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#i have so many but these are my favourites
thef1diary · 2 days
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Little Big Fan | Fourteen
— Little Big Champion
Series Masterlist
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wc: 1.9k
Note: we're gonna pretend that Max won the championship in the race, and the sprint race didn't exist for the purpose of the plot.
"Holy shit," you murmur as the car rolls to a stop right beside Max's private jet. "Shit," your daughter repeats which earns a laugh from Max.
You shake your head and tell her, "don't say that." Luckily, she'd been so focused on the plane that she'd forgotten to wonder why. Other times, even after being given a response, she would persistently demand for the explanation, usually with "why, mama?" multiple times.
You turned your head to look at Max, who was already smiling due to your reaction. "You do know that you're about to ruin every other plane experience for me now, right?" You ask with a little chuckle and Max, being Max, nods. "Yeah, and you do know that we'll be flying private for most of the races," he said, adding, "or vacations."
"Is this your plane, Maxy?" Isabella asked, slightly leaning over your lap to look out the window as it gave her a better view of the aircraft. "It's ours, princess."
Your attention remained fixed on Isabella's expression as she took in all of the details inside the plane. Max was used to the luxurious life after travelling to so many nations in this plane. To you and Isabella, however, it was a whole new experience, and you couldn't help but feel both delighted and comforted that this would eventually become your new normal. Max hasn't hesitated to spoil you or Isabella thus far, and he has no intentions to stop, especially now that he's become addicted to the joy he feels when he does something for you or Isabella.
Once you were settled in, you were welcomed with a glass of champagne for you and Max, and apple juice for Isabella—served in a champagne flute to prevent her from feeling excluded.
This time, it was a much smoother experience for your daughter, especially during takeoff which she was very nervous about based on the last time she had flown.
Isabella was out like a light once the jet was in the air, and she was able to sleep peacefully because flying private had far fewer people than flying commercial. You and Max had moved to the opposite end of the plane to chat freely, but you could still keep an eye on Isabella in case she awoke.
The flight consisted of only Max, Isabella, and you, with a few crew members present. When you saw the lack of his team, you asked about it. "I might've told them to fly commercial," he said with a shrug.
"And they're going to hate me before I even meet them properly," you responded. While you had met a few people that were a part of his team, Max would be reintroducing you as his girlfriend.
He shook his head, "no they won't. I had to make sure that your first private flight experience was the best of the best, and that wouldn't be possible with them around."
You were in a completely new country, new paddock and new track but it still felt familiar since you had Max by your side. A few other drivers had come up to you and your daughter, having recognized you from the last time you were Max's guest at a race.
"I know RedBull is your favourite team, but what about McLaren?" Lando asked Isabella, who pressed a finger against her cheek to pretend to think for a moment. "I like RedBull, Ferrari, and then McLaren," she counted on her fingers.
Lando's jaw dropped, placing a hand to his chest in mock hurt, "third?" Isabella giggled, "out of ten, Lando."
"But still, what will it take for McLaren to be first?" Max interjected before she could respond to Lando's question. "Stop bothering my Bella, you're not her favourite." He was pleased to be her favourite, both on and off the track. Perhaps second to you off track because you were her mother, but he'd still consider it a win.
Lando approached the three of you a few minutes earlier, immediately sparking up a conversation with Isabella after hearing all the good things about her through Max. Lando was one of the very few people Max had told about you during the short break between races. It was strange to see Lando clad in the opposing team colours near the rival team's garage, but he had to know the two people who owned Max's heart—which were exactly the words Max had told him, albeit Lando found those words a tad too sappy.
Ignoring Max's comment even though he looked up to acknowledge him, he asked Isabella another question. "What about your favourite driver, and don't say Max."
Max looked at you with an expression that said, "are you going to let this happen?" You laughed, looking at the Brit and commenting, "I don't think you'll be happy with the answer, Lando."
"Maxy is my favourite but Charlie too," Isabella stated right after your words earning a gasp from Max and Lando. "Charles?" Max asked, surprised as well.
Max never really thought about it and certainly didn't think Charles would be her second favourite driver. He was aware that Isabella would undoubtedly have other favourites than him but just not as good as him.
"Yes, Charlie," Isabella confirmed, and at the same time the driver walked past them, stopping once he heard his name.
"Ah, hello Bella," he held his hand up for a high-five. He playfully removed the cap she already had on—which was the one Max gifted—to replace it with the one he had on his head; Ferrari.
Max leaned closer to you and whispered, "there are too many non-redbull drivers here." Hiding your laugh behind your hand, you responded, "you can't tell them to leave though, we're not in the garage." He raised his eyebrow, "why not?"
"Just look at Bella," you said, nudging your head towards the scene in front of you two. Her eyes lit up as she giggled at the two drivers who spoke to her. Lando placed his McLaren cap on her head, on top of Charles' cap already on her head in an attempt to outshine the Ferrari driver.
That earned a smile from Max, "I'm glad she's comfortable here, not many kids are." You nodded, "well she will be growing up around the tracks, either to watch you or if she decides to be like you."
Max's head snapped in your direction, "what do you mean be like me? She wants to race?" Around you, he was always expressive, so you could see the glint of hope that was beginning to form in his eyes. Again, you nodded, "she might've mentioned it once or twice but if you can't tell I barely know anything about the sport and even less about karting."
"I can help, please let me take her karting," Max immediately requested, because the prospect of Isabella starting karting, especially under his coaching and guidance, was nothing short of a dream.
"I think she would love that, but let me tell you now that it's already scary enough seeing you race so I'm not sure how I would handle it if Isabella has even a fraction of your talent," you stated firmly, earning a sharp nod in understanding from him.
Max grinned as he observed your daughter incorporating Charles and Lando into her imaginary activities. This time, the two professional drivers were passengers while she was playing the role of a race car driver.
"Oi, lovebirds, join us," Lando made a disgusted expression as he witnessed you and Max cuddled together, but he secretly enjoyed seeing the two of you together—not that he would ever tell Max.
Dropping the conversation for now, you and Max joined in on the little game until the drivers were needed by their various team members.
He did it; Max won the race and the world championship title yet again, for the third time in a row. As a result of his competitiveness and success as a driver, the title had already been determined with five races remaining in the season.
Behind the row of team members—mainly from RedBull and McLaren—you stood among them in parc fermé with a tight grasp on your daughter's hand waiting for Max to park the car in the spot reserved for the race winner.
Cheers and claps could be heard loudly as he stood on top of the car for a moment, throwing his hands up in celebration. With his helmet still on, he rushed towards the team standing behind the barricades, earning praises and applauses from each person he neared.
Amongst the crowd, he spotted you, and while you couldn't see his full face, you knew from the way his eyes crinkled around the corners that he adorned a wide smile on his face.
Max stood right in front of you, but yet it was still too far as a few people were blocking his view of you. Gesturing with his hands, he asked for you to be brought closer and you obliged as soon as you were given space.
He removed his helmet and balaclava which allowed you to see his beautiful face, still adorning a smile on his face but only fondness in his eyes remained as he continued looking at you.
Shoving the balaclava inside the helmet, he held it in one hand to the side while grasping the back of your head with the other. The noises around you seemed to fade away as soon as his lips touched yours, leaving you with only the immense hammering of your heart.
Parting away, you rested your forehead against his for a moment. “Congratulations, baby,” you spoke, loud enough to be heard amongst the crowd that you couldn’t care less about in this moment.
The audience begins to disperse, gathering around the podium for the upcoming celebrations. Max receives a pat on the back, indicating that it is time to go to the cooldown room, but his gaze never shifts away from you.
He knew he couldn't leave without placing another kiss on your lips, so he gave in to his desires by closing his eyes, silencing the world around him once more to focus on the delicate sensation of your lips pressing against his.
Max truly felt like a champion, because not only did he win the world driver's championship of this season but he also had you right by his side to experience the thrill of winning it all. He may have won two other championships in the previous years, but this one felt completely different; much better.
Inevitably, he's pulled away from you by someone from his team. "Go get that trophy, champion," you state, wanting to see him hold the race winning trophy now, and even the championship trophy during the gala.
Right before turning around, he focused on your daughter, messing with Isabella's hair again until she slapped his hands away. She still had a really big smile on her face, having seen Max win the race and the championship at the same time.
You still held Isabella's hand as you began the short walk towards the podium, but she squeezed it tighter to grab your attention. Your smile plummeted and dread instantly filled your heart as you heard your daughter's words, "mama look, it's daddy," she pointed at him with her free hand.
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terastalungrad · 1 day
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Sometimes, you’re a comedian with a touring show to promote, so you do an interview with a regional newspaper.
I think that’d be the funniest possible time to reveal a big scoop, wouldn’t it?
Stewart Lee is currently touring, and to promote his Yeovil performance, gave an interview to Blackmore Vale Magazine.  According to Wikipedia, the Blackmore Vale is an area of north Dorset, south Somerset and southwest Wiltshire.  According to the comedian Jake Baker, the magazine would cover his school sports day as he grew up in Dorset.  That’s the level of news you’d expect.
The questions are friendly and easy, from a journalist clearly familiar with Lee’s work and history.
The first question is about the show’s angle.  Lee describes the nature of the show, and here’s an excerpt:
So it looks like stand-up, and sounds like stand-up, but it’s actually a kind of character piece about a desperate person who’s frightened and trying to organise the world in a way that puts them in control. And I guess you could argue that’s what a lot of stand-ups are doing anyway. Ricky Gervais to me looks like a very frightened man. He’s frightened of transgender people coming after him, the act is a defensive wall.
Fun!  This is a Ricky Gervais hate blog, so it’s nice to see a sudden, unexpected attack in an unrelated promotional interview.
Lee mentions Gervais again in response to question four.
Sometimes I become bitter and think ‘I get all this good press, why can’t I get 10 million quid for a TV special like Ricky Gervais?’ But on the other hand, I wouldn’t want that audience, it wouldn’t allow me to be better.
And then again to question eight, where Lee explains why he spends six months running new shows in the relatively small Leicester Square Theatre (as opposed to arena comics who might do 10 warmup shows followed by 60 tour dates).
You can still run it like a club gig, you can interact with people in real time. Also, you wouldn’t get better at the show because you wouldn’t have done it as many times. You can see this with an act like Gervais. Those shows have not been run in, they’re not fluid, they’re a succession of inflexible statements that would snap like twigs if the pressure of an unforeseen event was applied to them.
The journalist finally addresses this head on.  It really is worth reading the entire article - there’s a lot more than I’m quoting, including an interesting story about Sean Lock:
But here are my favourite bits:
[Gervais] still kind of copies me though, which is the weird thing. There’s still a lot of cadences of what I do but they’re used in the service of evil. In Star Wars, he’s Darth Vader and he’s taken the force, which is me, and used it for evil purposes. He was a fanboy, he was actually the booker at University of London and used to book me and Sean Lock all the time. And when he became famous for the Office, he wrote an hour-long act that was so indebted to us it was awkward. [...] If he’d come up through the circuit that would have been rubbed off him because you find your own voice doing club gigs. It took me two years of gigging five nights a week to come through the mesh of things I liked. But he didn’t have that experience in the same way. [...] Funnily enough, in his first show there were bits I’d never recorded that he’d do almost verbatim. He’d clearly remembered them. I went to see him at the Bloomsbury – on his invitation actually – with my then girlfriend and she was very concerned for me. I’d given up at that point due to lack of interest, and she was concerned for what it felt like to see my act being done to hundreds of people, it was quite weird. On the other hand, that sort of did make me think I don’t want it to be consumed into someone else’s vocabulary. And also, I think because he had a residual sense of guilt, he would always credit me in interviews as being an influence – that helped me in 2004 to get the audience back.
This is, to my knowledge, the first time Lee’s ever claimed that Gervais stole his material.  He’s certainly talked about Gervais clearly taking influence from him (though in the past, he downplayed this compared to the account given in this interview).
It’s a pretty big thing to accuse a comic of stealing material.  That’s a big taboo.  I reckon this is partly because Lee wants to discourage fans of Gervais from coming to the show.
Anyway, let’s finish by quoting the end of the interview:
It must be strange to have that level of financial remuneration and those audience figures but not really a single good review. And I expect what that does for you is create a cognitive dissonance where you have to manufacture a worldview by which the whole world is wrong and you’re right. Which can’t necessarily be very good for your mental health, although I expect the money’s nice.
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nknoxe-n · 3 days
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Favourite part of this place is sharing weird little odd stories of my childhood, fragments of my young life that not many people know that are just absolutely freaking insane
SO, when innocent ol’ me was six there was a tank of goldfish in my room and I’m about to tell you the story of how I killed every single one in the span of a day.
