#smut chapter

[descendantofthesparrow]

Once Upon a December - The Invitation - Walter x Reader - P11 smut extension

SMUT CHAPTER - TAKES PLACE IN PART 11 OF OUAD 

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Je t'adore, Je t'aime; Evangeline You're my queen of the night; So still, So bright That someone as beautiful as she; Could love someone like me Love always finds a way it's true! And I love you, Evangeline

-

He really couldn’t believe it, he had found you, you remembered everything, and you still loved him, you still wanted him. Harrison’s eyes fluttered closed at the memory, of your lips on his, your hands on his neck; your fingers curling into his hair, tugging him ever closer.

Harrison groaned as he remembered the feeling; finally feeling you against him after 900 years, your lips, your hands, your body-all of it. Like a dream come true. Like many dreams come true. Harrison snapped back into reality as the toaster popped out your toast and Harrison quickly smacked his cheeks to rid himself of the ~plenty~ of steamy thoughts he was having about you.

“She just got back Harry, let her have a moment of calm,” he told himself, did he want to ravish and worship you just as he did back then? Have you whimpered underneath him as he made you feel like the goddess you were? Of course! Was he going to make any advances without your consent? Hell no, like before; he would always wait for your move, for your word.

Harrison huffed as he adjusted his stance, feeling himself pressing against his unfortunately tight pants “dammit” he grumbled, finishing off the sandwich with some cheese and slicing it in half; cracking his neck to release some tension as he plated your dinner and began the silent walk down the hall back to his room.

Upon entry, It felt like he was shoved into a hot bath; because there you were, on his bed-just as he had dreamed of-wearing nothing but one of his button-ups and a pair of his boxers; your wedding ring and necklace glinting in the moonlight that drifted in from the window.

You looked up at him, a soft smile on your lips as you closed the book you had been reading and set it aside; the very same book he had given to you two days ago. “hi” you whispered, and Harrison found his senses and whispered the word back; nearly tripping over his feet as he walked over to you and set the plate in front of your crossed legs.

He swallowed harshly as you hummed happily and thanked him, taking the sandwich and digging in, his eyes trailing every bit of your exposed skin; your shoulder, your thighs, your wrists, your neck, jaw, collar bone, all of you-he couldn’t help but study you, file everything away in his brain just in case you were taken from him again.

He honestly still couldn’t believe you were here, right in front of him; breathing and eating…wearing his clothes. You saw his stare and giggled, a flush appearing on Harrison’s face as you shook your head fondly "you’re staring at me” you teased, giggling as his eyes locked with yours, your face only inches away as you leaned towards him.

Harrison glanced away, as if ashamed he was caught staring but you cooed and took his chin, making him look at you again “no no, you’re allowed.” Harrison took a sharp breath as you pushed your sleeve up on your right wrist, showing it to him as you shoved your empty plate to the side “now, you eat” Harrison pouted a bit, while he knew your blood was best for him, and he never needed much; he hated the idea of hurting you-of taking your life force. You just gave him a look “you haven’t been full for nearly a millennium. Eat, please my dear”

Harrison sighed, his face softening at your words, taking your wrist and trailing his lips gently across your skin, sighing as he felt your pulse beneath his thumb; replacing it with his lips and kissing it gently, humming as he bore his fangs and pierced your skin. Shivers exploded through his body as your blood flowed into his mouth, and it felt like he had been granted a taste of the forbidden fruit, pleasure and divinity; a craving finally satiated.

He moaned as he swallowed the first mouth full, his tongue coated in your essence, your life force; his eyes fluttered, his pants getting tight once again as your free hand ran through his hair, your humming breaking through the buzzing of his heated mind. He took a gasping breath as he finally pulled away from your wrist, feverishly licking up the dripping blood from your arm; his chest rising rapidly as you took his chin and cleaned it, your fingers being licked clean when you provided them.

You whispered his name, and he stared into your eyes, your sparkling (e/c) reflecting his glowing red. Your blood stained his lips and chin; your scent filled his senses and warped his mind. He wanted you-nay- needed you. He needed to hear you fall apart beneath him, whimpering as his mouth praised your skin and cunt, he needed to swallow your cum as he sucked on your clit.

He needed you. Now.

“Let me worship you, please” Harrison begged, hovering over you as you lay back on the bed, your head pressed into the soft pillows, your lips in a soft smile; your eyes looking into his with all the love in the world he didn’t deserve. You just took his face, and kissed him. he moaned into your mouth, one of his hands taking your waist as the other took your hips; bringing them to meet his as he thrust his hardness into your covered cunt, pulsing with want.

“Harry” you whispered his name, gasping as his fanged teeth pulled at your bottom lip. You whispered his name again, letting your head fall back as he trailed his lips down your chin, your neck, the valley between your breasts; all the while slowly undoing your clothes.

His white button-up slid out from underneath your body as your hips rose to meet his, rocking your cunt against his cock to satisfy the need for friction. Harrison groaned, meeting your lips once again as he grabbed your thighs, his claws near ripping through the fabric of his boxers and tearing into your skin. “Gentle” you whispered into his mouth and he chuckled, mouthing your jaw “always” he whispered back, his clawed fingertips massaging your thighs as he spoke.

Slowly, enough that it was more torture than pleasure, Harrison took off the fabric covering your thighs and hips, trailing your skin with kisses as he exposed your already soaking cunt and trembling thighs. “Harry” you breathed, your head falling back as Harrison pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your cunt, slowly doing the same to your stomach-pausing where your uterus would sit-and then up and up until he reached your breasts, taking special care of them; taking each nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the hardened buds, chucking as you gasped at his affection.

He muttered your name, as if it was a prayer, as if he was speaking to a goddess, kissing you sweetly as he rocked his still-clothed hips against you, the rough fabric of his pants sending shocks down your spine. “Please,” you whispered out, taking his face and pushing him back gently, staring into his glowing eyes “please, i-I-we’ve both waited far too long, my love”

Harrison’s eyes fluttered and he nodded, sitting up and taking off his top in a rush, tossing it next to yours on the edge of the bed frame and getting to work on his pants; the belt hitting the wall with a loud crack. You couldn’t help but giggle at his eagerness, sitting up slightly to watch as he shoved his pants off, biting your lip as you saw the large bulge in his underwear, a nice large wet spot marking where the tip was.

Harrison choked on his breath as you reached out, taking the warm twitching bulge in your palm and rubbing it slowly, watching as his jaw dropped open and his eyes fluttered shut-a red flush covering his face down to his neck “s-shit, (y/n)” he let out a moaning whine, lightly thrusting into your hand.

You chuckled lightly, sitting up further and pressing your lips to Harrison’s navel, smirking against his skin as he gasped; his stomach contracting at the feeling. Your fingers trailed up his thighs till they curled under the waistband of his underwear, slowly pulling it down as you kissed his exposed skin-doing the same to him as he had done to you.

Harrison stared down at you, his eyes half-lidded and hazy, breathing heavily as you sucked the skin on his hip; he whined out your name, gasping as you freed his red-tipped cock and licked up the shaft, smirking as you looked up at him. “a-ahh~ (y/n)” he moaned out, gently grabbing your head and resting his hand there as you teased the tip, thumbing the slit that was dripping with pre-cum.

You took him into your mouth, your tongue dragging on the bottom as you slowly swallowed his cock, feeling him pulse inside your mouth. “(y/n)-fuck-fuck fuck-ah-ahhh-mmm” you hummed at Harrison’s wonderful noises, enjoying every whimper and moan that slipped from his lips.

You huffed as he gently pulled your head back, his eyes glowing in the darkness of the room; staring lustfully and lovingly down at you. “I believe I’m the one to be worshiping my dear” Harrison muttered, carefully moving you until you were resting against the bed again, your legs on either side of his neck as he bit and sucked at the skin of your thighs. His clawed hands pressed into your hips, caressing them until they grabbed your thighs; his mouth diving into your pulsing cunt, swirling his tongue around and on your clit, smirking as you cried out at the feeling.

“Harry! Fuck!” you shuddered, hips pressing into his mouth as your back arched, curling your fingers into his impossibly soft hair and tugging harshly; gasping as he dutifully ate you out, enjoying all you had to offer. His nose pressed into your gut, his eyes closed as if he was eating a meal made by the heavens; fluttering his tongue through your soaked cunt, one of his hands moving to dip into your entrance, smirking as you gasped.

You whimpered out his name, your cheeks burning as you felt his tongue flick and suck at your clit, his fingers doing wonders inside you. He still knew you like a book, knowing what felt best, where to hit with the pads of his fingers; how to flick his tongue just right to where you crumbled beneath him.

“H-Haar-FUCK!” you came with a cry of his name, your cum soaking his mouth as he hummed, moaning quietly as your taste flooded his senses. Fuck how he had missed this, missed you; missed everything about you. He pulled away with a slow deep breath, smirking up at you as you took in gasping breaths, your hand slowly uncurling from his hair as he pressed slow sensual kisses to your navel and belly, closing his eyes as he paused where your uterus would be.

“Do-do you still want them?” you asked quietly, running your fingers through his hair, your nails scratching at the back of his neck and down to his spine. He hummed as he nodded gently, kissing your belly again and slowly going up and up until he met your neck; sucking the skin into his mouth. He did. He still wanted kids, with you; only you. And hopefully-when this was all over, you could start trying. “Do you?” he repeated your question, resting his chin between your breasts, closing his eyes as your hands cupped his cheeks. “yes” you whispered, giggling as he quickly leaned forward and kissed you passionately, groaning slightly as you tugged at his hair and scratched his back.

The kiss turned soft as Harrison's hands trailed up and down your sides, carefully arranging himself at your entrance, the swollen head of his cock pressing against your clit. “Harry” you breathed, pulling away just enough to talk; your lips still brushing against each other “please-“ you gasped, head falling back into the pillows as Harrison pushed inside, gently; watching with shaking breath as you fell apart beneath him, moaning at the feeling of him fill you up perfectly.

“fuck-“ Harrison groaned, pressing his forehead to your shoulder and sighing as he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours “fuck~” he kissed you again, staying still as your body adjusted to him, it had been a very long time since you last had sex in the first place-let alone with him. soon, your arms curled around his shoulders, pecking the corner of his lips. “okay” you whispered, gasping as Harrison slowly pulled back out, watching your expressions intently as you gasped and moaned at the feeling of him; the slow drag of his cock pushing and pulling out your cunt.

“faster” you muttered against his chin, biting his jaw as he slowly picked up speed, keeping the same sweetness as you both began to build up a sweat. His hands took yours, pinning them to the bed as he rocked his hips into yours, never taking his eyes off your face as it devolved into pleasure; rose red passionate pleasure.

You whispered his name over and over again, sparks of electricity zinging up your spine and navel as he dragged against that spot over and over again; always knowing how and where to thrust to make you feel exactly as you should-worshiped. Harrison’s eyes practically rolled to the back of his head as he felt you clench wonderfully around him, a gasping moan drawing from his lips as he tried to mold his body into yours, the sound of skin against skin resounding through the moonlit room.

“fuck-(y/n), (y/n), (y/n), (y/n), (y/n),” he whispered your name over and over again, like it was a prayer; a call to a goddess. The two of you were so sensitive from years apart, he could already feel that coil in his gut, the sparks up his spine, the fog in his head; his orgasm approaching fast.

