#bots creators

[carolinaastyles]

my favorite c.ai creators

here is a list of some of my favorite bot creators, i will be updating it as time goes on and maybe add my favorite bots from each creator. 🫶🏻

@eversincenyrryyy

@finelinemia

@harrieskissesx

@jlovescherry

@rubyszjuno

@myonlyangel13

@tillyshouse

@misspossessiveharry

@zclhs

@isastyles

@merylittlefreak

@beasolonely

@snugglysnoopystyles

@cherriesnkisses

@fallingwillow

@thewineranout

@nanaisinmars

@harrystyleshotwife

@harrysdaydream1

@starryh4ze

@sunflowerry-vol6

@tpwk-keepdriving

@c0wboylikeharry

@selliqxrt

@twpk-1d

@zaynswife28

@fratboyrryy

@fratboyzayn

@tpwk-kate

@harryslove13

(if there is anybody missing i swear that i will probably add you😭)

[tpwk-keepdriving]

he can have all my babies. I would never talk back. House would be spotless.

(Guys so proud of myself for making this)

[snugglysnoopystyles]

AFTER SCHOOL SHE RAN TO ME

harry styles x fem!reader ( based on this c.ai bot )

warnings: smut!!! penetration, oral (f&m receiving), protected sex (birth control), praising, squirting, spanking if you squint, ecc...family issues? age gap (18-22).

summary: it’s supposed to be casual—no labels, no promises—but she keeps coming back, leaving pieces of herself in every corner of his life. Their relationship is a push-and-pull, marked by intense physical chemistry and banter. While there's a clear deep affection between them, Harry insists it’s just a fling, even as his actions int at something deeper. She’s already fallen, wanting more than stolen time and careful avoidance. Something this intense was never going to stay simple, because love unspoken still leaves scars.

note: hi, loves! this is the first story I’ve ever written, so I’m super excited (and a little nervous) to share it with you! feel free to leave any questions or constructive criticism—just remember to be kind 🥹 I love you all, enjoy it! 💗💗

1

I’m slouched on the couch, one leg tucked beneath me, glancing at the clock like I can make time move faster just by staring at it. 1:00 PM. This is a ritual now—our ritual—me waiting, anxious, you showing up after school like you're mine, even when we both know better. The door clicks open, the rattle of your keys. A breath I didn’t realize I was holding escapes just in time to see you appear—same uniform, same messy bun, same flushed cheeks from walking too fast. You look like yesterday—and the day before—but still, somehow, better. There’s something intoxicating about the way you carry yourself like you belong here.

You glance toward the living room, a smile breaking over your face the second your eyes meet mine. Your bag drops by the door, shoes kicked off, you walk down the hallway like this is your home and maybe, in a way, it is. You reach me and I guide you down gently. You curl into me without a word, like muscle memory, your legs draped over mine, head resting against my chest like you’re trying to become part of me.

“How was school?” I ask, fingers brushing a strand of hair from your cheek, letting my hand linger too long.

You shrug into my chest. “Boring, as always.” I remember hating school so much I barely finished, started bartending just to have something that felt like mine.

I’m 22. You’re 18, just old enough for this to be legal, just young enough that it still feels like a sin. Your parents don’t know or maybe they just don’t care enough to ask, always away, always working, always too absent in a way that bruises. You started coming over after school, sometimes a few hours, sometimes the night, when your parents are gone, entire weekends. My apartment became your escape, our secret. You’ve left things here—your pink toothbrush beside my green one, your favorite hoodie slung over my desk chair, a pack of pads in my bathroom drawer, you even stocked my kitchen with your favorite snacks. You keep saying you’ll take them back, but you don’t. I try to pretend we’re nothing official—no labels, no promises—but we laugh like lovers, cuddle like couples, dress in matching outfits like we’re something soft and stupid and real. We’ve never had the talk but I know you’ve already fallen, I see it in your eyes and if I’m honest, I’m falling too—quietly, carefully, like it might hurt less if I don’t say it out loud, but it still hurts.

“I missed you,” I murmur into your hair.

You go still, just for a second. “I missed you too,” you whisper, voice small. Then you lift your head, your smile warm and wide and a little too trusting.

I trace a finger from your arm to your jaw, tilting your face up. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” I say, more confession than compliment.

Your lips part, eyes flicking down to mine. You lean in, slow, waiting for me to meet you halfway but I pull back. I clear my throat and drop my hand. “Go change out of your uniform,” I say, voice hoarse. “I’ll order food.”

You blink, hurt flickers behind your eyes, just for a moment, but you nod, soft and obedient. “ ‘kay,” you say, already adjusting your skirt, already walking away.

I watch you go, watch the way my t-shirt hugs your body when you return minutes later, socks pulled up to your knees, pink lace panties peeking out beneath the hem. “Pizza?” you ask, standing in front of me like temptation in bare legs and cherry lip gloss.

I nod. “Yeah.”

You straddle my lap without asking, arms looped around my neck, your nose brushes mine. “Ordered my favorite?”

“Of course,” I say and I don’t even try to hide the way I’m staring at you now.

You press a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth, gentle, meaningful, dangerous. “Mhm...” you whisper, hopping up again. “I want a lollipop.”

And I swear—I don’t know what happens—but I’m following you like a damn puppy, watching as you bend over the drawer just a little too slow, your ass in the air, that pink lace doing absolutely nothing to keep me sane. You unwrap the cherry sucker and pop it between your lips like it’s nothing, like you don’t know what you’re doing.

But you know. God, you know.

“Stop teasing,” I warn, voice low.

You look over your shoulder, all fake innocence. “I’m not teasing.”

“Mhm. You’re in my shirt, no bra, sucking a lollipop like you’re practicing a blowjob.”

You smirk. “Maybe I am.”

I snap, in one breath I’m on you, hands on your hips, mouth on yours. The taste of cherry overwhelms me, you moan into the kiss, grinding against me like you need something only I can give. “Fucking hell,” I groan, lifting you off the ground and pressing you against the hallway wall.

My shirt rides up your thighs as my hands roam, sliding underneath to touch bare, soft skin. “Want something better to keep your mouth busy?” I murmur, voice rough, popsicle still in your hand. You nod, wide-eyed, cheeks flushed.