So I wake up and being six I decide to cause chaos because that’s what six year olds do, I go upon my morning my rituals eating my non toasted toaster strudels and when my mom go to the garden and my dad goes to work I have decided it’s my time to strike. I enter my bedroom at a menacing 4’0 walk over to the tank of goldfish get a stool and dip my hand into the tank grab a fish and I proceed to… yeah you probably guessed it.
Take it for a walk.
It died shortly after and I just put its dead corpse back to into the water where it could be mourned by its brethren.
Next up I take another one out this one is your generic goldfish, no odd red and white splotches no fancy swishy fins it just a fat goldfish, and before I go on, tell me right now what is the goldfish crackers slogan? Snack that smiles back. Goldfish crackers are very good and being six I decide my pet goldfish and my goldfish crackers taste the same.
I ate my pet goldfish, or I tried to, it didn’t taste very yummy so I spit it out and put it back in the water.
Now if you think I have some amazing ideas for how I could kill the rest of the goldfish your wrong, I was six, not an evil genius so I just took whatever pills I could find in our house dumped them in the tank and killed the rest of the fish.
Safe to say I never had a pet goldfish again.
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vilebf · 2 days
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Okay...but what about reader having a prince Albert piercing and fucking Geto?
mdni. top amab reader & sub bottom suguru geto
my god anon i just fucking nutted so damn hard..fuck...literally that man would turn into a cock drunk whore the moment he gets a good feel of the titanium piercing kissing his prostate.
like can you imagine how impatient geto would be in the healing process too? he's tried pouncing on you, stripping you naked to get a good look at what will be his new favourite toy― he even suggested topping you once because it got so bad, but that never happened.
it makes him hard just looking, but it gets him shooting cum instantly when you do finally fuck his ass.
'how many times is that now, suguru?' you mock the ebony-head below you in missionary position, 'feels that good, huh? you're gonna squeeze my dick off at this rate.'
geto is unable to form a coherent response as your hips continue to drive into his ass, 'ngh- ahh- hah...w-what happens if- fuck...it comes undone?'
you give him this curious look, one eyebrow cocked with a smirk splayed on your countenance. 'that's what you're worried about? not the fact that your ass is so damn raw right now?'
you lean in, cupping his cheeks with both of your palms as you continuously plow into him with tears stinging his eyes.
'ohhh baby- my sweet adorable boy.'
'please-'
'mhm?'
'please, y/n.' geto cums again with a small cry, compelling you to slow your movements so he could really get a good feel of the metal. his legs shake in response.
cum dribbles down his shaft and onto his hairy pelvis as he hazily looks down at where you're connected to him. you then gaze down with him, placing one hand into his stomach and the other lazily dragging his balls up to stretch open his asshole more.
'damn, you're twitching like crazy.' you hiss and he clicks his tongue at you in irritation of the overstimulation building up in his abdomen.
'endure it just a little longer. i haven't cum yet.'
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zarameraki · 7 hours
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♡₊˚🥀₊✧ 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮 𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗰𝘂𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗲 ♡₊˚🥀₊✧
: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 king x concubine 𖥔 lots of plot with porn 𖥔 mentions of abuse 𖥔 mentions of sexual assault 𖥔 normal form sukuna (sorry yall but next time ill do his big boy one) 𖥔 he only has eyes for you 𖥔 you're his darling 𖥔 he would kill for you 𖥔 breeding (!!!!) 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 smut
: ̗̀➛ words: 8.8k
: ̗̀➛ notes: this took a whole WEEK to edit. im so obsessed with this story. it's my favourite thing ive written because i love period movies and dramas and really got to challenge my writing skills to give it more a fantasy-esque element. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.
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The diligent hands of Lord Sukuna Ryomen’s palace attendants scrubbed away the grime that clung to every inch of your weary form. There were no traces of tears in your eyes, despite the discomfort of the cleansing process.
Perhaps it was the residue of gratitude for an escape from a foster family who saw fit to barter you away for a pittance to fuel their vices.
The water surrounding you had transformed into a murky haze, carrying away the evidence of your former life's hardships.
Yet, amidst this cleansing ritual, you couldn’t shake the puzzling thought of why the guards had singled you out from the other young women within the household. Uraume, the overseer of palace affairs, had arrived alongside them, their presence looming over the proceedings with an air of mystery.
That morning, you were subjected to abuse in front of everyone at the central market, longing for someone to stand up for you. And someone did. They offered you an escape from that hellhole and into a world of luxury.
You weren’t going to complain now that you had accepted this new fate of yours.
“Ya’ got too many scars, girl,” remarked one of the elderly attendants, gently assisting you out of the steaming bath, her hands wrapping a towel around your shivering form. “Our powders will struggle to conceal ’em all. How did ya’ come by such marks?”
“From my foster family,” you murmured, gaze fixed upon your toes as if they held the weight of your past. The plush carpet beneath your feet offered a small comfort, a luxury unfamiliar to your upbringing.
Memories of their harsh discipline flooded back—the blistering gravel underfoot as punishment for daring to voice dissent. It was a brutal introduction to a world where obedience was paramount.
“A wretched lot,” the attendant muttered sympathetically.
Enveloped in a silk robe, she led you into a chamber shared by a cohort of women, a realm far removed from the confines of your previous abode. Here, space was ample—the expanse excessive, with beds lining the walls and a high ceiling adorned with a single chandelier.
As you entered, a symphony of pretty faces and inquisitive gazes greeted you. Women of all colours and shapes reclined luxuriously in plain robes, their hair intricately braided or cascading freely down their backs. Conversations paused, curiosity piqued by your arrival, as all eyes turned to welcome you into their midst.
Beneath the weight of their scrutinising stares, you found yourself shrinking. These women, draped in silk and adorned with jewels, were the king's favoured concubines, a fact repeatedly emphasised during your journey to the palace and even in the fragrant confines of the bathhouse.
Every instinct urged you to rebel, to refuse to be just another ornament in the king’s harem, but you understood the value placed on purity by the monarch.
Unfortunately, your innocence had been cruelly stolen from you by your foster father, leaving you tarnished in body and spirit. Lord Sukuna would have no use for a damaged flower in his garden of perfection.
In truth, you couldn’t even imagine an image of his face in your mind. His Lordship remained a mystery to those beyond the palace walls.
“Here ya’ are.” The attendant guided you to your bed. “That vanity there’s yours to use.” She gestured toward the communal area by the window, where two other young women were preparing themselves. “Once your hair dries, one of my girls will assist ya’ in preparin’ for your audience with His Lordship.” Her touch was gentle as she caressed your cheek. “Rest assured, dear, ya’ safe now.”
You attempted a smile, though the effort seemed Herculean amidst your weariness.
As the attendant departed, her scolding to the rowdy girls fading into the background, you nestled into the comforting embrace of your soft bedding, ignoring the hushed criticisms trailing in your wake.
She’s feeble.
Her hair lacks refinement.
The king would never entertain a lowly pauper.
She’ll be gone by tomorrow.
Their words, like venomous serpents, slithered through the air.
Amidst their degradation, you succumbed to exhaustion.
But your slumber was interrupted by the bustling commotion of handmaidens assembling around you.
Disoriented and scarcely given a moment to collect your thoughts, you found yourself swiftly escorted to the vanity, where the clamour of girls jostling for space filled the air.
They manipulated your locks, weaving intricate patterns into your hair, fashioning a crown braid atop your head while allowing the remaining tresses to cascade freely down your back.
Meanwhile, other attendants removed your robe, their hands moving with practised efficiency as they anointed your skin with fragrant oils, infusing it with the delicate essence of lavender.
Between the flurry of activity, the whispers of your fellow concubines hung in the air like a veil of awe and trepidation. Their eyes were drawn to the scars marring your skin, as they speculated about how the king would perceive your imperfections as repulsive.
Good.
You craved precisely that outcome.
If the king recoiled at your sight, it meant he wouldn’t desire you to bear his heir. If the tales circulating in the town about his monstrous nature held any truth, then he’d likely offer you death as a reprieve—and you’d welcome it with open arms.
Before facing the king, you stole a glance at your reflection, the final moments of solitude before your fate was decided. The powder concealed the imperfections of your skin, rendering it smooth and flawless. Your cheeks and lips bore a muted hue reminiscent of crushed cherries. Delicate white blossoms adorned your hair, woven into your braids by nimble fingers.
As you stood, the other women adorned you in a robe of silky fabric, its floral pattern draping over your form, cinched at the waist to accentuate your curves. Barefoot, you followed them out, the chill of the floor beneath your feet a stark contrast to the warmth of anticipation and trepidation swirling within you.
“Good luck, pauper,” taunted one of the concubines, her voice dripping with disdain, echoed by a cacophony of mocking laughter.
Palms clammy with nerves, you shifted your gaze to the opulence of the palace corridors. Adorned with countless chandeliers and swathes of velvet drapery, they offered a stark contrast to the blooming back garden. Memories of tending to the earth and nurturing life back at your foster family’s home flooded your mind.
“Quickly now,” one of the maids urged, her voice tinged with urgency. “His Lordship detests tardiness.”
“I apologise.” You hastened your steps to keep pace with the group of attendants.
She halted before a grand set of double doors, guarded by imposing sentinels clad in formidable armour. With a flick of her wrist, the guards swung the doors open. She gently nudged you forward, and only as you crossed the threshold did the doors seal shut behind you.
You blinked, adjusting to the dimness within, scanning the chamber until your gaze alighted upon a pair of crimson glimmers opposite you. “My Lord?” You inclined your head and took hesitant steps toward the source of those fiery eyes.
“Come closer,” his command echoed through the chamber, sending a shiver down your spine. The low resonance of His Highness Sukuna Ryomen’s voice was unexpectedly rich and velvety. You had envisioned a voice tinged with age, but instead, it possessed a rough texture that awoken something within you.
With hesitant steps, you approached until you stood at the edge of his bed, your fingertips grazing the diaphanous curtains that enveloped him in a cocoon of privacy.
“Closer,” he urged, coaxing you to unveil the enigma lying beyond the veil.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you obeyed, parting the curtains and gracefully crawled onto the mattress. The silkiness of the sheets were a blatant contrast to the roughness of your foster house’s. A pang of guilt tugged at your conscience as you realized the irony of finding solace in this luxurious confinement of being his concubine.
“Enough.” His abrupt order halted your thoughts, drawing your attention back to the present moment.
As commanded, you obediently settled into your posture, folding your legs beneath you in the dimness. Within his shadowed realm, only the luminous crimson irises pierced through the gloom, studying you with an intensity that made your belly churn. Despite the curiosity burning within you, you restrained the impulse to voice your questions. Instead, you settled in the tranquillity that crowded the space between you.
“What is your name?” His inquiry cut through the hushed air.
“Y/N, my Lord.”
As your name slipped from your lips, he captured it delicately, repeating it like a sacred prayer. Each syllable danced on his tongue, imprinting itself upon the very essence of his being. In that moment, you observed a subtle shift—the shadows that had cloaked the chamber seemed to dissipate.
A soft, golden luminescence filtered through the parted curtains, cascading across half of Sukuna’s face.
You blinked in astonishment.
He appeared . . . young?
The age difference between you and him was not a chasm of decades, but rather a modest gap of no less than five years.
Physically, at least.
His appearance was striking, with locks of hair dyed a subdued pink hue, contrasting with a streak of darker shade beneath. His hair was styled into rugged spikes, lending an air of defiance. Intricate black markings adorned his features, tracing a path from his cheekbones down to his chin, while similar patterns wove across his strong shoulder, cascading over his defined pectoral muscles and sculpted abdomen.
As your eyes fell upon him, your heart quickened its pace, each beat a vicious drumming against your ribs. Gone was the expectation of a lord showing the signs of wisdom, with wrinkles upon his brow and a body marked by the passage of time. Instead, before you stood a vision of breathtaking beauty, defying your preconceived notions and leaving you breathless in awe.
With a graceful gesture, he swept aside the curtains, allowing them to unveil his entirety.
The same markings mirrored the other side of his face and cascaded down the length of his body, a mesmerising display of symmetry. Dark bands encircled his wrists, and his nails bore the same deep hue.
Poised against the headboard, he reclined with an air of effortless elegance, one knee raised as his elbow found a comfortable perch, while the other leg extended out. Though he was unclothed, a veil of silk sheets cloaked the lower half of his form.
“Remarkable,” you unknowingly whispered. Your hand clapped over your mouth. “I apologise, my Lord.”
