessert now forgotten on the table.

“What are you going to call it?” she murmured against Y/N’s collarbone.

“I was thinking…” Y/N hesitated, then smiled. “Sunrise.”

Lizzie beamed, tilting her head. “That’s perfect.”

“No one else will ever taste it,” Y/N added, resting her forehead against Lizzie’s. “Just you.”

Lizzie’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You spoil me.”

“You deserve it,” Y/N replied simply.

They sat like that for a long while — tangled limbs, soft laughter, the rain pattering in the background, and the lingering taste of lemon and lavender still on Lizzie’s tongue. It was, in every sense, a love story written not with words, but with flavor. With care. With home.

---

The soft hum of anticipation filled the restaurant as evening settled in. Y/N’s flagship location — Maison Lumière — was alive with warm candlelight, glinting crystal, and the low, elegant murmur of guests awaiting something special. It was the launch night of her new seasonal tasting menu — the culmination of three months of work, testing, late-night scribbles in her leather-bound food journal, and more than a few flour-dusted breakdowns in the kitchen.

But tonight, it was perfect.

Y/N moved like music behind the scenes — coordinating, tasting, adjusting plating with the precision of a concert conductor. Her sous-chef barked timing cues, the pastry chef hovered nervously nearby, and yet through it all, Y/N had only one thing on her mind:

Is Lizzie here yet?

She had made sure a table was reserved in the coziest corner — a candlelit two-top next to the window, tucked away from the public eye but still near the open view of the kitchen. A single stargazer lily rested in a small glass vase, her fiancée’s favorite. She’d spent nearly ten minutes personally adjusting the table setting, to the great amusement of her staff.

“She’s gonna marry you anyway,” her line cook teased.

Y/N grinned. “Yeah, and I’m still gonna treat her like a queen.”

And right on cue, the front-of-house manager whispered in her earpiece: “She’s here.”

Y/N didn’t even look up from the duck confit she was plating. “Send her to Table Four.”

From behind the pass, she peeked toward the dining room just in time to see Lizzie arrive — her deep green dress skimming the floor, her hair pulled into a loose bun, lips painted the soft plum color Y/N loved most. She looked like something out of a dream.

Y/N paused, heart thudding. No matter how many red carpets they’d walked, no matter how many mornings they woke up tangled in the same bed, Lizzie always had the power to make her breath catch.

She finished her plating, gave instructions for the next course, and grabbed a small envelope from her pocket. When the server approached Lizzie with the first course — a delicate amuse-bouche of smoked fig and whipped chèvre — the envelope was placed beside it.

Inside, a handwritten note:

To my favorite taste-tester,

Thanks for believing in every version of me.

Tonight’s menu is for the world.

But dessert — that’s just for you.

Love,

Your Chef

Lizzie smiled to herself, tucking the note into her purse, her eyes gleaming.

Halfway through the meal, while staff buzzed around her in organized chaos, Y/N stole a moment. She slipped out of the kitchen and crossed the dining floor, drawing subtle glances from guests who recognized her — the chef herself. But she only had eyes for one woman.

“Enjoying yourself?” Y/N murmured as she reached Lizzie’s table.

Lizzie beamed. “It’s stunning. The halibut? Ridiculous. I wanted to stand up and applaud.”

Y/N chuckled, brushing a hand down her arm. “You look incredible.”

“You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“Correction,” Y/N said. “I haven’t. But I’m running on espresso and love.”

Lizzie reached for her hand. “You’re killing it.”

“I made you something,” Y/N added, a spark in her eyes. “Special dessert. It's not on the menu.”

Lizzie arched a brow. “Another one?”

“New menu. New memory.”

Y/N disappeared back into the kitchen, and minutes later, her pastry chef brought it out: a deconstructed cherry almond tart — toasted almond cream layered with vanilla semifreddo, tart cherry reduction, and a honey tuile shaped like a crown.

Beneath it, written in chocolate on the plate: My Queen.

Lizzie blinked hard, overwhelmed.

The moment she took a bite, she melted — the balance of sweet and tang, the way the cherry’s brightness cut through the velvet of cream. But more than the flavor was the sentiment: every note of love Y/N had embedded in the dish. Lizzie moaned softly, savoring it with slow, appreciative bites, glancing now and then toward the kitchen like she could pull Y/N back with just her gaze.

Nearby, a couple at another table caught sight of the dessert and called their waitress over.

“What is that?” the woman asked, gesturing toward Lizzie’s plate. “We didn’t see that on the menu.”

The server gave an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry. That’s not part of tonight’s offerings — it was a custom dessert made by the chef for her fiancée.”

The couple glanced at each other, intrigued. “Could we maybe speak to the chef?”

The server relayed the request, and a few minutes later, Y/N emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, cheeks pink from the heat — and maybe a little embarrassment.

“Good evening,” she said warmly, approaching the table. “I heard you had a question about the dessert?”

“Yes, it looked divine,” the woman said. “We were hoping to try it.”

Y/N gave a sheepish smile. “I’m truly flattered, but that dessert isn’t on the menu. It’s something I created just for my fiancée.” She gestured toward Lizzie with a small, adoring glance. “It’s… hers.”

The couple chuckled, nodding in understanding. “That’s incredibly romantic,” the man said.

“It’s the least she deserves,” Y/N replied softly, then excused herself.

Back at her table, Lizzie was smirking, a little touched, a little teasing. “You sure know how to make a girl feel spoiled.”

Y/N leaned down, her voice low against her ear. “I like when the whole room knows who you belong to.”

Later, when the kitchen had finally quieted and only few guests were left, Y/N found her curled up on the small sofa in the back office, her heels kicked off, one arm draped across her stomach.

“You waited.”

“Of course I did.” Lizzie smiled, pulling her close as Y/N sat beside her. “You fed the whole city. Let me take care of you now.”

Y/N dropped her head to Lizzie’s lap with a tired sigh. “I don’t think I’ve sat down in ten hours.”

Lizzie brushed her fingers through Y/N’s hair, nails grazing her scalp. “Was it okay? Me eating that in front of the guests? I didn’t mean to cause a scene.”

Y/N turned her head to kiss the inside of her thigh through the silk of her dress. “You didn’t cause a scene. You reminded me why I do this.”

Lizzie’s fingers tightened in her hair. “God, I love when you say things like that.”

Y/N looked up, smirking. “Yeah?”

Lizzie’s voice dropped to a whisper, eyes gleaming. “Yeah. And I’m going to reward you for it later. I have a little surprise back home.”

Y/N raised a brow.

“You’ll see,” Lizzie murmured, brushing her lips across Y/N’s ear. “Let’s just say... I like when you’re too tired to think — and still completely mine.”

Y/N let out a soft groan, utterly consumed.

Y/N nuzzled her face deeper into Lizzie’s thigh, teeth just grazing the silk, teasing but reverent. “You keep talking like that, and I’m going to carry you out of here.”

Lizzie chuckled, low and intimate, her fingers dancing along the nape of Y/N’s neck. “That would certainly give the staff something to gossip about.”

“They already do,” Y/N said, lifting her head just enough to meet Lizzie’s eyes. “But I don’t care. You’re the best thing I’ve ever made room for.”

The words hung between them like the warm glow of candlelight — honest, unfiltered, and completely theirs.

A soft knock interrupted them. Y/N sighed and sat up reluctantly as one of her servers poked their head in, apologetic.

“Sorry, Chef. I didn’t want to interrupt but… Table Twelve asked for the dessert your fiancée had. They’re insisting they’d pay anything. I told them it’s not on the menu, but they’re asking if you’d come out to explain?”