“i-I want-I want-inside” Harrison panted into your ear, nearly coming early at the sound of your wet cunt accepting his cock so readily as you both climbed to the peak. “please-can-please?”

“Yes!” you gasped, lunging forward for a kiss, whispering into his mouth as you arched up into him “do it, deep-safe-“ Harrison came with a gasping cry, his teeth meeting your neck as one of his hands bolted down to rub your clit, and it washed over you like a bolt of lightning. Your vision went white, your ears rang; sparks exploded within your body. The same was for Harry, his hips stuttering as he came inside you; a warmth you hadn’t felt in so many years filling you up.

Harrison moaned loudly as he felt you twitch and clench around his sensitive cock, milking him for all he had, your blood flowing into his mouth where he had bit you on the neck. He groaned at the taste, his eyes hazy as he pulled away, your blood and cum dripping down his chin as he breathed heavily.

He looked into your eyes, nearly crying at the love in your eyes, love he had been dreaming, near begging, to see again for the last 900 years. Harrison wiped his mouth clean, letting himself lay atop you gently, still inside you, still connected; kissing you softly “I love you; I love you; I love you” he whispered over and over again, he still couldn’t believe it. You were here, with him, sweaty and tired, and looking at him as if he deserved every bit of love you had to give.

You giggled, reaching for his face and kissing him softly, pecking his lips between each word “I love you too, Harrison Deville.”

-end-

….hehehe-steamy~ and romantic, this was too much fun-hope yall liked! And if you want more of my smut writing-look to “cant stop this feeling”! it’s legit just a full smut book with the boi Harry Hook (also played by Thomas Doherty)

smut taglist!

@crazy4books1​ @reallysparklychaos​ 

[eastwindmlk]

Chapter 6, 'God is a Woman', live!

After a meet cute in muggle London Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger strike up an unlikely comradery over text. Now, after months of texting and friendship the pair admit to having feeling for each other. Something Draco reckons is bad for Hermione's career. He just cannot say no to Hermione and push comes to shove and their lives are turned upside down.

Read the new chapter on AO3 or start at the beginning!

[caspira-writes-fanfiction]

Finding Family (Fizz's Found Family) -Chapter 5

What Winning Feels Like

Waking up in a palace was disorienting every single time. Fizzarolli woke up feeling rested and comfortable. He wasn’t wrapped up in a blanket destroyed by moths, the walls weren’t damp and there was no whistle of the wind screaming as it forced its way in through the drafty windows. Things were quiet, they were warm, they were soft. It felt more like waking up in a dream than it actually did waking up. If it wasn’t for his pill box, apple, and glass of water sitting on the nightstand next to him, Fizzarolli might have actually thought it was a dream.

The note that sat beside his medicinal breakfast reminded him that it wasn’t.

Itemized Bill: Clown Pageant Day Pay to the order of: Asmodeus, King of Lust, 5th Ring of Hell

Accommodations, 1 night………………..One breakfast, please visit kitchen Medication management………………….……….…..Take all medications Wardrobe…………..…..OT warm-ups, 2 minutes juggling, balance practice Transportation……………………………………..Drink one glass of water Late Night Service Fee….…….……………………..….……………..Bathe

It was Pageant Day. Fizzarolli didn’t know what he wanted to do more: dance or throw up.

The itemized bill for his morning was helpful in identifying where to start, though. Fizzarolli took a bite of his apple and sat up. Across from his bed sat a large armoire with a costume draped over it. It was beautiful. Magenta and purple, with bright accents throughout. There was even a new hat with a multi-colored heart sensor pinned to it and jingles twice the size of any he had in a long time. It was beautiful, Fizzarolli wondered when Asmodeus had it made or how he had known so perfectly what Fizzarolli had been dreaming of wearing for the show. He’d never shown Asmodeus sketches of his ideas, he’d only ever given vague wisps of detail when Asmodeus asked what he wanted the day to be like. Fizzarolli hadn’t even known this was quite what he wanted, but staring at the costume in front of him…..it was perfect.

That was motivation enough to take his pills, finish the glass of water, and get ready for the morning. The bathroom suite attached to the guest room was just as large and luxurious as the guest room was, and just as appropriately sized. Fizzarolli idly wondered if Asmodeus had guest rooms of all different sizes to accommodate different guests or if his guest rooms were some sort of Lust magic that just knew what sort of space their guests needed to squeeze into.

The bath was one to remember, too. It was deep enough that he could sink down to his chin without his toes popping out the other side. Asmodeus had a wide variety of supplies left out along the tub for guests to use as well. Various oils and salves piqued Fizzarolli’s interest for a long while, until all of the dead skin on his body had been scrubbed off with a sugar scrub and his body had soaked in the fine smelling oils until the water ran cold.

The complimentary robe waiting for Fizz as he got out of his bath was plush and warm. It felt like going back to sleep, but Fizzarolli was far too awake to do that now. He found a new set of Mammon’s branded Clown Cake along with an assortment of skin care and horn care products on the vanity in the bathroom suite. Did Asmodeus go through this much trouble with all of his guests? Or just the ones he’s already put thousands of dollars into? Fizzarolli allowed himself to push that thought away as he allowed himself to play with his goodies and get his face ready for the day.

When Fizzarolli walked into the kitchen over an hour and a half after he woke up. Asmodeus was there, sipping on his coffee and reading the newspaper. Fizz’s face was painted in complimentary colors to the outfit hanging from his wardrobe, a bit of glitter kissing his cheeks just for fun. He was wearing the new hat, finding extra reason to put bounce in his step as he listened to the deep jingles fastened at the ends. He hadn’t put his costume on just yet, however. He still had warm-ups to do and breakfast to eat. Today had to be perfect, he wasn’t going to ruin the new costume by being too impatient to change later. Instead he was in his dance shorts again and an oversized LooLoo Land shirt with the neck cut out so it draped off his shoulders. Asmodeus set down his newspaper.

“Good Morning.”

“Good Morning.” Fizzarolli stuck his tongue out, focused, and sprang up onto one of the bar stools. He then climbed up onto the table and sat opposite King Ozzie. “I got your bill. I’ve payed off transportation, med management, and the late night service fee. I’m here to see if I can work off my accommodations for the night?” Fizzarolli handed over the piece of paper, where the tasks he’d completed had already been magically crossed out.

“Well it looks like you have. Good work.” Asmodeus couldn’t help but appreciate the way Fizzarolli smiled back at him. Asmodeus found part of himself hoping that he’d get to see it more to come. Whatever happened today, he’d liked having his little jester around. He hoped after this contest was over he would continue to have the opportunity. “How are you feeling today?”

“Pretty” Fizzarolli answered as his face absently went to his cheek as if to check that his face paint was still there. “I know I’ve said it before, Oz. But that bed is the most comfortable thing on this planet. The whole guest suite is wonderful.”

Asmodeus’s content hum keeps Fizz’s mind focused on the present.

“How’s your pain?” Asmodeus knew Fizzarolli was one to under report how he was doing, so he was being direct today. Today way the day, whatever he could do to help Fizzarolli prepare, he was prepared to do. That included making sure he wasn’t hurting unnecessarily.

“It’s fine right now. The bath was really helpful with some early morning tension, and I had a muscle relaxer in my morning cocktail. As loose as can be.” Fizzarolli stuck his tongue out at Asmodeus as the king stood and headed towards his refrigerator.

“That’s good to hear. What are you hungry for?”

“Coffee” Fizzarolli croaked, making Asmodeus chuckle and nearly hit his head on one of the refrigerator shelves.

“That’s not a food, Fizzarolli.” Fizzarolli shrugged as he stood on the table and walked over to Ozzie’s fruit bowl. He found two pomegranates, and orange, and an apple and began practicing his juggling. It was difficult with fruit this large and non-uniform, but with concentration he was managing surprisingly well.

“Surprise me. I’m not picky.”

_____________________________________________________

Asmodeus and Fizzarolli rode together on the way to the pageant. Fizzarolli had since changed into his new costume and was playing absently with one of the jingles as the car drove the two of them down to Greed for Mammon’s annual Clown Pageant. Asmodeus had been invited to this pageant too. While not allowed to advertise the work he’d done for Fizzarolli, it was well known that they’d struck an agreement to get here and it was expected that he’d be there to see what his work had accomplished. But even without the social expectation Asmodeus would want to be there.

“Breathe, Fizz. You’ve got this.” Fizzarolli looked up at Asmodeus and nodded, but the confidence wasn’t entirely there.

“The competition is going to be really steep. Mammon said...”

“You’re competition too.” Silence again. Asmodeus sighed and continued on. “How many other competitors have cool robotic arms and legs that they learned how to use in a year, hmm? How many of them have been planning this for as long as you have? Do you think any of them have worked even half as much as you have to get here?”

Fizzarolli was thankful for the white foundation caked onto his face, otherwise the blush that rose when Asmodeus complimented him would have been obvious. “No. They haven’t.”

“Different isn’t bad, Fizzarolli. Different can be an advantage.” Fizzarolli was properly smiling now. Good Asmodeus thought. He felt more at ease now.

Fizzarolli’s face dropped but only for a moment when he realized the car was slowing down and they were approaching the contest. He was roused from his panic when Asmodeus tapped him on the shoulder and handed him something: a paper envelope. Fizzarolli tore it open to read.

Itemized Bill: Pageant Day Pay to the order of: Asmodeus, King of Lust, 5th Ring of Hell Custom Robotic Limbs, 1 set………….……….Show everyone who the best jester in Hell is.

You’re going do great. They’re going to love you. Smile inside and out.

-Asmodeus

Despite never having competed before, Fizzarolli seemed to have a rather popular draw. He was no Ziggy Zag, but his weekend tours must have paid off because he could hear at least a few people screaming his name when the lights turned on to introduce all ten contestants this year.

The pressure was on, but Fizzarolli was a natural performer. His jokes landed alright with the audience. He’d done enough riffing on other performers to get some laughs, and made sure to make plenty about himself as well. Asmodeus was right, different may not be bad. Nobody else had robotic limbs, that gave him more than enough material. He beat out Ziggy Zagg by two points. His magic act had gone alright, but his fingers still weren’t quite as nimble as they needed to be and he flubbed a few of his tricks. He was able to recover some points with quick wit and a well timed joke or stunt to distract. He ended up in third for that portion.

Juggling went better. Fizzarolli had accomplished his goal of unicycling and managed to do so while juggling six balls. It was one of Fizz’s strongest skills and it was strong enough to compete with the others and win the audiences choice. Fizzarolli almost didn’t believe it when he saw that he’d won in juggling, even after Ziggy had lit himself on fire for his performance. Balloons were trickier. Fizzarolli had almost mastered tying the damn things, but they were tricky and even on his best days he was known to pop one or two. He didn’t expect to win over Balloonzo. He managed a convincing enough replica of himself wearing a crown in time that landed him in fourth place for that category. He had more than enough points to advance to the next portion of the competition.

Pies and plates were easy enough to pass through in. Fizz managed top three in both. Pantomime was a bit trickier. He didn’t have the same nuance in his movements that he used to and had to rely a lot more heavily on his tail and facial expressions. Improv was hard to judge, but Fizzarolli had stopped paying too much attention. He was doing well, he could actually win this. He just had to keep people entertained. So long as he heard laughter, he continued.