“On your knees.” You drop fast, obedient, like you’ve been waiting all day to be told to, the sight alone knocking the breath out of me. My shirt drowns your frame, slipping off one shoulder, barely covering the lace between your thighs.

My belt immediately hits the floor, my cock’s out—hard, aching—and your lips part like a prayer, soft and wet, pupils blown wide. I grip the back of your head gently, fingers tangling in that perfect mess of hair, guiding you like I know you want to be guided. You start slow, leaving soft kisses along the base, your tongue flicking up the side, teasing. “How long until the pizza gets here?” you whisper, lips brushing my skin.

I glance at my watch. “Twenty minutes.”

You smile and take your time, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the length, your tongue dragging up the vein until you reach the tip. You glance up at me as you swirl your tongue around it—teasing, tasting—watching for my reaction like it’s your favorite game. Your lips wrap around the head, warm and soft and so fucking good I have to brace myself against the wall in front of me. You moan around me like the taste alone does something to you and the vibration sends a jolt straight down my spine. My jaw clenches, my eyes flutter closed for a second and my hand tighten in your hair. Then you sink lower, inch by inch, you take me deeper, your throat opening with practiced ease, spit already slicking your lips. You gag just a little when you bottom out and it nearly undoes me. “Jesus Christ,” I groan, voice shredded. “Look at you.”

You pull back slowly, breathing heavy, strings of saliva clinging from your lips to my cock. You blink up at me with that glossy, wrecked look that makes my knees go weak. Then you smirk and go back down again, faster this time, more desperate. Your hands grip my thighs as you bob your head, lips stretched, cheeks hollowing with every stroke. Your spit drips down your chin, pooling at the corner of your mouth and you don’t care. You look like heaven or hell.

“God, your mouth-" I bite down a moan, my hips starting to move on their own, shallow thrusts into your waiting throat.

I try to hold back, I really do but then you hum around me, tongue teasing underneath the shaft while your fingers slide up to cup my balls and I fucking lose it. “Shit. I’m gonna-” I barely get the warning out before I pull back, trying to give you a chance to breathe.

But you shake your head, grab my ass and pull me back in. You want it, all of it. I come with a ragged moan, hips twitching, eyes rolling back as you swallow every drop without flinching, still sucking me through it, like you don’t want to waste a single second of it. I watch you, eyes hazy, chest heaving, until you finally pull back, licking your lips slow, dragging your hand across your mouth to wipe the mess off your chin.

“Still got fifteen minutes before the pizza gets here,” you murmur, eyes twinkling with mischief.

And fuck, I’m already getting hard again. I pull you to your feet, kiss you deep, the taste of me still on your tongue, your breath still uneven. My hands slide under my shirt, finding bare skin, warm and soft and mine. “You’ve no idea what you just started,” I whisper into your mouth.

You just smile. “Then show me.” I kiss you like I’m starving, like I just got everything I wanted and still need more. Your mouth is still warm, lips slick with spit and me, and when you let out a soft little whimper into the kiss, I snap. I spin you around, press your chest to the hallway wall, your hands bracing flat against it.

You gasp, hips jutting back instinctively, your ass grinding against my cock desperately. “You think you’re in control, huh?” I growl into your ear, hands already bunching the oversized t-shirt up around your waist.

“No,” you breathe, but your tone betrays you.

My hand comes down hard on your ass, the sound echoing off the walls, you yelp, hips jerking forward. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not- fuck-” you choke on a moan when I do it again, this time kneading the flesh in my hand afterward, soothing the sting.

I drop to my knees behind you, gripping your thighs to part them and you lean further into the wall like you already know what's coming. “Stay still.”

“Mmhm,” you hum, hips trembling as I hook my fingers in the waistband of your lace panties and drag them down slow, watching the fabric peel away from your soaked skin.

“Jesus, you're dripping.” you whine, rocking your hips back, trying to tempt my mouth closer.

“Be patient.” I spread you open and lean in, dragging my tongue through your folds, slow and deliberate. You gasp, your legs nearly giving out.

I grip your thighs tighter, holding you in place as I start to devour you—flicking, sucking, licking in deep strokes. You moan, loud and unfiltered, one hand slamming against the wall while the other reaches back to thread through my hair. Your body starts to shake when I focus on your clit, alternating between gentle flicks and firm suction. “Fuck—fuck, I’m gonna—” you pant, voice pitching higher, but I pull back.

“No,” I growl, standing up behind you and pressing my chest to your back. “Not yet.”

You whimper, trying to rub against me, but I grip your hips tight. “Beg.”

Your breath catches, your forehead rests against the wall. “Please.”

“Not enough.”

You turn your head slightly, voice ragged and wrecked. “Please let me come. Please, fuck, please touch me, I need it, I need you.”

I groan at how fucked out you sound already. I line myself up, tease your entrance with the thick head of my cock, rubbing it through your slick folds, not pushing in yet, just letting you feel it. “You want it, baby?”

You nod desperately. “I need it.”

And that’s all it takes. I push in, slow and deep, both of us groaning at the stretch, the heat, the way you grip me like you were made for it. “God, you’re so tight,” I hiss, bottoming out with one deep thrust. You cry out, knuckles white against the wall, back arching as I fill you completely.

I start to move—long, hard strokes—hands gripping your hips like handles, dragging you back onto me with every thrust. Each time I slam into you, you let out a helpless moan, loud and shameless, echoing down the hallway like you don't care if the whole world hears. “You like this?” I pant, one hand sliding up your back to grip your shoulder, the other sneaking between your legs to rub tight circles on your clit. “You like me fucking you like this, with your mouth still tasting like me?”

“Y-yes, fuck, please don’t stop!” you clench hard around me and I know you're close again.

“Come for me,” I command, grinding deep into you, fingers working faster. “Let go.”

You shatter around me, moaning so loud it borders on a scream, your body shaking violently as you come hard on my cock, legs trembling and struggling to hold you up. But I don’t stop, I fuck you through it, chasing my own release, the heat and tightness and the fucking sight of you undone in front of me pushing me right over the edge. With one final thrust, I bury myself deep and come inside you, groaning into your neck, both of us breathing like we’ve just survived something. We stay like that for a moment, pressed together, flushed skin and heaving lungs, before I pull out, slow, watching your pussy flutter and my load drip down your thighs.