Y/N blinked, then glanced at Lizzie, who looked equal parts amused and sheepish.

“Should I… not have eaten it like I was in a romantic food commercial?” Lizzie asked under her breath.

Y/N grinned. “No notes on the performance.” Then to the server: “Give me a minute. I’ll handle it.”

She kissed Lizzie’s knuckles as she rose, smoothing her apron as she headed out to the dining room. At Table Twelve, a small group of well-dressed guests greeted her eagerly.

“Chef!” one of them said, smiling. “That dessert your partner had — the one with the crown — is it truly off-menu? It looked… incredible.”

Y/N clasped her hands, her expression warm but firm. “Thank you, truly. I’m honored you noticed. That dessert is called My Queen… and it’s not on the menu because it’s something I created only for her.”

A soft wave of understanding passed through the table, a mix of admiration and disappointment.

“I’m really sorry,” Y/N added. “But it wouldn’t be special if it was for anyone else.”

They smiled anyway, raising their glasses. “Well, that’s the most romantic reason we’ve ever heard for being turned down.”

Back in the office, Y/N dropped onto the sofa again beside Lizzie with a sigh. Lizzie looked at her curiously. “Was it okay? That they asked, I mean. I didn’t mean to draw attention.”

Y/N turned to her, brushing a stray hair from her cheek. “It was more than okay. You don’t ever need to shrink for me, Liz. I want the world to see how much I love you.”

Lizzie’s gaze softened. “Even if it makes your life harder?”

Y/N leaned in, resting their foreheads together. “Especially then.”

A breath passed between them. Warm. Whole.

And just like that, the world melted away again — the kitchen, the noise, the questions. All that remained was this woman, her steady heart, and the promise of something sweet waiting for them both at home.

“Now,” Y/N whispered, grinning. “About that surprise…”

Lizzie only smirked. “You’ll need to earn it, Chef.”

“Challenge accepted.”

---

The surprise started the moment they stepped through the door.

Lizzie had insisted Y/N close her eyes as she led her inside. The scent of jasmine and something woodsy lingered in the air — a trail of lit candles leading down the hall to their bedroom. Soft music played from the corner speaker, something slow and rich that hummed beneath the silence. When Y/N opened her eyes, Lizzie was standing at the foot of the bed.

Her fingers slowly toyed with the silk sash of her robe. “Don’t move,” Lizzie said, voice low and commanding in a way that made Y/N’s pulse stumble. She pulled the sash loose with practiced ease, letting the robe slide off her shoulders.

The sight hit Y/N like a slow exhale.

Lizzie stood in nothing but sheer, delicate lace — a soft blush-colored lingerie set Y/N had never seen before. It hugged her curves with reverence: the bra scalloped and dipping low between her breasts, the garter straps trailing down to thigh-high stockings, all subtle shimmer and temptation.

Y/N’s mouth went dry. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Lizzie took one slow step forward, her hips swaying just enough to make it unfair. “That’s not the plan,” she whispered. “The plan is to make you forget everything except how much I love you.”

Y/N reached for her, but Lizzie shook her head. “You’re not touching until I say.”

It was a long night.

A night filled with Lizzie taking control — and then surrendering it. A night of laughter muffled by kisses, hands tangled in sheets, limbs wrapped tight as though they couldn’t possibly get close enough. Lizzie whispered devotion into Y/N’s ear while she rode her slowly, deliberately, her name a prayer on Y/N’s lips. And when Y/N laid Lizzie out with reverence and worshipped her with hands and mouth and heart, Lizzie cried out against her neck, trembling with love.

They didn’t sleep so much as drift — catching breath, clinging tighter, and starting again until even the candles burned low.

---

The next morning arrived quiet and golden.

Lizzie stirred in Y/N’s arms, both of them bare under the soft white sheets. Her cheek was pressed against Y/N’s chest, their legs tangled, her fingers curled loosely against her side. Y/N was already awake, her hand tracing slow, languid patterns across Lizzie’s back. Neither had spoken for several minutes, content in the hush of the morning.

Lizzie’s voice broke the silence, drowsy and warm. “You know we haven’t picked a venue yet, right?”

Y/N groaned softly, eyes still closed. “This is how you’re starting my Sunday? With logistics?”

Lizzie lifted her head, blinking at her through sleep-hazed lashes. “With our wedding. That’s romance, babe.”

Y/N cracked one eye open. “I was hoping you’d forget.”

Lizzie smirked, leaning up on one elbow and letting her fingers drift down Y/N’s bare collarbone. “You love me too much to skip it. And I’ve waited too long to get to say ‘I do’ to you.”

Y/N sighed in surrender, her lips twitching into a smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re mine.” Lizzie kissed her softly, lingering.

The kiss turned deeper, slower, until the conversation gave way to breath and skin. Y/N’s fingers slipped beneath the hem of Lizzie’s sleep shirt — the only thing she’d managed to throw on when they finally collapsed hours ago — brushing warm skin above her waist.

“Still think we should get out of bed?” Y/N murmured.

“No,” Lizzie whispered, climbing into her lap with a soft sigh. “We’re very busy.”

They undressed each other again, this time unhurried, like it was sacred — like they were making morning their own private ritual. Y/N pulled the shirt over Lizzie’s head slowly, letting it fall beside them, her hands mapping familiar skin as if rediscovering it. Lizzie leaned down, kissing along Y/N’s jaw, her mouth trailing heat and love down her neck.

Y/N rolled them gently, her body covering Lizzie’s, and pressed her lips to her ear. “I love you.”

Lizzie looked up at her, eyes shining in the morning light. “I know,” she whispered. “Show me.”

And Y/N did — again and again, in every kiss, every whispered promise, every slow breath they shared.

Afterward, wrapped around each other in the tangle of their bed, Lizzie lazily kissed Y/N’s shoulder and murmured, “We should do venue talk after orgasms more often.”

Y/N chuckled, burying her face in Lizzie’s hair. “Best way to get me to agree to anything.”

Lizzie smiled. “Good. Because I already booked two tours for next week.”

Y/N groaned again, but didn’t let go. Not for the world.

---

The following week arrived with a soft breeze and sun-kissed skies — the kind of early spring warmth that made the world feel full of promise. Y/N and Lizzie drove out of the city, hand in hand across the center console, music humming low between them. Lizzie wore sunglasses and a white linen shirt that floated gently in the breeze from the open window. Y/N couldn’t stop glancing at her.

Their first tour of the day was at a vineyard tucked in the hills, about an hour and a half from the city — known for its wines, yes, but more importantly, for its sweeping views, golden light, and rustic-modern barn space used for intimate weddings. Lizzie had found it late one night, scrolling Pinterest with a glass of red in hand, and immediately said, “This is the one.”

Y/N hadn’t disagreed — but she wanted to see it in person.

And once they arrived, she was speechless.

The gravel driveway curved through rows of orderly vines, already waking from winter. Lavender bushes lined the walkways. In the distance, the barn-turned-reception-hall stood like a painting — pale wood, large windows, and a wide deck overlooking the valley. A little chapel sat farther up the hill, white-washed and charming, with ivy curling up one side.

Lizzie glanced over as Y/N stepped out of the car, shielding her eyes from the sun. “You’re thinking something.”

“I’m thinking we might not even need to see the second place.”

Lizzie grinned, slipping her hand into Y/N’s. “Told you.”