When the totals scored up to decide who would be making it to the finals, Fizzarolli almost couldn’t believe that his name was one of the three finalists to continue. Acrobatics and theatrics. This was his chance. He could do this.

The dressing room afforded to him was small, but he got a private space thanks to his agreements with Mammon. It’s slightly nicer than his rehearsal space had been. The table was steadier, the mirror larger, and the lighting brighter. Fizzarolli read over Asmodeus’s note as he took his time preparing for the final acts. His phone buzzed.

BarB-Wire: Kick that Zig-Zag fucker’s ass! BarB-Wire: And don’t forget everything I’ve taught you! BarB-Wire: I’ve got half the floor watching you on TV right now. Had to threaten a riot to get the nurses to buy it for us. BarB-Wire:Pay-per-fucking-view of course. Missed the first part. BarB-Wire: Your scores look good.

Fizzarolli’s vision blurred as tears filled his eyes. He hadn’t been able to visit Barb in rehab for weeks, and she only had her phone for certain hours of the day if she got it at all. She’d been radio silent for a week, but she’d done something to get a message off to him. She was watching him right now. He was going to win: for himself, for her, for everyone to see what it was he could really do. He was going to be the best clown in all of Hell. Fizzarolli managed to get changed and type a few heart emojis to Barb before he had to get back on stage.

Acrobatics could be plenty of things, but the most points were won in the air. He didn’t have to fly to have a routine that was going to get him as many points as possible. The finale was the really important part.

What’s the dream you’d like to have? Fizzarolli is standing 40 feet in the air. This was the dream. To have his dream, he had to do this. He wanted to win.

He’d been practicing for months, but even with the extra help of a balancing pole and his battery pack Fizzarolli wasn’t ready for a high wire. The best he could do was a beam, he hadn’t practiced this high up either.

Breathe, Fizzarolli. Smile inside and out..

Mammon wouldn’t let him fall to his death, he’d put too much money into Fizzarolli to let him do that. Even if he did fall, the worst that would happen is he loses. It’s not a very comforting thought, but it makes it easier to smile to the crowd as the spotlight flashed onto him.

Fizzarolli took a bow from his perch and looked out at the thousands of people staring at him. This is just a very large big top, Fizz is fine.

“Hello everyone and thank you for coming out tonight! I am the one and only, Fizzarolli. Are we having a great time tonight?” The shouts from the crowd are energizing and some of Fizzarolli’s tension eased. This is where he is supposed to be. “Before I start this next act, I’d like to remind everybody here that I got these shiny beauties-” Fizzarolli lifted the hem of his pants to show off his leg “-eight months ago.” There would be no high wire, there would be no complicated trapeze act, but he’d worked his tail off to get to this point. He was going to put on a show.

Fizzarolli bowed and grabbed the balancing pole. He took a deep breath, then stepped onto the balance beam that was set up across the stage. He took one step, then another. He made it just over half way before faltering. He knew one of the tricks was to not look down. That didn’t stop him from becoming distracted. He hesitated, faltered.

He was falling sideways.

This is it Fizzarolli thought. I’ve lost. I’ve flown too close to the sun. Falling was almost like flying.

But before Fizzarolli’s body hit the stage or the webbing he believed would catch him above it, he’s caught by something else entirely and thrown upwards. Naturally a performer, Fizz’s body knew how to fall. It knew how to save him too. His tail had coiled around the beam before he could fall completely and flung him upwards back into the air. Fizzarolli curled into a ball and spun in the air, managing to crash land on the platform opposite his starting position.

Fizzarolli rolled onto his side and waved at the crowd with a wink, his tongue stuck out to try and make it look like that was planned. He sat up and did a quick assessment. Nothing seemed to be injured, that was good. Fizzarolli scooted himself to the edge of the platform and onto the swing that was waiting for him. One deep breath, push off,

For a moment, Fizz was flying.

The swing dropped down and over the audience below before swinging back towards the stage. Fizzarolli pushed himself off the swing and landed on the stage in a somersault. The crowd went wild as Fizzarolli stood and raised his hands above his head.

He can barely keep himself upright as he stood next to the two other finalists but his smile remained plastered on his face. This is it. You are living the dream. Fizzaroli’s heart beat in his throat as Mammon clapped his hands to show off the final totals. It nearly stopped when it revealed that Fizzarolli was in a tie with the defending king.

Everything went silent, Fizzarolli had to do everything in his power to remember to breathe. Mammon was talking but he didn’t know what he was saying. Smile inside and out. Don’t pass out. The lights went dark over Fizzarolli’s head, the stage lit up blue over Ziggy Zagg. The crowd cheered.

You lost, Fizzarolli. He felt sick. Just keep breathing. Just until you can get off stage. The lights went dark again. Fizzarolli considered walking off stage right then, but nobody else was moving. The lights flashed on again. This time over Fizzarolli. The crowd was even louder.

Cha-ching! Fizzarolli was being picked up. Mammon was picking him up. Mammon was…..hugging him?

“You fucking legend!” Fizzarolli is sitting on Mammon’s shoulder now, fireworks and confetti go off at the same time. Fizzarolli sees his face plastered on the big screens. “You beautiful fucking freak, you won! You’re going to make me so much money”

You won.

You Won!

Fizzarolli jumped down from his perch on Mammon’s shoulder and waved out at the crowd. He might as well be floating, he was on top of the world. He’d done it.

So this is what winning feels like

_____________________________________________

There was no way Fizzarolli was returning to his shitty flat in Greed tonight, both him and Asmodeus agreed. They even agreed to forgo the car that had taken them there to much more conveniently teleport, as Asmodeus was able to do. Fizzarolli had never traveled via portal before before. It made him dizzy, but he was too high off of winning to do anything other than laugh. He pressed his head against Ram’s head as Asmodeus carried them to the elevator.

“We’re going to the workshop?” Fizzarolli asked when he realized that they’d surpassed the penthouse, Asmodeus nodded.

Fizzarolli waited until he was sat in his usual spot on Asmodeus’s workbench to speak again. “I already told you, Ozzie. I didn’t hurt myself with any of those landings. I’m fine.”

“I know” Asmodeus replied. He let Fizzarolli stay confused for a few more moments. “Do you still have the bill I gave you this afternoon?”

Fizzarolli nodded.

“Can you read it for me again?”

Fizzarolli had already read it about ten times, he didn’t need the card in front of him to know what it said, but he pulled it out of his pocket anyway.

“Custom Robotic limbs, 1 set. Payment: Show everyone who the best jester in Hell is.” He started reading the note from Asmodeus at the bottom but he was cut off by the Sin.

“And you did that.”

Fizzarolli nodded. “Obviously. Why?”

Asmodeus pulled two large briefcases out from the cabinets below and placed them in front of Fizzarolli. He was grinning like a schoolgirl. “I’m making good on my promise.”

They sat in silence for many moments as Fizzarolli processed what Asmodeus was trying to show him.

“No”

“Yes”

“No”

“Yes!”

“No!”

“I’m not going to say yes a third time” Asmodeus chuckled.

“You just did.” The two paused and smiled at each other. Fizzarolli continued.

“You made me dildo arms?!” Fizzarolli was nothing but wonder as he reached towards the briefcases, eager to see what was inside.

“You explicitly told me not to make you dildo arms.” The two of them laugh for a few moments. There’s still tension in the air, excitement.

((The rest of this chapter is smut you're gonna have to go read that on ao3 ))

[starfall-spirit]

Summary: See Renaissance Masterlist

CW: Minor Smut below the cut. Only a few paragraphs this chapter. But Daddy Rhys is on his way to the party. You've been warned.

Word Count: 1, 234

Chapter IV: Kill Me With Kindness

There was flirting over dinner. Eyes full of sultry promises later whispered in her ear as they strolled down the Arno on their fifth evening in Florence. There was a soft string melody and a strong arm around her waist, tugging her closer. Hands, just straying from gentlemanly. There was a story unwinding and a man to it, holding her like a lover. Like a husband.

And there was a moment where a spark turned to flame, burning her up as they left the lights and life of Santo Spirito behind them, that burning rising and rising before Rhys was leading her to his bed, dragging her zipper down and unclasping her bra.

Soft lips skated across her jaw and down her throat, each kiss as tender as the one before it and only pausing to lay her down on the queen size mattress. She gasped as teeth clamped down over her nipple, a tongue stroking over it to soothe the slight pain. “Rhys.”

“My darling Feyre.” She raked her fingers through his hair, practically aching for him to move down, down, down further, to where his still-covered torso—she’d remedy that soon enough—would fit to keep her legs parted, a bit of lace all that separated them. One hand drifted down from his silky hair to move down his neck and to the buttons of the dress shirt he had selected for their time roaming the city.

He caught her hands, kissing each palm. “Feyre darling, we have all the time in the world.”

Still, knowing just where she wanted him to begin, he sank down, hooking his fingertips around the bits of red lace at either hip. With his tongue finally stroking— ~~~~~ A knock on the door was what drew Feyre out of her strange and admittedly pleasant dream. “Feyre. Feyre, are you awake?”

Casting bleary eyes towards the clock, she found it was already nine-thirty. “Shit,” she hissed, instinctively pressing her thighs together as her companion called for her again.

“Yeah. Sorry. Give me a few minutes to shower and I’ll be out.” It was only fair he granted her a moment to compose herself after… that. Not that he knew anything about it. She was hardly breathing as he moved away from her door. “Holy hell.”

She didn’t know how last night—only their second night in the city, in truth—had brought such a scene to her subconscious. Last night was pleasant. Utterly platonic, even if she’d let herself have a little more wine than usual. Even if she had freed her quick tongue and bright laugh. Even if she had leaned into him as the night wind refracted from the murmuring river. His hands hadn’t once strayed beyond catching her when her toe hooked on an uneven cobblestone, but something through their night out had changed.

“Shit.”

Before now she’d never felt the need to start cursing things the second she woke up. If that was what one night did to her, would would the next twelve days mean for them. She put a pin in that thought as she turned on the shower head, stripping down. Who said any of what happened last night would repeat. She could distance herself, even if the city was romantic.

Starting today. Because today really was about history. Last night they had seen the Uffizi Gallery from a distance and Rhys had only taken a glance at her too see her adoration of its history and contents, before saying, “I’ll check on tickets tonight.”

Something told her when she left the shower she’d find those tickets already paid for, despite his catering to her interests within the city before his own. And you know, maybe that was okay, for this trip. She certainly hadn’t been saving for a vacation abroad and he was the one who got them into this mess.

With that in mind, she shut off the shower, drying off and dressing to head out to the kitchen for breakfast. She could smell him cooking breakfast meat. “Good morning, Feyre darling.” She couldn’t help but recall her dream at the endearment, bringing a blush to her cheeks. He raised his eyebrows. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Sorry.”

“I don’t know why you keep apologizing this morning, or what’s got you blushing beyond my good looks, which I thought you were acclimated to by now—” She scoffed. “I was worried when you slept so late. It’s a bit unusual for you, isn’t it?”

“Oh, once in a blue moon my internal clock is less insistent. Perhaps I was having a pleasant dream.” She didn’t know why she said it, but at least she’d kept her voice level as she accepted a cup of coffee and a plate holding a croissant from a nearby bakery and fresh sausage.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Once she thoroughly banished the fantasy of his head between her legs, conversation came easily, drifting into her main interests at the Uffizi. He hung on every word, looking like the passion she held was something vital to him. Or perhaps that was her imagination. Some strange lingering affect of his attention to her last night on their walk.

