#all I do is I sit and I think about him...

[camheaven]

٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´- fratboy!toji loved to fuck you in his jersey. he just loved the way it covered your whole body- and how pulling it back accentuated your curves. but it was starting to become a problem!

you started wearing it around your dorm, around his frat, to class with nothing but shorts on underneath- it was just too much for him! n he couldn’t just be walking around hard 24/7- that made him look like a fucking pervert.

so he had to do something about it. quickly. and for some reason the only thing he could think of was fucking you in all those places- just so you’d remember how crazy it made him.

he’d drape you over the kitchen counter at your dorm, pounding relentlessly into your soaked cunt- over and over again- just muttering stupid shit like “you gotta stop wearing that fuckin jersey.” n “if i fuck you stupid, maybe you’ll fuckin listen-“

or when he’d fuck you on the couch at his frat- legs over his shoulders, one hand tightly around your neck, the other gripped onto your waist over the jersey. “not’ gonna wear it again right?” he’d groan, snapping his hips into you. “gonna’ remember who fuckin’ owns it now, yeah?”

oh and of course- don’t forget the study rooms on campus, you’d be sitting right on his dick, flipping through pages as he fucked himself deeply into you.

he’d push your head down slightly, trying to get you to arch your back. “ya can’t wear this shit around school,” he’d muffled against your shoulder, biting down as his hand flew to cover your mouth because of how loud you were whimpering. “gotta listen to me princess.. or im gonna keep fucking you everywhere.”

but obviously this wasn’t helping- because the whole reason you started wearing that stupid jersey was so he would fuck you everywhere. mission accomplished??

[aervera]

Only Yours Today

synopsis. when nanami unexpectedly calls in sick just to spend the day with you contents. sfw, tooth-rotting fluff, nanami being a gentleman and a sweetheart. notes. i want a day-off from college. but i can't since last semester and everything is hectic

MASTERLIST

you wake to the smell of coffee and the sound of your favorite kettle whistling.

your first instinct is to panic—because nanami never leaves for work without waking you first. he’s religious about routine, almost obnoxiously so. 7:00 a.m. sharp, every weekday. a kiss on your forehead, a brush of his knuckles down your jaw, then the sound of the front door closing softly behind him.

except he’s… here?

you sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. the sun is barely peeking through the gauzy curtains, painting the room in soft gold. there’s the familiar creak of floorboards, then the quiet click of your bedroom door opening.

nanami steps in with a tray balanced in one hand and that subtle smile that always manages to wreck you.

“good morning, y/n,” he says, voice warm, deep, and freshly brewed like the mug in his hand.

you blink at him, confused but already melting. “…are you working from home?”

he sets the tray on your lap—coffee, lightly sweetened just how you like it, and toast with the edges cut off.

“i called in sick,” he says casually, rolling up the sleeves of his button-down shirt. “so i’m all yours today.”

you stare at him.

then blink.

“wait, what?”

“i said—”

“you called in sick?”

he nods once, then takes off his glasses to wipe them with the edge of your blanket like he does when he’s pretending to be nonchalant.

“you never call in sick,” you say, still stunned. “you went to work the day you had the flu. you showed up to a meeting after a night mission with three broken ribs.”

“that was reckless,” he agrees simply.

“exactly—so why now?”

nanami finally meets your gaze, his expression gentling as he walks over to your side of the bed.

“because you looked tired last night,” he murmurs, “and i wanted to give you something soft to wake up to today. so… me.”

your breath catches.

because he says it without fanfare, without performance. just a truth he’s already accepted.

you shake your head slowly, dazed. “you’re unbelievable.”

“i’m aware,” he replies smoothly. “but you’re the one who keeps me.”

breakfast happens slowly, in the warmth of rumpled sheets and half-lidded smiles. nanami sips his coffee while reading the news off his phone, one hand casually resting on your thigh under the blanket like it belongs there. (it does.)

afterward, you get up to brush your teeth, but he follows you into the bathroom like a shadow. you arch a brow when he wordlessly picks up your toothbrush, dabs on paste, and hands it to you.

“you’re hovering,” you mumble, toothpaste foaming slightly.

“i’m staying,” he corrects. “different.”

you snort.

but you don’t ask him to leave.

by 10 a.m., the two of you are on the couch, feet tangled, a fuzzy blanket over both your legs. there’s an old documentary playing—nanami’s choice, something about 19th-century trade policies—and you’re pretending to watch, but you’re really just watching him.

his hand rests on your ankle, thumb lazily drawing circles.

there’s no urgency in his touch. no demand. just quiet affection, like he has nowhere else to be—and more importantly, no one else he’d rather be with.

you sigh, nuzzling your cheek against the pillow. “i still can’t believe you called in sick. they’ll riot at the office.”

“they’ll survive.”

“you’re the backbone of the entire team.”

“i am.” he glances over at you. “but you are the backbone of me. and i happen to think today, i need my spine more than they do.”

you blink slowly.

“you’re weirdly poetic when you’re not sleep-deprived.”

“i am always poetic. you just don’t listen before your morning coffee.”

you both laugh.

it’s light and easy, the kind of laughter that only happens when the rest of the world is far away.

around noon, you both go for a walk. nanami holds your hand like it’s a habit, not a choice—thumb brushing over your knuckles as he listens to you ramble about the weird dream you had last night (something about a baby panda that spoke fluent french and asked you for tax advice).

he listens, fully and attentively, nodding like it’s the most important topic in the world.

at one point, he pauses near a small corner café. “would you like to go in?”

you grin. “only if we sit by the window and pretend we’re strangers falling in love for the first time.”

he hums, amused. “you want a day off and a meet-cute?”

“i want it all.”

nanami chuckles. “you always have.”

and you always will—especially when he looks at you like this, like your world is the one he’s happiest orbiting.

you return home in the early afternoon with croissants and coffee and a single tiny flower he plucked from the hedge when he thought you weren’t looking.

you catch him slipping it into your cup holder and he just shrugs, all deadpan. “i didn’t have a vase.”

you press your face into his coat, laughing.

back inside, he rolls up his sleeves again—domestic deity style—and makes you both lunch. it’s something warm and simple, but he plates it like a michelin-star chef because that’s who he is: always composed, always precise, even in love.

“i’ve noticed,” he says quietly as you eat beside him at the dining table, “that when i’m home with you, i feel less like a man dragging his feet through obligation. and more like someone who’s… content.”

you tilt your head. “you’re never obligated to stay.”

he looks at you, serious. “no. but i want to. which is rarer.”

later, you nap in his lap.

he’s seated on the armchair, legs stretched out, a book in one hand and you curled against his chest like you were carved to fit there. his free hand strokes through your hair in slow, absent motions.

he doesn’t say a word.

but you feel it in every quiet sigh, in every slight shift of his fingers against your scalp.

he chose this day. he chose you.

you wake up just as the sun begins to dip behind the skyline, golden-orange light painting his features.

“hey,” you whisper, voice still hoarse with sleep. “still here?”

his hand rests on your back, palm warm and grounding. “always.”

as evening settles in, you both lie on the bed, tangled beneath soft sheets, your head on his chest, his heartbeat steady in your ear.

you whisper, “do you ever regret days like this?”

“never,” he says instantly.

“even when you’re falling behind on emails and half your company probably hates me right now?”

nanami shifts slightly so he can look at you fully. “no one hates you.”

“i might’ve stolen their favorite employee.”

“they’ll manage.” his thumb brushes your cheek. “you need to understand, y/n—i didn’t call in sick because i was burnt out. i called in because i wanted to be here. with you. no spreadsheets. no deadlines. just… this.”

you don’t respond with words.

instead, you tilt your chin up and press your lips to his—softly, slowly, the kind of kiss that speaks of deep affection, quiet promises, and something warm blooming in the silence between breaths.

he kisses you back just as gently.

no rush.

no need to ask for more.

this is enough.

by nightfall, you’re brushing your teeth side by side again, and nanami’s reflection catches yours in the mirror. he watches you like you’re the sunrise at midnight—like you’re something rare and real that he never wants to miss.

you spit out your toothpaste. “you’re staring.”

“i’m allowed.”

“because you’re sick?”

“because i’m in love.”

you freeze, toothbrush halfway to the sink.

then slowly, you glance at him. “you love me?”

nanami places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you gently toward him until you’re standing face-to-face.

“i think i’ve loved you since the first time you made fun of my tie pattern,” he says softly. “but yes—i do.”

your chest tightens in the best way.

you whisper, “i love you too.”

he leans in, brushing his nose against yours. “good. because i plan to call in sick a little more often.”

you grin. “scandalous.”

“i prefer the term intentional.”

that night, he holds you close beneath the blankets, one arm wrapped around your waist, his breath slow and even against your neck.

and just before you fall asleep, you hear him murmur:

“being yours is the only thing that ever made me feel like i wasn’t wasting time.”

you smile into the dark, your heart full.

because today, time didn’t feel wasted.

it felt like love.

[yuramour]

I THINK HE KNOWS — F1 GRID

synopsis. trying to keep your crush on a certain driver a secret isn't exactly easy. but do they know about it, or not? pairing. f1 grid x reader (ft. mv1, yt22, ln4, op81, gr63, cl16, lh44, dr3, aa23, cs55, ih6, jd7, eo31, ka12, ob87) genre. fluff, headcanons warnings. mild secondhand embarrassment, maybe some suggestive themes, mostly coworker!reader, some of these are noticeably longer than others. my bad word count. 3k-ish (200-ish each)

note. this slowly devolves into silliness. alsoooooo, im tryna have a more consistent upload schedule, but i did just get a job and im taking online classes over the summer, so like, its hard to find the time to actually sit down and write. i'm trying, tho!! hope you guys enjoy this one :p

MAX VERSTAPPEN

۶ৎ completely oblivious

of course, it was glaringly obvious to everyone but max. everyone else saw the way you immediately stopped whatever you were working on to stare at him whenever he wandered into the red bull garage. ever since you started working for red bull as an analyst, you had the biggest crush on max. at first, it was just a harmless thing, blushing whenever he was in your general vicinity, your coworkers giggling and elbowing you whenever he walked into the room. the teasing from your coworkers was really the most annoying part at first. but now? the most annoying part by far was how max was just apparently totally oblivious to the fact that you liked him. you weren't even keeping it a secret anymore like you were at the beginning. you'd all but asked him out at this point. but he had absolutely no idea. it wasn't until charles teased him about how you stared at him during the driver's parade that max realized. it took him aback at first, but trust he'd never felt more dumb than when he realized you were in fact hitting on him all that time. asks you out the next time he sees you.

YUKI TSUNODA

۶ৎ has a suspicion

he could be wrong- maybe. but for the past several months, yuki's had a feeling that all those times you've brushed against him in the hallway, stared just a little too long during team debriefs, and laughed a little too hard at his jokes meant you saw him as a little more than just a coworker. it's hard for him to keep to himself- you haven't actually said anything that would indicate that you like him, so he doesn't want to bring it up. which sucks for him, because he really likes you, too. the way your hand feels on him when you pat him on the back after a race, the way your voice sounds when wishing him luck, the way your eyes soften when they meet his- it gives him butterflies. but he doesn't want to tell you. maybe he's just scared of rejection- because what if he's wrong? what if you don't actually like him? you have to be the one to tell him first. his imposter syndrome refuses to let him make the first move. he's elated when you do- a grin breaking over his face, a soft "i knew it" slipping from his lips.

LANDO NORRIS

۶ৎ thinks you hate him

maybe it's just the way you show affection- but lando thinks you can be a little...mean. not just a little mean- really mean. lando genuinely thinks you hate his guts. the way you refuse to make eye contact with him, the way you practically flee the room whenever he enters- he's convinced you have something against him. lando's a sensitive soul, he can take things a little personally. and you're perfectly content letting lando think you hate him if it means he never finds out ab out your stupid little crush. on another note, lando's absolutely flabbergasted when oscar makes a passing comment about your little crush on him- leaving both of them confused; lando because he was convinced you hated him, and oscar because he thought your crush was so blatant. oscar was right, of course. you just have a rather elementary way of navigating your crushes on people. lando practically corners you about it the next day, your violent blush and stuttering at the sudden confrontation telling him all he needed to know. he asks you out properly and nicely after that.

OSCAR PIASTRI

۶ৎ he knows but you have no idea he knows

oscar clocked your crush immediately. he's an observant guy. but he's so incredibly normal about it. you have absolutely no idea that he knows. the thing is, he thinks he's being obvious about liking you back. he'll open doors for you, give you his coat when you're cold, open energy drink cans for you, and he thinks it's incredibly obvious. the problem? you just think he's the kind of guy that'd do all that stuff anyway. because he's just so relaxed with it. it goes on for MONTHS. you both thinking you're being plainly obvious about your feelings for each other, and oscar just simply not wanting to be the one to make the first move. lando eventually knocks some sense into him- telling him to just ask you out because you're obviously not going to be the one to initiate it. as soon as he does, you're taken aback- not having expected oscar to be into you, too. but of course he was. how could he not be?

CHARLES LECLERC

۶ৎ thinks its all platonic

charles thinks that you're just a good friend- his best friend. doing things that all best friends do. of course a best friend would drop everything because he asked you to go out and do something. of course a best friend would go out of their way to come to all his races. of course best friends hug each other for extended periods of time after a bad race. he thinks you're just his best friend. because none of his other friends really do things like that- you must just be that good of a friend! right? no. of course not. you are head over heels in love with charles and you always have been. and he's never noticed. to be fair, you didn't exactly want him to. you were scared of the rejection you'd face if he ever found out. he's the charles leclerc. why would he go for you? even if you were his best friend. funny enough, it's his mother that ends up spilling your secret. charles thinks she's just joking at first, but once he realizes she's not, he's absolutely mortified. not only because he never realized it, but because he's felt the same about you for years, thinking you only saw his as a friend. calls you over immediately and confesses everything.