Sukuna’s lips curved into a sinister grin, his flawless teeth gleaming in the golden light. While many would flee at the sight, you remained rooted in place, unable to tear your gaze away. A delicate flush spread across your cheeks, betraying the undeniable attraction simmering between your legs. He was absolutely divine, and the path of being his concubine suddenly didn’t seem so terrible.
Yet, the reality of sharing Sukuna with ten other women loomed over your thoughts like a shadow. The thought of him spreading his affections among so many others kindled a small flame of jealousy within you, mingled with confusion. Why hadn’t he impregnated at least one of them with the promise of an heir?
“Have you not been schooled in the art of lowering your gaze in the presence of nobility, Y/N?”
Your lashes fluttered as you registered your lapse in decorum, hastily averting your gaze. “Forgive me, my Lord, if my oversight has caused offence.” Surely, he wouldn’t punish you for a momentary lapse of admiration.
Would he?
A gentle touch beneath your chin guided your face upward. His fingers spread across your cheek, the warmth nearly forcing you to curve into his touch. Despite the temptation, your eyes remained obediently downward.
“Look at me.”
Your gaze lingered on him, tracing the delicate patterns etched over his cheek, the fiery hue of his irises, the elegant contour of his nose, and the soft curvature of his lips. Never before had you felt such a rousing desire towards any man. Yet fate had chosen to ensnare your heart with the one most forbidden to you.
“You bear a sadness that weighs heavily in your eyes,” he noted softly, his hand descending to the curve of your neck, his thumb caressing the frantic rhythm of your pulse. A low, melodic sound produced from his throat. “Tell me, my love, does the face before you stir fear within your heart?”
“It does not, my Lord. The fear of your appearance holds no dominion over me,” you declared with quiet resolve. “You’re quite . . . beautiful.”
Sukuna’s gaze sparked with a mixture of surprise and intrigue at your response.
Suppressing a nervous gulp, you silently reprimanded yourself for speaking so boldly to one of noble rank. Back in the confines of your former life, such defiance would have earned you swift punishment, yet here, in the presence of royalty, it could lead to your demise.
As you prepared to avert your gaze, ready to accept whatever consequences may come, Sukuna’s voice cut through the tense air before you could retreat.
“Don’t.”
In that moment, you found yourself questioning your instincts.
Why did you not cower in fear? Why did your body not tremble in the presence of a man who had slaughtered the lives of his enemies without hesitation? And most perplexing of all, how could you maintain unwavering eye contact with a figure of such formidable power?
“Remove your robe.” His grip remained firm around your throat, his thumb delicately tracing your pulse. “And do not stray your gaze elsewhere.”
“Yes, my Lord.” Your fingers loosened the fabric’s bindings, allowing it to cascade down your frame. The robe slipped from your shoulders, revealing the soft curvature of your form beneath. As it pooled around your lap, your breasts stood exposed to his scrutiny.
A shiver danced across your skin as his eyes traced the contours of your body, a faint smirk teasing his lips.
He brushed back strands of your hair, his touch trailing down your vertebrate. His eyes narrowed into thin slits, brows knitted together in contemplation, fingers repeatedly tracing the ridges of your scars.
“Turn around.”
The dreaded discovery that sent ripples of revulsion through the concubines had finally come to pass. Your scars lay exposed before the gaze of a powerful lord. Not only would he slit your throat, but also those of the maids who had tended to your needs, and perhaps even Uruame, who had brokered your purchase from the bastards responsible for your imperfections.
“Never before have I been compelled to repeat myself for a concubine.” His voice carried a lethal edge as he increased his grip around your throat. “Turn the fuck around.”
Your compliance came in slow, measured movements as you turned away, presenting your back to him in a gesture of submission. His hands gathered the strands of your hair, lifting them aside to reveal the raw truth etched into your skin. His fingers traced the jagged remnants of whip lashes, the seared imprints of cigars, and the cruel reminders of knife wounds inflicted by a foster father turned tormentor.
Silent tears traced a path down your cheeks, as you sat in a state of numbness, your gaze fixed upon the closed door of Sukuna’s chamber.
A tender sensation, soft and moist, grazed your back, prompting a reflexive twitch in your left shoulder.
Turning slightly, you beheld Sukuna pressing his lips against the scar that marred your shoulder blades.
“My Lord—”
“I did not ask you to speak,” he murmured over your skin, sending a tremor through your frame. “Rise onto your knees.”
Obeying his command, you ascended onto your knees, feeling the weight of his hands settle upon your waist. His lips trailed a path of reverence, bestowing kisses upon each mark that scarred your skin, from your marrow to your nape.
Your breath caught in a delicate dance of exhales, a whispered symphony escaping your parted lips. The wet caress of his tongue sent ripples of sensation coursing through your being.
His arm circled your waist, drawing you into the sanctuary of his embrace. A fleeting kiss graced the nape of your neck, followed by the suction of his lips upon the tender side of your neck. His soft hands possessively held the curve of your breasts, cradling their weight.
Your head reclined against his strong shoulder.
With his gaze fixed upon you, his lips glistened with a hint of moisture, while his crimson eyes locked onto your own human-like ones. You dared not divert your gaze as he previously ordered. His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, sending lightning strikes through your frame.
Unlike the non-consensual encounter of the past, there was no hint of agony; only a tantalising blend of pleasure that left you breathless, without a protest or helpless whimper. Instead, a sigh of pure rapture escaped your lips, encompassing your body in an embrace.
Sukuna’s gaze narrowed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as if he had stumbled upon a long-sought treasure.
His fingertips skated down your torso, gliding toward your centre. You captured your bottom lip between your teeth. Holding his gaze became a daunting challenge as he skillfully teased your sensitive nub, causing your breath to quicken and your chest to rise and fall with each exhilarating sensation.
Sukuna slid his middle finger into you. “You’re incredibly tight, Sad Eyes,” he murmured, the endearment he had bestowed upon you almost provoking a smile. His lips grazed your ear as he continued. “Perhaps I should stretch you out”—he pushed in his ring finger, forcing a sharp gasp to tear from your throat and an involuntary arch of your body against his chest—“so that your cunt is able to welcome my cock.”
You stifled the knot rising in your throat as Sukuna plunged his fingers into you. Such profound bliss seemed inconceivable with mere digits alone.
“My Lord.” Your breath caught as he increased his tempo. “My—” Each thrust intensified the knot in your stomach, threatening to unravel you entirely. You teetered on the brink, dangerously close to staining his fingers with your release. A sharp gasp choked out of you as he struck a wondrous chord deep within. “Please, my Lord. I beg of you—I will soil your hand if you persist—” But your plea dissolved into a cry of ecstasy before you could utter another word.
Sukuna’s laughter danced teasingly in the hollow of your ear, leaving you utterly spellbound.
You were overheated, overstimulated, overridden by the explosive undoing of his fingers. Breathless and consumed by lust, your world spun as he seized your jaw and crushed his lips to yours.
In that electrifying moment, his tongue invaded your mouth, initially startling you, yet you surrendered to the rhythm.
Sukuna leaned back slightly after planting a tender peck on your lips. Exhaling softly, he threaded his fingers through your hair, his touch sending shivers down your spine. As his lips met yours once more, gentler this time, your hand ventured to trace the contours of his adorned chest.
“You are quite the vixen.” A playful glint danced in his eyes. “How valiant of you to seduce a lord into bestowing kisses upon his concubine.” A broad smile graced his lips, leaving you uncertain whether his words were playful jest or genuine admiration.
“Do you not bestow your kisses upon all your concubines, my Lord?”
“I do not pleasure their cunts, either.”
His speech carried the brashness of a tempest, a departure from the expected decorum one associated with royalty. Sukuna Ryomen defied conventions. It was a trait uncommon among lords, yet one that intrigued you deeply. His demeanour, both in battle and in the intimate confines of the bedchamber, lacked the softening. But you found yourself drawn to his unfiltered honesty, appreciating the absence of cryptic speech.
As you sat before him, considering your next words carefully, a surge of courage emboldened you to reveal your truth.
“My Lord,” you began, your voice quivering with uncertainty, “I . . . I am not pure.”
“Given the sounds you were drawing out,” he quipped with a chuckle, “I wouldn’t have surmised otherwise.” He assisted you in rising from where you rested against his chest, positioning you before him. Observing your solemn expression, he arched an eyebrow in curiosity. “Was your satisfaction not fulfilled?”
“Indeed, my Lord, it surpassed any expectation,” you confessed, worrying your lip as he sighed impatiently. “But I must disclose . . . I am not chaste.”
Sukuna’s response was subdued, save for the faint twitch in his jaw. He averted his gaze from yours momentarily, reaching for the decanter on his bedside table and pouring himself a measure of spirits.
“Speak,” he instructed, his tone clipped.
“It occurred before I reached maturity,” you murmured softly, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself. “My foster father—” Your words faltered as Sukuna raised a hand, a silent acknowledgment of his comprehension of your unspoken anguish.
“I need not hear more.” He swiftly consumed the crimson liquid in a single gulp. “You are dismissed for the night.”
“But my Lord’s desires remain unmet—”
“Leave,” he commanded, his tone final and unwavering.
With a gulp, you hastily gathered your robe around your form, delicately extricating yourself from his expansive bed.
Just as you thought to retreat, a firm hand seized your wrist, drawing you back into Sukuna’s embrace. His lips melded with yours in an intoxicating kiss, causing both your gazes to flutter open when he pulled away. A faint smirk played upon his lips as he adjusted the robe over your shoulder.
“Next time,” he murmured, plucking a flower from the adornments in your hair and placing it upon his bedside, “you shall grace my chambers without such distracting embellishments upon yourself.”
“As you wish, my Lord,” you replied with a respectful bow of your head, awaiting his dismissal until he gestured for you to depart with a casual wave of his hand.
In the shared chambers, your fellow concubines swirled around your bed, eager to hear of your inaugural encounter with Lord Sukuna.
Each girl shared their own vivid tales, painting scenes of ecstasy under the cloak of darkness, where the king’s touch invoked sensations akin to celestial bodies colliding, or where unfamiliar pleasures erased the boundaries of their throat—whatever that latter entailed.
Though a twinge of jealousy flickered within you, it was swiftly overshadowed by a swell of pride. The concubines pleasured Sukuna in darkness, the same darkness you had willingly entered, before his touch had set ablaze a world of gold for you.
They were merely beautiful means of physical gratification for their lord, devoid of the intimacy you shared—his fingers delving deep into your core. And never had any of them spoken of kisses exchanged. Sukuna had spoken true when you questioned if others received similar treatment.
But why you?
Why, after a mere span of ten hours within the palace walls, did you find yourself, dare you entertain the notion, as his favoured? What magic did you possess that drew him to you, and how had you managed to seduce his lips, his fingers, to meet yours in such an intimate embrace?
“Did he spend himself inside you?” one of the girls whispered, prodding your knee to rouse you from your silence.
“No.”
“Aye, he never does,” remarked a golden-haired girl with a resigned sigh. “He sees to it that we consume some berries afterward, claiming they prevent conception. Strange, isn’t it? Especially if he’s so eager for an heir.”
Another girl hushed her, leaning in with a conspiratorial tone. “Did he take you from behind? That’s his favoured position, you know. He’s had us all that way.”
You stumbled over your words, unsure how to respond.
“And did you savour his taste?” came the next question. “It’s quite rich in sodium—”
“Girls!” A booming voice echoed from the doorway of the bedroom, startling you and the other concubines into immediate attention. You caught sight of the elderly attendant who oversaw your care, hands planted firmly on her hips as she observed the chaotic scene before her.
With a disapproving huff, she pivoted sharply on her heel and departed, leaving a lingering sense of reprimand in her wake.
As the frenzied chatter about Sukuna’s body attributes gradually dissolved into the quietude of sleep, morning arrived with its routine of communal showerings.
Throughout the shared bath, you silently scrubbed away the remnants of the night, indulging your fellow concubines about your previous life in town.
Upon drying off and exiting the bathing chamber, you were met with an unexpected sight: a gathering of the girls clustered around your bed.
Navigating through the throng, you reached your space to discover a resplendent scarlet silk robe embroidered with intricate black floral patterns.
Gingerly lifting the note placed atop the fabric, you read Sukuna’s precise handwriting. Curious glances from the other concubines peered over your shoulders in anticipation.
No distracting embellishments, Sad Eyes.
“What does that mean?” a curious whisper floated through the air, followed by murmurs of intrigue from the other girls. “Why does he call you ‘sad eyes’?”
You clutched the letter to your chest, suppressing a grin as you ignored the questions, the mockery, and the jostling of bodies around you. Your attention was fixated on the magnificent robe gifted to you by His Lordship.