After settling the time for their admission to the gallery, Rhys pulled up the ticket purchase on his laptop, hesitating at the pay point, just waiting for her to argue him paying the small fee. She took another sip of her coffee. “Good,” he murmured, something in his tone—in his eyes—that made her pause a moment. “What?”

“Why?” His brows flicked up at the question. “Why have you insisted on paying for everything?”

“I have what I like to call my inner circle. Small as they are, Mor, Amren, my brothers, they support me in ways others don’t. In return I spoil them. You should see Amren in her fancy jewelry—like a drake hoarding gold.”

He smiled, taking her hand just long enough to brush a thumb across her knuckles. “You’re part of that inner circle now, Feyre. I’m fully entitled to spoil you senseless so long as you remain part of the family.”

He was a caretaker before all else. She’d always known it was beneath the arrogance, but now that they didn’t just see one another in the company of the group—now that they were alone she thought he might just try to kill her with kindness.

She might just let him. Only on their honeymoon of course. ~~~~~ He was preening and he knew it. Twelve euros was hardly a significant purchase, but this was the infamously stubborn Feyre Archeron. He’d had to catch himself earlier, check his tone and word choice as she asked him about his insistence to treat her and the others. Because there was a very different urge to provide for one’s brother or cousin than to provide for a woman one cared for, even if she refused to acknowledge what he felt he wore on his sleeve.

Some selfish part of him had been glad she got that text. Not that her ex was causing issues. The mere thought of that asshole camping outside her apartment had his blood boiling. But that selfish part of him was glad she had decided to go to that lunch, to get on that plane, to walk the river with him.