LEWIS HAMILTON

۶ৎ he knows, but doesn't say a word

lewis, ever the gentleman, notices your crush immediately, but chooses to keep it a secret. because you obviously don't want him to know about it, otherwise, you wouldn't be keeping it a secret. he thinks its charming more than anything. completely endeared by the way you immediately blush and look away whenever he makes eye contact, scurrying away like a little mouse whenever he ever so politely asks you to do even the most miniscule task. he didn't have any feelings for you at first- but the more time he spends observing you, the way you interact with others, your kindness, your individuality, he falls for you slowly but surely. you know lewis is a good man, so when he asks you to go to dinner with him, you think it's just to show his thanks to you for being such a hard worker. when he tells you how he feels about you, you feel like you're about to melt out of sheer embarrassment. lewis watches the blush take over your face with a soft laugh, your reaction reminding lewis exactly why he liked you in the first place.

GEORGE RUSSELL

۶ৎ thinks it's just a joke

even if you are so completely blatantly obvious about having a crush on george, he just thinks you're kidding. any time you openly flirt with him, he just laughs along and takes it as a joke. it gets to a point where you're all but telling him to his face that you're in love with him, and he's just like "haha, good one!" straight up, for a man that's so in love with himself, you think he'd be able to take a hint. but no. he's blind to the truth. and he's like this for MONTHS. you are LAYING IT ON, and he just does not understand that you are being 100% for real. only gets it when you literally corner him and tell him blatantly to his face that you are genuinely actually into him. he's both flabbergasted and overjoyed bc this rich boy gets zero play.

KIMI ANTONELLI

۶ৎ he has NO idea

silly silly boy. despite the fact that you've followed him around the world since you were kids, been by his side the entire time, through his best and worst days. he just doesn't see it. and you'd never tell him, of course. you value your friendship too much to ruin it over a stupid little (not little at all) crush. but still. who tf basically puts their entire life on hold to follow their best friend around the world? either someone who's in love, or someone who's just that good of a friend. in your case, it's the former. but unfortunately, kimi thinks you're the latter. he doesn't even realize he's in love with you until he's talking about you to ollie one day, just absolutely gushing about you and ollie's just listening like "...😐 you're stupid." after kimi realizes how he feels, he tries to keep it to himself, but accidentally lets it slip out one day while talking to you. to his ABSOLUTE SHOCK (idk how it was a shock he's lowkey blind), you feel the same about him.

ALEX ALBON

۶ৎ he knows & is very obvious about it

he KNOWSSSS. AND YOU KNOW HE KNOWSSSSS. unfortunately, as an employee for Williams, you know that dating a driver is looked down upon at the VERY LEAST. so despite the fact that you keep it as professional as possible, any and every time you so much as make eye contact with alex, this mf giggles. like, actually giggles. like a middle schooler. you don't even really know how he knows. but you suspect that carlos told him after you let it slip to him one day that you thought alex was cute. but nevertheless, you never let your interactions go beyond relaying basic information and wishing him luck before a race. but one weekend, you and alex end up with you hotel rooms booked right next to each other, somehow leading to alex basically living in your room all weekend. after that, it's all longing stares across the garage and holding hands in secret.

CARLOS SAINZ

۶ৎ totally blind to it

i think he just likes to think that you're a very kind and respectful person. like, he says jump and you ask how high, type shit. despite the fact that you try to keep it a secret at first, you realize that he is truly never going to get it unless you start like, actually putting the moves on this man. he thinks you're just a really nice person until one day it just slaps him in the face that you're literally obsessed with him, and he just feels SO stupid bc of it. like, you are all but offering to literally become his personal maid and he hasn't realized until now??? not very smooth operator of him. when he suddenly starts flirting back to you, you realize the vibe switchup IMMEDIATELY and you know he's clocked you</3 he asks you out on a casual coffee date at a cute quiet little cafe and it's very sweet and fluffy and eughhhh i hate (love) him so much.

ISACK HADJAR

۶ৎ again, thinks you hate him

poor baby thinks you getting red in the face and cutting the conversation off early whenever he tries to talk to you is indicative of you hating him and not of you getting flustered by his mere presence. he's pacing back and forth wondering what he could have possibly done to make you hate him, meanwhile you're in the other room pacing back and forth wondering how the hell you're ever going to be able to tell him you're basically in love with him. isack eventually decides to just be as nice as possible; getting you coffee, doing his best to make your job easier for you, complimenting you whenever he notices you've done your hair differently or whatever. unfortunately, this may or may not make things worse bc you have no idea how to take a compliment and just mumble a "thanks" and immediately leave the room whenever he does so. eventually, one of your coworkers talks some sense into you and convinces you to tell isack how you feel. shocked and elated don't even come close to describing how isack feels when you finally confess to him. relationship immediately starts from there, and he's basically obsessed with you and giving you allllll the words of affirmation.

JACK DOOHAN

۶ৎ thinks its just "bestie vibes"

again. stupid boy. stupid dumb boy. let me set the scene; you and jack have in fact been best friends for as long as you can remember. you weren't even into him at first, but after not seeing him for a while, and all of a sudden, he comes back as an accomplished formula driver, not to mention he's like, half a foot taller and significantly more ripped than he was the last time you saw him, something definitely changed in the way you looked at him. but of course sweet oblivious jack is just happy to hang out with his best friend again after so long. the two of you take a trip to the beach not too long after he gets back, and you have to physically stop yourself from staring at his abs for too long. ofc he just thinks you're looking at him so longingly bc you missed your best friend (him) so bad. that same night, the two of you get a little drunk and you accidentally call him hot to his face. oops! he thought about it for a solid ten seconds before he realized that he, in the back of his mind, thought the same about you. i just love this himbo so bad okay :(

OLLIE BEARMAN

۶ৎ he WANTS you to, but has no idea

to ollie, you were just so fucking cool. always so poised, level-headed, always cool under pressure. and he was absolutely head-over-heels for you. he practically followed you around like a lost puppy everywhere you went. not just because he's always getting lost at social events, but because he wanted to be near you as much as he physically could. to ollie, you were totally and completely out of his league. he wanted so badly for you to notice him as more than the guy that you were getting paid to basically babysit and make sure he doesn't say anything stupid to the media. little did he know, you'd been charmed by his cute smile, sweet demeanor, and puppy-like tendencies since the day you met him. he thinks he's seeing things when he starts noticing the blush that creeps up on your cheeks whenever he says something sweet. "wishful thinking" he tells himself. he swears he's dreaming when you knock on his hotel room one night and say that you have a secret to tell him. and he practically dies from happiness when he wakes up the next morning with a text from you confirming that you meant it when you told him you liked him.

ESTEBAN OCON

۶ৎ he's SUSPICIOUS of you

what do you want from him?? why are you so nice to him? what are you planning?? are you, the sweet alpine employee that says hi to him every morning in the paddock with that cute little smile spying on haas for your team??? he notices the way you come to the haas mobile home to "visit your friend" that works for the team. every time you wish him luck on the race in passing, he narrows his eyes and nods curtly, suspicious of the way you always happen to bump into him. little does he know, he keeps seeing you around because you have the biggest crush on him. you're close with a couple of the guys on the haas pit crew, and they've been trying for months to get esteban to notice you. which he has. just not in the way that you hoped. it all comes to a head when esteban relays his suspicion to your friends on the haas team, all of whom are absolutely flabbergasted that that's the conclusion he came to. they couldn't possibly let him go on thinking that. esteban is completely floored when they tell him you're always hanging around not because you're spying for alpine, but because you have a crush on him. immediately pulls you aside the next time he sees you and apologizes for being so unwelcoming towards you. he takes you out for an apologetic dinner, and realizes you're actually really great :p

DANIEL RICCIARDO

۶ৎ he knows and you know he knows

not only does he very obviously know, he teases you about it. you're too stubborn to give him the satisfaction of telling him flat-out how you feel. that's exactly what he wants. so you let him tease you, taking the shit-eating grins, flirtatious jokes, and the way he gets just a little too close for comfort in stride. you absolutely refuse to give him any kind of confirmation when he leans in, going "come on, i know you like me a little bit." it gets to a point where he's gotten on your nerves so much, you're not even sure if you even like him anymore or if you're just so stubborn, you can't even admit it to yourself anymore. it goes on for literal years. you think it's finally over when daniel leaves red bull. finally, you can let go of your stupid crush and live the rest of your life in peace knowing you won't have to deal with the australian ever again. but no. of course not. despite the fact that he was now in renault, he would come sidling up to the red bull mobile home just to flash you that shit-eating grin with a painfully flirty "how you doing?" all that time while he was in red bull, the possibility that he liked you back hadn't even crossed your mind. you thought he was just kind of a dick, teasing you for being into him. turns out, he was just waiting for the moment you weren't working for the same team so he could ask you out properly. "surprised" doesn't even begin to cover how you were feeling after he told you after the 2019 season was over.

taglist: @bear-yawns @revelauver

[cheftsunoda]

hiii!

I love your writing sooo much and I just had an idea for a story with Lando (if you write for him)

The idea came to me when I was watching one of his interviews in which he gets asked if he likes cats or dogs and he says that he's DEFINITELY a dog person and hates cats (which should be a crime imo)

Anyway I was wondering if you could write a story in which the reader LOVEEEES cats and Lando likes reader a lot but they tell him that they refuse to date someone who doesn’t like cats so Lando tries to charm/befriend their cat/cats

nine lives — ln4

lando norris x !cat lover reader

smau + blurbs

You’ve always said you could forgive many things in a relationship—bad taste in music, questionable cooking, even the occasional forgotten anniversary. But not liking cats? Unforgivable. Which is why, when a clip of Lando—your boyfriend of almost a year—where he boldly declares “I just don’t trust cats. They stare at you like they’re plotting your death.”, your phone practically explodes with notifications. And right in the middle of your peaceful Sunday morning, curled up in bed with four purring furballs and one very smug grey baby sprawled on your chest, Lando walks into the room holding his phone like it’s ticking.

“They’re all sending me this video,” he says, deadpan. “And now half the internet thinks we’re about to break up because I disrespected Mister Whiskers the Third.”

You blink at him. “You did. And you disrespected me.”

And that’s when he sighs—loudly, dramatically—and looks your cats in the eye like he’s facing his greatest challenge yet.

“I guess I’m gonna have to win them over, huh?”

fc : random pinterest girlies

(a/n) : hi babyyyyyy. thanks for the love:) i am a huge cat person so this was very fun for me to write. my cat was stepping on my keyboard keys as i was literally trying to type it out. LMAOOO

ALSO NOT MY DUMBASS HAVING THIS EDITED AND READY FOR TWO DAYS AND NOT REALIZING. IM SO SORRY.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

lando’s ‘undercover’ GQ interview — 6/23/2025

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

It starts innocently enough. You’re lounging on the couch in your sunlit living room, a tabby curled against your hip, a calico stretched across your feet, and your ancient, grumpy Persian—Count Meowcula—curled up like a loaf of bread on the coffee table. Lando is still asleep upstairs, likely tangled in the duvet with his mouth slightly open and hair sticking up like a dandelion. You’re scrolling through your phone when the first tag pops up.

@/username000 : NOT LANDO SAYING HE HATES CATS 💀💀💀 @/yourusername come get your man pls

You furrow your brows and click the link.

It’s a recent clip, from the GQ interview he just did the other day. The interviewer shows him an old clip of himself.

And the younger Lando on the video, without missing a beat, replies with boyish arrogance, “Dogs, obviously. Cats are evil. I don’t trust them. They just sit there and judge you.”

Your jaw drops a little. “Excuse me?”

He goes on—oh, he goes on.

“They’re always knocking things off tables. Like, why? For what reason? I could never live with a cat. I’d be on edge all the time.”

You blink at the screen, stunned. A moment later, your mentions erupt like fireworks.

@/username00 : so like… yn owns FIVE cats and lando said THIS?????

@/username0 : the betrayal. the slander. does Count Meowcula know??

@/username1 : if my man ever said this about cats i’d simply let them scratch his eyes out 😭

You let out a little laugh—half horrified, half amused—and glance around the room. As if sensing drama, your youngest cat, a tiny grey kitten named Pickles, climbs onto your lap and stares directly into your phone screen like she’s reading the replies.

“I know,” you murmur to her. “He’s got some explaining to do.”

Almost on cue, heavy footsteps pad down the stairs. You hear a yawn, then a groggy voice.

“Morning…” Lando steps into the room, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He’s in one of your hoodies and a pair of mismatched socks, hair a complete mess.

You swivel your phone toward him, the video paused on the exact moment he says, “Cats are evil.”

He squints. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

Lando flops face first onto the couch beside you, groaning into a throw pillow. “I was, like, twenty! I didn’t know better!”

“The internet disagrees.” You smirk, holding your phone up as notifications keep pouring in. “You’ve got approximately two million cat lovers and a grumpy Count Meowcula very disappointed in you.”

Lando turns his head, eyes squinting at the Persian cat who is, indeed, staring at him with an expression of utter betrayal.

“I told him it was an old interview,” you say solemnly. “He doesn’t care.”

“I’ll never earn his forgiveness, will I?”

“Not unless you make amends.”

He sits up dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “Then I have no choice. I must… bond with the cats.”

“Oh?” you tease. “The same cats who are evil? The ones you can’t trust?”

“I was young! I was foolish!” He throws himself at your feet in mock agony. “Please, my love, allow me to prove myself to you—and to Pickles. And to Mr. Whiskers. And… Count Meowcula.” He pauses.

“God, why do they all sound like retired supervillains?”

“Because they are.”

Pickles meows at him, unimpressed. Lando slowly sits back up, adjusting his hoodie and patting his lap. “Alright. I’m ready. Send me your softest warrior.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re serious?”