Their guide, a warm older woman named Maria, led them on a slow walk through the grounds. They saw the vineyard ceremony lawn, lined with wooden chairs and facing the sunset. The barn’s interior had soaring beams and golden chandeliers, already set with a long harvest table, wine barrels decorating the corners. Twinkle lights crisscrossed the ceiling.

“It looks like us,” Y/N said quietly as they paused in the doorway, their fingers still linked.

Lizzie leaned her head against Y/N’s shoulder. “It feels like us.”

When they reached the deck behind the barn, Lizzie pulled her in close, eyes shining. “Imagine this spot for our first dance. Everyone behind us. Just you and me and the sky.”

Y/N didn’t answer at first. She just turned to face her fully, hands sliding up Lizzie’s waist.

“Okay,” Y/N whispered. “This is it. This is where I want to marry you.”

Lizzie beamed, barely containing her joy as she stood on her tiptoes and kissed her — soft and sure, right there in the sunlight.

They signed the contract that afternoon, and toasted with glasses of chilled rosé, sitting beneath a vine-wrapped pergola.

“To us,” Lizzie said, raising her glass.

“To the beginning of forever,” Y/N replied, clinking hers against it.

And in that golden vineyard, surrounded by nature and each other, the future had never looked more beautiful.

---

The weeks leading up to the wedding had been, for the most part, smooth and joyful. Plans fell into place, florists and caterers confirmed, and fittings turned into laughter-filled afternoons. But for Y/N, the demands of her restaurant surged as spring reservations filled quickly, critics came through unannounced, and one of her sous chefs quit without warning.

The day it all came to a head, Y/N arrived home late, exhausted and frayed, the collar of her chef’s coat wrinkled, her eyes shadowed. She dropped her bag by the door and leaned against the frame, silent.

Lizzie, who had been curled on the couch reviewing a seating chart, looked up immediately. “Babe…”

Y/N didn’t respond right away, just let her head fall back with a sigh.

“Come here,” Lizzie said gently, rising and guiding her into the kitchen. “I made you tea.”

“I don’t want tea. I want… out.”

Lizzie tilted her head. “Out?”

Y/N nodded, defeated. “Just for a few days. Somewhere without phones or menus or timelines. Just… us.”

Lizzie’s eyes softened. She set the mug down, took Y/N’s hand in hers, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Then we’ll get out. I’ll book something tonight.”

The next morning, they packed quickly. A few sweaters, wool socks, wine, a pile of books, and snacks from the local market. Lizzie grinned as she zipped their duffel. “I found a place in the Catskills. Fireplace, snow, no cell signal. Heaven.”

And it was.

The cabin sat nestled in the quiet stillness of the Catskills — surrounded by trees, kissed with snow, and utterly removed from the noise of their lives. They arrived at dusk, unloaded groceries and duffel bags, and immediately collapsed on the couch, limbs tangled beneath a shared throw.

That first night, they didn’t speak much — just exchanged slow kisses between sips of red wine, bodies pressed together by the fire. Lizzie nestled deeper into Y/N’s lap, her hand tucked under the hem of her fiancée’s hoodie, fingers tracing gentle circles on bare skin.

Y/N leaned her head back with a sigh. “I missed this.”

“Me too,” Lizzie whispered. “Let’s stay here forever.”

She shifted to straddle Y/N’s lap, pushing the hoodie up inch by inch until her fingers found the bare skin of her lower back. Their lips met again — slower this time, patient and exploring. Y/N’s hands slid under the back of Lizzie’s thighs, guiding her closer, and Lizzie gasped when their hips pressed together.

“Take me to bed,” she whispered against her lips.

Y/N didn’t answer — just scooped her up in strong arms and carried her toward the firelit bedroom. They undressed between kisses and laughter, clothes falling wherever they may, their bodies drawn to each other like they were magnetic. When Lizzie pulled Y/N on top of her, their bare skin meeting fully, she cupped her cheek and said softly, “Touch me like you miss me.”

“I always miss you,” Y/N murmured, kissing her slowly. “Even when I’m holding you.”

They made love slowly, their movements fluid and tender — hands exploring, mouths mapping familiar landscapes, bodies humming in rhythm with their hearts. Y/N kissed her everywhere — along the curve of her shoulder, the swell of her hip, the inside of her thigh — and Lizzie’s gasps and moans were like music in the firelight.

When Lizzie reached her peak, her nails dug softly into Y/N’s back and her legs trembled around her. Y/N held her through it, kissing her tears when they came, whispering love over and over like a prayer.

And when they collapsed together afterward, breathless and bare beneath the quilt, Y/N wrapped her arms tightly around Lizzie and whispered, “You’re my home.”

They stayed that way for a long time — wrapped in each other, outside of time — while the fire crackled on and the snow continued to fall just beyond the windowpane.

The next few days passed in a dream — hiking, shared baths, lazy mornings where Y/N woke Lizzie up with kisses trailing down her spine and soft moans buried in the sheets.

One afternoon, after they’d returned from a walk along the lake, Y/N slipped behind Lizzie while she washed dishes and pressed a kiss to her neck. “I’ve been thinking about our vows,” she murmured, arms circling her waist.

Lizzie leaned back into her. “Yeah?”

“I don’t just want to promise forever. I want to promise you morning coffee with your favorite toast. A back rub on long days. Your favorite dessert after shitty interviews. Safety. All of it.”

Lizzie turned in her arms and cupped her face. “That’s what I want, too.”

Y/N kissed her hard then, lifting her onto the counter and parting her knees. Lizzie’s breath hitched as Y/N kissed down her throat, then lower — slow and hungry, worshipping her right there in the quiet kitchen, the sound of the snowstorm outside barely louder than the gasps she pulled from her lover.

Their final night at the cabin was laced with melancholy and magic. Lizzie stood barefoot on the back porch in one of Y/N’s sweatshirts, holding the worn leather journal she’d found in her bag.

“I read it,” she said softly, handing it over. “The vows.”

Y/N blinked. “You weren’t supposed to—”

“They were beautiful,” Lizzie interrupted gently. “You wrote that you wanted to promise me joy when the world feels gray. That you’d be my silence when I need peace. My breakfast on Mondays.”

Y/N stepped into the snow and wrapped her arms around her. “I meant every word.”

Lizzie smiled tearfully. “Let’s promise it now.”

They kissed as the snow fell around them, arms wrapped tight, and when they returned inside, they made love one more time beneath the glow of firelight — soft, slow, full of promise. Y/N kissed every inch of Lizzie’s skin like she was memorizing her, and Lizzie whispered her love into every breathless sigh, every shiver, every kiss.

The wedding would come later, yes. But here, in this quiet cabin carved from cold and kissed with love, they’d already said their vows in the language only they spoke — love, touch, devotion, and joy.

---

They returned home with the scent of pine still lingering in their clothes and snowflakes melting off their boots. Their hearts were full, their bodies still warm from the cocoon of the cabin, but the rhythm of real life was waiting — and with it, the final stretch of wedding preparations.

Invitations had already gone out, and responses were trickling in faster than they could update the guest list. The vineyard was booked — a sprawling estate tucked in the hills of Napa, lush with green rows and golden light, perfect for the kind of wedding that felt more like a celebration than a show. Lizzie had chosen her dress in secret, refusing to give Y/N even the faintest detail, and Y/N did the same with her tux — both of them determined to preserve that moment, the reveal, the first look, as something sacred.

They met with the florist again, choosing wildflowers and eucalyptus, soft lilacs and creamy roses. Lizzie made changes to the table settings while Y/N finalized the menu with the vineyard’s chef, sneaking in a surprise dessert that she refused to let Lizzie preview.