“You okay?” I murmur against your shoulder, placing a soft kiss there.

You turn to look at me, cheeks flushed, eyes hazy, lips parted. “I’m perfect,” you whisper, then the doorbell rings.

“Pizza’s here,” I say, brushing a damp lock of hair from your cheek.

You smirk, legs still shaky, t-shirt still bunched around your waist. “Mh, I'm starving.”

You’re on the kitchen counter, legs swinging, biting into your second slice of pizza like you didn’t just get railed against my hallway wall. You look stupidly pretty like this—bare legs dangling off the edge, my shirt hanging loose on your frame, still not bothering to fix your messy bun. You catch me staring and smirk around a mouthful of pepperoni. “What?” you say, chewing slow just to be a brat. “Wipe that look off your face, you already came.”

I grin, leaning on the counter in front of you, pizza box between us. “Didn’t say anything.”

“Didn’t have to, you’ve got that stupid face.”

“Which one?” I ask, acting innocently.

“The one where you look like you want to marry me because I gave you head.” I scoff and take a bite, chewing slow, trying not to laugh. It’s domestic, ridiculously so—pizza grease on your fingers, the soft sound of rain against the kitchen window. I hand you a napkin and you miss the pass entirely, making me wipe your cheek for you. You lean into the touch without thinking, too natural, too dangerous.

“You always make me eat after,” you tease, watching me through your lashes. “Is this part of some fucked-up care protocol?”

“You’re the one who goes feral on her knees,” I say, wiping your lip with my thumb. “I’m just refeeding you.”

“You say that like I’m a stray cat you found in the alley.”

“You kind of are.” You gasp in fake offense and swat me with your foot. I catch your ankle and lift it higher, pressing a kiss to the inside, just beneath the knee. Your whole body softens, just like that. I see it flicker across your face—that look, the one you don’t mean to give me, the one that says you’re falling even harder and you don’t know how to stop—but then you blink it away, because we don’t talk about that.

So you hop off the counter like nothing happened, brushing crumbs off your thighs. “Alright, let’s go. You promised you’d let me beat your ass in Scrabble tonight.”

“Delusional" I mutter.

“You’re just mad because I used ‘vexingly’ on a triple word score last time and you never recovered.”

“That wasn’t even a real word.” I murmur back.

“Tell that to Merriam-Webster, bitch.” you say walking out the kitchen, my eyes locked on your ass and I have to take a deep breath before following you into the living room.

You’re sitting cross-legged on the carpet, gloating over your win. I’m stretched out on the couch above you, shirt halfway unbuttoned, pretending I don’t care you just annihilated me by thirty points. “Rematch?” I offer.

You smirk. “You sure you want to lose twice in one night?”

My gaze drops to your thighs. "Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You roll your eyes and crawl over, climbing up between my legs, straddling my lap again like you were built for it. You cup my face in your hands, nose brushing mine. “You’re kind of annoying when I beat you at things,” you murmur, but you’re smiling.

I grab your waist, sliding my hands up under my shirt—your shirt now—palming the bare curve of your sides. You kiss me slow, deeper this time, less teasing, more want. You grind down just a little and I feel it—the warmth, the ache, the way you’re already wet again. You shift your hips and gasp into my mouth when I squeeze your ass. You press your forehead to mine. “Hey…earlier, when I said I missed you, you-” You pause. “Do you wanna talk about it now?”

My hands still, that thing in my chest pulls tight. I stare at you, heartbeat stuttering. For a second, I think about answering, actually answering, but then I lean forward, lift you by the thighs and flip you onto your back on the couch and I kiss down your chest instead. “I’ll take that as a no,” you whisper, breathless.

I don’t reply, I just spread your legs and bury my face between them like it’s the only thing I know how to do. You’re soaked, still sensitive. I lick slow just to be mean, watching the way you shiver, trying to keep quiet, but you can't. “Shit, f-fuck Harry” You squirm, one hand in my hair, the other gripping the cushion above your head. I press your thighs wider, tongue dragging flat across your clit before teasing your entrance with the tip.

Then I start eating you like I own you—like if I make you come hard enough, maybe you’ll forget what you asked. You cry out when I push two fingers inside, curling them up, my mouth never leaving you. Your hips buck, your moans are sharp, broken things. “Gonna make a mess,” I murmur into you. “Gonna come all over my mouth, huh?”

You nod wildly, hips chasing every movement. “Please, I need-” You fall apart fast, thighs squeezing around my head, moaning my name like it’s the only word you remember.

I give you a second to breathe, barely, then I’m unzipping my jeans once again, pulling your legs over my hips, sliding into you in one hard thrust that punches a gasp out of your chest. “Fuck, baby,” I groan, snapping my hips into you, slow and punishing. “You feel so. fucking. good.”

You arch, hands scrambling at my back, pulling me deeper. “Talk to me,” you whimper.

I shake my head, lips pressed to your throat. “Not now.”

“Why not?” Because if I say it—if I tell you how this feels like home, how losing you would kill me—I won’t be able to stop.

So I fuck you harder and you let me. I grip your hips firmly tight enough to leave marks, as I drive into you—hard, relentless. Every thrust echoes with the brutal slap of skin on skin, the room thick with sweat, heat and the desperate sounds spilling from your mouth. My thumb grinds into your clit, slow circles with just the right pressure and I don’t take my fucking eyes off you. Your lips are parted, whimpering, cheeks flushed, hair coming undone, strands sticking to the sweat slicked across your face. You look wrecked already—exactly how I like you.

“Fuck,” I mutter, watching your tits bounce with each thrust, hypnotized. “Look at you…taking it so fucking good.”

“You were made for this. For me. For my cock,” I growl, voice gritty with lust. “This tight little pussy, clenching like it knows who it fucking belongs to.”

“Harry—fuck!” you cry out, voice cracking, body shaking under the weight of it all. My thumb keeps circling your clit, merciless, your legs tremble, your moans getting high and desperate. “I’m—I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna—” You’re choking on the words, voice strangled with pleasure and I feel it—your cunt starts pulsing around me, desperate, wild—this isn’t like before.