“I’m ready to face the consequences of my words,” he says solemnly. “Bring me the cats.”

One by one, like some ceremonial trial, the cats are introduced. Pickles curls up beside him without protest. Mr. Whiskers claws his leg once, just for good measure, and then lays on his foot. Count Meowcula eyes him for a solid three minutes before climbing onto his lap and promptly falling asleep.

You grab your phone and take a picture of the scene—Lando sitting stiff as a board, surrounded by cats, one paw resting over his knee like a warning.

Moments later, the tweet goes viral. The top reply?

@/alex_albon : petition for Lando to do a cat photoshoot in apology form.

You grin and show it to him.

“Absolutely not,” Lando mutters as Mr. Whiskers licks his hand. “Okay. Maybe. Only if I get to wear the little ears too.”

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

yourusername

liked by lando, oscarpiastri, alex_albon and 1,201,005 others.

yourusername : should i leave this muppet because he doesn’t like my babies?

tagged : lando

—

view 72,075 other comments.

alex_albon : yes. absolutely. dump him. lily and i will take you and your cats in.

liked by yourusername and lilymhe

↳ yourusername : omw to the albon farm where me and my 5 children will be APPRECIATED.

liked by alex_albon and lilymhe

↳ lando : HEY HEY WE DO NOT HAVE TO GO THIS FAR

liked by yourusername

↳ lando : i am like the cat whisperer now. ask pickles.

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : you screamed when mr whiskers jumped up on the couch behind you. mans was just existing.

liked by alex_albon

↳ lando : HE STARTLED ME.

liked by yourusername

maxverstappen1 : leave him. now. i want to see him walking down the road with one of those hobo sacks.

liked by yourusername

↳ lando : OH MY GOD. YOU ARE ALL SO OVERDRAMATIC. I WAS YOUNG.

↳ maxverstappen1 : do not care. you still said it.

liked by yourusername

username00 : i take it he is still in alot of trouble yn

↳ yourusername : oh yes. very much so. sleeping on the couch currently.

liked by maxverstappen1 and alex_albon

↳ maxverstappen1 : make him sleep on the sidewalk.

liked by yourusername and username00

lando : I AM SORRY BABYYYYY DO NOT LEAVE ME. I NEED YOU AND YOUR 5 CHILDREN.

liked by yourusername

alexandrasaintmleux : leave lando. not bc of the cat thing but just so you can date me😻

liked by yourusername

↳ lando : ALEX. OUT. DO NOT TRY TO WIN OUT ON MY MISFORTUNE.

liked by yourusername and alexandrasaintmleux

oscarpiastri : I, for one, stand for feline rights. #teampickles

liked by yourusername

charles_leclerc: just wait til she has a conversation with zhou about this…

liked by alex_albon, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, yourusername and zhouguanyu24

↳ zhouguanyu24 : oh i already know and sweetcorn and i are offended deeply

↳ lando : BROOOOOOOO

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

f1gossipgirls

liked by yourusername and 1,100,100 others.

f1gossipgirls : Lando on live tonight with YN’s kitten Pickles!

tagged : lando and yourusername

—

view 175,007 other comments.

username000 : pickles pawing him in the head killed me #teampickles

liked by yourusername

username00 : @/yourusername you are so powerful. he went from hating cats to calling pickles his son in a matter of a week

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : that’s what good pussy does…bad joke?

liked by lando and username00

username0 : pickles had more screen time than max 😭

liked by yourusername and maxfewtrell

username1 : HE DID THE BABY VOICE AWWWWW

liked by yourusername

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

The stream wasn’t even supposed to happen. It started because Max texted Lando “go live you coward I miss your face”, and then fifteen minutes later Lando was setting up his webcam while you sat cross legged on the couch, cradling Pickles in your lap like royalty. You had no intention of being on camera—until Pickles decided to launch himself from your arms and climb straight up Lando’s hoodie mid-intro.

“AH—oh my god—HE’S IN MY SHIRT,” Lando yelps, half-laughing, half-panicking, while you scramble into frame trying to extract the tiny menace from his hood. The comments explode instantly.

@/username0000 : IS THAT PICKLES??

@/username000: this is already the best stream of the year

You finally wrestle the kitten free and sit down beside Lando, both of you breathless from laughing. Pickles, smug as ever, curls into a perfect ball on Lando’s shoulder like he owns the place.

“He’s… decided to stay,” Lando mutters, eyes wide. “I’m not moving for the rest of the stream.”

“That’s called growth,” you tease. “You used to call him a demon.”

“I still think he is,” Lando says. “He’s just my demon now.”

Then Max joins the call. And everything goes downhill.

“Oi,” Max says, grinning into his camera. “Am I interrupting domestic bliss?”

“Pickles almost crawled into my ribcage five minutes ago,” Lando replies. “So yes, but it’s fine.”

You wave at Max. “Hi Max. I saved your best friend from a feline induced death.”

“Legend,” Max says with a wink. “Though if Pickles had finished the job, I’d finally win our Fantasy league.”

Lando flips him off. The chat goes wild. Over the next half hour, it descends into total chaos. Lando’s trying to game, Max is throwing shade, and you’re in the background trying to keep Pickles from knocking over an open can of Monster with the energy of a feral toddler. At one point a conversation sparks.

Max started. “So YN, how many cats is too many cats?”

You thought for a moment. ”Hypothetically?”

“Yeah.”

“Ten.”

Lando spits out his drink, “TEN?”

You shrugged, “I’m just saying. We have the space.”

Max laughed. “This is how it starts. First it’s one kitten, next thing you know, you’re on a reality show called My Strange Addiction..’”

You laughed, “I’d watch my episode.”

Lando sighed heavily, “Don’t give her ideas, she’s already been measuring out a catio for the balcony.”

The chat is unhinged at this point.

@/username11: lando is literally becoming the cat dad he swore he’d never be and I love it

Then Pickles decides to crawl back onto Lando’s lap mid game, and instead of pushing him off, Lando just says, “Okay okay buddy, you can sit there, just don’t touch the mouse—”

Immediately, Pickles touches the mouse. Lando loses the round. Max howls laughing.

“I’ve been sabotaged,” Lando groans. “By my own child.”

You hand him a tiny sweater. “He earned this.”

Lando holds up the sweater to the camera—soft knit, neon orange, a little lightning bolt stitched across the back.

“It’s giving superhero sidekick,” Max says. “He needs a cape.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you say, already pulling out your phone to text your Etsy supplier.

By the end of the stream, Pickles is asleep on Lando’s chest, purring, and Lando’s stroking his tiny head absentmindedly while bickering with Max about who cheated in karting back in 2015.

“He’s so gone,” Max mouths into the camera, pointing at Lando, who doesn’t even notice because he’s too busy whispering, “You’re my best mate, but if you ever touch my mouse again, I swear—” to a literal sleeping kitten.

The final shot before the stream ends? Lando kissing the top of Pickles’ head without even realizing he’s doing it. The comments explode. And the clip goes viral.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

You come home expecting the usual—a trail of cat toys on the stairs, a half consumed cup of Lando’s coffee on the kitchen counter, and Pickles dramatically lounging in your spot on the couch. What you don’t expect is Lando standing in the hallway with his hands behind his back and the guiltiest grin on his face.

“What did you do?” you ask instantly.

“Why do you assume I did something?” he replies, rocking on his heels.

“You only smile like that when you’ve either crashed a scooter or spent a suspicious amount of money.”

“I prefer the term invested.”

You narrow your eyes. “Lando…”

He takes your hand. “Okay. Just… come with me.”

He leads you to the balcony, practically vibrating with excitement. The sliding doors are already open, and the cats are pacing back and forth like they know something’s up. And then you see it. A catio.

Not just any catio. A custom, multi-level, architectural wonderland that stretches across half the balcony. There’s a tunnel system, clear bubble pods for sunbathing, platforms shaped like trophies, and tiny nameplates engraved for each cat. At the top—of course—is Count Meowcula, looking down on his kingdom like he’s about to demand taxes.

You blink. “Lando. What the hell is this?”

“It’s a Catio 2.0,” he says proudly. “Designed it with a guy from Reddit. Don’t ask how much it cost.”

You turn to him, stunned.

“And this?” you say, gesturing to the racing stripe hammock that literally says “PICKLES’ PAD.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Okay that part was my idea. And the tiny pit wall.”

There is a tiny pit wall. You burst out laughing, hand over your mouth. “I can’t believe you did this.”

He shrugs, pulling you into a hug. “You said they deserved fresh air and enrichment. And I figured… if I’m gonna be a cat dad, I might as well go all in.”

You lean up and kiss him, dizzy with love. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” he grins. “But you love me anyway.”

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

It started as a joke. You were scrolling through Instagram with Lando one night, curled up on the couch while Pickles aggressively kneaded his thigh. Zhou had just posted yet another selfie with Sweetcorn, his fluffy, spoiled cat, perched on his shoulder like a queen.

Lando squinted at the screen. “I’m starting to think Zhou loves that cat more than he loves people.”

You smirked. “I respect it. Honestly, I love sweetcorn too.”

“Okay, weird. But what if we got him, like… a Sweetcorn pillow?” Lando said, half joking, half serious.

You stared at him. “Wait. That’s actually genius.”

Two weeks later, the package arrives.

A two foot long plush pillow—an eerily accurate, almost too realistic version of Sweetcorn, down to the slightly tilted ears and smug expression. You nearly cry laughing when you pull it out of the box. Lando holds it up like he’s presenting Simba.

“We’ve peaked,” he declares. “This is our legacy.”

You’re both waiting outside the Ferrari hospitality unit when Zhou walks up, sunglasses on, coffee in hand, completely unprepared.

Lando grins. “Got you a present.”

Zhou raises a brow. “What’d you do?”

Then you pull the pillow out from behind your back and hold it up proudly.

Zhou stops. Blinks. Takes off his sunglasses in slow motion.

“You did not.”

“Oh, we did,” you laugh. “Meet… travel-sized Sweetcorn.”

Zhou stares at the pillow, mouth open, completely speechless. Then, without a word, he drops his coffee and takes the pillow in his arms like a long lost child.

“I’m never sleeping alone again,” he says.

Lando bursts out laughing. “We made it extra squishy so you’d get maximum cuddle support.”

Zhou is still cradling the pillow, already doing voices— “‘Who needs anyone when I’ve got you, Sweetcorn 2.0.’”

You snap a picture of him holding the pillow like a baby, and before long it’s all over social media.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

lando

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, alex_albon and 4,001,008 others.

lando : i have made amends with all the cat people in my life. built a catio, traveled to the albon farm and got zhou a mini sweetcorn. and i can say i finally understand why max broke down the door for his cat children.

tagged : alex_albon, yourusername, maxverstappen1 and zhouguany24

—

view 175,001 other comments.

yourusername : this is the man i love. covered in cat hair.

liked by lando

lando : god i hate how i will do literally anything for you

liked by yourusername

yourusername : love you lannnnnnn

liked by lando

maxverstappen1 : and id break ten more doors.

liked by yourusername and lando

alex_albon : you still flinched when one of ours sneezed but we made progress so idc

liked by yourusername and lando

zhouguanyu24 : mini sweetcorn sleeps beside me every night. nothing will ever top this gift.

liked by yourusername and lando

yukitsunoda0511 : yn!! do you think we can get him to go to the cat cafe in tokyo??

liked by yourusername

lando : no

yourusername : if you love me you will

liked by yukitsunoda0511

lando : GOD damnit

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

[madamechrissy]

Mr. Nanami's Secretary

Pairings - Boss Nanami x Secretary reader

Contents/warnings- based off the movie 'The Secretary' quite clearly aha, BDSM heavy, dom/sub elements, Nanami is NOT nice lol, power dynamics, some sexual teasing, quite an ass beating bc Nanami is mad at your typos!!!

This is for my baby @indiewritesxoxo she wanted this fic to win so badly lol! If ya'll want a tag for part two lmk in the comments <3

How did you end up here?

Crawling on all fours, with Mr. Nanami's paper dangling between your lips, wearing your black gartered stockings and your little blouse and pencil skirt, utterly professional looking - but here you are, crawling like a little puppy over his hardwood floors. As you get closer and enter his office, he leans back, lowering his green glasses, stern face assessing you when you crawl up to him.

You tilt your chin up and he reaches a hand down, tugging it out of your teeth's grip, inspecting it while tugging at his cheetah tie. It's the one quirky thing about his otherwise serious attire, this suit that fits him just a bit tightly, his muscles so big under his dress shirt it's like the material has to stretch.

You know there are two outcomes to this paper.

One, praise.

Two, punishment.

You're perfectly happy with either, you love his punishment as much as you love his praise - only one thing would be better, and that's having all of Mr. Nanami, which you're dying for. Your cunt is wet again just thinking about it, about another three days of not sitting right because he's beat you with his belt, and maybe he'd actually do more with you.

Nanami's lips purse as he's carefully studying your typing, if he finds just one flaw, you'll be bent over his desk, if you do it perfectly, he'll pat your head so sweet and let you rest your cheek on his lap. The thoughts make your heart race, as you patiently wait, your palms flat on your thighs as he likes you.

"Hmm," his husky sound just makes you desire him more, fuck you're tired of touching yourself to the thoughts of him, eyeing his side profile in the soft lights ahead. "What a shame, you almost got it all completely perfect."

"I did-"

"Did I tell you to speak?" His voice is calm, raising a thin brow, turning to you now, you're flushed when he tilts your chin up with two fingers, hazel eyes glinting.

"No, Sir."

"No, I didn't, yet you're still talking, huh?" You open your mouth again, just to close it. "I was going to let this slide, because it's just one letter wrong, but..."