Evenings became soft and domestic again — Lizzie working at the dining table with swatches of linen and playlists for the ceremony, while Y/N cooked late into the night, humming to herself as she tested miniature versions of hors d'oeuvres.

Some nights, they stayed up too late, sprawled on the couch in pajamas, glasses of wine half-finished on the coffee table as they practiced their first dance to an old vinyl playing in the background. And on quieter mornings, Lizzie would find Y/N in the kitchen scribbling into that same leather journal, rewriting her vows — not because the old ones weren’t good enough, but because every day with Lizzie made her love grow, made her want to say more.

One afternoon, they drove out to the vineyard just to walk the grounds, fingers laced, imagining the aisle, the ceremony, the toasts. As the sun dipped low behind the hills, bathing everything in gold, Lizzie leaned her head on Y/N’s shoulder.

“We’re really doing it,” she whispered.

Y/N kissed her hair. “We already did.”

The countdown continued — ten days, then five, then three — and through it all, their connection never wavered. The cabin had given them peace, but the days that followed brought grounding, anchoring them in a love that was steady and sure. They teased each other constantly about what they’d wear, but not once did either of them peek — both savoring the anticipation of that first glimpse, that once-in-a-lifetime moment.

Their wedding day was coming. But what they’d built already — in kitchens and cabins, in soft mornings and snow-covered kisses — was the kind of forever they’d promised long before anyone heard them say “I do.”

---

Does anyone want to see their wedding?

[egglain]

Letters to Santa

Rating: E (18+) - mdni Pairing: Nanami x GN! reader Content: dickcember day 4 - sexting, at work, desire

if there’s a prompt + character you want to see next, requests are open! send an ask :)

Nanami Kento was a hard worker.

He always clocked in on time, took his lunch at the same time, left his desk right as the clock hit 5.

Which is why this could not happen.

Mouth full of rice– part of the pretty bento you had packed him that morning– he had opened his phone for the first time this shift. 3 unopened message badges lit up his screen. This was always his favourite time of day; the moment he gets to hear your thoughts, to wish you a good lunch.

On his screen, at full brightness, he opened his text app.

hi <3

[1 image attached]

hope u like :) see u soon!

Nanami Kento was a hard worker.

As in– his cock had never been harder at work.

Fuck.

Thick, strong fingers typed a speedy response as white teeth worried the inside of his cheek.

Darling.

Fuck.

***

Taking a bite of your sandwich, you couldn’t help but grin at Nanami’s curt response.

Your handsome husband was perfect in every way– attentive, thoughtful, competent. The only downside? He was uptight. As fuck.

So to swear?

And at work, nonetheless?

You wish you could see him now– even if it was just as a fly on the wall.

yes, kento? <3

You finished your sandwich, calm as ever. You could witness him squirm all day without batting an eyelash– he was so easy to tease.

Five minutes passed; you put away your lunch, settling back in your rolling chair as you scrolled mindlessly on your phone.

Your lock screen lit up with a notification from Hubby <3.

[1 image attached]

Nanami Kento– your gorgeous, composed, responsible husband– was a nasty little freak.

The photo was taken from above, angled downwards in an industrial grey bathroom stall. A spotted tie was trapped between pearly teeth, chiselled jaw working the fabric. A brown leather belt hung open, khaki pressed chinos unzipped and pushed down blonde-dusted thighs.

Look what you did.

Nanami’s veiny left hand wrapped around the shaft of a pretty cock. Blonde dusted his abdomen, trimmed neatly to frame his pale, girthy base. 

Fix this.

Now.

Those eyes bore into yours through the screen. He wouldn’t take no for an answer; not when he was like this.

As much as you wanted relief yourself, you knew better than to scurry off to a bathroom stall. Nanami Kento was like a bloodhound; he always knew when you had satisfied yourself (in his words). He did not take kindly to the idea, much preferring to have you unravel on his fingers, tongue, or cock.

This was a test, of sorts– if you could stay strong, get through the day being good, your reward would be so much sweeter than any half-assed release you got from your left hand now.

so needy <3

As much as he played the role of a put-together, dominant husband, Nanami Kento flustered so beautifully under your subtle teasing.

[0:14]

A voice note popped up on your screen. Fumbling for your earbuds and triple checking they connected, you hit play.

Through heavy breaths, soft grunts punctuated the rustling of what you presumed to be his arm– if the soft plaps were anything to go by.

aww,,, touching yourself, bby? 

at work? 

u just wanna get found

Somewhere across the city, a very red Nanami Kento fucked his fist harder.

[0:32]

This time, it was a video.

The breaths were louder. It was taken low, clearly filmed using his thighs to steady the camera. The dull, blushed head of his dick was slicked beautifully; clear precum welled up at his tip as that big hand fisted his cock. Long fingers spanned his length, stroking his many inches from base to tip. As he reached the head, strong digits squeezed, wringing out his precum and running the pad of a thumb through the mess. 

He looked utterly edible.

just like that, bby

keep goin for me

You grinned, taking a peek around your cubicle to ensure you were alone. Most of your coworkers were long gone for lunch, so there wasn’t much danger, though it was a very public space.

Still, you couldn’t help unbuttoning the top of your shirt, snapping a sneaky picture of your chest.

[sent: 1 image]

need u bby <3

waiting so good 4 u rn

You had no idea just how much you affected your composed husband.

Fuck

Dotn say that shit

A typo AND two swear words? Oh, he was fucked up.

Seconds later, it loaded.

[1 image attached]

A shaky photo, taken from above just like the first. His pretty cock stood angry against his abdomen, red from tip to base. Veins strained against his thin skin, dick so beautifully swollen. A sinful bead of his thick seed drooped heavy, mid-roll down his shaft. The ropes of his release sullied his hands, connecting those thick fingers with pearlescent strings.

You wanted to put your mouth on it.

need u so bad kento.

A beat.

Yeah? Wet at work, darling?

Naughty as fuck, sending me lewd pictures like that. What if Higuruma had seen?

I’m sure you’d like that, wouldn’t you, slut?

No touching yourself.

You’ll cum enough tonight.

banners by @strangergraphics!

[gpcwsl]

Hellooo :) aw yay! may i do a request for Leah Williamson x Alessia Russo x R as a throuple, and its media day with fans submitting questions?

The questions are “who fell first, who fell harder? How did you all become a pairing, who ask who out? Most likely to get jealous, most romantic..” and at the end the admin ask them to each say their favorite thing about each of their girlfriends? Lots of fluff and cuteness!

( you are one of my favorite authors on here!) :)

Warnings: nothing? Guess three people dating, and short. I am not shipping Leah and Alessia, they are good friends!

Alessia Russo x Leah Williamson x Reader

- Three’s company -

MasterList

It was media day at Arsenal, and the players were buzzing with energy. The cameras were rolling, the crew was setting up, and the club’s social media team had prepared a series of fan-submitted questions for a special sit-down featuring the team’s most unconventional, yet most adored relationship: Leah Williamson, Alessia Russo, and you.

The three of you sat side by side on a plush couch in front of a vibrant Arsenal-branded backdrop. Leah was in the middle, one arm slung casually around Alessia’s shoulders, the other resting on your thigh. Alessia was already giggling at something the admin said, while you nudged Leah playfully, trying to keep the mood light despite the cameras.

“Okay, everyone,” the admin began, adjusting their clipboard. “We’ve had an overwhelming number of questions for you three, so let’s dive right in.”

Leah leaned back, a playful grin on her face. “Let’s do it.”