For the remainder of the evening, you slept without any interruptions, seeking to compensate for the countless nights spent battling insomnia within the confines of your foster home.
You observed with a keen eye that none of the other girls were ushered to Sukuna’s chambers; their time seemed to veer toward strolls in the back garden or spent in the dormitory, indulging in wine-fueled scandals about the palace staff, as was their custom.
As the clock struck eight in the evening, a troupe of maids entered the chamber bearing dinner trays. A wave of anticipation swept through the room as the other girls eagerly accepted their meals and accompanying pitchers of water. Your own stomach rumbled in hunger, awaiting your own turn.
But that moment never arrived.
Instead, the maid bypassed your bed entirely, moving on to the next. A surge of apprehension rippled through you as a handmaiden approached, guiding you away from the mattress and toward the vanity.
“What about my dinner?” you asked as the attendants groomed your hair.
“His Lordship has extended an invitation for you to dine with him tonight,” came the reply.
The room fell into a sudden hush.
Dine with him?
The notion sent a flurry of thoughts racing through your mind.
Before you could process further, you found yourself pulled upright, your garments removed to be replaced by the scarlet robe.
Envy flickered in the eyes of the other concubines as they observed, their resentment palpable as they stabbed at their food with exaggerated aggression. It wasn’t your doing that Sukuna had taken an unexpected interest in you.
With no adornments save for a dab of crushed cherry paste upon your lips, you were escorted to Sukuna’s chambers.
Once more, the imposing doors swung open, and you found yourself gently ushered into the chamber. As they sealed shut behind you, the room was flooded with light. Sukuna’s figure stared out at the moonlit gardens outside, clad in a billowing white silk robe.
“My Lord,” you greeted respectfully, inclining your head in deference.
“Draw near.”
Complying with his directive, you approached and stood at his side. His presence loomed over you, his stature commanding and formidable, capable of engulfing you entirely with a single embrace. Not that such thoughts dared to linger in your mind.
“Why is your face flushed?” he asked, his gaze penetrating.
You blinked, attempting to dismiss the telltale warmth creeping up your cheeks. “It’s nothing, my Lo—”
Before you could finish, Sukuna turned your chin towards him, his palm coming to rest against your forehead. A nervous swallow traced its way down your throat at his touch, his eyes trailing down your form, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as they settled upon you in your robe.
“Thank you for your gracious gift,” you murmured, feeling the warmth rise to your cheeks.
His fingers trailed through your hair, a mischievous glimmer dancing in his eyes. “I anticipate nothing less than thoroughly enjoying the privilege of removing it off of you.”
You blushed deeper at his statement.
“Come now. I’ve brought a surprise for you.” He took your hand in his with a tug, guiding you towards a doorway. With a simple flick of his hand, the door parted, revealing a dimly lit hallway beyond.
Your gaze widened in astonishment. “How did you do that, my Lord?”
“Do what?”
“You opened the door without laying a hand on it.”
Sukuna’s striking blood-coloured eyes cut to you. “There is much about me that will be unveiled in due course, my love. What you perceive is but a guise for my true nature.” His smile, oddly childlike, sent a chill down your spine.
Was he some sort of sorcerer? You’d only heard whispers of human anomalies lurking beneath the earth’s surface or sealed within vessels, but historical accounts weren't exactly your cup of tea.
“I ventured into town today,” he said.
“Oh.” You swallowed hard, recovering from his previous statement. “I hope it was a fruitful trip.”
“Indeed, quite fruitful.”
In the soft glow of the distant hallway, Sukuna’s face came into view, casting a spell of trepidation upon your heart. His features were drawn into a mask of stoicism, his eyes devoid of warmth, and his lips pressed into a firm line, jaw rigid with tension.
Parting the curtains, Sukuna drew you near, his arm sweeping out to reveal a horrifying sight: your foster father, bound to a chair with chains, bearing the cruel marks of torture.
His face marred by countless wounds, an eye cruelly absent, his mouth devoid of teeth, scattered at his feet. His dignity stripped away, his vulnerability laid bare in his nakedness, and his manhood amputated.
The sickening lurch in your stomach threatened to betray your composure. “F-Forgive my intrusion, my Lord, but is he . . . is he dead?”
Sukuna’s response was a gilded dagger from within his robe, its handle decorated with a jewel reminiscent of your own captivating eyes. Nestled within the hilt was the very flower he had plucked from your hair, a twisted token of affection. Upon the blade, your name was inscribed.
“Do as you wish, my beloved,” he whispered, his voice stained with dark fascination, offering you the instrument of your foster father’s fate with a chilling sense of detachment.
You couldn’t possibly bring yourself to commit such a heinous act.
Despite the unspeakable cruelties inflicted upon you by the bastard, the idea of taking another’s life filled you with a trembling dread.
Yet, the itch to end the torment, to rid the world of such a vile presence, simmered just beneath the surface as you stood before him, his life slipping away.
A hand trailed down the back of your head, guiding your trembling fingers to grasp the dagger tightly.
Looking up, you met Sukuna’s gaze, his expression hollow, his features obscured by shadows. This was the face of the Devil that cursed his enemies on their knees and had them willingly submit to death.
With a push from behind, you stumbled forward, drawing closer to your step-father’s prone form.
Glancing back at Sukuna, you were met with an incongruously bright smile. Quite a twisted paradox, His Lordship.
Your step-father sat unconscious, the stench of his bodily fluids assaulting your senses. His wounds oozed with a sickening mixture of blood and pus, his laboured breaths the only indication of life remaining within him. The scene was painfully familiar, a mirror image of the torment you had endured countless times before.
But now, someone had intervened, offering you a chance at liberation, a chance to end the cycle of abuse once and for all.
You glanced back again.
Until Sukuna.
Your gaze reluctantly returned to the true embodiment of cruelty before you. With a steady hand, you raised your arm, wielding the dagger with purpose.
It found its mark in your foster-father’s chest, a chilling silence punctuated only by the sound of steel meeting flesh. Ignoring the strangled cry that erupted from him, you withdrew the blade, then drove it back into his heart.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
His lifeblood painted your face and stained your pristine garments, mingling with the fabric in a macabre dance of crimson. To the untrained eye, it could easily be mistaken for a mere splash of vibrant colour upon your robe.
No one would dare suspect the truth.
No one would dare come near if they knew of your sin.
No one, except Sukuna.
Once the monster over your bed was consigned to the depths of hell, his guts spilling onto the floor around your bare feet, you allowed yourself a moment of grim satisfaction.
With a contemptuous snarl, you spat upon him, a visceral response to the years of degradation he had inflicted upon you for every misstep.
A comforting warmth touched your back.
Startled by the sudden contact, you tensed before easing at the sight of Sukuna’s faint smile.
As he reached to caress your cheek, you instinctively recoiled, lowering your gaze in deference.
“Forgive me, my Lord,” you murmured, “but I cannot permit you to spoil your hands with the blood of this man.”
Sukuna’s shoes entered your line of sight as he tilted your chin upward, his moon-white sleeve wiping away the traces of blood from your mouth and its vicinity. “You appear rather exquisite painted in blood, Sad Eyes. Perhaps I ought to designate you as my prized assassin instead of a mere concubine.”
“I beg your pardon, my Lord, but I cannot partake in killing . . . again.”
“You need not worry,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear as he drew near. “I will defend you from any who dare cast their gaze upon you, let alone lay a hand upon your delicate form. Those who dare cross that line will face my wrath, their very existence extinguished before your eyes. Not a single tear shall stain your cheeks." His lips brushed against yours. "From this moment forward, fear shall not reside within you. By my side, you shall command fear itself, my love."
That night, Sukuna bathed you in the sanctuary of his chambers, washing away the traces of blood from your skin as you gazed at him with a sense of wonder. It wasn’t the superficial admiration the other concubines whispered about—it was a profound affection blossoming within you, nurtured by power and protection.
He draped you in the luxurious folds of one of his silk robes, summoning servants to prepare dinner. Seated upon his lap, he fed you spoonfuls of rich and chicken, even as your stomach protested its fullness. Soft kisses peppered your neck like a sweet dessert, culminating in one upon your lips before he reluctantly released you to retire to your dormitory.
In the ensuing weeks, Sukuna would consistently send a crafted robe ahead of each meeting—in the serene seclusion of his chambers, where the flickering candlelight cast shadows upon the walls as you dined together.
Over the course of these intimate dinners, he eagerly absorbed your musings, whether they revolved around the narratives of books discovered within the palace library or your adeptness with herbs and plants, nurtured by your profound knowledge.
On occasion, as the first light of dawn painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, Sukuna would summon you for a stroll in the haven of the back garden. Woven between the fragrant blooms, you’d dance about with childlike enthusiasm, identifying various flowers and tracing their lineage.
Ever the attentive listener, Sukuna trailed behind you, his gaze fixed upon your animated figure. He would only speak when you fell silent, demanding you to continue sharing the familial ties between apples, plums, and the roses they stemmed from.
Within the crevice of your soul, the once withered garden of affection had flourished into a lush wilderness, blossoming with untamed wildflowers and clouds that spelled out his name.
Sukuna inhabited your every waking thought, his intoxicating mouth that worshipped your body left you giggling in delight behind your hands.
Yet, each encounter with a fellow concubine, flushed and eager with tales of their rendezvous with him, felt like thorns piercing your tender heart. Jealousy, like ivy creeping upon stone, entwined itself around your every plagued thought. Your gaze often strayed to the bedside drawer where the dagger lay dormant. The mere mention of his physique by the other women tormented your soul relentlessly.
Why hadn’t Sukuna taken you as he had with every other concubine? You had grown accustomed to his presence, even eager to reciprocate the pleasure he gifted you every evening. You had offered yourself willingly, aching for the intimacy that would bind you even closer to him. But he had not claimed you in the same manner, not entered you fully, not seeded his legacy within you.
Did he question your worthiness? Did he see you merely as a transient pleasure? Were you destined to remain just a concubine, forever denied the honour of carrying his child?
“Why do you remain silent?” Sukuna asked, turning the pages of the book you had suggested to him; he was already half-way through.
You were seated snugly between his legs upon the bed, your back rested against his chest, fingers idly toying with the strands of your hair. “I find myself devoid of words this evening.”
“Hmm.” Sukuna took a leisurely sip of his drink before placing it aside. “Surely you can conjure something. You know well enough that I cannot endure your silence.”
With an exasperated sigh, you rolled your eyes. “Well, I apologise for failing to provide you with amusement, my Lord.”
Sukuna snapped the book shut.
You instinctively pressed your lips together, silently chiding yourself for the unintended sharpness in your voice.
With a heavy sigh, you resigned yourself to maintaining your composure, forcing yourself to take slow, steady breaths. Deep down, you believed that he wouldn’t inflict harm upon you or cast you out of his chambers. But the nagging thought chewed at you.
This was Sukuna Ryomen, and you . . . well, you were merely a shadow in comparison.
“If you crave my touch,” he breathed softly into your ear, “all you need to do is utter the request.”
With a determined resolve, you turned to face him, settling yourself upon his lap. Sukuna regarded you with a quirked eyebrow, a quiet acknowledgment of your unconventional audacity.
“I do crave your touch, my Lord,” you confessed, your voice a hushed plea, “but not only with your hands or lips. I long to feel you in a different manner.” Your gaze drifted down to his pelvis, the unspoken appetite evident in your eyes. “I crave that.”
Sukuna exhaled heavily, his gaze piercing as he addressed you. “So, you’ve been withholding your words simply because I haven’t fed you my cock?"
Heat rose to your cheeks at his blunt proclamation, though you had grown accustomed to his coarse mannerisms over time.
“Yes, my . . . Lord.” Your voice carried a mixture of embarrassment. “I’ve endured three long months of anticipation, patiently waiting to share in the pleasures enjoyed by your other consorts. Yet, with the arrival of autumn, I find myself still untouched by the experiences they so openly boast about.”
His lips curled into a smirk. “Are you asking me to bed you merely for the purpose of becoming a notch in your bragging rights?”
“Never, my Lord!” you protested vehemently, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes. “I would never demean you with such vulgar talk in public. I’ve spun tales to the others, concealing the truth of our encounters. They remain oblivious to the pleasures you’ve granted me.” Your fingers traced the intricate markings on his chiselled abdominal muscles. “If my spoiled state displeases you, if I am deemed unworthy of your touch, pray, inform me now. Regardless, my sole wish is to fulfil His Lordship’s needs.”
Sukuna disentangled your hands from his chest, a gesture that caused a fissure to form within your heart, forcing your body to instinctively withdraw from his touch.