And perhaps for the one thing she hadn’t decided—to dream of him.

~~~~~

AN: Switch my posting schedule for ACOTW and Renaissance because the late ACOTW chapter went out today.

In Rhys' defense, he hasn't been to that villa in years. He couldn't possibly remember how thin the walls were when he took the room beside the one she picked out. And if he did it was only to ensure she didn't have nightmares about anything, right?????

Also, all Rhys POVs are dedicated to the lovely @the-lonelybarricade. She is the main reason every chapter will have a Rhys POV.

Daddy Rhys is coming, LB. Cross my heart.

Tag List: Ask/comment/message me to be added or removed.

@reverie-tales // @faeriequeensuriel // @s-uppertime // @pandavelaris // @goddess-aelin

[wolfsbane-and-nettles]

Chapter 19 of Prophecies and Promises

"On the Path to Change"

“Why aren’t you sleeping, uncle?” asked Pavetta with the lack of tact most royals possess by her age. He was taken aback by her forthright question but still felt incapable of denying her answers whenever she asked anything of him.

“Nervous, I guess…” Geralt shrugged awkwardly during breakfast as he shifted his fork around through the food on his plate.

“And why aren’t you eating, uncle?” she pestered.

“Nervous…” he said again, gaze shifting down and his voice becoming softer.

“What is there to be nervous about?”

“...lots. I’ve lived a long time, Princess, and this is a life change I’ve avoided the entire time,” he admitted.

---

Geralt and Dandelion have been living in Cintra for a week now and are still getting used to their new lives...especially Geralt who can't quite seem to feel comfortable at all.

[feral-renaissance-cat]

Back with more smut baebee. The Terrible Telepathic Boyfriends have had Too Much Tension so it's time to resolve that the best way they know how. Also with a new relaxation technique thrown in for funsies.

[makismei]

he hums, smiling down at you from between his legs, both of yours separated by his body.

nanami shakes the vibrator back and forth, watching your legs tense and your back arch dramatically.

“that was a strong one, love.” he comments, not letting up and pressing the wand harder on your clit. “can you give me another?”

you shake your head, trying to sit up on your forearms and scooting away. “c—can’t, ken—mmm—noooo!”

he pulls you toward him again, pressing the vibrator harder against you. “be good for me baby, don’t run.”

keen eyes watch your cunt drool pearly slick, your back arched up as you cried his name, shaking your head.

nanami gives your clit a break, briefly. “you have a safe word baby,” he reminds gently, “do you want to stop?”

your hips twitch, before you shake your head, “i’m okay—mmhmm, aahhh!”

he slips two fingers inside, hooking them expertly against your spot. so wet, licking his lips, cock jumping in his briefs, nanami is so enticed by your entire being. the scent of sex is heavy in the air, but both of you can’t find it in you to care when it feels this good.

“ken,” you whine, hand trying to pry his hand from your gushing cunt. “please, i want your cock noooow—wait! i’m cumming, fuck!”

he hums, pulling his fingers out to rub your clit, cum spraying everywhere. he lightly slaps your pussy, smiling at how your hips jump. “let me play with you a little more, okay love?”

[thatskindarough]

“‘I just…I thought you might like to come back, one day,’ Crowley said very quietly. Aziraphale’s foot pressed against his again, and Crowley drew in a sudden breath, as if he hadn’t been breathing properly since Aziraphale had stopped touching him.”

This piece was a commission from the lovely @fellshish for their lovely friend, @alphacentaurinebula ‘s fic What Are You Doing Here? This fic is cute, funny, heartwarming, and incredibly spicy, and I’m very much looking forward to finishing it! Thank you Fells for being wonderful to work with, and happy (belated) birthday to you Alphacentauri, I’m very happy I could do this for you!

[httpsserene]

𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐚 - 𝐥𝐧. 𝟒 (& 𝐨𝐩. 𝟖𝟏)

summary: you and lando are blessed with a beautiful baby boy. content warning: fluff, humor, slightly suggestive at times, and mainly crack/shitpost energy. reader owns & works in her bakery in monaco. images used are not mine. pairing: lando norris x fem!black!reader (& platonic oscar pastry) genre: smau & written fic combination (it's a longgg one)

author's notes: y'all i'm warning you i took it too far this time. it's long aslllll. but it might be the best thing i've ever offered to f1 tumblr in my entire career.

grab a snack, drink, and tuck yourself into a comfortable position xxx

join the taglist | requests & feedback | table of contents ↻

imessage • preseason 2023

That’s how you find yourself outside of the MTC in the mid-morning two days later. You’re mildly…exhausted, after commandeering the kitchen in Lando’s Silverstone flat to make a sickening amount of banana bread to feed all of McLaren. After tipping your Uber to the MTC double what the ride costs (for allowing you to stuff his car with a hundred pounds of your decadent treat and helping you unload them into the lobby), you’re greeted with warm welcomes and hungry eyes from the staff. Eager to eat, they’re quick to find you a couple of carts to help you move all the banana bread to the communal area. You’re walking backward to make sure none of your sliced loaves fall, smiling with all the workers as they follow you through the building. Setting up shop, you hand out your sliced banana bread, chatting and catching up with everyone as they sing praises over your sweet treat. Word travels around the MTC quickly when it comes to you bringing baked goods and it comes as no surprise to you when you see a perplexed and overwhelmed Oscar Piastri join the line. You’re bursting with excitement and anticipation by the time he’s picking up his slice.

“Thank you for the banana bread,” Oscar expresses softly, his smile boxy.

“Oh, of course,” you dismiss his gratitude lightly, struggling to keep your cuteness aggression at bay, “I’ve been doing this for the factory since Lando joined–and I figured it would be a good welcoming gift for you!”

“Wait–are you Lando’s girlfriend?” Oscar chokes on his bite of bread.

You rush forward to pat his back, ordering for someone to get him a glass of water; you would hate to be responsible for the death of Mclaren’s rookie driver. When his airways are cleared, you exchange proper greetings and you are quick to make sure Lando has been treating him well. 

“Honestly, I should’ve known it was you” Oscar chuckles, “Lando cannot stop talking about you. Zak had to establish a rule that only allowed him to mention you two times an hour.”

“That must have been rough for him,” you snort dryly, “the rule was five times an hour last year. Anyways, Oscar–who do you main on Mario Kart? This could make or break our friendship.”

You find yourself enamored with Oscar as the conversation goes on. He stands and keeps you company as you continue to hand out banana bread. It’s mostly you doing the talking; Oscar’s quiet, a man of few words but he listens well. He has a sarcastic sense of humor that is similar to Lando’s yet completely different: Lando’s jokes are loud, Oscar’s are hushed. He’s humble, shy even, flustering when you lightly tease him. You’re well past having Oscar as your friend—you’re convinced that he’s achieved little brother or son status.

“Banana Bread!” Zak shouts as he walks up to the two of you, Lando at his side, “Please tell me this is your homemade version?”

“I would never settle for store-bought banana bread,” you gasp dramatically, “It’s homemade as always, Zak. This time I did my grandmother’s recipe instead of my own.”

The CEO practically jumps with glee and rushes to grab a couple of slices–he’s only had this version of the dessert once, and swore it changed his life. Lando walks to you, pressing a kiss to your temple before nodding at Oscar.

“What do you think, love, “Lando hums to you softly, “Did he pass the test?”

You blink up at him and whisper, “I invited him over for dinner tonight—do you think we can use one of the printers here to print out adoption forms?”

bahrain • 2023

After qualifying, it felt like you and Zak were the only people in the garage who remained optimistic for race day. Lando was less than pleased with placing 11th; he parroted words of positivity and hope for improvement but in the privacy of your hotel room he crumbled. He buried his face in your neck muffling just how low his expectations for this season are. You tried to convince him it was too early in the season—the first race weekend—to make that decision but, he was too in his feelings to see reason. 

Oscar was disappointed in himself for placing 18th. When he took off his helmet after returning to the garage, you could see the doubt in his skills lingering through his eyes. You pulled him to sit with you as you continued to wait for the second session to begin and gently reassured him that this wasn’t an accurate representation of his skills; Formula One is a massive change from Formula Two. Oscar nodded at your reassurance but you could tell he was still freshly in shock at his “terrible” performance so your logical advice wasn’t believed. 

On race day, however, you found your positivity dip as well. Oscar DNF’d on lap 13 and rage filled the spot that optimism used to inhabit. The Australian was handling his retirement better than you were; he brushed off everybody’s apologies and went straight to reviewing his data and watching Lando’s race—you, however, wanted to snap at any of his mechanics that walked by. It wasn’t like Lando’s race was any better if you could call what he was doing a race. Slow pit stops, six pit stops at that, the fast lap gamble failure, finishing last, and being two laps down from the race leader…Zak took one glance at you and quickly made himself scarce.

You rode back with both of the boys to the hotel and nearly cried for them with how down the mood was. On the walk to your rooms, Oscar attempted to exchange goodbyes with you and Lando before you cut him off.

“Uh-uh, nope,” you shook your head, “I pre-ordered dinner for us. Come eat?”

Oscar stuttered, “O-oh? I don’t want to intrude–”

“Oscar Jack Piastri,” both he and Lando winced at the sound of his full name, “I’m not going to let either one of you go to bed on an empty stomach. You’re going to eat dinner with me and Lan and you’re going to drink several glasses of water so I can make sure you’re properly rehydrated. Understood?”

“I would love to have dinner with you guys,” Oscar blinked at you in fear, “Also, how do you know my middle name?”

You laughed as you unlocked the door, holding it open for both of the boys as you walked in, “I had a wonderful conversation with your mother, of course.”

“When did you meet my mom?!”

australia • 2023

You were on the edge of losing your voice as you screamed and cheered with Nicole Piastri and Adam Norris for both of the McLaren boys and their double points finishes. The two drivers finishing in the midfield felt like the team had figured something out for Oscar’s home race (if you ignored how almost half of the drivers retired their cars). The Piastri’s invited everyone to a local restaurant to celebrate Oscar’s first points in Formula One, but before you and Lando headed out, the two of you nearly lost your minds.

The two of you forced him to pose with his car and take several pictures with it, strongly suggesting that he smiles big and wide for the camera. Fernando and Lewis walked by and burst into laughter, claiming that you and Lando were treating Oscar like a child. So, obviously, the two of you committed to the bit. You guys cooed and called Oscar’s name, clapping and jumping to pretend like he was a toddler whose attention needed to be grabbed to have him look at the camera. The rookie cringed in embarrassment, cheeks burning red as he tried to convince you guys to stop making a fuss over him.

Lando gasped, sickened at Oscar’s words, “Oscar! How could you say such a thing to your mother and me? We only want to celebrate our boy!”

You nodded furiously in agreement, nearly breaking character at the dumbfounded look that rose to the Australian’s face.

“What the fuck,” Oscar blurted out, yet he continued to smile for your camera.

“Oh my god!” You said appalled, “Lando did you teach our son that foul language?! I told you not to curse in front of the baby!”

instagram • bakewithyn • april 6th • melbourne ⚑

liked by, oscarpiastri, landonorris, mclaren, markwebber, and 413,257 others

bakewithyn: happy birthday oscar 🥳 there’s no birthday gift like scoring your FIRST EVER POINTS in f1 at your HOME race but !!! i’m super happyyy you enjoyed the 🐨 cookies i made for you (lando helped ig 😐) 🤗🤗🤗

tagged oscarpiastri

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📌 yninstagram ps! these are limited edition cookies at my bakery for oscar piastri day!!! first come first serve until sell out! all proceeds go to the australian koala foundation as it was oscar’s personal request 😇

➥ user charitable king shit fr 👑

➥ user FUCK i wish i was rich enough to visit/live in monaco

➥ user don't worry, they're nearly sold out already and the bakery opened three hours ago !!!!

nicolepiastri these were so tasty! i wish i had your baking skills

➥ yninstagram tysm mama piastri !!! i'm blushing

➥ user mama piastri???? im crying

user the koala photo with the bow 😩

➥user what r u talking about?? i only see a picture of oscar with a bow?

➥ user fr i only see oscar 😵‍💫

user "lando helped ig" what did he do? look pretty the entire time you baked LMAO

➥ landonorris actually i was allowed to put the ingredients in the bowls AND preheat the oven too 😤

➥ landonorris and i always look pretty wtf

➥ user omg...yn gave him the toddler tasks 💀💀💀

oscarpiastri the cookies were so good! they nearly tasted better than my first points felt

➥ yninstagram omg high praise from the man himself 🤯

➥ oscarpiastri had to fight my sisters to make sure they didn't only leave me with crumbs

➥ user oh i understand that eldest sibling battle

➥ user my little sisters bite i think they have rabies

➥ user oh what a shame. euthanasia is an option 🤗

miami • 2023

The energy after Miami was rightfully terrible. The car is shit; Lando lost a position from where he qualified to make him P17 and Oscar maintained his P19. It’s hot, and humid, and everyone in the garage is miserable. McLaren is a family. When the boys don’t do good, everybody understands and feels their pain. Nobody likes seeing the boys with frowns on their lips and sadness in their eyes, but it’s becoming a usual appearance during this season. So to turn those frowns upside down, you went on a hunt for some cold treats. You got Lando a frozen lemonade and Oscar an ice cream sandwich—it’s a safe choice, you hadn’t necessarily thought about asking him what kind of ice cream he prefers. 

You found Oscar staring at the wall, eyes focused forward but his mind somewhere else. You tapped him gently on the shoulder, offering him a small smile when he looked at you. He tried to offer you a smile of his own but couldn’t manage to hold it for more than a couple seconds. You presented the ice cream sandwich to him and he looked at you in surprise, as if he couldn’t believe you would give it to him.

“F-for,” his voice cracks awkwardly, “For me?”

You hummed, ruffling his hair and taking a seat on the couch next to him, “No, for the King of England. Yes–for you Oscar.”