He stands now, pushing back his giant office chair, standing so tall over you as his hand enwraps in your hair, tugging just a bit, you see the tenting in his slacks, making your cunt throb around nothing. You barely hold in a whine as he speaks slowly.

"Go lock the door."

You know better than to argue or ask, it's been your new routine, serving him, and he in turn tells you what to do. What to eat, what to wear, what to say, fuck you love it, love feeling like finally your life has some sort of order, wanting it to belong to him utterly.

With a gentle click of his door, you look back over your shoulder at him, so tall and broad, he's loosened his tie just a bit, showcasing the veins running across his neck. You swallow nervously as you head back to him, until your heels are right against his perfectly polished dress shoes.

"Bend over the desk," he murmurs, stepping around it, as you walk up nervously, doing just that. "Lift your skirt."

You're palms flat on the desk, arched for him, you've tugged your skirt up over the curve of your ass, while he just stands there. "Mr. Nanami..."

"I haven't given you permission to speak darling, have I?" The way it rolls off his tongue, when you feel his fingers ghosting your ass, the way you wish he'd do more, touch more, for once he does barely brush your slit for just a moment, your eyes shut, a gasp escaping. "Your slutty cunt is soaking wet from crawling on the floor?"

You look back at him, he nods. "No sir."

"What are you dripping for? Going to make a mess of my floors, tsk," he aches to sink two fingers inside your cunt - but not just yet, you have to need him more, beg for it more. So instead he lands a sharp smack against your ass cheek, cock throbbing when he sees his hand print, hearing your muffled cry as you bite your lip. "Ah ah."

He leans over, cupping your chin now, you're arching further against him, dying for more contact, he lands another smack. "Mr. Nanami..."

"Don't muffle your cries, I want to hear them, hmm? Nod if you understand." You nod quickly, nearly tasting his breath before he pulls back and lands another smack. The sharp sting just makes your cunt ache even more.

He doesn't stop there, no his sharp smacks echo in his office, mixed with muffled cries as your tears well up in your eyes, sniffling as you try to not fall to the ground. It's one after the other, so many your thighs nearly collapse, smacks until you'll be bruised from him for weeks, marked from him.

The sight of you was so fucking sexy like this, Nanami can't stand it, your arousal glistening and dripping down your inner thigh. He swipes a bit of it up, your thighs are twitching, cunt pushing more and more clear strings of arousal out. He can't help but captures some of it on his thumb, slipping it in his mouth and biting back a moan and how good you fucking taste, before smacking the fuck out of your ass again.

He loves how it jiggles for him, he loves how his hand prints are littered across it in patterns. "Don't move, you know the rules, don't you?"

"S-Sorry..." You can't help it, not when he touched the cunt you've been playing with since you started working here. "Could you... do more?"

"Now you're demanding things of me? That's not how this works, darling." He smacks you right across your cunt, your head falls back, hoarse moan escaping from your throat. "Do you deserve that after that glaringly apparent typo?"

"N-no..."

"I was going to lick this pretty cunt," he trails a finger from your clit up your dripping slit, up past your hole, teasing but never entering, yet this is more from Mr. Nanami than you've gotten so far. "But you aren't acting appropriately, are you Miss?"

"No, I'm sorry Mr. Nanami - ah!" He smacks your cunt again, fuck you almost cum, the sting and burn and ache so perfect, but then he pulls back, brushing back your hair almost gently.

"Go type the paper up again, make it perfect, not one mistake, hmm?" He tugs at your hair, yanking your head back, you nod, and he smiles just a bit. "Good girl."

He leaves you to sit back in his chair, you carefully tug your skirt down, biting your lip at the sweet pain, you go to open the door when he stops you. "Yes Mr. Nanami?"

"Hands and knees," he says softly, you sink right down, and he smiles just a bit, serious attorney Nanami having just one little moment where you see the real him come through. "Crawl on back to your desk now."

He props his feet up, crossing his legs at the heels, as you do just that. You should feel degraded, or feel some shame, right? But all you can think of as you crawl to your desk is how badly you want your boss Mr. Nanami inside you, even as you can barely sit on your stinging and bruised ass, you feel it, your mind drifting to it.

Just how did you get here?

♡ 💜 ♡︎ ♡ 💜 ♡︎ ♡ 💜 ♡︎ ♡ 💜 ♡︎ ♡ 💜 ♡︎ ♡ 💜 ♡︎ ♡ 💜 ♡︎

I love when Nanami is mean lol

[brights-place]

[KPDH] ．°˖✧ Ｂａｂｙ ˚₊ ⊹ x Reader

Contains: Fluff, Stupid Stuff, and Acts of Affection

A/N: I LOVE BABY I THINK ITS JUST CAUSE I LIKE CHARACTERS WHO ARE ABLE TO RAP

Summary: You love nothing more than pampering your partner despite his deep voice and tough rapper image, he’s got the most precious baby face and golden, doe-like eyes that shine whenever he looks at you. Whether you're gently applying under-eye masks, brushing his bangs out of the way, or softly kissing the corners of his eyes, it’s all about showing love to the boy behind the bars the soft, golden-eyed sweetheart who’s yours.

Somehow, Baby always made looking flawless look effortless. his pout practiced, his smirks camera-ready, and those golden eyes always wide and shimmering like he was made to be adored.

He had the kind of face that didn’t match the deep, cutting voice he rapped with the kind that made people do double takes, wondering how someone so baby-faced could spit bars that left rivals speechless and Baby knew it. He leaned into the contrast, played it up on stage, charmed his fans with fluttery lashes and smug little grins like it was second nature.

But when it was just you and him no cameras, no stylists, no fans or managers poking their heads in with reminders he let himself be softer in a way most wouldn’t believe.

He was lounging on the couch, legs kicked up and head tilted lazily back, letting you sit in his lap while you gently dabbed cooling eye patches beneath his lashes. His skin was already perfectly smooth, of course, but you claimed it was "maintenance." Baby didn’t complain. Not when your fingers were that gentle, or when you tilted his chin to get a better look at him like you were studying a masterpiece.

“Still looking at me like I’m breakable, [Name],” he muttered, voice low and syrupy, a slight rasp catching at the end. “You trying to spoil me again?” “You say that like I haven’t been spoiling you since day one,” you teased, brushing a strand of his hair from his forehead. “I know you're all growl and swagger on stage, but off it? You're basically a spoiled house cat shiny eyes, dramatic naps, attitude for days.”

His lips quirked up, he looked away like he was pretending to be unimpressed, but the way his hand crept up to rest on your waist betrayed him. He liked this. He liked you maybe more than he wanted to admit out loud.

You leaned in a little closer, just enough to whisper, “I like making your eyes shine. That’s all. No big speech.” that made him blink slowly, with a softness he rarely let anyone see.

You always treated him like more than the polished image he gave the world, and it left him unsteady in the best way. Nobody ever stayed long enough to learn the real him impatient, moody, selfish in the way all demons are but you didn’t flinch. You didn’t leave.

He tilted his head again, those doe golden eyes now glossy under the cool patches. “You gonna kiss me now or just keep acting like you’re a dermatologist?” You smirked. “Skincare is love.”

“Ugh, lame,” he groaned but his arms wrapped around your waist anyway, tugging you against him with a little huff. “Fine but if my eyes look extra cute in the next teaser photos, it’s on you.” “Can’t wait for the fans to see you with that glow I gave you.”

“Don’t post it,” he warned quickly, voice dropping a little lower. “Keep it for yourself.” and you understood. The world could have the rapper, the idol, the flirt but you got Baby the bratty, clingy, secretly soft demon who melted under your touch and trusted you with the parts of himself he kept hidden from everyone else.

۶ৎ ⌗ 𝐊-𝐏𝐎𝐏 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⸝⸝

[wendichester]

please!! dean x autistic reader that has an hyperfixation on cars and starts tweaking out when they see the impala for the first time, starting to drop informations about its history and other stuff abt it !! it would be so cute

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 car buff,

summary. dean had no clue you knew so much about cars. and oh boy, he's feeling it

pairing. dean winchester x autistic!reader genre. fluff

wordcount. 545

notes / warnings. reader with hyperfixation on cars (enthusiastic infodumping), slight awkwardness (canon-typical dean), soft boy dean trying to play it cool but melting, lots of car facts, nothing but vibes and serotonin

Dean’s halfway through filling the tank when he hears it.

“Oh my god, is that a ‘67 Impala?”

He turns. And then immediately stares.

You’re walking toward the car like it’s a religious artifact, eyes wide and shiny and locked on her like she’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen—which, honestly, fair. But Dean’s used to people ignoring the Impala. Or calling her a boat. Or saying she looks like a damn hearse.

Not this.

“You even have the original grille,” you’re saying, almost breathless. “Is that the factory paint or did you restore it? Oh my god, and the interior—wait, wait, are those bench seats?”

Dean blinks. “Uh… yeah.”

You drop into a crouch to look closer at the tires and start muttering under your breath like you're cataloging her specs. Which you kind of are.

Dean can’t help but grin. “You a fan?”

You pop up like you forgot he was there, eyes lit with excitement. “Fan is an understatement. This is THE car. Like—the car. It’s the holy grail of muscle. Four hundred twenty-seven cubic inches, V8 engine, 385 horsepower if you tune it right—and she’s got the bones for long-haul driving, which you never get in these classics.”

Dean lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “Most people just say she’s shiny.”

“Those people have no taste,” you shoot back, not missing a beat.

Dean laughs. He’s never heard someone defend Baby’s honor that fast. He likes it.

“You a mechanic or just real into old Chevys?”

“I mean—” You pause. “I’m autistic. Hyperfixated on cars since I was like, six. I used to fall asleep listening to my grandpa’s engine manuals. I can take apart a carburetor blindfolded. Tried to do it in eighth grade science class. Was not appreciated.”

Dean barks out a laugh. You beam, proud and not even a little embarrassed. It’s contagious.

“Name’s Dean,” he offers, tossing the gas nozzle back into the pump. “She’s mine. Fully restored her with my own hands. Most folks don’t even give her a second look anymore.”

“They’re fools.”

He points at you. “Exactly.”

You walk a slow circle around the Impala, reverent. “The chrome’s original, too, huh? You polish this, don’t you? Like religiously.”

Dean looks a little sheepish. “Every week.”

You glance up at him, a big, dorky smile on your face. “I think I love you.”

Dean chokes. “Sorry, what?”

You freeze. “Oh my god. Out loud. I said that out loud.”

You look like you’re about to self-destruct. Dean raises his hands quickly, chuckling.

“Hey, hey—it’s alright. I mean, you just met the real love of my life. Pretty sure you’re her type.”

You glance at the car. Then back at Dean. “So… do I get to sit in her or do I have to buy you dinner first?”

Dean grins, big and slow. “Tell you what. You let me take you to dinner, and I’ll even let you ride shotgun.”

You gasp. “With the windows down?”

Dean nods solemnly. “Cassette tape blasting. Bench seat privilege included.”

“Deal.”

You hold out your hand like it’s sacred, and Dean takes it, shaking with a smile.

Neither of you knows it yet, but this is absolutely going to become a love story.

It just starts with chrome.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[mooningningg]

notes, I can smell the requests from a mile away.

genre. smut, MINORS DNI!

★ Roommate!Sukuna after crossing a line as roommates.

You weren’t stupid.

You knew what happened that night on the couch wasn’t just about heat. It was months of tension breaking open — long stares, petty fights, tight silences that dragged on too long, and finally, him, on your lips and in your throat like he’d been dying for it.

You thought maybe it would stop there.

A one-time mistake. A line crossed, then never spoken of again.

But then came the next morning.

You were in the kitchen, groggy and still wearing his damn t-shirt. Sukuna walked in, shirtless, scratched red from your nails, hair a mess. He looked at you for exactly one second before pulling you in by the waist and kissing your neck without a word.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he whispered, “C’mere,” and dropped to his knees again — right there by the fridge.

Didn’t even ask.

Didn’t need to.

That became routine.

A few nights later, it was the kitchen again. You were making ramen, talking on the phone, completely unaware of him watching you from the doorway with that expression — dark, hungry, smug.

The second you hung up, he was on you. Bent over the counter, shirt yanked up, mouth on you like he hadn’t tasted anything all day. You came shaking against the cabinets, one hand gripping the edge of the sink, the other shoved into his hair.

He didn’t say anything after. Just smirked, tapped your thigh, and told you to finish your noodles.

No sex. Not yet.

It wasn’t some agreement you made. It just hadn’t happened. He hadn’t pushed. You hadn’t offered.

But everything else? Fair game.

Showers together? Happening.

You’d be rinsing shampoo out of your hair, and he’d slip in behind you, hands on your waist like he owned the space. He’d press lazy kisses to your shoulder while lathering your soap onto your skin — never crossing the line, but toeing it so hard you sometimes had to leave the shower early just to breathe.

You tried to play it cool.

Tried to act like you weren’t thinking about his mouth constantly, like your legs didn’t shake when he brushed past you in the hallway, like your thighs didn’t clench whenever he muttered something low and smug in your ear.

But the switch flipped when you brought up boundaries.

It was casual. You were sitting on the couch, scrolling. He sat beside you, hand on your thigh — not doing anything, just there. Like it belonged.

You cleared your throat. “We should talk.”

He didn’t look up from his phone. “Talk about what?”

“This whole… situation. Whatever we’re doing. We should set some boundaries.”

That got his attention.

Sukuna glanced over at you, lazy smirk forming. “Boundaries?”

“Yeah. Like… no jealousy. No acting like this is something it’s not.”

He laughed.

Actually laughed.

“Right,” he said, nodding like he was agreeing with you. “Not a relationship.”

You felt a knot twist in your chest.

But you didn’t argue. You just said “right” and got up to make tea.

That should’ve been the end of it.

Except it wasn’t.

Because two days later, Sukuna showed up outside your job.