Just as you began to pull away, he swiftly encircled his arm around your waist, tugging you back onto his lap with a firm grip. Before you could utter a single word, his lips descended upon yours, silencing any protest with a passionate kiss.
With a purposeful touch, he skillfully divested you of your robe, revealing the curves of your form beneath. His hands, warm and adept, began to massage your supple breasts, kindling soft gasps from your lips. His own trailed a wet path downward, leaving a bridge of feverish kisses along the expanse of your throat, lingering over the rapid pulse beneath your skin.
As his lips found purchase on the tender flesh of your neck, his actions became more urgent, his touch more demanding. A pinch at your pebbled nipples sent a shiver of sensation coursing through you, followed by the heat of an open-mouthed kiss.
Your gaze drifted downwards, enchanted by the sight of his tongue encircling the sensitive spots, suckling on the swollen buds like a babe. Already, heat was building within the depths of your being, igniting a flame that spread between your legs.
Sukuna laid you back, relishing the delicate flavour of your lips as his fingers skillfully sought out your throbbing clit, stimulating it with unhurried circles.
With practised ease, he slipped two fingers inside you, quickening his rhythm without preamble. Your hand instinctively traced down to his chest, undoing the fastenings of his robe.
“Take it,” he whispered against your mouth, his breath mingling with yours. “Satisfy your lord, my love.”
Your fingers curled around his pulsating cock, the very object of desire that the other girls had passionately recounted. The knowledge of their previous intimacies with him only stoked the flames of envy within you, spurring you to intensify your ministrations.
With a surge of determination, you quickened the pace of your caresses, applying pressure with your thumb upon his sensitive tip while fondling his sacs.
Sukuna’s grin widened against your lips as he reciprocated with equal zeal, slipping a third finger into your slick heat until he was fully engulfed by your swollen core.
Together, you sailed upon the waves of carnal desire, locked in a lecherous race to reach your climax, each vying to be the first to cross the finish line—
Sukuna’s low, guttural moans resonated throughout the chamber.
You had achieved victory.
His essence spilled forth into your waiting hands, his cock convulsing with the intensity of his release. Moments later, you succumbed to your own climax, a soft cry escaping your lips.
With care, Sukuna withdrew his hand from your centre, and you instinctively examined your palm, noting the striking resemblance of his essence to your own.
You tentatively brought your fingers to your lips, savouring the taste of him.
“I did not instruct you to do that,” he growled, his gaze blazing as you tasted him. “But I suppose I’ll permit it.”
“It is salty,” you murmured, almost absentmindedly.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, are you women incapable of discussing anything besides my cock?” he exclaimed, frustration evident in his tone.
You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension dissipating as he cleaned his fingers with his tongue before tenderly cradling the back of your head, drawing you to sit upon his lap. Your laughter softened into chuckles, a smile playing upon your lips.
“Did I please you, my Lo—”
“Ryomen,” he interrupted firmly. “Only you may address me by my given name.”
“My L—”
“I command it.” His tone left no room for argument.
You affirmed your agreement with a nod, the name Ryomen echoing through your mind. Sukuna had been your private moniker for him, but now, in this intimate exchange, he was Ryomen. Your Ryomen. Maybe one day, you would shorten it to Ryo.
“Very well, Ryomen.” You felt a subtle shift in the air between you. His chuckle rumbled softly. “Shall I turn around for you?”
“And why do you deem such an unnecessary act necessary?”
“Because—” You suppressed the urge to divulge the whispers of the other concubines regarding his favoured position. “Never mind. How would you prefer me to present myself to you?”
“As you are,” Ryomen answered, his grip tightening around himself. “How you managed to have me spend by your hand in under five minutes is a marvel beyond my comprehension.”
Internally, you gave yourself a congratulatory pat on the back.
“Now, my love,” he said, inclining his chin towards his erection, “will you do my cock the honour of sitting on it?”
Licking the grin of your lips, you nodded, rising to your knees. With nimble fingers, you positioned his hardened length at your entrance, gradually lowering yourself onto him.
A sharp intake of breath escaped Sukuna’s lips, his hands instinctively grasping your hips. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, enduring the initial sting of penetration. Perhaps every touch of his fingers had been a meticulous groundwork for this pinnacle moment.
As you settled into your seat upon him, you granted yourself a minute to acclimate to the sheer magnitude of him stretching and filling your tight, supple walls.
Sukuna tilted his head back, impatience evident in his eyes. “Will you begin moving at a pace befitting this century, Sad Eyes?”
“Just a moment,” you retorted, your tone tinged with defiance.
“Unfortunately, the sight of your leaking cunt is testing my patience,” he remarked, his gaze lingering provocatively on your flushed form.
Collecting yourself, you affirmed your resolve with a nod before subtly adjusting your position, and swaying your hips forward. His strong hands guided you, aiding your movements as you sought a rhythm. “Gods, you’re—you’re quite large. It’s rather discomforting.”
“Ah, where has the enthusiasm to please your lord vanished, my love?” His laughter echoes through the chamber as he leaned back, amused by your scowl. “I must confess, your defiance is perhaps your most alluring trait. It has crossed my mind more than once during moments of handling myself in the bath.”
Your brow furrowed in dismay.
It was evident that the other concubines possessed far greater expertise in pleasuring him than you ever could. All you could manage was to feign enthusiasm, your movements faltering and disjointed, as you struggled to produce even a fraction of the satisfaction they effortlessly blessed him with. His laughter, which wasn’t helping your cause, bore an uncanny resemblance to the mocking tones of the girls who had taunted you in the past.
You no longer wished to endure this charade.
You halted in your tracks, unable to muster the courage to meet his gaze, your eyes fixated instead on his throat. “It appears . . . that I may not be adequately versed in fulfilling your needs. I shall endeavour to educate myself further before making another attempt. For now, I request permission to retire for the evening, my Lord.”
Sukuna’s grip tightened as he seized your jaw, compelling you to meet his gaze. “You dare to defy my command to address me by my given name?” His smile remained wicked as he drew your face closer to his own. “Remember, my love, there is a boundary to which I tolerate your rebellion. Do not allow my affections to cloud your judgement. I remain your Lord, above all else. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” you managed to gasp out.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, Ryomen,” you replied, your voice trembling with uncertainty.
With a swift motion, he released your sore jaw, and before you could even consider easing the ache, his lips crashed against yours.
In that moment, control slipped from your grasp entirely. His hands gripped the flesh of your buttocks possessively, guiding your movements as he claimed you with a primal savageness that left you shaking in his embrace.
“Does it pain you, my beloved?” Sukuna growled, his fingers curling around your nape possessively. “Do you feel the strain of my cock as I breach your tender walls?”
You whimpered softly, your head nodding against the curve of his neck.
“Fear not, my darling. I will diligently train this cunt of yours to accommodate every inch of me, dusk, dawn, and twilight. Your throat, too, shall be honed to fulfil my every whim, wherever and whenever I demand.” With a swift motion, he tugged your hair, forcing you to meet his glare. “And should you dare to entertain thoughts of defiance with any other man beyond the confines of my chamber, rest assured, there will be consequences.”
“Ryomen,” was all you gasped, eyes rolling back as his tip probed the depths of your womb. His tongue traced the delicate curve of your throat before shoving into your mouth, drawing out your own to suckle on. In the heat of the moment, your hands roamed aimlessly, torn between grasping at his waist, clutching his shoulders, or caressing his cheeks.
“Oh, how I love the sight of your breasts greeting me in my face.” Sukuna tightened his hold on each of them with a deadly grasp, savouring the melodious cry that escaped your lips. He lowered his head and teethed each nipple, drawing it out and relishing in the masochism of your sharp nails clawing down his back. “Deeper, my darling. You alone hold the privilege of marking my flesh. Let my scars mirror yours.”
With caution, you shifted your hands to rest upon his firm pectoral muscles before you could accidentally claw out his spinal cord.
Sukuna’s touch drifted from your bruised breasts to cradle your face, guiding your gaze to meet his crimson one.
Encouraged by his comforting presence, you arched your hips forward with newfound confidence. His fingers swept through your hair, pushing it away as he offered reassuring nods.
Now, the reins rested firmly within your grasp.
“Fuck . . .” Leaning back against the headboard, he released soft sighs. Warm breaths escaped his parted lips as you continued increasing your ministrations. Your gaze momentarily flickered to your favourite book resting on his bedside table before returning to his face.
Suddenly seized by an impulse, you leaned forward to plant a tender kiss upon his lips, trailing upward to gently brush against his cheekbones, tracing the intricate markings lining his skin.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Someone must play the role of the tender one between us, Ryomen,” you answered, mirroring the attention he had given your scars during your initial encounter. With each kiss, you felt his eyes tracing your movements, following the path of your lips as they journeyed across his face, landing upon his nose or the pulse of his neck.
“My beloved,” Sukuna’s voice caressed your ears, drawing your focus entirely to him, “listen closely to my words.”
You halted your movements, a curious expression dancing in your eyes. “What troubles you?”
With a deliberate motion, he guided your hips forward, his gaze unwavering. “Throughout the night, I will fill your womb ceaselessly, and in mere weeks, you shall carry my legacy within you.” Your heart leaped into your throat, fluttering with an overwhelming rush of emotion. “Peril will shadow your every step. Those who oppose us will stop at nothing to eliminate your life and the life of our child. Do you comprehend the gravity of our situation?”
You blinked back the tears, resigning yourself to the inevitable.
“But I vow upon my honour, such an atrocity shall never come to pass. I will sever entire bloodlines if even a single strand of your precious hair were harmed.” His movements quickened as he thrusted into you.
Your grip tightened on his shoulders again, gasping for breath between erratic pants.
“At dawn’s light, all concubines shall be reassigned to palace duties. You need only point out those who have dared to trouble you, though their transgressions are already known to me.” His motions became more intense as he pressed you onto your back, pinning your arms above your head. “And when the sun graces the horizon, you, my beloved, shall be proclaimed as my queen.”
Your voice wailed through the chamber as you cried out his name, drowning in the waves of scorching pleasure never before experienced.
Instead of seeing celestial bodies colliding, your gaze met the deep crimson of his irises, those same eyes that had captivated you on that very first night.
“Ryomen . . . ”
With a smile mirroring his own, you tilted your head upward, silently beckoning him to seal the moment with a kiss. As he obliged, his cock pulsed within you, filling you with his warmth until every fibre of your being was tethered with his.
But he didn’t withdraw. Just as he had promised, he intended to keep you close throughout the night, to claim you as his own.
And in that moment, as you laid with him, you welcomed the dawn of a new chapter standing beside him, prepared to reign as Sukuna Ryomen’s queen.
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hrhmimieucliffe · 2 days
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NSFW Alphabet with Doctor Zayne - ❄️
Minors DNI (Obviously)
Wanted to do this because I've never done an NSFW Alphabet before. Hope my fellow Zayne stans see my vision and agree with me though.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after the act) - Very affectionate and attentive. He would clean you up, help you relax, maybe even give you a massage if he went too hard. 🤫
B = Body part (favourite body part their own or their lovers) - He couldn't just choose one spot. He loves to kiss the palms of your hands when you touch and grab at his face whilst he's thrusting into you slowly and deeply. He loves to place gentle and loving kisses on your neck. He loves to run his hands all over your body, specifically your torso, grabbing fistfuls of your breast gently.
C = Cum (anything that has to do with it) - He doesn't really like the mess, so he'll be sure to clean it up as soon as possible. He'll also advise you to use the toilet, as that's what you're supposed to do after sex, then maybe you can have a shower... maybe he'd join you.
D = Dirty secret (Pretty self-explanatory) - He may act indifferent, but he secretly loves watching you walk and strut around in lingerie when you're in the bedroom. He slowly strips it off you with care, as he doesn't want to ruin it of course. He loves to see you in it, and treats it with care. His favourite part is definitely slowly taking it off you and revealing every inch of your perfect body. He definitely also loves it when you tease him in different ways.
E = Experience (do they know what they’re doing) - Come on now...🧍🏾‍♀️Though it isn't his area of expertise, I'd say as a Doctor in general, he might know a thing or two about stimulation. Even if he isn't experienced. 🤫
F = Favorite position - (Idk many positions so I'll just go by something I do know though I don't know the name of it 😭) I think Zayne would like an intimate position, such as a spooning position. I think him having you safe and secure in his arms, in a position where he can watch your facial expressions change, as seeing your different pleasured expressions gets him off. He likes to be close to you.