He thanked you shyly and quickly began to unwrap the packaging, munching away happily. You took a second to text Lando your location and inform him of the frozen lemonade waiting for him, and when you turned to look back at Oscar—the kid was a mess. He wasn’t even a quarter of the way through the dessert sandwich and you’re convinced he managed to spill more of it than he ingested. The ice cream was painted across the lower half of his face and dripping down his hands–you caught a drop of it with a napkin before it fell and stained his shirt.

“Jesus, Oscar!” you scolded him, “I look away for two seconds and you make a mess!”

Oscar shrugged at you, feigning innocence, but you saw the staple redness of embarrassment begin to tint his chubby cheeks. You snapped your fingers in remembrance before you moved to rifle through your purse, Oscar staring at you with wide eyes as he continued to snack away. You exclaimed in delight, showing off a pair of wet wipes you remembered to bring with you. Oscar accepted the offered wipes and you watched carefully to make sure he removed all the smudges of ice cream from his hands and face.

“Hi, lovely girl,” Lando approached you, throwing himself onto the sofa next to you. He gave you a soft kiss on the lips and temple before grabbing his now lemonade slushy and taking a look at Oscar.

“Woah, mate,” Lando teased, “Did you lose in a fight against the ice cream sandwich?”

Oscar rolled his eyes and ignored Lando as he finished cleaning up. Once he was done, you gathered all of the dirty wipes on the table to be thrown away. You and Lando both watched Oscar as he ate the rest of his snack in fear of another mess occurring—and, then you had a bright idea. Leaning forward, you took a dry napkin and tucked it into the collar of his McLaren polo, creating a makeshift bib. 

“Lando, remind me to get our son ice cream in a cup from now on!”

twitter • may 14th

instagram • landonorris • may 23rd • monte carlo ⚑

liked by, bakewithyn, charlesleclerc, fernandoalonso, and 502,113 others

landonorris: does it still count as a date night if your boy and his best friend are building legos in the next room🤨

tagged bakewithyn, oscarpiastri, logansargeant

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user "your boy" WTF DOES THAT MEAN ‼️‼️‼️

user they're building legos before the race weekend starts 🤧

user has oscar been staying with lando since last week?

➥ user i thought he was just sleeping over for one night 🧐

adamnorris does this make me a grandfather?

➥ user what the hell is happening

➥ landonorris um? surprise haha 😀

bakewithyn it's a great date night! it's comforting knowing ozzy's in the next room over

➥ bakewithyn i have separation anxiety :)

➥ landonorris me too omg this was my best idea ever

➥ user this is like a reverse 13th reason- it's like my 1st reason i'm glad to be alive

➥ user ozzy 🫠

landonorris logan and osc just went silent. chat, should i be worried?

➥ user i'll bet my life savings that one of them has a lego shoved up their nose 😬

➥ user when kids go quiet it's never good !!!!

qatar • 2023

You cried an embarrassing amount of times this weekend. Your son won his first sprint race in his Formula One career, and his father—your boyfriend—was up there on the podium with him to celebrate. It seems like you have to make another special dessert for your bakery to celebrate both of your boys, but you can worry about brainstorming ideas when you stop crying into Andrea Stella’s shoulder in the middle of the pit lane. You’re sure that your face will be posted all over Twitter in a couple of hours.

A part of you wished that Lando had won the sprint race, just as he probably wanted the same thing. But, as both of you made eye contact with each other over Oscar’s head, the Australian rambling endlessly as he hugged his trophy on your hotel room floor, both of you knew that there was no better outcome this weekend than Oscar getting a taste of victory. Lando’s win will come in due time. A P2, P3 finish on Sunday was just the proof everyone needed of McLaren’s improvement and the threat they may pose to Red Bull next year. 

são paulo • 2023

You had the Grand Prix playing on your phone as you did some prep work for the bakery. The race ended and you couldn’t help but feel happy, yet relieved for the race to be over for different reasons. Lando had a wonderful drive today, and Oscar had the opposite; you were just glad it wasn’t a DNF for him.

You had only just begun wiping down the counters when the sound of the post-race show is interrupted by the ringtone you have set for Oscar. You paused quickly, scooping your phone up to answer.

“Hi, Ozzy,” you cooed gently, “How are you feeling? Sorry about your race buddy, that was unfortunate.”

“It happens, I guess. I feel like shit, mostly. Like I let the team down.”

“No way, Oscar! You’re not letting anybody down. Your race result today wasn’t the result of your skills, it was the result of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a racing incident. If anybody tells you differently, let me know. I’ll rip their vocal cords out.”

Oscar’s laugh crackled through the receiver. “Yes, mum. I’ll let you know. I really want some of your chocolate chip cookies, they’re the perfect bad race remedy.”

“Well, I’m flying out in a few hours to meet you guys in Brazil so I can celebrate Lando’s—sorry, excuse me—your father’s birthday with him. I think there may be some time for me in my schedule to make some cookies with you.”

“Really? We should make some for Lando too! Wait, before you leave, I left his birthday gift—”

“—In our apartment, I remember! I already packed it in my luggage, I wouldn’t forget.”

“You’re the best, seriously.”

“Mhm, I know. Also, we should share some of these cookies with Charles too, his radio message made me cry.”

“Okay, he can have one cookie.”

“Oscar Jack,” you said dryly.

“Yes, sharing is caring or whatever. He can have like...two.”

instagram • bakewithyn • november 13th • las vegas ⚑

liked by, mclaren, landonorris, f1, oscarpiastri and 353,764 others

bakewithyn: happy birthday to lando norris. he's a pretty cool guy, a great dad, and the perfect boyfriend. love you lots, baby, and i'll love you forever xxx

tagged landonorris

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user wait is this a pregnancy announcement 😨

user this is giving engagement reveal

charlesleclerc bro. if i didn't know you guys i would think your caption was serious 😣

➥ bakewithyn get pranked LOL XD

➥ user oh i feel like i just got catfished

➥ user wait so lando didn't propose nor did he put a baby in her 😒

➥ user I WANTED A BABY NORRIS

➥ user oscar exists? he's literally their child

oscarpiastri no fr i thought i was about to learn i had a sibling otw from this post

➥ bakewithyn ozzy we would've told you???

➥ landonorris you literally bought the card for me

➥ oscarpiastri a boy can hope for a younger sibling can he not :(

➥ bakewithyn so close 😚 no you can't! hope that helps xo

➥ landonorris sorry osc, it's your mum's decision 🤷‍♂️

➥ user does this mean lando wants an actual kid

mclaren admin was terrified ngl 😅

➥ mclaren i thought you really posted an engagement and pregnancy reveal without letting me know 😭

➥ landonorris sorry admin, i'll keep you in the loop in the future

➥ user landoyn engagement soon??????

twitter • november 18th • las vegas ⚑

twitter • preseason 2024

miami • 2024

Lando had you pinned to the wall in his driver's room, with his hands tangled in your curls and his mouth devouring yours. Your moans are muffled into his lips as you grind against his thigh. You tried to multitask, struggling to pull his driver’s suit down. Lando lifted you slightly, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist and neither of you cared to pull away at the sound of your foot hitting his P1 trophy and knocking it over. One of his hands fell from your hair to grasp at the smooth brown skin of your neck, his palm acting as a warm weighted choker on your throat and you broke away from the kiss to moan. 

“Fuck, Lando—get naked,” you whined desperately, “we don’t have much time for you to tease me right now!”

Lando laughed as he moved to press kisses along your jawline and behind your ear. You felt his lips part on your skin, his breath ghosting over you causing goosebumps to rise, but it’s not his voice you hear.

“Lando, they need us for pictures—OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK,” yelped Oscar, the sound of his hand smacking over his eyes reverberating around the room.

You shrieked in surprise, pushing your boyfriend away from you as you speedily readjusted your clothes. Lando positioned himself in front of you, his back facing you allowing you a little more privacy as he speedily fixed his suit around his waist.

“Learn how to knock, kid,” Lando huffed, no shame found in his words, “You interrupted my winning celebration.”

You screamed in dismay, slapping the back of Lando’s head and Oscar began to stumble out of the room, bumping into the doorframe as he still covered his eyes.

“Yeah, knock in the future, I understand,” Oscar sounds like he’s about to cry, “I feel like I just saw my mum and dad having sex!”

instagram • bakewithyn • may 12th • mama's house ⚑

liked by oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, and 551,012 others

bakewithyn: LOOK AT MY SON 🥺🥺 PRIDE IS NOT THE WORD IM LOOKING FOR 🗣️🗣️🔊🔊 (happy mother's day to all the beautiful mamas x)

tagged oscarpiastri

view comments

oscarpiastri did dad get you anything 🙃

➥ user 👀👀👀

➥ landonorris well i would've if SOMEBODY told me we were celebrating this year 🤬🤬🤬🤬

➥ oscarpiastri i didn't know i *had* to tell you

➥ user wowwwww lando

➥ user shameful honestly 😕

markwebber happy milf day

➥ markwebber *mother's day sorry typo

➥ bakewithyn what the fuck ☠️☠️☠️

➥ user that was not a typo mark

➥ user sir u are not slick LMAO

➥ bakewithyn i mean...oscar wouldn't mind a step dad, his fatther didn't get me anything today :(

➥ landonorris AYO BABY PLEASE 🧎‍♂️

oscarpiastri you know what would be an even better mother's day gift? getting a puppy 🤭

➥ bakewithyn we are not getting a puppy ozzy.

➥ landonorris should've clued me in osc i might've convinced her for you

➥ oscarpiastri :[

monaco • 2024

You’re about to crash THE FUCK out. At first, it was a little half-joke. Oscar’s home race in Australia, his 1/16th home race in China, and his 3/16th home race in Italy. You originally thought his tweet about “searching for his Monegasque roots” was cute, but you didn’t expect Charles Marc Herve Perceval (Demon Spawn) Leclerc to step into your playing field.

Who the hell does he think he is? Offering to adopt your son? And, Oscar is going along with it? And, the Miami Grand Prix account making a “Certificate of Adoption?” You started to like Miami after Lando won there; and now they’ve betrayed you. Every fan jumped on the bandwagon, thinking that this was the most adorable thing to happen. Like Oscar hasn’t been your child the minute he stepped foot into the MTC in Silverstone. Like he didn’t give you a Mother’s Day present? The Monegasques have some nerve; you were close with Charles and Alex but, now they’ve encroached on your and Lando’s territory. You’re committing several murders today. 

You laughed hysterically when Oscar joined Lando and you for lunch, mentioning that Charles and Alex invited him to eat with the rest of the Leclercs at family dinner after qualifying. You agreed to let him but not without making sure Charles and Alex are qualified for the job. Lando also cornered you in the kitchen and persuaded you to allow Oscar to go; swaying you with the idea of a real date night. You never realized just how much time you guys spend with your son. When’s the last time you guys had a break from being “mum and dad?" It was an appealing offer, but you were serious about clarifying expectations to the thieving couple.

twitter • may 25th • monaco

instagram • bakewithyn • may 25th • date night ⚑

liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, nicolepiastri and 236,978 others

bakewithyn: a little night off from parenting was needed x

tagged landonorris

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user okay mamiiiii

user all parents deserve to relax !!!

oscarpiastri do you even miss me ☹️

➥ user damn he goin through it

➥ charlesleclerc i literally just got him to smile and now he's crying again 😒

➥ landonorris your mum and i love you lots osc

➥ oscarpiastri :]

alexandrasaintmleux take full advantage of having no children in the house 😈😈😈

➥ charlesleclerc leo will keep him distracted for as longggg as possible 😏

➥ user lando only needs about three minutes 🥱

➥ user wow that's a really long time fr

oscarpiastri mama y papa

➥ user mama y papa

➥ user mama y papa

➥ user mama y papa

instagram • landonorris • june 16th • daddy's home ⚑

liked by oscarpiastri, angryginge, bakewithyn and 436,812 others

landonorris: father's day done right. my child and his mother made a cake for me, family photo slide two, and my son slide three. what more can a man want.

tagged bakewithyn and oscarpiastri

view comments

user this man never misses a chance to call himself daddy

user too fucking funny 🤸🏾‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️

bakewithyn happy father's day, daddy xxx

➥ user OHMYGOD 😖🤢🤮

➥ user on my internet⁉️⁉️⁉️

➥ landonorris even happier now x

user this new wave of parents concerns me...

oscarpiastri the cake was good wasn't it???

➥ landonorris it was perfect, seriously

➥ oscarpiastri i know you both said there's no way we'd get a puppy but hear me out i've thought of something better

➥ oscarpiastri working on giving me a younger sibling :]

➥ user YES BABY NORRIS ‼️‼️‼️

➥ landonorris @/bakewithyn ?

➥ bakewithyn ask me again in a couple of years

© httpsserene2024

[descendantofthesparrow]

Once upon a December- smut chapter sneak peek

yeah im doin a smut chapter-aka an expansion on chapter 11~!

=

He needed you. Now.

“let me worship you, please” Harrison begged, hovering over you as you lay back on the bed, your head pressed into the soft pillows, your lips in a soft smile; your eyes looking into his with all the love in the world he didn’t deserve. You just took his face, and kissed him. He moaned into your mouth, one of his hands taking your waist as the other took your hips; bringing them to meet his as he thrust his hardness into your covered cunt, pulsing with want.

“Harry” you whispered his name, gasping as his fanged teeth pulled at your bottom lip. You whispered his name again, letting your head fall back as he trailed his lips down your chin, your neck, the valley between your breasts; all the while slowly undoing your clothes.

=

if anyone wants to be tagged for this chapter, cuz i dunno whos comfortable with smut and whos not, lemme know~!!! 

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I hope you take this as the compliment it is intended to be, but you strike the same chord of irreverence-as-love, jokes-to-showcase-sencerity that I get from Chuck Tingle, and I adore both of you.

You have bestowed the greatest honour upon me.

[heavenlyraindrops]

☆ “ɪ’ᴍ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ.” | ᴋᴇɴᴊɪ ꜱᴀᴛᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ☆

☆ She said “fuck me like I’m famous”| Chapter one