“Question 1: “Who fell first?”

The admin read the question aloud, and immediately Alessia and Leah turned to you with matching smirks.

“You’re joking, right?” Alessia teased, nudging you with her elbow.

Your cheeks flushed as you rolled your eyes. “Okay, fine. It was me. But in my defense, you two are kind of hard not to fall for.”

Leah laughed, squeezing your thigh. “You were definitely a goner the moment Alessia smiled at you. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“Hey!” you protested, shooting Leah a mock glare. “It wasn’t just Alessia. You had me completely distracted during training for weeks.”

Alessia laughed, leaning into Leah. “So basically, we were both irresistible. Noted.”

Question 2: “Who fell harder?”

This time, all three of you paused to think. Leah was the first to answer.

“Alessia,” she said with a teasing grin.

“Excuse me?” Alessia protested, her eyes wide.

“You’re just a hopeless romantic,” Leah replied, her voice full of affection. “I mean, you cried during that cheesy rom-com we watched last week.”

“That’s different!” Alessia exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “It’s not my fault they reunited at the airport after five years!”

You chimed in, laughing. “I think Leah’s deflecting because she’s the one who fell the hardest. She literally wrote me a two-page letter after our first date.”

“eah groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Why would you bring that up?”

“Because it was adorable,” you said, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

Question 3: “How did you all become a pairing? Who asked who out?”

The three of you exchanged glances, and Alessia spoke up first.

“Well, Leah and I had been close for years,” she began. “We were best friends, but there was always… something more. We just didn’t admit it for ages.”

“And then you came along,” Leah added, looking at you. “You joined the team, and suddenly everything changed. We both liked you, but neither of us wanted to say anything at first.”

“Until one night after a team dinner,” Alessia continued, grinning. “Leah blurted out that she thought you were gorgeous.”

Leah groaned again, but you laughed. “And then Alessia backed her up by saying she’d been crushing on me for weeks. It was a little overwhelming, but in the best way.”

“And who asked who out?” the admin prompted.

“Technically, I asked both of you out,” Alessia said, shrugging. “I figured someone had to take charge.”

“She brought us flowers,” you added with a fond smile. “One bouquet for each of us.”

Question 4: “Who’s most likely to get jealous?”

“Leah,” you and Alessia said in unison, earning a mock-offended look from Leah.

“What? No way!” Leah protested.

“You absolutely get jealous,” Alessia teased. “Remember when that fan was overly friendly with me at the meet-and-greet?”

Leah crossed her arms, trying not to smile. “I wasn’t jealous. I was… protective.”

“Sure, Captain Protective,” you said, grinning. “You gave them the death glare for a full five minutes.”

“Fine,” Leah admitted, holding her hands up. “Maybe I get a little jealous sometimes. But can you blame me? I’m dating two amazing women. I don’t want to share.”

Question 5: “Who’s the most romantic?”

Alessia raised her hand immediately. “Me. No contest.”

Leah rolled her eyes playfully. “You’re just saying that because you leave notes in our lockers.”

“And plan surprise dates,” you added, leaning into Alessia.

“And make us breakfast in bed,” Leah admitted.

“Exactly,” Alessia said, grinning triumphantly.

“Okay, fine, you win,” Leah said with a laugh.

Final Question: “What’s your favorite thing about each of your girlfriends?”

The room went quiet as all three of you exchanged glances. Leah was the first to speak.

“About Alessia?” Leah began, her voice soft. “It’s her kindness. She always puts others first, and she has this way of making everyone feel special. And about you…” She turned to you, her eyes shining. “It’s your strength. You’re resilient and grounded, and you keep us both in check.”

Alessia smiled, brushing a tear from her eye. “Leah, my favorite thing about you is your passion. You care so much about everything—football, your friends, your family. It’s inspiring. And about you,” she said, looking at you, “it’s your humor. You always know how to make us laugh, even on the hardest days.”

You took a deep breath, your cheeks flushing. “Leah, my favorite thing about you is your loyalty. You’re always there for us, no matter what. And Alessia, it’s your warmth. You make everything feel like home.”

The admin clapped their hands together, breaking the moment. “That was perfect! I think the fans are going to love this.”

Leah, Alessia, and you exchanged smiles, the love between you radiating in the room. It was clear to everyone watching that this was more than a relationship—it was a partnership, built on trust, laughter, and a whole lot of love.

[hyunjincanraptoo]

Uno and chill- H.HJ (part 2)

After promising posting part 2 the whole week, it's finally official hehe sorry it took so long, I was very tired. And I don't remember if Hyunjin has short or long hair in the other part so pretend that his hair just grew.

I also want to share with you that Sunday we will have an Easter special fic AND a new prompt list coming out, so stick around 😊

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: smut, dom!reader

Part 1

Alexa, play Red Lights by Hyunjin & Bang Chan

You weren’t ready.

Months had passed since that night. That game. That kiss. Since Hyunjin flipped a hidden card with a smug grin and wrecked your life in the most delicious way possible.

But now you were in his city— Seoul.

And your job had decided to partner with his group.

Of course, the universe had a questionable sense of humor.

You fidgeted with your badge, trying to act professional as you walked into the studio with your team. Stray Kids was already there, cameras flashing, makeup artists touching up, stylists fluttering around like anxious butterflies. It was chaos.

And then you felt it— eyes on you.

You didn’t have to look to know it was him standing up so suddenly his chair almost overturned.

“UNO GIRL?!”, he said way too loud.

You froze. Literally froze in place. Several heads turned. One of your coworkers blinked in confusion. Your boss narrowed her eyes.

You stormed across the room, grabbed Hyunjin’s sleeve, and yanked him down the hall, ignoring his laughing protests.

The second the bathroom door closed behind you, you turned on him. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

He leaned against the counter like he wasn’t the problem, “I missed you too”

“Hyunjin”, you hissed “Shut up”.

Of course he didn’t. Instead, he stepped closer. “Come on. Months without a single text? That’s cold, even for you”

“You were the one who didn't text me! I left my number on that damn Uno card! But since you didn't say anything, I figured you were busy, you know. Being famous, body rolling on stages, choking random fans in hotel rooms”

His grin turned dark at that, “Oh? You remember that part?”

And before you could answer, he dipped his head, brushing his lips against your neck. His voice dropped low and wicked.

“Right here, wasn’t it?”

You inhaled sharply.

He kissed the same spot again. Slower. Then let his fingers rest lightly at your throat, the memory of his grip making your breath hitch.

Then, his voice tone shifted to lower, rougher. “Did anyone else touch you, these last few months?”

The question wasn’t fair. Not with the way his body crowded yours. Not with his hand on your skin and his mouth so close.

You shook your head, “N-No…”

He smiled. Not sweet, not soft— satisfied

“Good”

Then he pulled back, just enough to meet your eyes. The heat in his gaze didn’t fade.

“Wait for me when this ends”, he said simply, “Don’t run again”

And with that, he turned and walked out of the bathroom like he hadn’t just unraveled you in under five minutes.

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

You were useless for the rest of the photoshoot.

Every time you tried to focus, your thoughts spun back to that damn bathroom. His fingers ghosting over your neck. The way he said ‘good’. The way he looked at you like you were still his— like you never stopped being.

Your coworkers were reviewing lists and discussing lighting setups, and all you could do was stare.

Because Hyunjin was performing for the camera like it was foreplay.

Eyes half-lidded, tongue peeking out, unnecessary body rolls paired with smirks aimed directly at you.

And he knew it.