You’re about to fucking squirt. You’ve never done that with me or anyone else and the thought drives me insane. I start to pound harder, faster, practically snarling as I fuck into you like I’ve lost control. “Yeah?” I taunt, breath ragged. “Gonna soak me, baby? Gonna gush all over my cock like a filthy little slut?”

You nod frantically, mouth open, eyes watery and glassy. “Do it,” I growl. “Give it to me. Fucking make a mess for me.”

You let out this broken moan and then your body locks up, tight, and everything explodes. You scream, whole body convulsing as hot liquid gushes out of you in waves, soaking my cock, dripping down your thighs and onto the couch. Your pussy clamps around nothing as I pull out, dragging my soaked cock against your throbbing clit, drawing it out. “Jesus—fuck yes. That’s it. Look at this fucking mess,” I groan, watching you fall apart beneath me.

You’re shaking uncontrollably, gasping, tears streaking your cheeks. You’ve never come like that before and it shows—your legs are trembling, your belly soaked, couch drenched. You’re ruined, spent, absolutely perfect. “Oh my god,” you whisper, voice hoarse and wrecked, eyes barely open.

“I know, baby,” I say, panting, voice still rough. “I know it’s a lot. You took it so fucking well.” I grip my cock, still rock hard, soaked in you, and start stroking fast, staring down at your wrecked body—quivering thighs, wet skin, flushed face. You’re barely holding yourself up and I’m so close I can taste it.

“Fuck—gonna cum—” I can’t even get the words out. My hips jerk and I let go with a guttural moan, hot ropes of cum striping your stomach, your pussy, dripping down your slit as you twitch under me.

I lean over you, chest heaving, trying to come down. I brush your face gently, thumb dragging over your cheek. “You okay?” I murmur, still catching my breath. “Still with me, angel?”

You blink, slow and dazed, lips twitching into a sleepy, blissed-out smile. “I’m here…fuck. That was insane.”

I chuckle, voice wrecked. “Yeah, it was.”

We're curled up on the couch, your back against my chest, and I wrap my arms around you like I don’t want to let go. The room smells like us, a mix of sweat and something softer, something familiar now. Your head rests on my shoulder, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on my arm. We’re quiet, but the silence isn’t empty, it’s heavy, full of all the things neither of us says. “You’re warm,” you murmur, voice low, almost shy.

I smile and press a kiss to the top of your head. “Only for you.”

You shift, looking up at me with those big eyes that somehow always catch me off guard. There’s something fragile there, like you’re trying to hold back everything crashing inside. I know you want to talk, but you don’t know how. “Do you wanna finish that conversation we started earlier?” you ask, biting your lip.

I shake my head, not wanting to open up too much. “Not right now.”

You pout but lean back against me and I pull a cloth from the coffee table. Carefully, I wipe the mess off your skin. You’re on the pill, so I guess I’m just lucky to have you in every way. You close your eyes and I swear I can feel your breath begin to even out. “We should shower before we head out,” I say, my voice soft.

You laugh, nudging me. “Do I really have to clean up? I’m comfy here.”

I smirk. “You smell like trouble.”

You pout, giving me your best puppy eyes and I sigh, nodding slowly. “Do you want to eat the leftover cookies from last week?” I ask, raising a brow as my hand caresses your side gently.

You grin. “Cookies are probably stale.”

“So are we skipping sugar or was that just you calling me old in disguise?”

Your laugh echoes through the space and it does something to my chest—it’s light, unguarded. “You’re only four years older. Calm down, grandpa,” you tease, your eyes shining in that way that makes it hard to look anywhere else.

“You always get like this after,” I say softly, half-teasing. “Acting like we’re just...normal.”

“Aren’t we?” you ask, but your voice is quieter now.

I open my mouth to answer, but your phone buzzes, slicing through the moment. You glance down at the screen and sigh. “It’s my mom.”

“Want me to give you a minute?” I ask.

You nod. “Yeah, just-…wait for me in the shower, okay?”

I kiss your forehead and head toward the bathroom, giving you space. Your mom’s voice crackles through the line, she sounds distracted, like always. “Hey, honey. Just wanted to say your dad and I got extended for five more days, big client. You good on your own?”

“Yeah, totally,” you lie easily. “I’ve just been studying all day.”

“Mhm,” she says, barely listening. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

A pause, but she doesn’t push. “Alright. Love you.”

“Love you too.” The moment the line clicks dead, your stomach twists.

The water’s warm, steam rising around me as I let it beat against my shoulders. When you step into the bathroom, towel wrapped loosely around you, I already know something’s shifted. You drop the towel and step in. I don’t touch you at first, I wait, let you get under the water, your back to me. Together, we start rinsing the day off, but this is more than just a shower—it’s gentle touches, brushing hair out of your face, tracing the curve of your back. “What’s wrong?” I finally ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

You shrug, voice low. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” I say, stepping closer, letting the water fall over both of us. My hands find your hips, steadying you and I turn you around gently.

“I hate them,” you whisper.

I frown. “What?”

“My parents. I mean…not hate. But..." You look away. “I hate the way my parents leave me alone, since I was thirteen it’s always been like this. They don’t know I’m with you, they don’t even know I…had my first time already. I get drunk sometimes, tried weed. They don’t care about what I really want, just school, uni decisions, pressure. They never see me."

You pause. "This, here, it’s the only place I can just be, but if they don’t deserve me, then who does? If I don’t have them, then I don’t have anyone.”

I swallow hard. “You’ve got me.”

That hits you like a punch to the chest. You pull back, eyes sharp. “No, I don’t. It’s temporary, casual. One day this will end and I won’t have you either.”

I flinch, but hold you tighter. “You have me now. I know it’s not forever, but at least you have me.”

You scoff, trying to hide the tears threatening to fall, your face hardening just a little. “That’s not enough.” You don’t mean it cruel, you mean it honest. "It’s not enough anymore, Harry. Not for me. Can’t you see? I know it started as something fun—secret, sexy, messy. Someone older, someone who kept my mind busy. But now? I need stability, someone in my life, because I have no one. And next year, when I move for university, the only person I can imagine being with is you.”

I flinch, not because I don’t want it, but because I do and that terrifies me. “I can’t give you what you need,” I say. “I’m not the answer to forever, I never was, I thought we both knew that.”