☆ Warnings: fem!reader, afab!reader, oral (f receiving), fingering, awkward!reader, reader is literally a hermit, no established relationship, not proofread, porn with like a drop of plot, they get slightly awkward after doing it but it’s ok <3 ☆ Word Count: 3.3k | Available on Tumblr & AO3

“Out? For dinner?”

You tore your eyes from your phone to look at Ami, who was watching Chiho roll around on the floor, immersed in whichever new game of pretend she had devised.

“Yes, dinner,” she repeated, then turned to look at you. “I’m meeting a… friend. Not a close one, but a friend nonetheless. And it would do you some good to meet new people, and to get out more.” She raked her eyes over you, from your baggy clothes to messy updo. 

“What’s that meant to mean? I get out plenty often. I’m out right now with you, aren’t I?”

“‘Chilling out’ at my house twice every week isn’t exactly going out, [name],” she sighed, rolling her eyes as she stood up, stepping towards the kitchen. “You’re like a hermit.”

You furrowed your brows together. “Maybe that’s how I like it.”

You heard water trickling as it filled up her glass, and her voice drift down towards where you were sitting. “I tend to wonder if I’m your only friend.”

At those words you stiffened, eyes opening wide and shooting up, back straight. “What? Friends?” You spluttered. “I have friends. I have plenty of friends. You’re not my only friend.” The words tumbled out of you hastily, and then you paused, flashing her a charming smile, trying to distract her. “You’re just my favourite one!”

She rolled her eyes as she sat back down. “Well, you have awful taste.” She handed you a drinks can. Your favourite.

“Hardly,” you uttered

“Just- you focus on work too much, okay? You need to find balance.” She took your palm, uncurling your fingers and placing the cold can in your hand. “Just come to this dinner.”

“…Fine.” You dug your finger under the tab, trying to get it open. “Who even is this friend, anyways?”

“Kenji Sato.”

You stared at her.

She must have mistaken your silence and blank stare for shock, or stupor instead of a reaction to what you considered to be an underwhelming statement, because she just sat back, letting her words sink in. They did, not that they meant much to you.

“Who?” You said blankly.

She blinked, then leaned forward. “Uh, Ken Sato? The really famous baseball player?”

You took a slow sip of the drink- the carbonation danced on your tongue. “No idea who that is. I don’t follow baseball.”

“You don’t follow anything,” she pointed out. “You’re completely out of the loop.”

You threw your hands in the air, exasperated. “Just- look, is he someone I should be impressed with? Like, am I-“

“I’ve mentioned him once,” Ami cut in. “Played in the States, moved to Japan suddenly? I was wondering why, and mentioned it to you?” She narrowed her eyes. “Unless you weren’t listening.”

“No no, I was,” you said quickly, then frowned, furrowing your brow. “Wait, didn’t you interrogate him, once? Twice?”

“Thrice,” she corrected you. “And it's called an interview, not an interrogation.”

“Same thing,” you said indignantly, with another gulp of ice cold carbonated sugar. “And you’re sure he’s just a friend.” You eyed her, testing her for any telltale signs on her face suggesting otherwise.

She simply stared at you, unimpressed. “Yes.”

“Okay,” you said, stretching out the vowel, rolling it along your tongue. You stopped. “Okay, fine, I’ll come to your dinner thing.”

“Yes!” She said, sounding a bit too relieved. You stared at her. “Sorry, it’s just- I’m so glad you’re finally-“ she cut off with an excited, pleased noise. 

You looked at her, concern for yourself creeping into your expression. “Am I really that-“

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “Now, please put some effort into your appearance tomorrow night-“

“Tomorrow night?”

“Yes, do you have plans?” She didn’t wait for an answer, because she already knew it. “No? Thought so. Please put some effort into your appearance tomorrow night, because it’ll be worth it.”

“Uh huh,” you said slowly.

“I wonder if you even remember how to behave in a social setting,” she mused, and you smacked her shoulder. 

That night when you got home and flopped down on your bed, pulling out your phone, your finger hovered over the search bar.

What was his name?

Kenji Sato.

You were typing in the words before you even realized it, and seeing the images, you froze.

Oh. 

Shoving down any sort of deranged thoughts that could have been formulating in your head, you buried your face into your pillow and tried to fall asleep.

-

“[name]!”

“Ami!” You stuttered. Ami came towards you, eyes lighting up as she took in your appearance.

“You look really different,” she said, taking in your appearance. “Really pretty.”

You didn’t often wear clothes that were form-fitting or flattered your figure, but you’d decided that since it was a dinner with basically a celebrity, you might as well have put in some extra effort into your looks. 

“Thanks,” you said, as she led you through the restaurant doors and to your table. Pausing, she turned to look at you. 

“You look sick,” she frowned. “And nervous.” She clicked her tongue. “Maybe this really was a bad idea. I should have know you can’t handle-“

“No!” You almost burst out. “No, I mean, I can do this. It’s not that big a deal. I’m just meeting a new person, right?” 

She nodded hesitantly, still frowning at you.

“Right. So, not a big de-“

“Hey, Ami.”

You froze, shoulders stiffening.

“Kenji.” Ami turned to him. You still hadn’t looked at him yet, eyes fixed desperately on Ami’s face. “This is [name]. Name, this is-“

“Ken Sato.” He held out his hand to you, to shake. You stared at his long fingers, then slowly looked up to his face. He was wearing this easy, charming grin. Your knees almost buckled. “I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

You grabbed his hand and shook it. “N-nice to meet you.” You both held your stare a few seconds longer than you needed to. 

He raised a dark brow, and you could have sworn his expression had flickered with amusement before he turned back to Ami. “And here I was worried I was late.” He waved you both on towards the table, where you took your seats.

Ami was looking at you, frowning. You gave her a wobbly smile back. 

Oh, fuck this.

-

“So, what did you say you work as, [name]?” 

Kenji’s voice snapped you out of your haze, and you looked up at him, eyes widening. “Oh, I’m an, uh, I’m an author.” You stared hard at your food, then looked back up at him to gauge his reaction. 

He just leaned back against his chair. “Cool.” His eyes were set on yours. You flushed. “What sort of stuff do you write?”

“Uh,” your eyes slid to Ami, who was looking at you expectantly. “Romance, mostly.” The confession made your cheeks burn but you were too much of a mess to lie smoothly, not that it had even occurred to you in the first place- and Ami would have teased you about it later.

But Kenji just formed a small ‘o’ with his mouth, then smirked. “That’s cute.”

“Is it?” You had to fight to not make your voice sound like a squeak. He just nodded, taking a bite of his food like it was nothing. 

He’d said it so casually that Ami hadn’t even noticed, instead pouring herself more of her drink and commenting on how Kenji had healed up. You blinked, confused, and turned as he held his arm out, flexing it.

“Yeah, quicker than I thought,” he said. You could see the faint outline of his muscles through the fabric and were so prepared to just jump out the window, then and there. He must have caught you staring because, without turning his head, he locked eyes with you and fucking winked.

You bit your lip, rubbing your thighs together and trying to ignore every instinct in your body screaming at you to throw yourself across the table. “You got hurt?”

He dropped his arm back to his side, rolling his shoulder. “Yeah. It’s fine now though.”

You didn’t press any farther, just eating your food in flushed silence, trying to ignore the burning you could feel in between your thighs. 

-

“How’d you get here, [name]?” Ami asked. You stared desperately at your phone screen.

“Cab,” you muttered, rubbing your hand on the back of your neck. The app was empty. “But there aren’t any available.”

You checked the time. Half past eleven. You shivered, the night air biting at your skin. Ami looked at you, concerned. “Should I drop you?”

“No. No.” Guilt ate away at your gut. “No, you need to get home to Chiho, and I’m in the completely opposite direction- it’s not worth it.” You stepped back, and you could feel Kenji look over your shoulder at your screen. He leaned down to your level, breath warm on your ear. You shivered again, but not from the cold. “I’ll just wait until something shows up.”

“What’s your address?” He tilted his face slightly towards you, before pulling away. You stared at him, then frowned at him slightly, opening your mouth to reply, but Ami cut in.

“Look, I-“ she glanced at her watch. “I really need to go.” She pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, [name].”

You waved her off. “Don’t be.”

And she was gone, her car rolling off. You looked back at Kenji, and quickly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, mumbling your address.

He tapped something into his phone, and his face twisted into a satisfactory grin. “It’s on the way to mine. So I’ll just drop you.” He started walking down the street.

You stumbled after him. “Oh- are you- are you sure?”

He turned, walking backwards, in the same direction but facing you know as he shrugged, grinning. “Why not? Better than waiting around in the cold for a ride.”

“R-right.” 

He led you to where a motorbike was parked, and you blinked. “You rode here on a motorcycle?”

He shrugged his blue biker’s jacket off, and without warning, draped it over your shoulders. “Yeah. Surprised?”

“I… don’t know.” Your face was burning at the action. “Are you sure…” you fiddled with the hem of his jacket.

He waved his hand at it dismissively. “Take it. You look cold.”

You fell silent. Then: “I don’t have a helmet.”

He reached into a compartment, pulling one out. “Spare. For situations like this, I guess. Comes in handy.”

“Situations like this?” You echoed, as he stepped towards you, setting the helmet down over your head and fastening it tight. Your heart was going a million miles a minute.

“When I have to make sure a pretty girl like you gets home, obviously,” he said casually, but the look on his face betrayed his nonchalant tone. He clambered onto the bike. “Come on, then. Get on.”

You blinked, face burning even harder than before, but did as he told you to. 

-

“Thanks. For taking me home, I mean.” 

He looked up at you as you pulled the helmet off your head, imitating the action himself. A strand of hair fell in front of his forehead. “Don’t think about it,” he shrugged, and your grip on the helmet tightened as you clutched it to your chest. 

“Oh, but I will.” You dropped your voice to a husky whisper, and watched his jaw clench. Oh thank you god, I remember how to flirt. Kind of. 

Now it was his turn to become flustered, as he gave you another grin, shaky this time. “Really?” He asked, voice hoarse. You stepped back, towards your house.

“You should come inside,” you suggested. “It’s not that late.”

He raised his eyebrow. “It’s almost midnight,” he laughed, but didn’t object to your offering, licking his lips nervously. You paused your walk up towards your front door, turning and looking at him expectantly. 

“Oh, fuck this,” he muttered, abandoning the bike and walking towards you. Your stomach exploded into a flurry of butterflies as you both hurried towards your front door. 

-

You bit back a whimper as his lips crashed onto yours, kissing you with a hunger you hadn’t been met with before. The door hadn’t even shut before his hands were on your waist, dragging you close to him- and then it was, and he pinned you against it, your back pressing into the ridges of the wood. 

He pulled away, both of your breathing ragged as he pressed his forehead against yours, eye contact unwavering. He cursed under his breath. “Sorry- I should have- I should have asked.”

You were barely able to move your mouth, shaking your head lightly. “It’s fine,” you breathed, and his eyes flicked back down to your lips, grip on your waist tightening. “You didn’t have to.”

“God, you’re-“ he choked on his own words. “You’re pretty.” 

You didn’t have time to respond before his mouth was capturing yours again, heat burning all over as one of his hands wandered to grip your nape, holding you steady. His teeth grazed your lip and you gasped, but he pulled away, pressing kisses all the way down your jaw and collarbone, leaving a trail of blooming bruises in his wake. His other hand fell from your waist to hip, pressing you close up against him, and heat pooled in your core. 

“Ken,” you managed to whisper weakly through the dizzying haze clouding your mind. He paused, teeth pressed against your skin, and he leaned back up to you, ghosting his lips over the shell of your ear, humming. “Are you sure this is a g-good idea?” Your voice was shaking. He frowned, pulling away, and his fingers dug into your hips. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” His voice was husky with desire, eyes trained on your every movement. You could feel his breath on your skin. You opened your mouth, searching for a reason, but couldn’t find any. He trailed his fingers down your neck, brushing over the marks, to the collar of your top, tugging at it. “Come on.”

You stumbled after him, shedding the jacket, ignoring it as it fell to the floor, and he pulled you down onto the couch with him, hands on your waist. You fell into his lap, straddling him. He grinned. “Still can’t find a reason?”

“…No.”

“Then just relax,” he told you, lips still pressed against your jaw, fingers creeping beneath the hem of your top. “Because I’m about to make you feel really good.”

At his words you bit back a moan, sucking in a harsh breath as you bit your lip, involuntarily rolling your hips against him. He hissed, tipping his head back. You were certain his hands were going to leave marks everywhere they touched, feeling them dig into your hips as you dove onto his neck, suckling and biting, anything to repay the affection he’d shown you earlier.

His hand fisted your hair, gently but firmly tugging you back and away. “Stop it,” he hissed. “Just let me do my thing, okay?”

You looked at him, confused, and slightly hurt, until he quickly pressed a reassuring kiss to your lips. “I said I’d make you feel good, so just sit back and let me, got it?”

You didn’t argue with him, not when he flipped you around so that your back was pressed against the couch, or when he sank to his knees, pushing your legs open, letting out a shaky breath as your skirt hiked right up your thighs. 

He let out a breathless laugh. “You’re wet,” he teased, his hot breath hitting your skin. He pressed a chaste kiss to your inner thigh, making you shiver, then another, each one lasting longer before the one before, leaving marks littering all over your inner thighs. You bit your lip- the mere sight of his face in between your legs was enough to get you dripping, even more than you were before, and he seemed to notice, because he let out an amused chuckle.

“Wh-what?” Your voice was broken, and hitched when he pressed his thumb to your clothed clit, sending a jolt of pleasure into your cunt. He smirked at your reaction. 