Not just waiting outside — leaning against the hood of his car, arms crossed, eyes scanning the sidewalk like a bodyguard with a grudge.

You blinked. “Did I ask you to pick me up?”

He looked you up and down, unimpressed. “Didn’t feel like waiting for you to Uber through creeps.”

The next day, it was his hand on your lower back when you were out shopping. The next, it was his arm slung around your waist in public. Then it was him glaring down a barista who complimented your smile.

You finally snapped.

“You’re being weird.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

You turned to face him in the hallway, arms crossed. “You said it’s not a relationship.”

“It’s not.”

“So why are you acting like my boyfriend?”

He shrugged, completely unfazed.

“Just making sure you don’t forget who you’re fucking.”

Your jaw dropped.

He stepped closer, mouth curling into a smirk, voice dropping low.

“Or do you want someone else to find out how good your legs shake when I’ve got my tongue in you?”

You shoved his shoulder. “Sukuna.”

He just grinned, eyes dancing. “What? I’m being respectful. Not like I’ve fucked you. Yet.”

You hated how your breath hitched at the word.

He stepped even closer, brushing hair out of your face with one ringed hand.

“When I do, though…” he whispered, voice like sin, “boundaries won’t save you.”

Then he kissed your cheek — slow, deliberate — and walked away.

Just like that.

Leaving you hot, bothered, and one hundred percent aware that your situationship had stopped being casual the second he got your taste in his mouth.

Taglist, @humeysaga @williamafton26 @aranisbaee @probablynotleahhhh @probablynotleahhhh. @beaniesayshi @levifiance @rinofcike @fushiguroooozzz @gojoscumslut @bellsoftheball @kunascutie. @after-laughter-come-tears. @minasuniverse, @chewiebee @ilovebeansya @drowsysausagedog, @shroomysstuff, @angel4-miba @paperalphys.

[nekonaps0]

Mixed text

✦fem!reader

✦characters: third years

✦You meant to send your very spicy little message to your boyfriend. But you didn’t just text him. You accidentally dropped it into the dorm group chat…

Trey Clover

Your text:

“If I sit on your lap again tonight, are you going to finally do something about it, or just pretend to focus on baking?”

Group chat chaos:

Cater: “OKAYYY HELLOOOO?!? 💀💦”

Riddle: “YOU DID WHAT IN THE KITCHEN?!?!”

Ace: “Didn’t need to know this. Deleting my eyes.”

Deuce: “…”

Trey was in the middle of slicing strawberries when the notification hit. He froze. Knife still in hand. His entire soul left his body as his glasses fogged.

“...She didn’t…”

Poor man’s face went cherry red. He immediately DM’d you:

“You sent that to the dorm group chat… sweetheart.”


“Riddle’s having a breakdown.”


“Ace threatened to move out.”

When he finally sees you, he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re lucky I like you so much… but if you’re going to make me this flustered, at least do it privately next time.”

He’s a blushing mess—but the next time you sit on his lap? He’s not pretending anymore.

Cater Diamond

Your text:

“Thinking about you pulling my hair last night… Maybe tonight I’ll return the favor ”

Group chat chaos:

Trey: “Cater...”

Riddle: “I’m blocking both of you.”

Ace: “I need to bleach my brain.”

Deuce: “I dont get it and I don’t think I wanna…”

Cater read the message and screamed. Like, full-on squawked in his dorm room and nearly threw his phone.

“YO everyone ignore that! She’s just passionate okay?? LMAO delete this from your memories pls~”

Then he slid into your DMs with:

“Babe. You’re killing me here. But also 👀 I’m free at 9…”

Leona Kingscholar

Your text:

“If I tell you I’m not wearing anything under my robe, are you going to come deal with it or keep pretending to nap?”

Group chat chaos:

Ruggie: “WHAT THE HELL BRO 💀💀💀”

Jack: “This chat is NOT safe for minors.”

Leona blinked at the screen once. Twice.

Then groaned, rolled over, and muttered:

“...Stupid herbivore. You just had to hit ‘everyone.’”

He ignored the chaos in the chat completely. The only message he sent was directly to you:

“You’re gonna pay for that. In private. Tonight.”

Later, he showed up at your room, lazily shutting the door behind him.

“You wanna wear nothin’ under your robe? Fine. But now I ain’t letting you leave until you regret sending that to the whole dorm.”

(You are cooked..)

Vil Schoenheit

Your text:

“I’ve been thinking about your hands on my neck all day. Should I wear something pretty tonight? I would let you take it off after”

Group chat chaos:

Epel: “OH MY GREAT SEVENS I DIDNT WANT TO KNOW THAT”

Rook: “Quel passion! Quelle audace! I am weeping!!”

Vil was doing his skincare routine when the notification came in. He read the message. Then dropped his serum bottle.

“...Darling.”

He slowly opened the chat to assess the damage—sighing deeply.

He messaged you with:

“You just turned our entire dorm into a gossip magazine headline.”

“You’ll have to do a lot more than wear something pretty to make up for this little incident.”

But later that night, when he walks in and the door locked? You know exactly how seriously he took it.

Rook Hunt

Your text:

“Do you think anyone would hear if you made me cry your name tonight?”

Group chat chaos:

Vil: “Rook. Handle this.”

Epel: “I’m GONNA PUKE.”

Rook (immediately replying): “Ma chérie, even the wind heard your words~ 💘”

Rook doesn’t panic. He’s delighted. He DMs you in under five seconds:

“Your boldness, your artful seduction—I am in awe! Shall I prepare my chamber for your tears and whispered gasps tonight?”

Later, he pulls you aside with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“If you wished for an audience, mon trésor, all you had to do was ask~”

(You stop sending spicy texts for a month after that.)

Idia Shroud

Your text:

“If I was kneeling under your desk right now, would you keep playing your game or make me earn your attention?”

Group chat chaos:

Ortho: “Um… I think that’s the wrong chat…”

Random Ignihyde student: “I’m logging off forever.”

Idia's soul left his body immediately.

He dropped his phone. His entire room was lit up with ERROR windows. The AI screens around him buzzed with red alerts. He curled into a fetal position and wheezed:

“They’re gonna exile me.”

He didn’t even open the chat. He just messaged you:

“W-WHAT LEVEL OF CHAOS GREMLIN ARE YOU—DO YOU WANT ME TO DIE?!?!”

After he calmed down (3 hours later minimum), he quietly messaged:

“...I haven’t stopped thinking about it, btw.”

You walked fast as you can so you can make it up for him!!

Malleus Draconia

Your text:

“If you come to my room tonight, I promise to be good… I mean… at least in bed.”

Group chat chaos:

Sebek: “BLASPHEMY!! DISGRACE!!”

Silver: “...Pretending I didn’t see that.”

Lilia: “Ohoho~ my boy is all grown up~”

Malleus… doesn’t get embarrassed. Not outwardly. He read your message. Saw Sebek’s meltdown. Then calmly turned off his phone.

Later, he teleported directly to your room.

“You wished to be ‘good,’ did you?”

There was a smirk on his face. A low hum in his chest. And glowing green eyes promising divine punishment.

You deleted that message from the chat… but Diasomnia never forgot.

Lilia Vanrouge

Your text:

“Next time, sit me on your lap like you did last night—just don’t stop halfway this time, old man”

Group chat chaos:

Sebek: “I AM GOING TO END MY LIFE.”

Silver: “I don’t want to know.”

Malleus: “...interesting...”

Lilia didn’t even blink. He cackled so hard, he fell off his bed.

“Fufufu~ Oh, you naughty little thing~”

He replied to the group chat himself:

“She speaks the truth, my dears. And I fully intend to finish what I started~”

You screamed into a pillow.

Later, he winked at you and whispered:

“If you wanted the whole dorm to know how naughty you are, you could’ve just said so~”

Please stop him…

..............................................................................................................................

Look at me✨ feeding the whores ✨💜 (and I love doing it 😌)

[monicahar]

bark like you want it...?

in which you jokingly treat them like a pet.

characters; phainon, mydeimos, anaxagoras

— gender neutral reader, established relationships, fluff, sugestive at anaxa's part, need ts after the hellscape the current amphoreus is in andddd hi yes im back with a kinda fun idea and uhhhh yeah sleep pronto (*ﾟ▽ﾟ)ﾉ

It was supposed to be all fun and games. you'd say 'sit' and you'd expect him to raise a brow or two before whining about how you're treating him rudely. instead and very much contrary, the next second, PHAINON is immediately sat without question.

"well, you told me to sit!" is his meek excuse, turning red just as fast when you doubled over and laughed for a minute straight.

you think it's weird and cute. he thinks it's betrayal.

"is it so bad that i want to please you?" he says weakly whilst patting down his attire upon as he stood up straight, still burning up in sheer embarrassment. it's truly a sight to see someone as proud as him get shy. "as if it's my fault..."

you disregard his mutterings as you finally calm your giggles down, "to that extent, though? what if i asked you to bark? hm?"

phainon displays a waver in confidence, constructing his words carefully and said, "well, i'd do anything for you," he then slides you a sidelong look, one that's clearly not impressed. "even if it's something like... barking and sitting on command."

it looked like it pained him to say the last part.

still, you're unable to keep the corners of your lips at bay, genuinely elated at his response.

but unfortunately for him, there always has to be a catch when it comes to your very-easy-to-tease boyfriend...

so you let your lashes flutter, watching carefully as his smile grows a tad wary at your shift in demeanor.

"phainon... you sure you're not into this?"

the future leader of the chrysos heirs — your cute little snowy, explodes into another burst of red, looking as scandalized as you expected.

"wha — what is that supposed to mean?!"

his pouty expression makes him look like a kicked puppy now that you think more about it — of which reminds you the way he begs for attention and kisses, is eager to please, also likes your praise, and often sulks in a corner whenever you don’t... like a puppy.

the resemblance is almost uncanny. how amusing.

"maybe you were a dog in your past life,"

"..."

"..."

"...um, are you going to elaborate?"

you simply smile in return.

MYDEI stares like you'd slapped him across the face when you tell him to roll over.

"what?" you prod further when he doesn't say anything in response, "you shy or something?"

a glint appears in his eyes and you already know what he's going to say next.

"there's no such thing in the kremnoan langua —"

"mydei," you stare back, rid of all humor. he stares back, equally fiery. "roll. over."

you can practically see all the stages of grief flash in his eyes within mere seconds, weighing his options against you. you inspect your nails in an attempt to hide your anticipation. mydei is a wildcard if anything.

would he pretend he didn’t hear anything? probable. would he be mean about it? probable too. would he actually go along with it? pfft, yeah, and pigs would start falling from the sky —

to your most and utter horror, he starts lowering himself to the ground.

you shriek and stop him from continuing any further by grabbing a hold of his shoulders. (drool...) "hey, hey! i was kidding, you freak!"

"who are you calling a freak?" he snaps, not looking very intimidating as he's already kneeling down on one knee before you. "and i'm just following as you told me, am i not?"

"y-yeah but..."

he stands up, half-heartedly glaring you down. "i set aside my pride for your antics and you halt me. why?"

"it's more like why were you about to go along with something that's obviously said in jest..."

"hm. aglaea told me that you would often have weird tendencies and commands," he shrugs your hand off of his shoulder, "and that i should obey them without question if i want a... happy you. something ridiculous like that."

your jaw hangs open. mydei akwardly closes it shut. "you... you consult aglaea about... me?"

he gives you a weird look, "relationships, to be more exact. and why wouldn't i? you're a lot of work."

you deflate, "that's mean, mydei."

the proud chrysos heir shifts his footing, frowning at the air like it wronged him. his words are strained yet truthful, "i just... want to make you happy. that is all."

oh my.

you couldn't hold it any longer and proceed to jump him, whilst pigs do start falling from the sky.

it's pretty much established that ANAXA would yoink you out of the room should you decide to pull that on him during one of his lectures. in front of his students? yeah, you're grounded whether you liked it not.

though, it'd be a completely different story outside such settings...

currently sifting through scrolls sprawled out on his desk was the man of the hour himself, and having decided to accompany him in your free time — your boredom had long kicked in before the idea popped into your mind.

you approach him quietly, before placing your hand on top his head.

"who's a good boy?"

his gaze does not waver from the surface of his desk, but you do catch his contemplative expression freezing for a short moment.

"if you wanted a chalk to your face, you could've just said so."

how romantic. you really can't go a day without your loving boyfriend.

you beam at him, pretending like he hadn’t just threatened you with his 'teaching' gun tool. "that's not very good of you, anaxa. want me to punish you?"

"i believe you're acting up because you haven't gotten plentiful rest. be a dear and go back to your room, will you?"

"you want me gone?" you playfully pout up at him, finally earning his attention as he directs his gaze towards you — a brow raised. "you're being reallyyy bad, right now. i can't believe you'd kick me out just like that."

a sigh escapes anaxa. his singular eye opens to stare you down. you subconsciously gulp down your nerves. did you provoke him too much?

"unprofessional conduct by reffering to me casually during work hours, petting me like some dog and threatening to punish me... pranks like these shall not be tolerated." his eye twinkles in something akin to amusement, "i'll take care of you later."

the tension reaches a stalemate.

your brain short-circuits.

"uh, what do you mean by —"

"you know i dislike it when people ask questions they already know the answer to," as cryptic as ever, he spares you one last glance before returning his attention down to the scrolls laid upon his desk.

heeding his warning of sorts, you depart and stand outside his office — unmoving.

you seem to have brought upon yourself another day of being... unable to walk.

3.4 is taking forever...

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

Super random , but I was watching tiktoks of Jake getting ointment put on his canker sores and it just made me think of how cute and fussy Jake would be and how cute and lowkey over dramatic y/n would think Jake is being but still hold his hand real tight when she helps apply the ointment 🤣

LMAOOOOOO pls this one is funny bc 1) all those clips of jake actually straight up SUFFERING are so hilarious to me and 2) i literally used to help my ex put ointment on his canker sores too bc he too used to get them all the time .. ANYWAYS

──── YOUR BABY ❤️‍🩹✨💉 ↳ requested // part of the no doubt series !