G = Getting Off (What gets them off?) - I think Zayne is the kind of man that could sit down and watch you intently as you give him a little show. A lapdance, a strip tease, anything like that. But even moreso, I think he would love it when you possibly take charge every once in a while. He secretly likes it when you make him ask nicely for you to let him finish🤫
H = Hair (grooming habits) - He is definitely well-groomed, no doubt about it.
I = Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty) - Definitely romantic. He likes to make love. Slow, sensual, passionate, intimate, and gentle. He is a gentle dom in my opinion, but he doesn't mind you being on top every once in a while. He could indulge in something rougher if you ask, but I don't really think he'd put his all into it - afraid of hurting you of course.
J = Jack off (do they masturbate and how often) - I think he wouldn't do it often, as he's way too busy with work. But perhaps on a day off he'll get pent up and decide to rub one out. I'm sure he'd be thinking of you when he does 🤫
K = Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual) - I don't think he has many kinks to be honest. Perhaps brat tamer, or primal (hunter). No daddy or master kink over here 🤫 Maybe he secretly likes to see you all tied up for him, though as long as its not hurting too much. I think perhaps he could have a size difference kink. After all, he'd love watching and witnessing how well you take him every time. Definitely a gentle dom.
L = Location (where they like to get it on) - He definitely would prefer if its not in public. He likes to be somewhere private where its just the two of you. Where no one can disturb you. Your body is his temple and he wants to be the only one to see it. It goes both ways, though.
M = Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons) - When you push him onto the bed and straddle him, 100%. When you visit him whilst he's working just to tease him and he has to resist the urge to give in. When you "accidentally" drop something and bend over. When you grind into him as you sit on top of him. When you slowly slide and drag your hands under his clothes, caressing that sculpted body of his, circling his nipple with your finger. It drives him insane. When you wear his favourite outfit just to rile him up.
N = No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do) - Hair pulling (at least too hard), Spanking (Again, not too hard if he DOES do it), anything too kinky in general or like proper BDSM.
O = Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are) - He definitely loves to receive. He loves to sit back and watch you as you take him into your throat. He'll let out small soft grunts and groans every now and then, but he'd obviously be holding back. Maybe he'll whisper a few praises and stroke your hair. But, he also thinks it's better to give than recieve. Watching your face contort in pleasure, gripping at the sheets, arching your back, your body trembling, those adorable moans, the way you whisper his name. He'd be making sure your needs come before his. You're his favourite patient, and a good Doctor takes GOOD care of his patients needs before his own. 🤫
P = Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed) - Definitely nice and slow, but he'd pick up the pace the faster he gets to bursting and maybe be a little rough if you asked him to be.
Q = Quickie - I think quickies would be beneficial depending on when. Like you could tease him in the morning before he has to go work and he'd have no choice but to give in and take care of you when you beg him to and give him those big doe eyes. Maybe if it's late and you're in the office, he'd relieve some quick stress with you. Maybe he'd even let you suck him off under his desk whilst he's working (after you got him riled up on purpose, of course)
R = Risk (do they like to try new things) - I think he'd be open to new things, but mostly depending on how you feel about them.
S = Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts) - Maximum 3 rounds, just because he's a workaholic, and so he couldn't go for too long as he'd need to get his rest in for work the next day. But he always makes it up to you. When he has a day off, he'd go as much as you want him to.
T = Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers) - I think he wouldn't mind using one on you. His favourite would definitely be a remote controlled vibrator that he can activate at any time. You'd better hope you're not out hunting wanderers or with another person when he gets bored in his office and decides to activate it for fun.
U = Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves) - Oh, I think he wouldn't definitely be the type to make you whine and beg, edging you and watching you come apart as you plead for him to let you cum when he's two or three fingers deep inside you. Maybe he won't give in and you'll have to keep begging. Maybe he'll hold you still so that you don't seek any other stimulation to finish yourself off.
V = Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk) - Always low. Quiet. Hushed. Whispered. He won't moan too loudly, he'd probably hold it back or release it in an almost agonised growl and grunt. He likes to praise you, whether you're receiving or giving the pleasure. He would probably check on you whilst he was doing it to you to make sure he's not too rough or anything.
W = Wild card (random sincannon of any sort) - I think he'd definitely use his evol during sex at least one time 🤫 When it gets too hot, I'm sure a little ice would definitely help👩🏾‍🦯
X = X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants) - Girl...😏😩 he is packing of course. A good 5-6 inches.
Y = Yearning (sexdrive level) - It's not always high, but it certainly is when you tease him. Sometimes it'll go up just looking at you, or thinking about you.
Z = Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after) - He'll only sleep once he knows you're okay and all your needs have been taken care of. He'll watch you fall asleep in his arms.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
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Am I right or no, girlies?
(If you saw any spelling mistakes, no you didn't)
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Hiiii so this is my first time asking for anything but can you do Astarion headcanons where Gn!Reader is basically a Living heater, like they’re always warm.
Heyo thanks for asking! I did the headcanons for spawn Astarion only as I haven't ascended him yet, hope you don't mind! Also this inspired me to write a fic where reader and Astarion share a bedroll and cuddle so thank you anon! Look forward to it!
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Being able to feel warm is a novelty Astarion has recently come to love
His favourite spot in camp used to be the campfire, where he would always be found lounging with a book in hand, that is, until he found out how warm you are
Suddenly, you’ve adopted a very clingy vampire who wants to do nothing more than sprawl all over you like a cat sunbathing on a nice flat rock underneath the sun
Speaking of cats, he definitely purrs when cuddling with you, no matter how much he says otherwise
“You’re hearing things, darling” “Right…”
At first, he’s hesitant about how much physical contact you’re willing to put up with, only pressing shoulders with you and holding hands whilst sitting around the campfire
He’ll take what warmth he can from you without crossing any boundaries you may have, and feel his way around his position in the relationship
But as the two of you become closer, he starts to become more daring
The first thing he tries doing is hugging
Ever since you first hugged him, he’s been craving the intimate act, coming up with excuse after excuse to hug you such as checking you for injuries and being tired after a long hike
And now he has the perfect excuse
“You’re warm, I need the warmth” or so he says. Not that you mind, really
You keep silent about how he constantly melts in your arms during the hugs
Sometimes he pretends like he isn’t craving a hug but you can tell from the many glances thrown your way and the slight twitching in his arms whenever he’s right next to you, so to save him his dignity you initiate the hug
He loves it when you initiate hugs, it makes him feel warm both on the outside and the inside, the kisses that always come with the hugs are an added bonus
If you’re shorter than him, he likes to bury his face into your hair while holding you as tightly as possible so that he can absorb maximum warmth while feeling like he’s holding the world in his arms
If you’re taller than him, he likes to bury his face into your shoulder/chest, there’s so much warmth emitting from those areas, he can’t resist. Besides, it means easier access to your neck should he get a little peckish
Once the two of you are close enough, he starts resting his head on your chest and curling up against you
He likes hearing your heartbeat while indulging in your body heat, it keeps him grounded and trancing isn’t as scary as it used to be when he’s enveloped in your warmth
Sometimes he likes just lying curled up against you, a comfortable silence filling the air as he traces a length along your arm, intertwining his fingers with yours
His favourite place to cuddle is snuggled in a cocoon of blankets with you, he gets double the warmth especially on chilly nights
He’s alright with being the big or small spoon, unless he just woke up from nightmares then he’s all about being the small spoon for the night
He may not need massages, being a vampire and all, but he still likes to request them from you from time to time, if only because he gets to feel your warm hands on him. He doesn’t care how effective the massages are
All in all, he loves the toastiness that is you and would never trade it for the world
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morelikeravenbore · 2 days
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✨Sebastian Sallow Fluff Alphabet
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My personal headcanons based on the way I imagine and write Sebastian in How to Make a Villain.
This template is from this post by snowluvs and is definitely worth a read and a reblog! I loooove reading Sebastian headcanons so feel free to write your own, too!
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A - Attractive - what do they find attractive about their partner?
We all know that Sebastian has a bit of a savior complex, so he's attracted to a partner who trusts him with their vulnerability by letting him protect them, care for them and fuss over them. However, he also likes a challenge, so someone with a bit of backbone to go with their vulnerability would really pique his interest. It doesn't matter what form that backbone takes, be it academically-focused, impressive duelling prowess, or just someone whose not afraid to call him out when he's acting out of line, Sebastian is undeniably attracted to that spark.
Read on 👇
B - Body - what is their favourite part of their partner’s body?
Given that he craves deep and genuine emotional connection with a partner, he's very drawn to the face: stroking your cheeks, kissing the corners of your mouth, your eyelids, your brows. He finds any excuse to touch your face, whether it be brushing your hair back behind your ear or tenderly wiping food or smudges from your chin with his thumbs. When being intimate, he holds your face between his hands, pressing his forehead to yours, never breaking eye contact.
C - Cuddle - how do they like to cuddle?
Sebastian is a squasher. He needs to feel physically close to you and will often forget this own size and strength in his desperation to hold you closer, closer, closer. He hugs you so tightly you can't breathe, or else lays his entire body weight on top of you when you're lying down together or sharing a bed. You often have to remind him to back up a little lest he squeeze the life outta you with his love.
D - Dates - what does their ideal date look like?
Sebastian is spontaneous and impulsive, but beneath all that bravado and charm, he is also quite afraid of rejection, so he might not always straight out "ask" you on a date. Rather, you might find yourself accidentally having dinner together at the Three Broomsticks, or huddled for hours in a cozy bookshop he "stumbled upon" at random. Sebastian considers any time spent alone with you a date, and would later tease you about how many "dates" you've already been on without ever being asked.
E - Equal - are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?
Generally speaking, Sebastian has a hard time relinquishing control to another. Given his history, he is used to taking charge, solving problems on his own and shouldering the burdens of everyone he cares about — and it goes without saying that he can be incredibly stubborn about accepting help or support, even when he genuinely needs it. However, this does tend to lead to mental and physical overwhelm; decisions become impossible, his body aches with exhaustion, and sometimes the boy just needs you to baby him — while still giving him the illusion that he has everything under control ;)
F - Fight - would they find it easy to forgive their partner? how are they fighting?
My personal headcanon that Sebastian is a Virgo sun, Aries rising. His Aries means he's reactive and oftentimes at the mercy of his more intense emotions (such as anger, jealousy — being ruled by Mars). He doesn't always communicate in a healthy way, he lashes out, snaps, or jumps to wild conclusions that don't make any sense. However, being a Virgo sun means he's ultimately a caregiver with a deep need to fix things and look after you, so he's very quick to apologise and make things right again.
G - Gifts - how do they feel about gift giving? what are their habits when it comes to this?
His gifts are either very practical (something you'll use every day), or something very sentimental (something that once belonged to his mother).
When it comes to receiving gifts, he doesn't believe he deserves them, so giving him something uselful like an interesting book, a set of quills, or a planner is the best way to spoil him without making him uncomfortable. However, if you gift him something sentimental, or something you made especially for him, he'll treasure it for the rest of his life.
H - Holding Hands - when / how do they like to hold hands?
If this boy can hold your hand, he will hold your hand, and if he can't hold your hand, he'll play with your fingers, trace the lines of your palms, brush his pinky against yours. You're his anchor, and your hands are the easiest part to hold on to.
I - Injury - how would they act if their partner got hurt?
Given his history with his parents and his twin, he is completely overbearing any time you're sick or injured. He'll fuss, worry, devise a strict recovery regime, won't allow you to lift and finger, and make you stay in bed long after you're well again. He'll research cures, studies, information about whatever it is that ails you, and will likely tell you all about it in great detail. This is where that lovely backbone of yours will come in handy, because you'll definitely have to sit him down and tell him to relax.
J - Jealousy - do they get jealous easily? how do they deal with it?
For all his wonderful strengths, Sebastian suffers from insecurities born from a lifetime of losing those he loves. His jealousy stems not from your actions, but from a deep-seated fear that you're eventually going to realise that he's as rotten as he believes himself to be and leave him. He can be a bit much, but communication is key.
K - Kisses - how do they like to kiss their partner?
Sebastian loves to kiss your face aaaall over, but once he gets started, he finds it hard to stop. Boy is a kisser, and he can get messy.
L - Love Language - what’s their love language?
Acts of Service and physical affection. Being useful gives him a sense of purpose, and touching gives him a sense of peace, so expect to be well looked after and loved. When receiving love, he responds just as strongly to physical affection, as well as words of affirmation. Tell him he's appreciated and that he's done a good job, and he'll be yours forever.
M - Mornings - how are mornings spent with them?