He’d glance your way after every shot, lips twitching like he could hear your pulse from across the room. The worst part? You were pretty sure he could.

By the time the shoot ended, you felt like you had survived a silent war.

So when your phone buzzed, you didn’t even hesitate.

Unknown number: ‘Meet me at the back lot. I’m taking you home. Changbin will be out. We’ll be alone’

The text alone did unspeakable things to your already chaotic mind.

You slipped away from the team, heart hammering in your chest like you were sixteen sneaking out to meet a boy who already ruined you once and was definitely about to do it again.

He was waiting by a black van, dressed in sweats and a hoodie, mask tugged down just enough to show the smirk he wore like an armor.

“Took you long enough”, he murmured.

“I had to make sure no one saw me”

He leaned close, lips brushing your ear again, whispering the way he did hours earlier, voice dripping heat and memory.

“Don’t worry, baby. You’ll be screaming loud enough later that someone will”

And then he opened the door for you, like a gentleman.

A very, very troublemaker one.

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Hyunjin’s dorm was unexpectedly cozy. You hadn’t known what to expect— maybe something cold, minimalist, like the carefully crafted parts of his idol imagine. But it was the opposite. It was soft, warm with books stacked in the corners, half burned incense on a small ceramic dish, and blankets draped over the back of his couch like he had tried, but failed, to fold them neatly.

You barely stepped inside before he pulled you close and leaned down, his breath warm against your mouth. 

“I missed these lips”, he whispered, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip before leaning in to kiss you.

But you stopped him, palm to his chest, grinning, “Wait… what about the rematch?”

He blinked, then narrowed his eyes playfully, “You’re serious?”

You crossed your arms, “A bet’s a bet. You cheated at Uno, remember?”

He groaned, “I don’t even have Uno!”

“Okay, then what do you have?”

Hyunjin sighed dramatically and walked over to a cabinet, “Let’s see… Monopoly, Jenga… ”. He turned around slowly, raising a brow, “Twister”.

You bit your lip, holding back a laugh, “Perfect”

A few minutes later, the colored mat was rolled out on his living room floor, and Hyunjin was stretching like he was preparing for the olympics.

“You’re way too excited for this”, you said, standing opposite him.

He grinned, “You have no idea”

From the very first spin, the game was doomed— not because either of you lacked skill, but because you both had absolutely no intention of keeping it innocent. Every move was a flirt, every stretch, an excuse. His arm brushed against your chest “accidentally”. You moved your hip back into his crotch on purpose, biting back a smug smile when you heard him suck in a breath.

“Left foot red”, you announced, glancing up just as he struggled to reach over you. His shirt rode up. His hips brushed yours. And when you arched just slightly against him— just for teasing— he slipped.

With a dramatic gasp, Hyunjin’s balance gave out and he tumbled forward right on top of you.

The two of you collapsed into a messy heap , him hovering above you, chest to chest, lips a whisper away from yours. A sharp breath caught in your throat as he braced himself above you, palms on either side of your head, your bodies perfectly aligned, his thighs caging yours. His chest heaved. So did yours.

“Oops. Guess I lost”, he said, not even pretending.

You blinked up at him, trying to keep your voice steady, “So… wanna know what’s the prize this time?”

His eyes darkened instantly, already leaning in, “Kiss for a kiss?”

You smirked “No”

He blinked, “No?”

“I wanna tie you on the bed”

That shut him up.

His lips parted, and for a second, he looked like he might combust on the spot. But then a delicious, dangerous smile curved his lips.

“A bet is a bet, right?”

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

All the warmth of the dorm extended to Hyunjin's bedroom. The lights were low, dark wooden shelves held a variety of things. His bed wasn’t particularly big, but the sheets were soft and there were too many pillows. A small vinyl record player sat on his desk, with a stack of albums in the corner.

But what changed everything— what shifted the mood— was when he pressed a small button near his nightstand and the entire room bloomed red.

Not bright. Not harsh. Just deep, ambient red light that gave the walls a velvet tone.

He watched you from the middle of the room, already shirtless, his skin flushed in the glow like something out of a dream. 

“Just helping set the mood”, he murmured, trying to act cool but the flicker in his gaze gave him away. He was nervous but still excited for whatever was coming.

You walked slowly toward him, holding the soft tie in your hand—  the silk scarf you were wearing earlier that day.

“Strip and lie down”, you said softly, “Face up”

Hyunjin swallowed, nodded and obeyed.

He looked stunning under the red lights— flushed cheeks, tousled hair, chest rising and falling a little too quickly. You took your time tying his wrists to the headboard, fingers grazing his skin a little longer than necessary, enjoying how he shivered beneath you.

“You good?” you whispered.

He nodded, eyes fluttering closed for a second before opening again. “What’s the safe word?”

You smirked, “Let’s keep it classic. Uno” 

He groaned, “You’re mean, cold as ice”

Something he said flipped a switch in your head. “Ice”, you murmured, then leaned in, your lips brushing the corner of his mouth, “That’s a great idea”.

You stood slowly, walking toward the dorm fridge, ignoring his protests. “Where… where are you going?”, he asked, voice raw.

You didn’t answer, just pulled open the freezer, grabbed a single ice cube, and held it up between two fingers like it was something precious.

When you entered the bedroom again, his eyes widened slightly, flicking from your hand to your smirk, “Wh– what are you gonna do with that?”

You settled back on him, straddling his hips, dragging the ice slowly along your own collarbone. “Just thought we could play with some… temperature control”, you whispered, letting a single cold drop fall on his chest.

He shivered violently, a helpless sound slipping from his throat.

The next trail of melting water you traced along his stomach, circling his navel before heading lower. His muscles tightened beneath your touch. He tried to close his legs, but your body pinned him in place.

“you don’t get to squirm”, you said, licking a drop off his skin before it fell.

Then you hovered just over his cock, the ice cube now resting against the fabric of his boxers, soaking a dark patch into the thin material. He gasped, hips jerked, and you responded immediately, “Didn’t I say no moving?”

“Fuck, baby… please”, he moaned, nearly breathless, “You’re driving me insane”.

You smiled, dragging the ice up his chest again, this time letting it melt fully between your fingers and drip across his nipples. His head tipped back against the pill and Hyunjin sank his teeth on his bottom lip.

“Say the safe word if it’s too much”, you whispered, watching him twitch.

“Uno…”, he gasped, eyes wild.

You raised a brow, “Already?! Do you really want me to stop?”

He swallowed hard, lips parting but no answer came.

You leaned down, licking the water from his neck, voice sultry against his skin, “That’s what I thought”

You finally got rid of both your underwear. Then you moved, lowering yourself onto him inch by inch, cruelly slow. His entire body arched off the bed, a choked sound slipped from his throat— something between a gasp and a growl.

“F-fuck, you feel… so damn warm, baby, please…”

“Ah- ah”, you said, your hand sliding back to his throat, not pressing, just resting there, “You don’t get to move yet”.

He moaned, eyes wide and pleading, hips twitching involuntarily as you rolled your own in slow, merciless circles. “I…  I couldn’t help it”, he panted, “You’re torturing me”

You leaned down until your lips brushed his ear, “That’s the idea”

Then you rocked forward again, achingly slow, dragging your nails down his chest just enough to make him shiver. His hands strained uselessly against the scarf, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut like he was trying not to completely lose it.

You kept the rhythm slow, steady, sensual. Grinding down hard one moment, then lifting off just enough to make him whimper. Every time he begged, you clenched, pulsing around him until he twitched and throbbed beneath you.

“You’re not very obedient tonight”, you said sweetly, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Should we come up with the safe word?”