“Jake, you have to let me do this.” 

“No—I don’t think you really have to—“ 

“Jake.” 

You blink at him, frozen mid-movement, holding a cotton swab soaked in antiseptic ointment in the air. 

Jake’s sitting on the couch next to you in the most dramatic blanket burrito you’ve ever seen—his hood pulled over his head, the blanket wrapped all around him, legs pulled up to his chest like a cocoon. 

He blinks back at you. Then at the cotton swab in hand. 

“…Please spare me,” he whispers, his lips forming a sad, tiny pout. His voice comes out nasally—there’s a lisp. 

A tragic, comical lisp. 

You stifle a snort. 

“Jake. You can’t speak like that forever. Plus, how are you supposed to eat?” You lift a brow at him. 

He sinks deeper into his monstrous blanket mountain. 

“I’ll just juice all my meals,” he shrugs, all innocent. “I can survive off smoothies. You’d help me blend my meals right?” 

You give him a look. 

“I can’t believe I’m dating you.” 

He frowns, “Really?” 

“I’m kidding, Jake,” you roll your eyes, a sweet smile on your face as you nudge him. 

Jake smiles back, relieved. 

“But I’m never kissing you again if you don’t let me do this.” 

Jake’s smile drops. 

He looks at you like you just suggested the worst idea possible. 

“You’re so mean,” he breathes, sad, miserable, lispy. 

“You heard me—“ you shrug, “—no kisses until you let me fix the hellfire pit in your mouth.” 

His jaw drops. 

“Do you even love me? You don’t right? I knew it. Is this revenge for that time I accidentally made your matcha taste like pond water—“ 

“—Jake—“

“—and now you want to stab me in the mouth.” 

“It’s literally medicine. I’m dabbing medicine.” 

He whimpers. Whimpers. 

“Dabbing hurts,” he whines, eyes big and glossy. “Do you know how much pain my mouth is in anytime it moves? I can feel the wind inside our apartment. I can taste the flavors of each and every atom entering my mouth.” 

You try your best not to laugh.

You fail.

“Okay baby, come here,” you say gently, letting the pet name slip out like a bribe, hoping it’ll soften your ridicously dramatic boyfriend. You lean in closer, cotton swab in hand, aiming for the tiniest sore you’ve ever seen. 

“That’s not fair,” he mumbles, eyes wide. “You can’t pull the baby card like that.” 

You sigh, lips twitching. 

“I’ll hold your hand.” 

Jake immediately brightens. 

“You’re the best, baby,” he says sweetly, beaming as he grabs your free hand in both of his without a second of hesitation. 

He’s sweating. You can see the glint of it on his temple. 

You lean in even closer, bringing the swab back in front of his mouth. 

“Okay,” he lets out a breath. “Okay, okay. I’m ready. Wait—no, okay.. Just warn me.” 

“I’m warning you.” 

“No, like countdown. Please.” 

“Jake.” 

“COUNT. DOWN.” 

“Okay, okay—three…two—“

Jake squeezes your hand so tight you think you’re about to be one-handed for the remaining of your life. 

His eyes are clenched shut.

Shoulders are at his ears. 

“…One.” 

You dab. Gently. 

He lets out a full-on moan. 

“STOP STOP STOP.” 

“It’s over.” 

“Oh.” 

He opens one eye. 

Blinks.

Touches his cheek slowly. 

“That’s it?” 

You roll your eyes, standing from the couch and leaning down to press a light kiss to his forehead, “You’re such a baby.” 

“I’m your baby,” Jake smiles smugly, eyes fluttering shut when you kiss him. “You called me baby. You never call me baby.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you snort, ruffling his hair. “Good job, Jakey. Proud of you.” 

You turn to put the ointment away, but you don’t make it far—Jake grabs your arm and tugs you back down onto the couch, falling into him. 

“Wait—can I have a kiss now?” 

You give him a look. 

“I thought your mouth was in so much pain anytime it moves.” 

“…I’ll suffer through it.” 

Jake’s eyes practically beg you, his hands already holding lifting your chin up towards him. 

“Please.” 

You give in to your smile and press a gentle kiss against his lips. 

Even with the sore. 

Even with the ointment breath.

Because he is your baby. 

And you’ll suffer through him any day. 

no doubt m. list

tag list pt 1!: @bluxjun @ki2rins @why-did-i-just-do-this @favoritten @lovialymisc @xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaah @hinryh @ltfirecracker @lov4hoon @taeheexx @niyzu @chunkzdeluluwife @jakeflvrz @fangirl125reader @0429jw @dreamy-carat @yuons @thestarinstarbucks @miszes @llearlert @ppeachyttae @hoomin10 @teddybeartaetae @tanisha2060 @therealmrsbahng @beomgyu-bears @ikeulove @jiyeons-closet @youngheejay @wxnderingthoughts @fuevrois @soobundle1009 @isoobie @enhypenova @zoemeltigloos @lizdevorak @deluluscenarios @bloomiize @hasuyv @ijustwannareadstuff20 @heekolazz @dreamiestay @jakeyyyjakexoxo

[pomegranate-eater]

cw: yandere, forced relationship, reader is pressured into kissing Phainon’s cheek to erase another person’s lips from his skin.

“I demand one more,” Phainon says with his hand on your hip, tapping his foot with agitation. You squirm as he readjusts you on his lap so the side of his head rests against yours, before his reverent yet shaky hands move to trace circles on your lower back.

“… One more?” You don’t want to have your echo confirmed if the bits of exhaustion are tearing their way into your voice.

The late evening is begging you to rest and yet this is still not the moment for the end of your torment. You’ve given him a bountiful of affectionate cheek smothering by now — if you can call the lip jabs you forced yourself to muster as such — and now he wants one more kiss… predicted by you to not be the actual postlude yet.

Your predicament is because of one, more vivacious woman that kissed his right cheek in the gratitude for his help with something in the earlier hour. The gesture had no romantic affiliations, only conveyed a polite affection for his kindness.

However, when Phainon has returned home after managing his duties in the unreachable for you outside, his agitated state painted the illusion of the event being much more tragic. You were subjected to watching him wipe his face with the sleeve to the point it was red from from the friction, next washing his face, until he dragged you to the chair to sit down with him and began urging you to smooch his face over and over, self-aware you wouldn’t want to watch him lose his mind whole night.

When he hastily explained the situation to you and asked for your forgiveness as if he cheated, sprinkled with some anger at the woman, you understood just one thing really — he believes you to be the only one who could kiss him, as only you are his devotion’s beloved. You’ve been finding him quite irrational, if he is panicking over something out of his control, and definitely not something you’re mad about.

Now in the present, he remains being clearly more offended and worried than you, the unwilling (and currently annoyed) participant in this relationship, are. “Yes. I can still feel her lips on my skin, and I don’t want you to think that I—” he self-deprecates to the point his arms over you squeeze.

You immediately cut off his frantic train of thought. “Phainon, her mouth has been eradicated at this point, I’m sure. All you can do is wait for your skin to begin a new cycle if you think she sunk deeper,” you say dryly, accidentally mocking him a little. Since you're sitting sideways on his lap, you peel your head away from his and straighten your left side, swallowed by his chest, so you can properly peer at him while continuing to talk. “Not to mention, that kiss wasn’t to steal your heart.”

You don’t care about this one stupid event, thinking he’s overreacting — that’s the singular reason why you could say you’re disappointed. Not only you’d gladly give him away to that woman, you also are sure he’s only going to hype himself with even more paranoia if you let it roll.

He seemingly doesn’t appreciate your lack of sympathy or understanding, not with the way his brows scrunch together and his lips purse, almost hurt by your frigid insight. He wanted you to be more possessive too so you could prove you recognize him as your lover; however, your apparent lack of being shaken by this ‘disloyalty’ is soothing in itself.

“I understand how counterproductive this is, and I’m glad you’re not feeling threatened by her, yet… could you please grant me this last one erasure? I promise, no more kisses after, and if I lie, you can slap me,” he pleads with desperation, gliding his hands over from your hips level to your waist. You click your tongue when you feel his leg impatiently jump from below your bottom.

You huff at his rather maniacal theatrics and look at his face that’s red from both blush and irritation. “I don’t believe you. I don’t think a slap would have stopped you.” He’d take more kisses even if he’d have to be slapped each time, you’re pretty sure about that — he would take anything from the person who refuses to touch him willingly.

“Oh, I beseech you to not be so pessimistic. I promise, I swear, I’ll let you be afterwards,” he smiles and speaks softly, but with his anxiety, the smile is crooked into an uncanny illusion. His face inches closer to yours and you shiver with disgust at his hot breath and clear excitement.

You foresee you won’t be getting any sleep if you won’t choose to cooperate — he’ll just keep nagging you until he wears you down into submission completely. Begrudgingly, you finally land your lips on his right cheek, and he doesn’t break his promise, as it’s really only one more…

…Except, his palms crush your side and head against him, forcing your plushiness to linger in the awful action of it marking him on his stained skin, as he soaks in your lips’ size, warmth, and texture. The labored exhale of contentment lands on your neck and grazes it unpleasantly.

Naturally, you struggle; you try to push him away with muffled screams against his cheek, your legs dangling off of his left side kicking. Yet, the man dazed by your closeness, only uses his mind to paint the image of some nasty and oozing scar slowly disappearing under your kiss.

This unfortunate incident lasts good fifteen seconds and ends only when he realizes he might have overdone his fixing, based upon the wetness on his face manifesting the beginning of your tears. He lets his arms leave you and wipes the moistness staining the softness of his precious birdie.

“Please, forgive me. I went ahead of myself,” while gentle, he doesn’t sound apologetic much. He senses his mind is cleared now, and it is his turn to kiss your cheek in poor attempt of soothing you, shushing and rocking you at that. The flinch you give him when you feel the intrusive lips is something he’s used by now, so once he’s done, he doesn’t question it.

“Fine,” you acquiesce. As his chest shrinks from the relieved breath and he looks pretty again with a happy smile, he helps you up on your feet and guides you to your shared room for rest.

Phainon simply couldn’t have helped himself. The idea of someone else touching him so intimately feels forbidden, because even if you didn’t ask for it, he is inclined to be yours only.

That’s just devotion, isn’t it?

It’s only a matter of time and opening your eyes until he gains your approval, even if the latter has to come forcefully.

[vingtetunmars]

A New Heartbeat

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel Miller never thought he'd get another chance at building a family—especially not at his age, especially not after everything.

Tags: Fluff, pregnancy fic, domestic fluff, birthday surprise, emotional feels, warm, age gap (reader is early 30s, Joel is 58-59), set between season 1 and 2, jackson!Joel Miller, soft joel miller. No physical description of reader. No use of Y/N.

A/N: Thank you @dedicatedfangirl2001 for inspiring me! So this is technically a continuation of this fic, but it can also be read as a stand alone. If you have any requests, suggestions, or thoughts, feel free to send me a message. Reblogs are appreciated. Please do not steal or cross-post it on another platform without asking. Thank you.

Word Count: 3.3k

masterlist

You didn’t think much of it at first.

Between the early mornings at the stables and the evenings spent passed out on the couch beside Joel, days had started to blur into each other. Your body always felt tired this time of year—mud season clinging to your boots, cold air snapping at your fingertips even under gloves. You’d chalked the nausea up to bad stew from the dining hall. But when your headache lingered past the usual, when the scent of hay and leather turned sour in your nose, it hit you.

You hadn’t had your period.

You stood in the feed room, half-empty bucket of oats dangling from your hand, the realization sitting heavy in your stomach. The math rolled around in your head, tumbling over itself. It had been… what? Over a month? Maybe more. You weren’t exactly counting days when every morning looked the same—Joel sipping black coffee, Ellie stealing bits of toast, and you rubbing sleep out of your eyes as you layered up for work.

But now, standing there, the silence of the stable around you, something clicked. You set the bucket down on the ground a little too quickly, pressing your palm to your stomach. No pain. No bloat. Just… a quiet sort of stillness.

The horses shuffled in their stalls. One of the younger colts let out a soft snort. You leaned your back against the wall, heart hammering in your chest.

You weren’t sure. But something deep in your bones told you—you already knew.

You didn’t tell anyone where you were going that morning.

Said you had errands to run—needed new gloves, maybe stop by the library. Joel didn’t press. He’d kissed your cheek, grumbled something about checking in with Tommy about a busted water heater, and told you he’d see you for dinner.

You walked to the clinic with your hands jammed deep into your jacket pockets. The cold bit at your cheeks, and every step felt heavier than the last. Not from dread exactly, but from the weight of maybe.

The clinic wasn’t much to look at. Two rooms, patched-together equipment, and a nurse named Carla who used to be a vet before the world ended. She was kind, though, and knew how to keep her mouth shut. You told her you wanted to rule something out. She just nodded, handed you a cup, and pointed toward the bathroom.

You stared at the strip of plastic on the counter like it held your whole future.

Five minutes. That’s all it took.

Carla didn’t say anything right away. She just looked down at the test in her hand, then back up at you, her expression soft.

“Well,” she said, “you’re pregnant.”

The room didn’t spin. It didn’t crash down on you, either. Instead, everything went still—like the moment before a horse takes off into a gallop. Heart pounding, lungs full of something sharp and sweet.

You were going to have a baby.

Joel’s baby.

Carla asked if you were okay. You nodded before you really even felt it, voice rough when you said, “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.”

The walk back home was slower. Like you were afraid to jostle the news loose, or maybe afraid it still wasn’t real. But your hand drifted down to your stomach more than once, resting there in quiet awe.