If you manage to get him into bed before he falls asleep where ever he's been reading or studying, it's a hard job rousing him again. He likes to cuddle, and you'll usually wake up half squashed under his body or tangled up in his arms and legs. He speaks in grunts and groans rather than words, and has super adorable bed hair. He's also usually very hungry in the mornings, so the promise of breakfast will be the motivation for finally getting him up.
N - Nights - how are nights spent with them?
Sebastian loves staying up late and doesn't need much sleep to function. His brain is always running a million miles a minute, so winding down takes him quite a while. He tells you he does his best work at night when the rest of the world is asleep.
O - Open - when would they start revealing things about themselves? how would they do it?
Typically Slytherin, he's evasive about himself and prefers to know everything about you before he opens up. Further to that, theres a lot of pain in Sebastian's heart that he won't share with anyone unless he trusts them completely. But, as Slytherins go, once he does trust you, he'll trust you unconditionally; his secrets will become yours, and yours his, and nothing short of death or betrayal will ever break that bond.
P - PDA - how comfortable are they with pda?
He's a real cheeky little smart arse about it. He loves you so much that he wants everyone to know about. He'll pick you up and spin you around as a standard greeting, sit you in his lap, kiss you midway through a sentence. Sebastian doesn't do things by halves, and the same goes for being in love.
Q - Quirk - what is a random ability that helps the relationship?
His optimism, his adventurous spirit and unquenchable thirst for knowledge means there's never a dull moment in your relationship. Above all else, Sebastian likes to have fun, and your life together will be full of it.
R - Romance - how romantic are they? cliche or creative?
There is nothing conventional or cliche about Sebastian Sallow. In fact, he thrives on being just the opposite. He probably courted you by acting like he was your boyfriend until suddenly he just was, there was likely never any conversation about being official, and the first time he said he loved you was probably in the middle of a heated argument or else said in a way that implied it was already common knowledge to you. But despite his quirks, Sebastian is hopelessly, singularly and passionately devoted to you — just don't expect any grand or sappy gestures of love.
S - Security - how protective are they?
Sebastian is so overprotective that it borders on being overbearing. Truth is, he's terrified of losing you, the one person he loves more than any other, and is prone to bouts of severe anxiety about your health, your commitment to him, and your general safety. His inability to relax is a point of contention in your relationship, and one that you both need to continually work on overcoming together. Communication is key, even when Sebastian jumps to conclusions and assumes the worst. He's not perfect, but he's trying.
T - Talking - what do they like to talk about?
Being a highly intelligent Slytherin means Sebastian loves getting deep. Nothing excites him more than discussing magical ethics, or taboo subjects like the Dark Arts or the use of the Dementors kiss against prisoners. He's unafraid to argue his point and loves a lively debate, but he has mental capacity to respect all viewpoints — even if they conflict with his own. He yearns to understand the inner workings of the mind and takes great pleasure in trying to understand opinions and perspectives that differ to his own. Any subject that expands or challenges his understanding of the world is taken on with great enthusiasm.
U - Understanding - how well do they know their partner?
He's a fast learner, very observant, and madly in love with you (obviously), so he knows basically everything about you. But sometimes he likes to think he knows you better than you know yourself. He needs to be reminded every so often that you are capable of looking after yourself, and that he doesn't need to solve every little problem on his own without being asked.
V - Vaunt - what are they proud of? do they like to show their partner off?
Aside from his intelligence, his quick wit and his sense of humour, he is most proud of his innate optimism, which (thanks to your help) has remained in tact despite all the tragedies and hardships he's endured in his comparatively short life. But more than that, he's proud to have you by his side: the embodiment of goodness and love that he never believed he deserved.
His egotistical side enjoys showing you off — you are, after all, the most attractive person he's ever seen, and having you by his side gives his confidence a little boost — but he can become a bit possessive or jealous if he's feeling insecure.
W - Whole - would they feel incomplete without their partner?
Abandonment issues and childhood trauma means Sebastian holds his loved ones very, very dear to his heart. Without you, he'd still be the driven, intelligent and ambitious Sallow he was born to be, but he'd likely lose the motivation to reach his full potential. Having lost every important person in his life, his desire to better himself after all his past mistakes is soley inspired by you.
X - XOXO - are they affectionate?
Physical affection is both how he expresses love and how he feels love; physical touch grounds him in reality and reminds him that you are safe and near. Smooth back his hair, tenderly touch his face, or play with his fingers and watch how fast he melts.
Y - Yearning - how well do they cope when they’re separated from their partner?
Since you are his home, he feels incomplete and off-kilter when he's away from you. And though he tries to honour your individuality, if you're apart for too long, he'll start to have intrusive thoughts about every bad thing that might happen if he's not there to protect you. Needless to say, when you are finally reunited, he greets as you if several decades have kept you apart — like a big, needy puppy.
Z - Zzz - what are some sleeping habits of theirs?
This boys sleeping habits are a nightmare, precisely because he has a lot of them. In fact, he actively avoids sleep, preferring to stay up reading or researching until he's tired enough to fall into an immediate slumber. Usually, you'll find him slumped over on a table or still snoring on the couch, still fully clothed, but if you do happen to get him into bed, he can't sleep without some part of his body touching yours.
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dixons-sunshine · 1 day
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daryl and wife reader having a mini 3 year old daryl and shes sassy like her mama also shes really smart and daryl just being the best father and husband to be ❤️❤️
Daddy's Little Girl | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader
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*GIF isn't mine*
Summary: Life in your little home in Alexandria was amazing. You had a wonderful husband and a beautiful daughter you couldn't be more proud of, especially since she brings out parts of your husband you couldn't help but admire.
Genre: Fluff
Era: Alexandria, post Saviour war, post the building of the bridge
Warnings: None.
Word count: 965
A/n: This sucks so bad. I didn't really know where to go with this and scrapped so many attempts, so I'm sorry for the bad quality. I hope this is still somewhat enjoyable at least.
Rick never went missing in this because I'm in my feels after seeing him look for a gift for RJ.
It's not a major plot point, but there are mentions of Rick in this. Also, my default name for any fics involving Daryl having a daughter will be Hazel because I've grown to love the nickname I came up with for my last Dad!Daryl fic, which is Hazelnut.
As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests, as well as Scud Frohmeyer requests.
“No, Daddy. You can't.”
“'Course I can,” Daryl retorted playfully, taking the purple crayon from his daughter's hand. “Yer not even usin' the crayon, Hazelnut. Yer jus' holdin' it while yer colourin' with the red crayon. I need the purple more than ya do righ' now.”
Hazel huffed and folded her small arms over her chest, sending Daryl her version of a glare that the archer found absolutely adorable and amusing. “Not fair, Daddy. Gonna use it soon.”
“Until then, I'll use it. Once you need it, jus' ask, alrigh'?” Daryl told her, and chuckled when he saw her huff again and reluctantly continue to draw with the red crayon.
Daryl looked up and locked eyes with you, amused smiles on both of your faces. You were seated on the couch with Dog's head resting on your lap, fixing up one of the archer's favourite shirts while he entertained your daughter as she waited for Michonne to come pick her up for a sleepover with RJ. Daryl looked back down at his piece of paper and continued on with his drawing while you continued on with fixing up his shirt.
You silently listened to Hazel's happy babbling, smiling fondly at the father and daughter duo drawing stick figures and shapes. Suddenly, Hazel huffed again and threw the crayon down in frustration, crossing her arms over her chest.
“What's wrong, baby?” you asked, glancing at your daughter.
“I don't want to draw anymore,” she declared, crawling over to Daryl and clambering into his lap for a hug.
Daryl instantly dropped the crayon in his hand and embraced her, pulling her into his chest. Hazel nuzzled her face into his neck, giggling at the kisses Daryl placed on her face.
“It tickles, Daddy,” she giggled, bringing her small hands up to his stubble.
Daryl smiled and abruptly stood up with Hazel in his arms, eliciting a yelp of surprise from her that was quickly followed by more laughter. Daryl spun her around while placing more playful kisses all over her face, careful not to drop her. Dog jumped up from the couch with a happy bark, circling around Daryl as he wagged his tail happily.
You laughed at the shrieks of laughter that fell from your daughter's mouth. “Don't drop her, Daryl,” you warned him when he stumbled slightly. You turned your head when you heard a knock on the door.
“Never,” Daryl replied, placing one final kiss on Hazel's cheek before placing her down on the floor. He ruffled her hair before stalking over to the door, you getting up from the couch and trailing behind him.
Daryl opened the door and the two of you came face to face with Michonne, who had RJ perched on her hip. She smiled at the two of you in greeting, rubbing RJ's back soothingly.
“Hey, guys. Is she ready to go?”
Daryl hummed and turned around, calling out to Hazel. “Hazelnut! Auntie Michonne's here!”
You grabbed the sleepover bag that you had placed near the door earlier that day and handed it over to Michonne. Hazel's footsteps got louder until she ran up to you, hugging you before hugging Daryl. She then turned to Michonne and took her outstretched hand.
“Bye, Mama. Bye, Daddy.”
“Bye, sweetheart. Be good for Michonne and Rick, okay?” you greeted her.
She nodded and took off with Michonne, happily conversing with RJ while they walked. You closed the door and locked it, turning around to face Daryl. The archer smiled at you and pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly.
You were confused but soon hugged him back, nuzzling your face into his chest. Daryl placed a soft kiss on the top of your head before resting his chin there, slightly rocking you side to side.
“Not that I'm complaining in the slightest,” you mumbled, pressing a kiss against his chest. “But what's with the hug?”
Daryl remained silent for a moment. “S'jus' 'cause I love ya. And I can't believe how lucky I am to have ya and Hazel in my life.”
“Well, believe it, Dixon. I love you so much. So does daddy's little girl,” you replied, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.
“I love ya both too. Yer the most important people in my life. I'd die fer ya.”
“Hopefully it never comes down to that. You're dying a very old man if I can help it,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.
Daryl wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Dun' worry. I ain't plannin' on dyin' on ya anytime soon.”
You smiled at him. “Good to know. That's really good to know.”
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honeybleed · 1 day
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ngl just a head’s up my most recent fic will be the last ever fic i will write for the jjk fandom, i know i have many mutuals who write and engage with the fandom but honestly the past few months have been rather draining on this site.
it kind of makes me sick that such a large author for that fandom basically allowed and remained silent when me and another author was called all sorts of disgusting and vile slurs over a disagreement but has repeatedly made large call out posts/made sub posts at other people for the most menial shit ever such as fic layouts/themes/banners. not to mention a lot of people interact with them and don’t care so i mean i personally don’t see a point of associating with that.
this all stemmed from me calling out non black people for dismissing and downplaying antiblackness and i never expected antiblackness and racism to just disappear overnight but what i genuinely did was expect some sort of solidarity from people i considered friends. but that’s fine, that’s life. i did get support from friends and silence and soft/hard blocking from others.
i know there is a large black population on anime x reader fandom too but too many of those authors have adopted the “neutral black friend” stance because they’re afraid of getting the same racial abuse on anon like monica and i received which is also very disappointing.
anyways, all my jjk mutuals this is not a dig at you. i know how hard you all work on your fics and how some of the characters are your comfort characters, this post is not to guilt trip people but more-so just an insight to my personal feelings.
all i want to say is that you view me arguing/being angry at racism as “drama” or “discourse” you don’t want to see on your dash because “this is a safe place to simp over your favourite characters” well gee, i wonder how it’s like to be a black creative and hurled slurs that are meant to dehumanise us.
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liesmyth · 1 day
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top 5 TLT fic recs
OK, I've been very bad at keeping up with the fic tag so all my recs are a bit old but listen. they fuck.
the soul that seeketh him by bittybelle — Ostensively a fic about John Gaius's slut era but one of THE definitive fics in the fandom to me. I want to eat it I want it tattoed over my ribcage.
People, it turns out, are horny for depression. Or maybe it’s that people are horny for depressed gods. Or maybe enduring betrayal on a literally cosmic scale makes people hotter. Or maybe the death drive is real, and the many-tongued abyss’s breath is still thick in your hair, and it makes everyone want to move closer and take a big, deep whiff. Or maybe you’re God, and they’re scared. Or: John Gaius meets his daughter, remembers the women he left behind, and deals poorly with being the male god of a universe in which the divine is essentially feminine.
crawl home to her by Raxheim — I'm limiting myself to one Rax fic only, because this is a top five, but it's a struggle. Highly rec their whole account
In which Gideon the First finds Wake, kills her, and then absconds with her child. And in the shadows of his soul, Pyrrha and Wake fight for control of the bomb.
and my mouth isn't filled with blood, it's victory wine by arbitrarily — also known as the fic where Ianthe gets her eye smashed while roleplaying as Alecto during sex, and it's not even my favourite thing about the fic. It's unhinged (complimentary)
You like forcing yourself to do gross things. This is called having character. Ianthe gets haunted, makes a power play, and smokes a cigarette.