Hyunjin gave a breathless laugh. “God, yes. Please.”

He moaned loudly as you bounced once,  hard enough to take his breath away, before going right back to a slow grind.

 “Then, say it”

A few more moments passed in pure torture. Every movement from him, every twitch, every sound was met with delicious punishment— either a clench, a tease, or you pulling off him entirely just to make him beg.

And he did.

Over and over.

Until, finally, he cracked. “Uno. Uno, Uno. Fuck… please"

You slowed, eyes locked on his, but didn’t stop.

“Humm. That didn’t sound very convincing”

“I said the safe word”,  he groaned, hips jerking.

“And I heard you”, you smiled, devilish, “But I thought you liked someone cheating”

His mouth fell open in disbelief then you clenched again, and his head dropped back with a curse.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna die”

”I’ll stop if you want me to”

“No”, he groaned, helpless, “Please don’t stop. Please don't”

“So desperate”, you whispered, “Such a good toy”

He whimpered, fingers curling as you rode him harder now, driving him insane.

You felt it when he started to fall apart, the way he trembled under you, the way his moans turned breathless and broken.

“I’m close… I’m so close… please let me come”, he cried out.

He was trembling beneath you, wrists flexing against the silk you’d tied them with. His eyes followed your every move— hungry, desperate, and glassy with need.

“Yn…” he whined, voice wrecked.

You tilted your head playfully, “Hum?”

“I c–can’t take it anymore, please… I have to… .”

He let out a needy whimper, the kind that only made you feel more powerful. Your hips rolled forward before stopping completely, just to make him lose his sanity, still not giving him what he wanted. His eyes fluttered shut, jaw clenched hard.

“You’re being so good for me, Hyunjin”, you murmured, your fingers trailing back up to his face, brushing over his cheek and lips. He leaned into it, greedy for your touch, chasing your hand like it was oxygen.

His legs shifted restlessly under you, thighs trembling from holding back.

His eyes snapped open, blown wide with lust and submission. “Please… I want to come inside of you. I need to release everything inside you. Please, Yn… I can’t hold it anymore, just let me”

A grin curled on your lips. You leaned in, slowly dragging your hips forward, “Did I break you, baby?”, you whispered.

His hips jerked beneath you, entirely involuntary. “Yes”, he choked out, “You broke me. You fucking ruined me”.

Satisfied, you untied one of his wrists slowly. Then the other.

And then, you finally moved again, lips meeting his swallowing desperate moan with a kiss as he clutched your waist like a man drowning.

His whole body shuddered underneath yours, forehead pressed to your shoulder.

“I missed this”, he groaned, “I missed you”

You established a torturously slow pace, your hand tangled in his hair, the other pressing gently into his chest to keep him down and still.

“I’m not done playing”,  you whispered.

“God, I’ll play forever if you ride me like this…”

And when he finally came undone, it was with your name on his lips like a surrender. His body trembled as he spilled into you, but you didn’t stop. You rocked through it, pulling another whimper from him, dragging out every last wave of pleasure until he was completely spent, blinking up at you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

 You followed just moments later, collapsing against his chest, both of you panting and tangled and wrecked.

The two of you stood there— breathless, dazed, ruined.

And when he finally caught his breath, he looked up with a cocky grin.

“This time”, he said, voice hoarse, “you cheated. I said the safe word. Multiple times”

You leaned down and kissed the corner of his mouth, “I learned from the best”

The silence stretched until a voice from the other side of the dorm wall broke it—  Changbin’s voice

“Are you done torturing him now or should I grab my noise canceling headphones again?!”

You both froze before bursting into laughter.

He looked at you and smirked, “Round 2, just to piss him off?”

You smirked back, just as mischievously, "I'm in”.

Comment in any post if you wanna be added :)

Taglist: @hyyunjinnn , @jehhskz , @mbioooo0000 , @nightmarenyxx , @rozsdascsaptelep, @thatonegirlonhere , @notmedina127, @sweetlifeofjoy , @jeonginsleftcheek , @yelhsaa, @my-neurodivergent-world , @hyunles , @imagine-all-the-imagines, @hash2013, @aznstoner , @mythicmochi

If you enjoyed it please consider liking and reblogging. Feedbacks, loves notes and requests are very much appreciated 😊

[httpsserene]

CANGRATS ON 3K!!! it alright if you can't but, i was wondering if I could request the car wash kink rating for danny, max, oscar, yuki, and franco with the diy porn prompt

#3k vday celly

🧽🪣 would you like a complimentary car wash? — send me any five (5) drivers and one (1) kink from this list, and i will rank the drivers in order of who i think is most to least likely to participate/avoid, or love/hate that kink !!! each driver will have a small blurb written xxx

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. i always get stuck on writing one of these for some reason lol. have a bunch more requests from the celly that are going to be dropping every night this week morst likely! remember, the last day to submit a celly request is on valentine's day !!!happy 3k 🤍 and thank you for requesting, babe xxx

⌕ 3k v-day celly nav | all 3k requests | main nav | table of contents ↻

𝐦𝐭𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 (𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞) 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 fem!bipoc!reader x mv.1 | dr. 3 | yt. 22 | fc. 43 | op. 81 cw under the cut.

oral and vaginal sex. light humiliation kink in max's drabble?

𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭

Daniel’s eyes are starting to burn under the harsh light of the computer monitor. He’s been half-hard from the moment he started reviewing the raw footage, and he’s tempted to rub one out so he can edit without the constant throbbing of his arousal. Nobody can blame him for getting distracted while he tries to decide which of the three angles he recorded of you riding him in reverse cowgirl is the best. He knew convincing you that buying three separate camera setups was necessary because it allowed him this dilemma. Should he use the angle that shows your chest bouncing from the front? Or, the one from behind, where it shows his muscled abdomen and the plush, brown, skin of your ass marred by bruises of his handprints? Or, the close-up angle that shows where your cunt greedily swallows his cock? It’s an impossible choice, so he decides to alternate between all three. He clicks open File Explorer to save the video, wincing when he sees that the dedicated external hard drive containing all of your sex tapes is 98% full.  

Franco’s struggling to keep his phone steady as your tongue dances around him, moaning loudly when the head of his dick is caught in the warm squeeze of your throat. He looks away from the phone screen to watch the tears spill over your waterline, his groan of pleasure wobbling at the sight. When he looks back, the camera angle has fallen away, only catching the view of his hand lightly resting around your neck. His arm holding the phone is weak, and he has to move his hand from your throat to help focus the lens back on where he’s fucking into your mouth. Capturing the perfect angle becomes unimportant when he drops his phone on the floor to carefully guide you off of his cock, the video’s focus now is the ceiling. The audio paints a much more in-depth picture; sounds of the two of you kissing, the rustling of the bedsheets, skin clapping, the creaking of the bed, and the debauched noises of satisfaction from both of you echoing around the room. It gives him another reason to convince you to let him film another sex tape, and he’ll be sure the sight of him fucking you is front and center.