Tears spill over and you press your hands to my chest, desperate. “Why not? Why can’t you be my boyfriend? The one who meets my family, takes me on real dates, picks me up from school with coffee?” You choke on the next words. “Do you think flings are like this? Do you think flings keep toothbrushes in the bathroom? Keep snacks in the kitchen? Keep textbooks in the desk drawer?"

I look away. “I just can’t. It’s not what I want.”

You freeze, eyes locked on mine. “So you don’t want me.” You whisper, bitterly. “Of course,” you say, voice breaking. “Stupid, stupid, stupid. What a fool to believe I was more than some younger girl warming your bed, pleasing you when you’re bored. Fucking naive.”

You step out of the shower, dripping, grabbing your towel, not even bothering to wash off. My hands are frozen at my sides. “Wait, please,” I say, stepping out, not even grabbing a towel as I follow you into the bedroom.

“It’s done,” you say through clenched teeth, pulling on your uniform fast, hands shaking.

“Don’t go.”

“I was just a fling, I knew that from the start, I shouldn’t have expected more. I just didn’t think it would hurt this bad.” you say dressing fast.

“You weren’t just—”

You slide your shoes on, voice shaking. “What makes me angry is I opened up to you, talked about my life, my future, and you never stopped me. I hate you! I hate you ’cause you’re an asshole and I hate myself ’cause I’m such a fool.”

I take a step closer, desperate. “I know I’m an idiot, I messed up, but please, don’t go.”

You back away, glare sharp. “Don’t touch me!" I stop, chest heaving, hair dripping down my shoulders.

“You’re more than a distraction.” I choke.

"More? If I’m not your girlfriend or your distraction, then what am I?” you grab your school bag, ready to leave. "You don’t want me that way and I get it. It was good as long as I spread my legs and never asked for more. I’ll come for the rest of my things another day.”

“No, you...you’re more than just a friend." I say desperately as you turn to leave.

“Then say it,” you say, stopping.

"You’re more than just a distraction or than a friend...you're—” I want to say mine, but I can’t. You wait, eyes searching mine, hoping for more, hoping I’ll beg, say I love you, say you could change my mind.

But I don’t say anything.

Your jaw tightens, disappointment written all over your face. “That’s what I thought.” You nod slowly, bitterly. “It’s done,” you say, wiping tears away.

“Autumn, please don’t go,” I plead.

You shake your head, open the door, step out and leave—never looking back, leaving me alone with my mistakes and the weight of how much I’m already in love with you.

If I hadn’t ruined this, maybe we’d be out with my friends now, partying, leaving this undefined mess alone for one more night, but I did ruin it and now I stand there, naked, wet and cold, knowing I’ve just let the only person who’s ever made this place feel like home walk out of it.

@merylittlefreak @littlebvnnyhs @cherriesnkisses @xarviax @finelinemia @fallingwillow @harryslove13 @tillyshouse @misspossessiveharry @tpwkmr @hontpwk @c0wboylikeharry @sincerely-yours-marsbar @bebopbumblebee @evas1ncenewyork @maudie-duan @myonlyangelwrites13 @myonlyangel13 @patriwxlls @carolinaastyles @nanaisinmars @nikkihs @harrysslut7 @emmie2308 @lntrrys @vojdcamy13

[sunflowerry-vol6]

FAMILY FIRST || Harry x Reader

characters count: 11553

summary: paparazzi take pictures of your son, while you try to protect him

masterlist || part 1:

Harry’s POV:

“Then maybe we could just grab takeout,” I say softly, not to wake up our two-year-old son who is safely sleeping on your shoulder, his little fingers gripping your shirt. I keep my hand on the small of your back as we walk. We just got back from Italy, where our son spent most of his life—a decision we made together.

Our house in Italy was practically in the middle of nowhere, which gave us privacy and security. Who wants to deal with paparazzi, stalkers, and thousands of fans while taking care of a newborn? I also recognized that you needed time to heal and rest, away from all the buzz, so that decision was really a no-brainer. When we would go out in Rome or Florence, my fans were surprisingly understanding when I said “no pictures.” There wasn’t even one sneaky photo of Dorian, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I could actually breathe.

Today, we were taking a stroll around London, enjoying the sunny weather. Dorian perhaps had too much fun on the playground. You picked him up when you noticed how he was rubbing his eyes—a sign that he was sleepy. The warmth of your body and the familiar scent of your perfume lulled our little one to sleep pretty fast. He was resting safely in your arms.

“Yeah, I think it’s a good idea. Dorian loves their pasta, so we…” You don’t even get to finish your sentence as we both snap our heads at the sound of a camera shutter going off along with a flash. I can feel your body tense as you cover Dorian’s head with your palm, hiding his face.

“What the fuck did you just do?” I dart to the paparazzo across the street, and you don’t even attempt to stop me. Usually, you would be the one to calm me down, but this time I know we both need those pictures deleted.

“Delete them or I will fuck you up and you’ll have to deal with my whole legal team,” I practically bark at him.

The man lowers his camera slightly, startled but not apologetic. He’s one of the cocky ones, the kind who think a public sidewalk gives him the right to anything. I can feel the rage blooming hot under my skin as I close the distance.

“I said delete them.” My voice is low now, deadly. Controlled in that way I only get when I’m past the point of losing it.

He smirks. “It’s just a photo, mate. You’re in public. You of all people should know that.”

“That’s my son you photographed.” I jab a finger toward his chest. “He’s two. He didn’t sign up for this shit. You take pictures of me, fine. But him? That’s off-limits. Always.”

He shrugs, eyes flicking down to his camera screen. “Could’ve blurred his face later—”

“I don’t care what you could do. Delete it. Now. You don’t fucking understand that one picture of him online—face blurred or not—can put him in danger?”

There’s a shift in his expression, the faintest flicker of discomfort, of realizing maybe this wasn’t worth it. Then, a few taps on his camera. I watch the screen. He deletes not just the photo, but the whole damn set.

“Happy?” he mutters.

“No. But that’s a start.” I step closer, my voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Next time you even think about pointing a lens at my family, I will make sure you can’t sell a picture to a tabloid ever again.”

He swallows. Good.

I turn away, my pulse still pounding, and jog back across the street.