Now, all that was left was telling him.

And with his birthday just a few days away, you couldn’t help but wonder how in the world you were going to tell him.

Joel didn’t like birthdays.

He never made a big deal out of them before the world ended, and now… well, now they just felt like reminders. Reminders of what he’d lost. Of how much older he was getting. Of how goddamn long he’d been carrying around all this weight.

He’d never forget waking up on that birthday—the one that split his life into a before and after. Many years later, the world had changed, but the ache hadn’t. Not really.

Still, this morning started like any other. The early light crept in through the crack in the curtains, soft and gray-blue. Beside him, you were curled under the blanket, one arm slung across his stomach, your face tucked against his shoulder. Warm. Familiar. Home.

He didn’t move at first. Just lay there, eyes on the ceiling, listening to the quiet. The muffled sound of someone in the street. A rooster off in the distance. You breathing slow and steady beside him.

You made it better—this day, this life. You had a way of pulling him back from the edge without even trying. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve that, to deserve you, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to take it for granted.

Your fingers twitched slightly against his chest. You were starting to stir.

He turned his head just enough to watch you, that soft haze of sleep still in your features. He found himself smiling, just a little. The lines in his face stayed, though. The ones that came from time and sorrow and holding it all in for too long.

You blinked up at him.

“Mornin’,” he murmured, voice low and rough.

“Happy birthday,” you whispered back, eyes warm and knowing.

He groaned, turning his face away slightly. “Don’t remind me.”

You gave a quiet laugh, but didn’t tease him for it. You never did. You just leaned up to press a kiss to his jaw, fingers brushing along his ribs, gentle and grounding.

“I’m makin’ you pancakes,” you added softly. “Don’t fight me on it.”

He huffed, but it wasn’t real. “‘Course you are.”

He didn’t need gifts. Didn’t want anyone making a fuss. But if the day started like this—your warmth, your voice, your lips on his skin—then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Even if he still carried the ghosts, this morning... it felt different. Like maybe something was waiting on the horizon, and he wasn’t sure what—but he trusted you’d tell him when the time was right.

You flipped the last pancake onto the plate, steam rising as you added a handful of thawed berries—ones you’d carefully saved from the last supply run. They weren’t exactly fresh, but they were sweet enough, and they made the stack look a little more festive.

Birthday pancakes.

Joel would pretend to grumble about it, but you knew he appreciated it. The small gestures. The quiet kind of love. You’d learned early on not to make a big deal of his birthday. Not out loud, anyway. But that didn’t mean you’d let it pass by like any other morning.

“Damn, something smells good,” Ellie mumbled as she shuffled into the kitchen, hair sticking up in five different directions, sleeves too long for her arms. She plopped down at the table, blinking slowly. “Is it somebody’s birthday or somethin’?”

You smirked as you slid a plate in front of her. “Could be.”

Joel followed behind her a second later, moving slower, like his body hadn’t quite forgiven him for being nearly sixty.

He rubbed at the back of his neck as he sat down across from her, eyes drifting to the plate you set in front of him.

Pancakes. Berries. A little dab of honey. No candles, no singing—just the kind of breakfast you didn’t make unless the day meant something.

He glanced at you, brow raised.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said.

“I wanted to,” you replied, brushing your hand over his shoulder as you passed. “Don’t argue with me on your birthday, Miller.”

Ellie shoveled a bite into her mouth. “Holy shit,” she mumbled. “Are these the blueberries?”

Joel chuckled under his breath, fork already in hand. His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he took his first bite. You saw the tension ease in his shoulders, just a little. Maybe the day still carried shadows for him, but right now? With a warm plate in front of him and people who loved him on either side?

He was okay.

You sat down beside him, resting your hand on your lap, feeling the thrum of nerves underneath your skin.

A knock on the door broke through the calm.

Joel looked up, chewing his last bite with a quiet grunt. You stood up to answer it, already guessing who it was. Sure enough, when you opened the door, Tommy stood there with a crooked grin and two hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets.

“Mornin’, birthday boy,” he called past you, stepping inside without waiting for an invite. “You look real good for a hundred.”

Joel let out a groan, dragging a hand over his face. “You had to come by, didn’t you?”

“You think I’m missin’ the one day a year I get to remind you I’m younger and prettier?” Tommy grinned, clapping his brother on the back as he passed by.

“Debatable,” Ellie chimed in, still chewing. “And you missed the berries.”

Tommy’s eyes lit up. “Berries?”

“Yup,” you said with an apologetic shrug, walking back to the stove. “Saved 'em for Joel. There’s still pancakes, though.”

Tommy sniffed the air like a bloodhound. “You spoil this man.”

“Someone has to,” you quipped, already grabbing another plate.

You served him a healthy stack—no berries this time, just a bit of honey and some leftover butter—and slid into your seat again. Joel was watching you, his eyes soft beneath the usual weight. He hadn’t said much, but you could feel it in the way his hand drifted to your knee under the table. Just a gentle touch. A quiet thanks.

Tommy shoveled in a bite and made a loud, satisfied sound. “Hot damn. You better marry her before someone else do.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “You wanna lose a tooth today?”

You laughed, elbow resting on the table, chin in your hand. The teasing, the warmth, the way Ellie rolled her eyes and asked if she could have seconds—it all made the house feel full in a way you never took for granted.

Still, under it all, the secret sat in your chest like a fluttering heartbeat.

You’d give it a moment. Let them finish breakfast. Let Joel have this calm before you turned his world upside down.

In a good way, you hoped.

The house felt quieter once the door shut behind Ellie and Tommy. The laughter lingered in the walls for a moment, then faded, replaced by the gentle creak of wood and the soft clink of dishes as you rinsed them off.

Joel was still finishing the last of his coffee, sitting back in his chair, watching you. He looked more relaxed now—shoulders looser, lines around his mouth softened. Birthdays were hard for him, but this one… it hadn’t been bad.

You dried your hands on a dish towel, heart thudding steady but loud. You knew you couldn’t wait any longer.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping toward him. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

His brow knit slightly, but he nodded, setting the mug down. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“No,” you breathed, sitting down across from him, your hands resting in your lap. “Not wrong. Just… big.”

Joel leaned forward, elbows on the table. You reached for his hand without thinking, grounding yourself in the warmth of his calloused fingers.

“I didn’t know how to bring this up earlier. Didn’t wanna spring it on you in front of everyone,” you started, voice quiet. “But I’ve been feelin’… off. The past few weeks.”

His expression shifted—concern flickering behind his eyes, guarded like always. “You sick?”

You shook your head, a nervous smile tugging at your lips. “No. I went to the clinic yesterday. Ran a test.” You swallowed, heart climbing to your throat. “Joel… I’m pregnant.”

The words hung in the air like dust caught in sunlight.

Joel blinked. Once. Twice. He didn’t say anything—just stared at you, eyes wide, unreadable. Then slowly, without a word, he stood up from the table and took a step back, hand resting on the edge of the counter like he needed something to hold onto.

“You’re… you’re sure sure?” he asked, voice hoarse. “I mean—are they sure?”

You gave a soft laugh, heart aching with affection. “Yeah. They’re sure. I’m late, the test was positive, and… I feel it. I know it.”

Joel let out a breath like he’d been holding it for years. His shoulders dropped as he sat back down, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

“I just—I didn’t think—I mean, hell, at my age?” he muttered, almost to himself, eyes wide and almost dazed. “I didn’t think that was even possible anymore.”

You reached for his hand again, thumb brushing the top of his knuckles. “Well… apparently it is.”

He looked at you then—really looked at you. And something shifted in his face. Like the ground underneath him had tilted, but he was choosing to stay standing anyway.

“You’re… you’re okay with this?” he asked quietly.

You nodded. “I wouldn’t have told you today if I wasn’t. I know it’s gonna be a lot, but… yeah. I’m okay with it. More than okay.”

Joel’s eyes started to glisten, and he cleared his throat hard, blinking fast as he turned his face away for a second. When he looked back at you, his voice was thick.

“Thank you,” he said.

It broke something open in you.

“For what?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“For this. For you. For givin’ me a reason to think there’s still more life out there for me than just survivin’.”

He reached out, cupped your cheek with a rough hand, his thumb brushing just under your eye.

“I didn’t think I’d get a second chance,” he murmured. “Not with someone like you. Not like this.”

You leaned into his palm, smiling through the tears that started to slip down your cheeks.

“Well… surprise,” you whispered.

Joel gave a breath of a laugh, then leaned in and kissed you—slow, steady, reverent. The kind of kiss that said everything his words couldn’t. The kind of kiss that promised he would be here for all of it.

For you.

For the baby.

For the life you were building together, one quiet moment at a time.

Sunday dinner was loud in the best way.

Tommy and Joel had spent the afternoon repairing one of the water lines near the edge of town, and both were still rubbing their lower backs like old men. Maria was bouncing little Benji on her knee, spoon-feeding him mashed carrots between exaggerated airplane noises, while Ellie recounted an incident involving a runaway chicken and a pitchfork.

You’d always loved these nights—long tables, shared food, laughter that made the walls feel smaller in the best way. But tonight, your hands kept drifting to your lap, nerves curling in your stomach even though you’d done this a dozen times in your head.

Joel’s knee brushed yours beneath the table.

He glanced at you, gave a small nod.

It was time.

You reached for your glass and gently tapped your spoon against it. “Uh… can I say something real quick?”

The table quieted. Benji let out a soft squeak and tried to grab a carrot off Maria’s plate.

Joel cleared his throat. “We’ve got some news.”

Maria looked up first, brows raised. Ellie paused mid-chew.

You smiled nervously, heart thumping. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, no one said a word. Then—

“What?” Ellie blurted, voice cracking halfway through the word.

Joel chuckled low under his breath, his hand slipping onto your thigh, grounding. Ellie set her fork down slowly, blinking like she hadn’t quite heard you right.

“You mean like… an actual baby?” she asked, eyes wide. “Your baby?”

You nodded, leaning closer to Joel's side. “Yeah. Our baby.”

Ellie opened her mouth, closed it, then reached for her water like her brain needed a reboot. “Holy shit.”

“Language,” Joel murmured.

“I’m gonna be a big sister?” she asked softly, blinking hard. And then her face cracked into a smile—wide and kind of watery. “I’m gonna be a big sister.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair and let out a low whistle, grinning ear to ear. “Joel, buddy. You still got swimmers at your age?”

Joel groaned loudly. “Tommy, I swear—”

“I mean, damn! You’re nearly sixty and still makin’ babies? What’s in the water over at your place?”

You laughed, covering your mouth with your hand. Joel muttered something under his breath, but he was smiling, too, shaking his head as Tommy clapped him on the back.

Maria just laughed and leaned her cheek against Benji’s soft hair. “Honestly, I had a feeling.”

Joel looked at her sideways. “You did?”

“You turned down a glass of wine at dinner last week,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “You. You never turn down wine.”

You shrugged with a grin. “Was trying to be subtle.”

“Well, I’m glad you told us now,” she said, smiling warmly. “Benji’s gonna need a little buddy to boss around.”

Benji cooed like he somehow approved.

Then Maria stood and crossed the space to pull you into a hug, tight and full of warmth. Ellie joined a second later, throwing her arms around both of you, mumbling something like “I’m not crying” even though she very much was.

Tommy wrapped an arm around Joel with a playful shake and muttered, “Old man,” while Joel just rolled his eyes and let it happen.

In the middle of it all—arms tangled, laughter echoing, and that familiar scent of home-cooked food still hanging in the air—you felt it.

Family.

Not perfect. Not always easy. But real. Rooted. Growing.

And you were bringing another piece into it.

Dinner had long passed. The dishes were done, the laughter faded into memory, and Ellie had gone back to her room with a final hug that lingered just a little longer than usual.

Now, the two of you were tucked beneath the soft quilt, the chill of Jackson’s night air kept at bay by Joel’s familiar warmth beside you. The house creaked gently, like it was settling in for the night too.

You lay on your side, facing him, his arm already around you. The bedside lamp was off, but the moonlight spilling through the window was enough to catch the faint lines on his face—the quiet, thoughtful ones that only ever appeared when he let his guard down.

He hadn’t said much since the others left. Not out of hesitation, but the way he always got when something mattered so much it felt sacred.

His fingers brushed your stomach lightly under your shirt. Slow. Careful.

There wasn’t much of a bump yet—just the slightest swell, barely there—but his touch was reverent, like he was afraid to miss even a second of it.

“That’s really ours in there,” he said quietly, more to himself than to you. “Whole little person. Just... growin’.”

Your hand covered his. “Yeah. They’re in there.”

He shifted closer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then just above your temple.

“I keep thinkin’ I’ll wake up,” he murmured. “That this is some dream I’m gonna lose. But then I touch you, and it’s real.”

You turned your face to kiss the underside of his jaw, voice soft. “It’s real, Joel. You’re here. I’m here. We’re here.”

He nodded, throat tight. His palm stayed resting on your belly, like it anchored him.

“I ever tell you how much I love you?” he asked, voice thick with quiet emotion.

You smiled. “You show me every day.”

“Gonna say it anyway,” he whispered, kissing you again. “I love you, darlin’. More than I got words for.”

The two of you fell asleep like that—his hand over the life you were building together, your fingers laced with his, hearts beating steady in the dark.

And for the first time in a long, long while, Joel Miller didn’t feel haunted by his past.

He felt ready for the future.

[promiscuousg1rl]

rich girl ― Rafe Cameron

pairing: rafe cameron x kook!reader

warnings: reader is rich and bitchy, rafe is an undercover thirstbucket.

You'd been in the outer banks for all of five seconds and you were already bored. Your father's reasoning for dragging you and your mother along to meet his new business partner was completely lost on you but there you were.