“Nothing,” he murmured, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your soaked panties, tugging them slowly down your legs. Your teeth pressed down on your bottom lip harder. His eyes flicked up to meet your expression. “What? Nervous?” 

You didn’t reply, just shaking, and he let out a slow breath, pressing his lips back against your inner thigh as his expression softened. “Don’t be, baby.” His lips curled back into his signature grin. “I told you you could relax, remember?”

You flushed, and nodded.

Without warning, he dove in, lips pressing down on your clit. You whimpered, not even enough time to react before his tongue licked a long strip up your entrance, making you twitch and spasm, throbbing pleasure aching. Your legs instinctively pulled together but he forced them back apart, tongue tracing slow patterns across your bundle of nerves, eyes hooded with lust as he watched your flinch and gasp. 

You let out a broken whimper of his name, and felt him tense under you- but he didn’t stop his movements, slipping his tongue in between your folds, stretching you out with his fingers. You bucked your hips, but he grabbed your hip with his other hand, pinning you down to keep you from moving. “Shhh,” he whispered, his low voice sending vibrations into your core. You let out a desperate moan- it took everything in you to not desperately start grinding against his face. He chuckled slightly at your pitiful state, turning his attention back to your dripping cunt, slipping a finger inside. Your back arched, hand flying to your mouth to clamp over it. A finger slipped inside, curling to hit that sweet spot- you almost saw stars.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, screwing your eyes shut. “I think I’m gonna cum-“

He simply hummed at your words, the vibrations of his voice sending another shockwave through you, lapping at you like he was hungrier than before, fingers pumping in and out at a steady pace. You knew what he was saying.

Go on. Cum. 

And you did, a broken cry of his name slipping past your lips as the orgasm crashed over you, legs shaking as he drew out your high for as long as possible. And when you finally came down he pushed himself up, towards you, capturing your lips in another feverish kiss. 

You could see the shaky movements of his chest as he breathed heavily, feel his boner pressed up against you, his face flushed and burning to the touch. You pulled away. 

“Are you… shoud I…” You reached for his zipper, despite the fact your voice was heavy with fatigue but he just shook his head, laughing breathlessly.

“No, no, I… don’t worry about me.” He cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “I’ll just- where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the corridor, first door on the left,” you mumbled, slumping back. He stood up, adjusting your head on the couch.

“Okay, I’ll- I’ll be right back.”

You heard his footsteps hurry away and the door shut.

You didn’t realize how much time had passed, with you laying on the couch, drifting in and out of consciousness, when you heard his footsteps approach you again. You looked up at him drowsily.

“Hey.” Your voice was barely audible. “You should stay here for the night.”

He opened his mouth, but didn’t object, even when you waved him over to lay next to you. You settled on top of him, laying your head on his chest. His arm looped around your waist. 

“[name],” he muttered. You lifted your head. “Is this just a… one time thing?”

You tilted your head. “Do you want it to be?”

He frowned, then shook his head. “No. No, I don’t.”

You smiled. “Me neither.”

☆ A/N: visit either the first tag or the pinned post to find the other chapters!

[kit-middleton]

Chapters: 33/40 Fandom: Supernatural, The Walking Dead (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Paul "Jesus" Rovia/John Winchester, Paul "Jesus" Rovia/Original Male Character, past Paul "Jesus" Rovia/Daryl Dixon (one-sided) Characters: Paul "Jesus" Rovia, Jesus (Walking Dead), John Winchester, Jack Kline (Mention), Rick Grimes (Mention), Daryl Dixon (mention) - Character, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy, Castiel, Negan (mention), Aaron (Walking Dead) (mention), Mary Winchester, Arthur Ketch Additional Tags: Crossover, will be M/M at some point, The Walking Dead levels of cursing in the Supernatural universe, possible spoilers for the whole of Supernatural, Slow Burn, POV Alternating, spoilers for The Walking Dead up to episode 9.8 Evolution, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Case Fic, First Kiss, ignores canon for The Winchesters series, Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs Series: Part 1 of I've been changed (I don't know how to love him) Summary:

Paul "Jesus" Rovia is on a hunt, still adjusting to living in a world where zombies (walkers) are fiction, when he runs into John Winchester.

John Winchester is still adjusting to the world after being dead for fifteen years when he runs into a ninja hipster who calls himself Jesus.

The hunt becomes a lot more complicated and the extended Winchester clan gets involved.

[starfall-spirit]

Gosh, I'm so glad I'm having fun with renaissance again.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Class clown

class clown gyu who for some reason has it out for nerd!reader and finally she gets sick of it and puts him in his place. warnings: dom!reader, sub!gyu, handjob, blowjob, dirty talk, pathetic gyu as always

"What is your problem?" You snap at Beomgyu, the class clown and the bane of your existence. He is always on your case, making fun of you in front of everyone. Today you made a mistake answering the proferssor's question and he immediatley jumped on it, humiliating you in front of the entire class. "Why do you have to mess with me?"

"Because you're fun to mess them." He answers simply, a huge infuriating grin on his face. You look really funny when you're angry."

You don't know what came over you, you're not usually a violent person but seeing his stupid cocky face makes you lose it and you shove him against the wall, slamming your hands on either side of his head to trap him in. "Do I look funny now?

But to your chagrin, he keeps grinning, not phased one bit. "Kinda."

You're so frustrated you could cry. There was nothing you have ever thought of or done that got him to leave you alone. He has been doing this to you for years, even back when you were at school. In fact you had been so excited to go to uni just to escape him, only to see his stupid face at your first lecture and your entire dream of escape came crashing down.

"What? The smart mouth finally has got nothing to say?" He goads when you stay quiet too long for his liking.

Your vision turns red. He makes you so frustrated and pent up, you would do anything to shut him up. Maybe that's why you resorted to doing something crazy.

Grabbing his face, you push your lips against his, intending to strong-arm him into silence. After all if his lips are busy, he can't mouth off anymore.

You don't know how you expected him to react to that--freeze in shock? Push you off? Call you crazy? You don't know but you certainly didn't expect him to almost immediately start kissing you back. It threw you off so hard you actually pull away from the kiss yourself.

But as soon as you pull back, he's running his mouth again. "Damn, nerd, looks like your mouth is good for somethjng other than eating the professor's ass."

"You're so fucking.. ugh!" You groan, shutting him up again. But this time you don't just use your mouth, instead you raise his shirt up, feeling up his body to his nipples and grabbing them between your thumbs and index fingers and pulling on them a bit roughly, making him gasp and break away from the kiss with a wet smack.

"Oh god," He groans, eyes fluttering as you roll his nipples between your fingers.

"You like that, brat?" You spit, happy to finally be getting the upper hand for the first time in your years of being tormented by Beomgyu.

"Fuck yeah." He groans and tries to reach out to touch your own tits.

"Don't fucking touch me, brat." You hiss at him, "If you touch me, I stop."

"You're being such a killjoy." He protests but it's hard for him to keep a steady voice when your fingers are playing with his clearly sensitive nipples like that, and even more so when one of your hands slips into his loose pants to palm his already very hard cock.

"You look like you're enjoying it enough." You mutter, twisting your hand up to the head of his cock, making him moan out.

"Fucking hell...Are you gonna fuck me?" He asks bluntly.

"Do you want me to fuck you, Gyu?" You ask, and any hesitency over the unfamiliar nickname vanishes as he shudders under your touch.

"If you're going to be handling my cock like that then I damn well expect to get a fuck out of it." He replies, still insolent despite his whimpering and frankly slutty moans.

"You're such a little bitch." You chastise, focusing your strokes on the head of his cock, aiming for maximum damage. "You think you deserve to get anywhere near my pussy after the shit you've pulled over me for years?"

He shrugs, trying to affect nonchalance but it's hard to but he's panting like a bitch for you. "Maybe if you get fucked good, you'd be a little less uptight.

Uptight! Just because you care about your future, that doesn't make you uptight. God, you hate him... but damn, does he looks fucking hot falling apart in your hands like that.

"And maybe if you were getting any attention on your cock apart from your own hand, you wouldn't be such an attention seeking slut." You jeer, getting down on your knees. "Now shut the fuck up or you won't get to cum at all."

"What--" He doesn't have time to formulate his question before you pull his pants down and wrap your mouth around his cock, sucking any retort right out of him.

"Oh, fuck, that's it." He arches his back, driving his cock further down your throat which you readily take, to his surprise.

"Fuck, where did you learn to suck dick like this?" He asks through his moans but you don't bother to answer him. You don't owe him an answer, you just want to shut the bitch up.

But Beomgyu is incapable of shutting up. "Have you been sucking dick on the down low? I didn't know the nerd is such a big slut. Thought you were a good girl."

You detach from his cock to retort, tearing a whine out of him which the idiot is too stupid to realize he is the cause of. "You're one to talk. Look how loudly you're moaning as soon as you get your dick wet. What? No one wants to fuck such a loudmouth?"

"Fuck you." He mutters, and you laugh. "You wish, baby." You smirk, bobbing your head down his cock again, going ruthlessly fast and getting the brat to writhe under you.

You think that would be the end of it but Beomgyu could die and his mouth would still be running. "Seriously, who are you fucking? Taehyun? Soobin? Don't tell me it's that manwhore Yeonjun?"

You pull off his dick in frustration, using your hand to jerk him off roughly instead. "Why do you fucking care who I fuck?"

"I don't care." He huffs, arching his back to push his cock further into your grip. "I just know they can't be fucking you good if you're still so uptight all the time. If you want a good time, I could give you the time of your life."

You burst out laughing, obviously bruising the boy's ego in the process but you don't care. And you don't even bother hiding your incredulity. "You? Do you even see yourself? I'm barely even moving my hand and you're fucking it like a dog in heat. Your dick is drooling all down my arm. You look like you're a few pumps away from creaming yourself. I don't think you'd even make it one stroke inside my pussy before you pop like a virgin."

"No, I'm not." He denies, trying to keep his hips still, clearly fighting with himself. "I can fuck you so good you'll screaming my name."

"You can? You can take hot, tight pussy until I cum? You can have me clench around your needy cock without emptying your balls inside me?" You reach your other hand out to cup his balls, massaging then gently between your fingers, making him suck in a shuddering breath. "You can hold back your hot cum until I'm ready to milk your cock? You won't just break and spurt your cum inside me as soon as you put it in?"

"Fuck, fuck, slow down." He gasps, trying to squirm away from your touch but you hold him tighter, jerking him off steadily.

"Why? Are you going to cum just from my hands? That's disappointing. I thought you wanted to give me the fuck of my life?" You cock your head to side, staring up at him condescendingly, making him shudder.

"Baby, please, slow down?"

"Baby?" You laugh. "Now I'm baby?"

"I can't take much more." He was jerking uncontrollably in your grip but you never let go, taking the hand on his balls off to press it against his lower tummy to hold him in place as you continue jerking off his now very red and slippery cock.

"Are you gonna cum?" You ask again and he nods, biting onto his lip harshly. "Yes, can I?"

You have to say you were taken aback at him suddenly asking for your permission to cum. You would have thought the brat would just do it with no warning. "Aw, baby is asking for permission to cum? If I knew it was this easy to get you to behave, I would have... well, actually I still wouldn't have touched you any sooner. But it's good to know how pathetic you really are."

"Fuck you." He repeats, voice strained in his effort to still hold back.

"You want me to say you can cum?" You tease, twisting your hand over the length of his cock slowly.

He nods. "Yes. Need it. Need it."

"Are you going to be good to me from now on?" You ask and he shakes his head. "You're too fun to tease."

"You are too." You counter, slowing your hand down, making him thrust his hips to try to get more of your touch so you smack his thigh in punishment. "Down, boy!"

"Baby, please!" He begs so sweetly, pining you with his pretty, brown eyes, his dick drooling in your grip.

"Are you going to be good from now on?" You tighten your grip around him as you deliberately move your hand up the entire length of his cock, feeling his precum dripping down your arm.

"Yes, yes, I'll be good. I'll be so good." He babbles, and you know he is lying his ass off, just wanting to say whatever would get you to let him cum, but even that makes you feel so fucking hot. To have that effect on your tormentor after all these years is a fucking head rush.

"God, you're a mess." You mutter, quickening your pace over his cock, making Beomgyu panic. "Wait, wait, can I cum? Can I cum?"

It's a little precious how much he panics over cumming without your explicit permission, so much so you decide to just give it to him, wanting to see the brat completely lose it in your grip.

"You can cum, brat." As soon as you utter the words--as if he was really waiting for them--he explodes, spurting rope after rope of cum down your arm and onto your chest.

"Thank you. Thank you, baby." He cries, emptying himself for you until he can no longer hold himself up anymore and collapses to the ground by your side.

But to your surprise and mild horror, Beomgyu takes a minute to calm himself down before he grabs his own cock and strokes himself to full hardness again, bearing through the pain of overstimulation for a reason that only becomes apparent to you after you ask, "What the hell are you doing, Beomgyu?"

"I promised I can fuck you good, didn't I?"

He really is insane.

____________________

[sebdoeswords]

After returning from their full moon flight, Geralt and Regis cap off the night by making good on the last of Geralt’s suggestions.