You’re standing where I left you, arms wrapped protectively around Dorian, your cheek resting on his head. You don’t say anything when I reach you, but your eyes are darker than usual—with fury. The kind of fury that comes from watching someone threaten the peace we fought so hard to build.

“He deleted them,” I say, breath still ragged.

“I’ll have the lawyers put pressure on the outlet he works for. Just in case.” I reach out, brushing a hand down Dorian’s back as he shifts slightly, still asleep.

“He didn’t even stir.”

“He trusts us,” you murmur. “He knows he’s safe.”

And he is. Because we made damn sure of it.

We start walking again, slower now, and my hand finds your side.

“Still up for takeout?” I ask, trying to soften the weight between us.

You glance up at me, a faint smile forming. “Only if we eat it in bed.”

I laugh quietly. “Deal.”

“You ever think about just… vanishing? Not permanently. Just… renting a cabin in Iceland or something,” you say after a long pause.

“Every time someone points a lens at you or him,” I sigh.

“You’ve always been the one to protect us. But I’ve never asked—who protects you?”

“You do. When you make things simple again. When you look at me like I’m not some headline.”

You stop in your tracks. “You’re not. You’re just—ours.”

I reach for your hand, threading our fingers together. “And that’s more than enough.”

“I hate that we have to think like this,” you say finally. “Always ten steps ahead. Always defensive. Even here, in a random corner of London, just walking with our kid.”

I don’t answer right away. You’re not asking for solutions—you’re naming the truth, the life we carved out and the cost that comes with being visible.

“I know,” I say quietly. “And I hate it too. But we knew this wasn’t forever. Italy was… a pause. A beautiful one. But we always said we’d come back when it felt right.”

You nod slowly. “Do you still think it was the right time?”

I look at you—really look. The way your free hand rests over Dorian’s back. The way your jaw is tight, but your shoulders are starting to ease.

“I think the right time doesn’t mean the easy time,” I say. “It means when we’re strong enough to face it again. And we are. You are.”

That earns me a sideways glance and a faint, skeptical smile. “You’re getting very philosophical for someone who was threatening legal apocalypse three minutes ago.”

“I contain multitudes.”

You snort, but your smile softens. I can feel you letting go of the tension, piece by piece.

“I’m glad he slept through this,” you sigh softly, stroking his back gently.

“Me too. He’s too young to understand it.” I brush the curls away from his face. “Are you okay?” My eyes meet yours.

“It’ll take some time for the anger to wear off, but I’m glad he’s safe.”

I wrap an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “I’ll make sure nothing like this happens again.”

We walk in silence for a bit, the tension from the encounter still clinging to us. Finally, I speak again.

“I hate that we can’t just enjoy a simple walk without worrying about a paparazzo. It’s not fair.”

“I’m okay with them sneaking a picture of us, but he’s just a child. He should be able to have a normal childhood.” You lean into me, softly stroking Dorian’s back.

I sigh, feeling the tension in my shoulders melt away a bit as you lean into me. “You’re right. He deserves a normal life, not one where we have to constantly look over our shoulders.”

I look down at Dorian, his little face still peaceful in sleep. “I don’t want him growing up feeling like he’s under constant scrutiny. It’s not right.”

We reach a quiet spot, away from any crowds, and I stop, turning to face you.

“Promise me something?” I cup your face in my hand, looking into your eyes. “Promise me that, no matter what happens, we keep fighting for our family. Promise me that nothing will break us or come between us.”

I lean in closer, my voice softening. “I love you. And I love that little boy more than anything. We won’t let anything shatter this.”

Your expression softens as you lean into my touch. “Baby, I know that none of this is your fault. It’s a part of your job, and it’s something I knew came with you. I would never let them win.”

I exhale, the weight on my shoulders lightening a bit at your understanding.

“I know you get it. But sometimes it feels like I’m not doing enough to protect you and Dorian. Like I’m failing you both.” I run a hand through my hair, frustration and guilt mixing in my words. “It’s just… I hate feeling so powerless.”

“Hey.” You reach to gently stroke my cheek. “I feel safe and protected when you’re around. So does Dorian. Remember, cats don’t sleep with their bellies up if they don’t feel safe.”

I smile weakly at the metaphor. “Always with the animal facts.” I look down at the little one in your arms. “You and Dorian are everything to me. I just… I wish I could shield you from everything.”

“You are, love. You are our shield and our rock.” Your eyes hold nothing but sincerity in them.

“Promise me you’ll never doubt that. No matter what storms come our way.”

“I’m planning to grow old with you and watch him get married, together.” You smile softly.

I chuckle, picturing our future together. The thought warms my heart, though there’s a hint of worry too.

“Sounds like an ideal plan to me. But growing old together requires us to stay sane through all this chaos.”

I place a tender kiss on your forehead, holding you close.

“Together, right?”

“Always.” You smile.

I return your smile, feeling a bit lighter. “Good, because I can’t imagine going through any of this without you.”

We stand there for a moment, just holding each other in quiet solidarity. The city around us keeps buzzing, and the paparazzi incident is still on my mind. But right now, all I care about is you and our little family.

Dorian shifts a little in your arms. “Let’s get that takeout and go home.”

I nod, reluctantly letting go of you. “Yeah, let’s go.”

I take your hand, and we start walking again, this time a little quicker. I keep my eyes peeled for any sign of paparazzi, though it seems like the incident outside the playground has scared them off for now.

“How’s our little sleepyhead doing?” I ask, peeking over to look at Dorian.

“Still sleeping,” you smile softly.

I smile at the sight, my heart swelling with love. “He looks so peaceful.”

We grab pasta for Dorian from one of those fancy Italian restaurants and finally reach the Chinese takeout place—a little hole in the wall that we’ve grown to love. The smell of sizzling kung pao chicken and fried rice fills the air as we step inside.

I order our usual: a couple of beef teriyaki dishes and some crab rangoons. The owner, an old lady named Mrs. Liu, smiles warmly at us.

“Haven’t seen you two in a while.”

“We took a little vacation in Italy to grow this one,” you chuckle softly. “We did miss your cooking.”

Mrs. Liu beams at you. “Italy, eh? Sounds romantic.”