It’s one of Yuki’s fantasies. He didn’t think he’d ever have the courage to ask if you’d be willing to film a sex tape with him, considering that if it somehow leaked, it would have the potential to ruin your livelihood. One night, during a drunken game of truth or dare, you shyly admitted to wanting to make a sex tape and Yuki took the chance to make his fantasy come true. He’s practically filming in total darkness, the flash of his phone camera solely illuminating where he’s thrusting into you. Even though there are no identifying factors being shown (besides the contrast of your skin tones), he’s incredibly careful about making sure there are no easy tells— keeping your faces out of frame, having you muffle your whimpers into a pillow, and catching his breathy groans behind his hand. He swears the absence of noise coming from your mouths amplifies how wet you sound around him; he can’t wait to see if that’s the case when he watches the video afterward. There’s a feeling dancing at the base of his skull; it’s screaming that he’s some sort of freak for enjoying this, and it has him rushing toward his climax ridiculously quicker than he’d like, but the fluttering of your walls around him lets him know that you’re in the same boat. He wonders if there are any spare face masks hidden somewhere in the apartment; he’d show more than where your bodies meet if your faces are hidden.

Max is camera-shy. He knows it’s kind of ironic, given the amount of cameras that are focused on him on any given race weekend, but he can’t handle the attention during sex. When you both watched your first sex tape, Max was mortified. He can’t believe he looks and sounds like that during sex, the recording showing him just how desperate he is for you. Obviously, he feels the way his body responds to you, but he didn’t expect it to look so debauched on camera. It’s not like he’s ashamed by how good you make him feel, it’s just that he finds it humiliating to see it—regardless of the way you adamantly insisted that you find it hot as fuck. Now that he’s aware of how he looks, whenever the camera is on he isn’t able to devote all of his attention to you because he’s fixated on stifling his reactions—which ruins the point of filming a sex tape, and the fun of sex for both you and him. Max knows the video highlights the furious blush running from his cheeks down to his chest as he distractedly eats you out. He exhales heavily in relief, his scalp stinging deliciously when you tug him away from your cunt with a hand fisted in the mess of his blond hair, and he eagerly rushes to stop and delete the recording before you can even finish saying the words.

Oscar isn’t one to kink shame, but sex tapes are a no-go for him. He thinks it’s irresponsible to record his sex life, especially when you consider the effect it could have on his reputation and career if a video of him were to leak. It’s an irrational fear of his: he thinks that no matter how securely stored the sex tape could be, it would end up on the internet where millions of people would see it and then his reputation would be ruined forever. He’s a little terrified when you send him risqué photos, let alone nudes for that exact reason. It’s not like he doesn’t appreciate it—he thinks you’re mouthwateringly attractive when you’re fully clothed, of course, he appreciates the pictures of you in lingerie or less—but he’s going to scold you for sending it after he gets off to it…because what if that was the exact moment someone hacked into his phone and got their grubby hands on your nudes and posted them? Oscar hears how irrational he sounds when he’s telling you that, but that doesn’t stop him from thinking it. You lovingly call him paranoid, but you do respect his boundaries—he’s much more amenable to seeing you tease yourself with a vibrator live on Facetime rather than watching a recording of the last time you guys had sex. 

𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭

© httpsserene — do not reupload. photos in header from pinterest. mdni divider by @cafekitsune.

[rockscanfly]

Noshir Dalal’s response to my prompt “Please record Charles roasting Dutch post-refinery/Eagle Flies’ death”

Please please go throw money at @noshirdalal over at his newly established cameo. He’s such a talented and dedicated artist who really brought Charles to life and I love everything about this insane five minute monologue he made in response to my joke prompt. The pathos. The catharsis.

This is the only thing I’m going to be able to think about the rest of the week. I have so many questions. Starting with, of course: What did Charles do to his father, and what were the circumstances where Charles told Dutch about it, when that’s not something even Arthur seems to know?

(image ID and audio transcript below the cut)

[Video ID: Noshir Dalal, in the voice of Charles Smith. He is performing with head and shoulders in frame, periodically looking at the camera as if to address Dutch Van der Lin. There is a stone fireplace in the background

End ID]

[begin transcript]

He’s dead.

Eagle Flies, the boy that you rallied to glorious war who died taking a bullet for the man that you called son and then abandoned, is dead.

Relax, Dutch, I’m not here to hurt you. And if I was, you really think your pistols would save you from me?

I’m—I’m here to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry I—I didn’t see it sooner. I was so caught up in Arthur and how sick he is…that I didn’t see the sickness in you.

And you are sick, Dutch. And from that sickness, there is no medicine. How else do I explain it? Your willingness to turn your back on the most loyal man you have ever known. The welcoming of a snake hissing in your ear, how desperately eager you are to hear the worst lies about the people that love you?

That man will be your ruin, Dutch. He is no Hosea. He has you desperately scrambling after a paper crown but you’re paying for it with your kingdom. You will die with nothing and no one.

I leave in the morning. Rains Falls needs my help, and I will try, try, to undo some of the damage that you have done.

But before I go I hope that you will hear me. Arthur, the man that you left to die, is angry. Angry at himself because he doesn’t understand what he’s done to make you turn away from him. And through it all he stands with you, Dutch. He can’t bring himself to do it, because he loves you like a father.

But you know what I did to my father. So just imagine what I could do to you.

[end transcript]

[q8qwertyuiop8p]

Dark Details of Arcane Season 1

Five of some of the darker, more morbid details you might not notice watching for the first time.

1. Silco's Shadow

In s1e6, when Marcus opens the door to his daughter's bedroom, Silco leans forward to place cards on the house he and Ren are building. For a brief moment, however, his shadow appears to be strangling Marcus' daughter.

This eery juxtaposition of course foreshadows the threat Silco will soon make to Marcus and the hidden danger he poses to Ren. It is also ironic considering what happened to Silco.

2. Jinx's Voices Trying to Convince Her

In s1e9, during the dinner party scene, you can hear a voice whisper something to Jinx after Caitlyn points pow-pow towards her. It is difficult to make out, but listening closely you can hear:

"It's time to leave them."

This prompts Jinx to whip her pistol out towards Caitlyn, who is already aiming towards Jinx, nearly getting killed in the process.

Supposedly you can hear this phrase during some other scenes involving her psychosis, however this is the only scene in which it appears in Netflix's subtitles.

Earlier in the scene Vi tells Jinx that:

"We can just go... we'll leave and never come back!"

This triggers Jinx's psychosis. She asks where they would go, looks over to Mylo, and says,

"No... no, no, she's not saying that..."

3. Message to Silco

If you look closely at the table in the dinner party, you can see that Jinx, furious and hurt after overhearing Silco's apparent plans to "betray" her, wrote "DIE" on the table in front of him.

After accidently killing him, Jinx looks down emotionlessly at the table, exactly where she wrote that word.

4. Painting Parallel

The scene of Silco cradling Jinx on the bridge is likely meant to be a visual reference to the 1880s painting Ivan the Terrible and his Son by Russian artist Ilya Repin. The story behind the painting parallels a different scene.

The painting depicts Ivan cradling his dying son after he struck him on the head in a fit of rage. Ivan is horrified and grief-stricken at what he has done, placing his hand over his son's wound in a hopeless attempt to take it back.

This foreshadows Jinx killing Silco when she is no longer in the right state of mind, as well as her immediate shock and regret. She even begins to place her hands over his wound before realizing there is nothing she can do.

5. Aftermath of the Bridge Explosion

In episode 8 when Jayce visits the bridge, we get a brief shot of the aftermath of Jinx's explosion, and looking more closely one can see just how gruesome it is.

Blood splattered everywhere, intestines spilling out, blown off limbs, and even brain matter can be made out in this graphic scene. The rest of the shot, however, is very beautiful.

Arcane was originally going to be even bloodier. In the storyboards Jinx punches the arcade so hard her knuckles bleed all over it.

In the original layout animation, blood sprays on the camera when she bashes a firelight with Pow-Pow, and she even smiles with glee. Mylo's death would also be much bloodier.