The minute you met Ward Cameron you knew he was nothing but a suck up. Doting over your father as if he were his biggest fan, a groupie. "Your Forbes Magazine interview was one of the most excellent pieces I've read in years." "Your eye for architectural design is truly admirable." You knew his type. You hated his type.

And his son? Even worse.

Stereotypical country club trust fund loser with a god-awful superiority complex. It showed in the way he smirked as he introduced himself, offering to buy you a drink as his weirdo friends watched from the other side of the room. It made it all the more satisfying when you declined. You'd never seen someone's face fall so quickly.

You truly thought he'd take the hint and leave you alone. Maybe go report back to the goon squad with a lie in order to avoid embarrassment and a bigger hit to his ego. Wishful thinking.

"So," the southern drawl was like nails on a chalkboard. "How are you liking it here so far?"

Pulling your lips away from your martini glass, face stuck in the same blank expression it's been in since your arrival. "It's boring and the entire town smells like salty swamp water."

Rafe frowns.

"I....I guess I can see why you'd think that."

You hum, continuing to observe the party-goers around you. For it to be an event for the creme-de la-creme of Kildare, the attendees don't seem to look the part. It's not as surprising as it is disappointing.

"Your, uh, your dad tells me you're gonna be spending your summer in town. Maybe I can show you around, take you to all our hot spots."

The warning your mother always gives you about rolling your eyes so hard they'll get stuck falls on deaf ears as you do exactly that.

"Those hotspots being this country club and the gator ridden marshes you guys love to get wasted at? No thanks."

His frown gets deeper as he pauses, staring you down with narrowed eyes. "You know, I see what you're doing."

"Excuse me?"

It almost gives you whiplash with a headache to match as that insufferable smirk comes back.

"This whole uninterested shtick you got goin' on." He huffs. "It's a total facade you rich city girls like to pull to play hard to get. You almost had me fooled."

With a sigh you sit your glass down on the bar and turn to face him. "First of all, there is no facade. And second, I am not trying to fool you. I don't even like you. Just because your small town country club groupies find you and that crumb of coke under your nose attractive, doesn't mean I do."

"Aw keep goin' baby, you're only getting me more and more hard."

You scoff. "And now I'll add pervert to your long list of flaws."

"Flaws?"

"Yes," you nod with a mocking look of concern. "You have about a million, your dad actually warned us about them."

The mentioning of his father causes him to completely falter. "Wait, seriously?"

No.

"Yes and if I were you, I'd focus more on the fact that if you don't help him close this deal with my father tonight, he'll be tossing your ass for what he says will be the fiftieth time."

Just as he opens his mouth to probably curse you out in the worse way possible, Ward's voice finds its way over to the two of you.

"Rafe," he and his wife Rose stand side by side with your parents, champagne glasses in hand. "Why don't you come here for a sec, Mr. l/n has a couple of questions for ya."

Suddenly you're the one who's smirking. "You'd better go, daddy's boy. Let's see if you still have a home to go to by the end of the night."

[jinusajas]

06/24/25; 08:05pm

{ 18+ drabbles / headcanons }

[ their favorite positions ]

featuring: jinu, abby, baby, mystery, romance

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

jinu loves having you ride him.

he’ll flash you a cocky grin while settling himself back in bed with both hands placed beneath his head. your hips would tremble with need for him while making your descent down the shaft of his cock.

and once jinu was fully sheathed within you, it would take a herculean effort to hold back the need to cum inside of you, gritting his teeth while biting back his moans with a smirk.

“c’mon baby, is that all you got?”

despite your whimpers, a look of determination would be seen within your gaze as you braced yourself on his broad chest, thrusting your hips sloppily against his as it takes you a few tries to gain your momentum-

but once you were able to set a decent pace, jinu knew that he was a goner, unable to last even a full minute with you bouncing up and down his cock so passionately. his eyes would meet your gaze, large hands gripping at your bouncing tits while playing with your hardened nipples. each time you would come down on him, you could feel his hard cock brush against your swollen clit as the hedonistic sensation was enough to tip you over the edge.

and when you finally spilled yourself on his cock, jinu couldn’t help but meet your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing the rest of your moans as he pumped you full of his seed.

abby is addicted to folding you in a mating press, tossing both of your legs over his broad shoulders as he continuously fucks his cock into you.

the demon basks in the way he’s able to make your eyes roll into the back of your head all while muttering nasty things within your ear.

look at you, droolin’ on m’cock like a needy slut.

bet you can’t even think straight, eh?

fuck look at how pretty you are.

look at how your pretty pussy clenches around me, wanting to milk me dry.

his filthy words were doing things to your body, making sweet goosebumps erupt all across your body as abby used you as his personal fucktoy, slamming into your entrance over and over again that it made you lose your mind just seconds later.

your release hits you like a freight train, with your walls clenching around abby’s thick cock, your juices spilling down his shaft when he lets out a groan of your name.

“fuck, did you just squirt on me?”

by now, the mortification you felt was palpable, the embarrassment flowing through your very veins when abby lets out a deep chuckle. steadying your legs on his shoulders once more, he slams his cock back into you, the squelching sounds of your walls taking him in echoes throughout the room as he fucks you once more, making you cry out to him when he whispers hotly in your ear-

“you’re such a good girl f’me. how about i make you squirt three more times and we’ll call it a night?”

baby lives to see your ass bouncing on his cock, with his hands gripping at your waist as he keeps you in the reverse cowgirl position.

you brace your hands over his legs, feeling baby lay back as he simply watches you struggling to take in his thick cock. each time to bring your hips down on him, you felt yourself approaching your high-

yet you were too weak to go on.

your arms were hurting from how much you had to steady yourself on top of his legs, which made you whimper with need for him.

“babe… baby… i need help… i need you…!”

despite being unable to see him, you could feel him sitting up. he presses a lingering kiss against your temples, wrapping an arm around your naked chest, “was it too much for you? does my girl need help? how cute.”

with those final words, baby grants your wishes the moment he pistons his hips upwards, fucking himself into you as he made sure he was buried to the hilt each time he returns inside of your heat. you were let a drooling mess when baby finally takes over, unable to focus on anything that wasn’t his cock as you succumbed to the pleasure he was giving you.

mystery loves having you laying on your side, with a leg tossed over his shoulder as he drills his cock into you.

this position was a particular favorite of mystery since he could see the way your tits bounced in tune with his every thrust. his hands would worship every dip and curve of your body while his lips would place lingering kisses against your ankles.

the sounds that escapes from your parted lips were nothing short of music to his ears, and he could feel his cock growing each time he thrusts back into you. the silky feel of your walls and how he manages to hit your g-spot from this angle would ultimately lead to your undoing-

with you spilling yourself on his cock as you allowed a demon to bring you to the gates of heaven.

romance (being a true romantic at heart) would be the one who enjoys fucking you in the missionary position.

there was something achingly intimate about being able to watch your every expression as he slides himself into you-

basking in your soft mewls while interlocking his fingertips together with yours each time he thrusts his cock in and out of you.

just being able to press himself oh so close to you, becoming a tangle of limbs as romance wasn’t sure where you began and he ended-

it was during moments like these that romance felt almost human again.

with a growl of your name, romance would proceed to wrap your legs around his waist, bracing himself against the bed as he sped up his movements, wanting to hear more and more of your moans and keens that echo throughout the night-

feeding his need to completely taint you with his desires as he had no intention of ever stopping.

end notes: I AM OFFICIALLY A SAJA BOYS STAN!! JINU IS MY BIAS 😭🙌🏻 this is currently unedited, but i’ll make any changes once this is posted ♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[haostea]

enhypen bf headcanons

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: enhypen members as boyfriends

masterlist

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ heeseung

you guys are practically married at this point, like you guys have your routine down, and it's the cutest most domestic thing ever

he's actually adorable, he would care about you so much!

i feel like he is a great listener, so he would always be there when you need to vent, and he would give good advice after

not that much into pda, but he wouldn't mind a quick hug or holding hands, in private i could see him inviting you to sit on his lap a lot, especially when he's gaming

speaking of gaming, he would love it if you played with him

he gets so giddy around you, immediately lights up every time you walk into a room

i think he would be shy to sing to you, or show you lyrics that he wrote about you

but the more you tell him you love it the more you catch him telling you he what he has been up to and wants to hear your thoughts

one his main love languages seems to be quality time, so you just being in the same room as him doing your own thing makes him really happy

he also expresses his love for you in his writing where he'll write some cheesy lyrics and cringe, but if you tell him how much you love it he will write even more

would absolutely love if you pulled him up to dance, especially when you start singing he would start singing too

the more times you do this the more he'll get comfortable dancing and singing around you, to the point where he's serenading you around the house, and pulling you up to dance all the time

overall 10/10 bf

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ jay

will always be hovering over you, not in a bad way, but in more of a protective way as he wants to make sure that you are okay

speaking of making sure that you are okay, he is for sure a caretaker

thinks that you are absolutely adorable, and only wants the best for you

you are always his first priority, no matter how busy he will always make time for you

and even when he can't physically be there, he is always calling and texting you little reminders to eat, take a break, sleep

he would also make food ahead of time, so you can just take it out of the fridge/freezer and heat it up

he treats you with such softness, where he would be extremely gentle with you, as he wants to make sure you can always go to him no matter what

also such a gentleman, would drive you anywhere, constantly hold doors open for you, carry your bags, and also open things for you

not because you can't do it, but why should you have to if he's right there?

he genuinely would put so much time and effort into your relationship, and he would make sure that you never go to bed mad

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ jake

he's such a cutie pie omg, he's the definition of head over heals

at this point you don't have a name, you are known as darling, sweetie, sweetheart, love, etc. because jake will literally call you every one of them under the sun

his pupils turn into hearts whenever your around, he literally lights up when you walk into a room, like one would think he ate the sun

doesn't even care that he's a "simp" according to ni-ki because he knows he is, i mean haven't you seen yourself? of course he is

he LOVES cuddles, like good luck trying to get up in the morning, this man will not let go

his accent is so cute, so obviously one would only want him to speak in english, and if you also speak english you guys would frequently have conversations in english

but if you don't he would love to teach you, he thinks it's adorable, and feels so special that you want him to teach you

layla would love you, his camera pretty much only consists of you two, and when you guys are together he is taking thousands of photos, because layla and you in the same picture? omg it's the most perfect thing

such a gentleman, loves kissing your hand, giving you his jacket, opening doors, holding bags for you, etc.

his dream is to definitely travel with you and take you to austrailia

would be so happy if you brought him to meet your family, or bring him to wherever you grew up/where your from

actually husband material

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥sunghoon

this man is aggressively endearing?

he will make sure that you eat and are okay

like he will force you to eat if you haven't and it's sweet because he is not afraid to spoon feed you if he has to

this relationship if definitely private, i could not see him wanting a public one

he's also very awkward, especially when you first started dating, he would be fidgeting and looking anywhere besides you because you're just so pretty and cool

overtime it's gotten better, but there are still occasions that make him blush and try to hide his face

he loves teasing you, which can be annoying, but he will never make you uncomfortable or go past your limit

very good with boundaries and will never pass them once they are set, unless you say otherwise

because he does love you so much and would never want you to hate him, so he knows when to back off

he knows when to be more serious and intimate, but it really only occurs in private in the privacy of your home where he can feel vulnerable

he does truly love you, it just takes him a little while to fully embody it

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ sunoo

he's the cutest and sweetest

so so so gentle with you, to the point where you think he's holding a piece of glass

loves holding your face and giving you kisses, and would love it if you would do it back as well

you're definitely his first priority over his members, like if you needed him for something he would drop whatever he was doing and go to you

loves receiving gifts and acts of service from you, like if you folded his clothes or bought him a new shirt, he is literally on the ground confessing his love for you and how you didn't need to do that

plans out dates and events to the last detail, he will not have anything go wrong, everything will be just how he planned

and since he only thinks you deserve the best he would go all out, buying balloons, bouquets, stuffed animals, even buying you an outfit

don't forget that there are of course going to be handwritten letters, that are at least a page because he could go on and on about how much he loves you

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ jungwon

such a sweetie

would be such a gentleman, where he would kneel down to tie your shoes for you, or would full on give you his shoes if it hurts to walk in yours

along with the headcanon above piggyback rides are also very frequent, not just because your feet hurt, but because he just thinks it's fun

would quite literally remember everything, like one day your walking through the mall and mention you liked a shirt, then its showing up on your bed the next day with a little love letter?

loves loves loves seeing you smile and laugh, would for sure do anything to see and hear it

he would love to just lay down in your lap and have you play with his hair, he thinks it's so relaxing and calming

i feel like he would act like he doesn't like physical affection, like kissing his cheek or ruffling his hair but he's lying, he does love it, just maybe not in public

i see him wanting a more private relationship just because he wants to keep you away from all of the hate and toxicity

overall very fun and loving, and he loves you to bits

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ ni-ki

this relationship is actually the best thing ever

it's such a young adult romance, where it's so playful and unserious, but you both know that you love each other so much

if your relationship was described it would be summed up with: teasing, playful, adorable, fun, loving

he would take you on such fun dates, like you really have no idea where he could take you, it could be to an aquarium, concert, café, amusement park etc.

i could also see him liking to stay home and just do an at home picnic type date just because it's a lot more intimate and would still be playful and fun

he would love dancing with you, especially teaching you new choreography, and if your a dancer too you guys would be constantly be making tiktoks together

we all know he tries to be nonchalant, but it's all a façade

he loves attention, especially from you, like i can stress how much he loves cuddles

and he is obsessed with you playing with his hair, like you'd be constantly find yourself sitting on the couch and he would be on the floor with you playing with his hair

would need someone who could match his energy, like when his is high you should be able to match it, because i feel like your relationship would originate from that

he does love you so bad, he really is such a golden retriever bf even if he may not let it out into the public, but in private that's your baby

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