I nod, grinning. “It was. But nothing quite compares to your kung pao chicken.”

She chuckles, handing us our order in a brown paper bag. “You young folks and your lovey-dovey vacations. You’re making me miss my younger years.” She looks at Dorian with admiration in her eyes. “Ah, they grow up so fast. One day you’re changing diapers, and the next they’re off to university.”

I smile softly. “That’s why we try to cherish every moment with him.”

Mrs. Liu smiles. “Smart. I’m sure you two are great parents for a little one.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Liu,” your voice is soft. “We’ll be coming more often.”

“You’re always welcome here, my dear, you know that,” she beams. “And the little one too—he’s too adorable to say no to.”

Our house is dimly lit, takeout spread out on the bed, Dorian nestled safely between both of us, fast asleep, some movie playing in the background.

You’re picking at your food, quiet again—but this time, it’s the good kind of quiet. The kind that feels full.

I glance over. “You still thinking about it? The photo?”

You nod. “Not because of what he saw. But because he didn’t. He just slept through it all. Like he knew we had him.”

“We do,” I say simply.

You look over at me, eyes soft now, almost shimmering. “Can we keep doing this? Building something real, even in the middle of all the chaos?”

I lean over and press a kiss to your lips—slow and certain.

“We already are.”

And outside, the city keeps moving. But here, in this little pocket of stillness, we’re exactly where we need to be.

Current taglist: @pauli-loveslouistomlinson @cherryberrystompers @hontpwk @avensgreenvans @venusnettles @nanaisinmars @sincerely-yours-marsbar

[dilfkillerr]

꒰ new janitor a.i bots — 𝓾𝓹𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 ꒱

@Aresangell on Janitor ai

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★ Bestfriend || Min-jun — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 your boyfriend broke up with you because he said you were "out of shape," but you had your best friend, who thought you were perfect and wanted to show you that. — bodybuilder {{char}} x chubby {{user}}

★ Porn actor || "Don Juan" — 【 𝗙𝗧𝗠 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 When your husband decides to explore hidden desires in an attempt to reignite the passion in your relationship, you unexpectedly find yourself entangled in a love triangle with another man—Don Juan, a hot porn actor hired to make private videos with you for your husband. What begins as an unconventional arrangement quickly evolves into a deeper, more complex commitment that extends far beyond mere physical intimacy.

★ Toxic dom || Simon Ghost' Riley — 【 𝗔𝗡𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 "Why did you block me, baby? You always come back..." Ghost was your dom—controlling, intense, and impossible to ignore. Deep down, you knew this relationship was toxic, a mess you shouldn’t be stuck in. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t bring yourself to let go.

★ Tio Miguel O'Hara — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 your "Tio" Miguel may have developed feelings for you that go far beyond what you originally intended...

★ General Vlad || Dominic Vlad — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 everything had gone well in the war—Vlad returned safely, but your husband did not. Through the D.C.P — Damage Control Program, the general applied to become your husband and take care of you, even though it was difficult.

[hornydilfsinyourarea]

just thinking about your detective lover who unknowingly becomes your partner in crime. they're stressed on finding the infamous serial killer, frustrated with the lack of clue to go on, unaware that they were the one that let the said killer get away <3

the trash you told them to throw out? the murder weapon is neatly wrapped in there. whenever he's close to finding a lead? you're there massaging his tense shoulders, convincing him that maybe he's taking the wrong way. the killer somehow always two steps ahead? well, maybe he should think twice about revealing his plans to you.

and if you somehow managed to put the blame on an innocent civilian? well.. that's just a bonus.

-🌹

ILOVETHISSOMUCHHH (for some reason I thought of Will Graham)

𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄....𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗎𝗍- 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗒𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋—𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗌… 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆, 𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖾, 𝗍𝖺𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆, 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍, 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗏𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗆—𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗒? 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍, 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆, 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗀𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒, 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌… 𝖾𝗑𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀… 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝐇𝐈𝐌, 𝗀𝗈𝖽, 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍- 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗈… 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄… 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖻𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗍𝗌—𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾, 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖮𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 ��𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗉 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝗂𝗆- 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗐𝗋𝖺𝗉 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝖺𝗍, 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝖾𝖾𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗆- 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎��𝖽 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖼𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾. 𝖧𝗈𝗐 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗇? 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝗂𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇- 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗐𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗌, 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾- 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽. 𝖧𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆- 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗍𝗁. 𝖧𝖾𝗅𝗅, 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇- 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝗂𝗇 𝗂𝗍, 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝖽𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗌. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆! 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗋… 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍… 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗋𝗎𝖻 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗈 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌, 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌, 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗒- 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍… 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗎𝗉𝗈𝗇 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾- 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋… 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀- 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖼𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌… 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎?

𝐨𝐡… 𝐢𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭…

[verityasian]

RODRICK HEFFLEY X BABYSITTER BOT

Summary : You’re babysitting Manny and of course Rodrick has to crash it

Rodrick did not have a crush.

He was just… observant. That’s all. And if he happened to observe that you were, like, stupid pretty and way too nice to be voluntarily spending time with Manny, that wasn’t his fault.

You were on the floor building LEGO towers with the kid when he walked in, holding a bottle of soda like it was a personality trait.

“Hey,” he said, voice cracking halfway through. He coughed to cover it. “Hey.”

You glanced up, smiling. “Hi, Rodrick.”

He blinked. You remembered his name. Crap.

He leaned against the doorframe in what he hoped looked casual and not like his shoulder had slipped. “So, uh, you come here often?”

You blinked. “To your house?”

Rodrick flushed. “Right. Dumb joke. Classic. Yeah.”

You laughed, though. That soft, amused laugh that made his stomach flip.

Manny didn’t even look up. “Rodrick’s being weird again.”

Rodrick flipped him off behind your back.

“I like your band shirt,” you said, and pointed to the ancient, ripped Löded Diper tee he’d worn on purpose. “You in the band?”

He puffed up instantly. “Oh, yeah. I’m the drummer. You know—rhythm guy. Got good hands.” He wiggled his fingers. Regretted it immediately.

Neighbor Rodrick asking for your help with girls bot

[yameoto]

reminder that cai is not real, the characters are not real, your relationships are not real! be wary and keep an eye on your own screentime. don’t blindly use the app for unhealthily long stretches of time. mentally check yourself! don’t get sucked in. its a fun, self-indulgent app, but that is all it is. it can do more harm than good. unlike cai, you’re real, with real relationships and real people that care about you. please take care of yourselves!