High But Very Drear by honorarycassowary — this is such a lovely look at the Ninth after Harrow's departure. It's slightly canon divergent (written pre NtN) but I'm obsessed with Aiglamene's portrayal in it
Aiglamene and Crux receive the five hundred ancient dead gifted by the Emperor for the renewal of the Ninth, and also do something that could be construed as mourning.
and I'll leave once I figure out / how to pay for my own life too by oriflamme — multichapter Harrow Nova AU that remains one of my favourite chaptered works in the fandom. I'm absolutely obsessed with the Harrow & Pyrrha and Harrow & G1deon dynamics in it
Harrow Nova wakes up haunted. That's not the problem. The problem is that her dead necromancer won't stop narrating their life for five minutes.
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vixonspixels · 2 days
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The Hamptons Generations
So instead of redressing all of my sims constantly when one of my favourite cc creators releases a new collection, I've made a store so that I can put the new clothes on the mannequins every month. That way it saves time from having to redress so many sims, and its super cute sending your sims shopping 🥲🤍
This lot is going to have multi different stores, I'm going to redo my salon, spa, jewellery store ( thanks to lilaccreatives latest collection ) , a boujie little cafe and a few more 🫣😂. Its very much a WIP but I just wanted to share these screenies as I'm pretty proud how it turned out so far
Hugely inspired by ashleyplays ralph lauren store, she is without a doubt one of my biggest inspirations in the community in more ways than one
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showtoonzfan · 2 days
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Just want to preface this by saying i love ur analysis sm- u put my exact thoughts into words when i cant verbalise whats wrong with a particular writing decision 🥲🥲
Anyway, smth ive noticed is how... little time vivzie actually spends on writing or characterizing or fleshing out her characters.
Which has to be the weirdest thing so far bc every writer and artist ive met agree that its the best part of making an oc! Its so fun to think of backstories and tie that into their current personality and generally just figuring out random details to get to know your characters!
Like, my ocs are my best friends, i know everything abt them from their trauma and childhoods, to their favourite food and music.
But time and time again she proves that her characters are at best acquaintances... the fandom fleshes out the characters so well and with so much love and care and thought that vivzie herself cant do and its just sad.
Not even mentioning the hundreds of retcons and how characters will just change personality randomly or act out of character which results in the work feeling like a fanfic of itself. (Ironic considering some fanfics have better and more consistent characterisation)
It feels like shes making it up as she goes, instead of having an actual plan. Just shoving random ideas she likes or picks up from the much more creative fandom into the 2 shows without actually stopping and thinking abt the consequences or implications.
Theres so many decisions shes made that irk me so bad... the ideas individually have potential but they either dont fit the show or have to make huge retcons and result in the plot not making any sense.
Also, ngl but she has the worst case of tell dont show ive ever seen my god 😭😭 like... you realise you have to show things instead of just fucking singing it or having a character say it??? Or is that another thing that the fandom has to do so they can convince themselves that the show has good characters??
Atp idk how to salvage the show... i keep finding more and more plotholes and unless i literally turn my brain off and only focus on haha funny dick joke or pwetty colors, these questions keep popping into my head making it a painful unenjoyable experience.
Again, if the fandom has to justify your bad nonsensical hypocritical worldbuilding then you failed. Massively.
Anyway im very sleepy rn just wanted to rant a bit bc im a writer and artist myself and it pisses me off how someone gets their show on the air and still doesnt care abt putting in effort into their plot or characters beyond aesthetics and random ideas that dont go well together...
You’re speaking facts! And it’s honestly like..kinda funny too that people who have their own OC’s can flesh them out and deep dive into their arcs/backstories ect, yet a professional showrunner who’s had these characters for YEARS can’t even give the majority of her characters flaws or quirks, or even consistency, same goes for Helluva Boss.
Viv is a really good example at letting inspired writers know what not to do when making a story and characters so at least they have that lol.
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hotvintagepoll · 12 hours
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Propaganda
Carmelita González (El cuarto mandamiento)—leading lady from the golden age of Mexican cinema!
Glynis Johns (Mary Poppins, The Court Jester)—LISTEN, I'd let that woman's voice with all its gravely hoarseness (positive) wash over me all goddamn day, but if that's not enough she managed to play the straight woman to Danny Kaye's jester, all with her cleavage so plunging it might as well have been catapulted into the ocean right after Basil Rathbone
This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.
[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]
Carmelita González:
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Glynis Johns propaganda:
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She walks the line between sexy and cute. Her best role for me is in "The Court Jester as Maid Jean. She's fantastic as the soft but tough captain of the outlaw band and she looks stunning in every gown she wears throughout the film. And of course we can't forget her iconic turn as the suffragette mother, Mrs. Banks, in Mary Poppins! Also shoutout to her distinctive and beautiful voice, kind of smoky and husky. Extremely hot and set her apart from many of her peers."
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"She was amazing in Mary Poppins (the Suffragette song is severely underrated) and apparently she was Welsh? National pride! And she advocated for arts funding in Wales, which is very cool. Also, she died recently (RIP) making her one of the last survivors of the Golden Age of Hollywood, according to Wikipedia. Also also, she just has a cheeky energy I like? And her eyes are beautiful!"
"She had this wonderful wit and charm to her no matter the role and the most distinctive, striking voice!"
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"I mean, incredibly beautiful and talented, can do drama can do comedy. And she was a mermaid."
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"Like Bette Davis she has eyes to die for. Unlike Bette Davis you felt comforted by them, even when she was batting her eyelashes at you. Would glady go to Downing Street with her and throw things at the Prime minister"
"Listen, listen. I was raised on Mary Poppins and "Votes for women! (step in time)" single-handedly taught me how to be a feminist. Also The Court Jester is one of my favourite movies of all time and she is UNBELIEVABLY gorgeous, charismatic, funny, and clever in it. She knocks several men out. Absolute icon."
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"I love Glynis Johns. Most of the reason is The Court Jester where she's a sensible and capable foil to whatever what going on with Danny Kaye at the time. She was also the first star I based an OC on. An OC that I still have to this day! Anyway here have some YouTube links love u bye"
Mermaid clip:
Court Jester (sharing a bed trope):
youtube
Court Jester (seducing the king):
youtube
"VOTES FOR WOMEN! Well, votes for this woman. Please."
youtube
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sargeantposting · 1 day
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A little earlier in the F2 season, we caught up with Williams Racing Academy Driver Logan Sargeant.
Wanting to get to know him just a little bit better, and with a big date in Austin now on the horizon, we tasked him with answering 22 questions about racing and life in general.
Here’s what he had to say…
What race day rituals do you have?
If weekends are going well, I tend to stick with the same underwear for each day. Before you worry, they’re different pairs! I have a Friday, Saturday, Sunday set. But if it’s not going well, I have to make a change!
What's your go-to coffee order?
Latte, but it's a double espresso before quali.
What's the inspiration behind your racing number?
This year it’s six because I can’t choose in F2, but when I am allowed to pick, it would be No3. Three for Dale Earnhardt, an all-out American hero.
Your favourite drink?
I’ve only just turned 21… but it’s water, of course.
If you had to cook one main course to impress a loved one, what would it be?
Oooo… I’m not much of a cook, but I can tell you what I would order in! I love a good prime rib.
What’s your favourite film?
Love the Jump Streets, but I’ve got a lot of time for Step Brothers. But if I had to choose out of the two, I’d go Jump Streets. I suppose I have to choose which one?! But 21 and 22 are both pretty good. Ah, I can’t decide.
Who is the toughest rival you've come up against so far?
It’s got to be the battle in Formula 3 between myself and Oscar Piastri.
Your favourite cheat meal?
Fortunately I have a quick metabolism, so they come relatively often… my American roots mean it would have to be a nice, juicy burger.
How many attempts did it take to pass your driving test?
Just one, which is apparently pretty rare for racing drivers! That’s including the practical and the theory.
Which track are you most looking forward to in 2022?
It’s got to be Monaco, but I’m looking forward to seeing the F1 team in Miami.
You can choose one song only to listen to before a race, what is it?
Lose Yourself - Eminem.
Is there one circuit not on your calendar that you'd love to race at?
Obviously it’s either Miami or Austin; to have a home race would be amazing. That said, I’d love to race at Suzuka some day.
Who is your favourite sports team outside of F1?
Anything Miami! We’re talking Heat, Dolphins, Marlins, Inter Miami… they’ve all got my support.
Least favourite exercise your trainer set for you in the offseason?
I’d say it’s got to be all the extra cardio I had to do to get ready for F2.
What's a better feeling, nailing a quali lap or executing a late overtake?
I saw what Nicky and Alex said to this answer and I have to agree. Nailing a quali lap all day long. It’s my favourite part of a weekend, I love putting it all on the line.
Is there anyone you idolised when growing up?
In racing, my first hero when I was a kid was, funnily enough, Jeff Gordon. I just loved watching him and the way he fought on track.
Favourite sport that's not F1?
At the moment, I’d have to say NFL. But it switches between that and the NBA.
If you could invite anyone in the world to a dinner party, which three people would you choose and why?
I would invite Leo DiCaprio, I feel he’s kind of cool. Then let’s also invite Margot Robbie and Brad Pitt. Let’s make it an A-List movie night!
What is your favourite Grand Prix?
Well, I could be biased and say Austin. I mean, how can you argue against 450,000 fans across the three days last year? That was pretty awesome. But I’ve got to say I love Silverstone as well.
What's been your favourite moment of your career so far?
My rookie race in Macau where I finished third. Definitely, 100%, hands down my favourite track in the world.
One word to describe how you're feeling about the 2022 season?
Confident.
One word that best describes Williams Racing to you?
Supportive.
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mercurycft · 5 hours
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𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇 — 𝐊𝐌 | ꒱ ₊˚ˑ༄
## social media | katie mccabe & awfc !!
september 18th 2023 — 📸
🔔 yourusername posted to instagram.
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yourusername tagged arsenalwfc & 15 others in this post.
liked by bethmead_, jbeattie91, stepcatley, katie_mccabe11, arsenalwfc and 89,754 others.
yourusername : arsenal wfc on film 🎞️🤍🎥
posted 9 hours ago.
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arsenalwfc: lights, camera, ACTION! ❤️
katie_mccabe11: why has my tan disappeared???
^ yourusername: you’re still tanned bby dw <3
^ y/n.mccxbe: HOLY SHIT
^ awfc.gunner: OH MY GOOOODDDDD
leahwilliamsonn: NL is RED! ❤️
^ yourusername: as it should be!
jbeattie91: look at my bun poking over everyone 🤣
^ yourusername: buns for dayyyyys 🗣️
awfclw66: literally my favourite people ever
^ yourusername: ❤️
^ awfclw66: OMG
september 20th 2023 — 📸
🔔 katie_mccabe11 posted to their story
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september 21st 2023 — 📸
🔔 yourusername posted to instagram.
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yourusername tagged katie_mccabe11 in this post
liked by katie_mccabe11, bethmead_, leahwilliamsonn, arsenalwfc and 98,537 others.
yourusername : happy birthday, old woman. i love you. heres to many, many more ❤️💐🥳 xxx
posted 4 hours ago.
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📍 katie_mccabe11: glad i’ve got you ❤️ i love you
leahwilliamsonn: way to break the internet 😭
^ yourusername: my phone is breaking
arsenal.wfc211: OMG HARDLAUNCHHARDLAUNCH
^ awfcg0nner: THE SEASON IS UPON US
bethmead_: my favourites 🤍
^ yourusername: love you beffy xxx
arsenalwfc: ♍️ virgo season
^ katie_mccabe11: aka the BEST season!
september 22nd 2023 — 📸
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katie_mccabe11 : one whole year of not hating your guts, even if you are too messy. i love you ❤️
posted 2 hours ago
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📍 yourusername: a whole year of your loud, loud mouth. love you 🤍 also my post got more likes than yours 😚 xx
^ katie_mccabe11: yeah yeah, whatever you say
arsenalwfc: all been holding our breath for 365 days
^ yourusername: ❤️
^ katie_mccabe11: is this teamcest??
——————
read ‘soft launch’ here! x
hey pookies!! i bet you all weren’t expecting another post so quick ;) i really enjoy making these! please let me know what other players you would like to see! i have work all of tomorrow morning, but i will get around to requests & messages this! weekend! i promise :)) happy reading & love always! 🤍 - RG x
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