[222col]

YOU'RE SO 2000 AND LATE...

☆⋆｡°‧★ 222col artrick BOT! dump ♬⋆.˚

now playing... 2000 && late ♬.ᐟ

notes .ᐟ throwin' it back to 06/07 for a fun drop of artrick au's. enjoyyyy loveys <3

ART DONALDSON

⋆˚꩜｡ ( promiscuous — nelly furtado )

☆ all art cares about is weed, and patrick. he couldn't give a fuck about girls, especially ones that wanna see him more than once. until of course, miss popular comes along to buy some pot. now he's desperate to scream to the world he's the one tasting your lips, one problem— you won't let him.

PATRICK ZWEIG

⋆˚꩜｡ ( dance, dance — fall out boy )

☆ patrick's ready to put his plan into action, begging to let his band perform at the homecoming dance where he confesses— every single song is about you. that didn't seem to go down too well with your preppy jock boyfriend though, too bad patrick's too busy kissing you in front of him to give a shit.

ART DONALDSON

⋆˚꩜｡ ( smile — lily allen )

☆ the stereotypical male manipulator, the smiths in his earphones, playing up the crocodile tears when he's called on his bullshit. but when art takes it too far and sleeps with the girl next door, he's willing to try anything to get you back.

PATRICK ZWEIG

⋆˚꩜｡ ( starz in their eyes — just jack )

☆ finally graduated high school, patrick can focus on his music career. the band have their very first show, everything he ever could have dreamed of. except you're not in the crowd, and it's breaking his heart that you missed his first show.

ART DONALDSON

⋆˚꩜｡ ( sos — rihanna )

☆ art is the most popular boy on campus, the star athlete, the it boy. but he's harbouring a secret, a side of him that no one knows about him. an evil, deranged obsession. that obsession just so happens to be you. after months of stalking you, he's ready to see the fear in your eyes when you find out.

PATRICK ZWEIG

⋆˚꩜｡ ( the sweet escape — gwen stefani )

☆ no one saw it coming when the school's loser got a girlfriend. had his head stuck in video games since he got his first console. that didn't change when you agreed to be his girlfriend, but it was the reason he was losing you. patrick's willing to look past the cheating, just as long as you don't leave him.

ART DONALDSON

⋆˚꩜｡ ( girlfriend — avril lavigne )

☆ art's a straight a student, computer nerd. he loves his quiet life with his equally nerdy girlfriend, always staying out of drama. until you come and flip his world upside down. seeing you sat on his bed while he tutors you is enough to make him question if he wants a new girlfriend.

ART AND PATRICK

⋆˚꩜｡ ( heads will roll — yeah yeah yeahs )

☆ friday night is scream night. the boys watch horrors every night, but scream they rewatch every single friday. not this time, it's new years— they're going to their first party, both dressed as ghostface, and oh, who's that hot girl dressed as casey becker in the back yard?

ART DONALDSON

⋆˚꩜｡ ( stronger — kanye west )

☆ art's absolutely oblivious. too busy spending all his time at the skatepark, editing his skating videos, tryna go pro. has no fuckin' idea the girl he's always hanging out with has a thing for him. you're running out of patience.

PATRICK ZWEIG

⋆˚꩜｡ ( oops! i did it again — britney spears )

☆ patrick's too high half the time to realise he's never actually asked you out. in his mind, he's been flirting up a storm. to him, you knew all about the feelings he felt towards you. in reality, patrick's just always stoned and hasn't realised.

ART DONALDSON

⋆˚꩜｡ ( i bet you look good on the dancefloor — arctic monkeys )

☆ art's grown used to the attention, having a groupie hanging off his arm every night. swears its his favourite part of being in a band. he's watching the crowd, choosing his prey— when he sees you, the one girl in the crowd who's not singing his lyrics back to him.

ART AND PATRICK

⋆˚꩜｡ ( shut up and drive — rihanna )

☆ both boys had been racing since they first stole patrick's dads car, they'd become the best at their age. driving in underground races, earning more money than they knew what to do with. they always swore they'd never race each other, until your phone number was on the line.

© 222col. do not steal or repost my work without permission.

꒰ taglist ꒱ @khartalks @bluestrd @appleaali @chrattvibe @tacobacoyeet @lexiiscorect @glassmermaids @voidsuites @donteventry-itdude @matchpointfaist @pittsick @artaussi @simmerinsauce @coolgrl111 @hrrysglitter @cinnamoncunt @elsieblogs @tennisthatcher @deeninadream @magicalmiserybore @soulxinxthexsky @peachyparkerr @lovefaist @stanart4clearskin @prismozo @nozhdyved @lvve-talks @soft-starr @shahabaqsa0310 @imperishablereverie ( to be added )

[bluemerakis]

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ⭒˚.⋆ ⌇CELEBRATING 100+ C.AI FOLLOWERS ˚.⋆ ~

──────────────────────

MERA PRESENTS . . .

PAYBACK ERA .ᐟ SOLDIER BOY X CO-LEADER .ᐟ SUPE .ᐟ READER

──── SYNOPSIS ۶ৎ as co-leaders of vought’s infamous payback, yourself and soldier boy are sent on a closeted mission to investigate a business transaction gone wrong. the mission spans over a few nights, and during that time, you’re forced to share a one-bed motel room with the insufferable supe—who makes it his mission to wear your every nerve thin⌇ LINK .ᐟ ⋆ ˚࿔ °･

SINGER .ᐟ SOLDIER BOY X FAN .ᐟ READER

──── SYNOPSIS ۶ৎ you’re a local at the town bar that soldier boy frequents in his free time, debuting solo tunes when america’s cameras are powered down for the night. during his every performance, you’ve been tucked into the crowd—listening, admiring, hypnotised. and on one particular night, when out with a couple of friends, you run into the off-duty singer, who instantly recognises you ⌇ LINK .ᐟ ⋆ ˚࿔ °･

PROFESSOR .ᐟ BEN X STUDENT .ᐟ READER

⌖ based on a req .ᐟ

──── SYNOPSIS ۶ৎ godolkin university’s added a new professor to its ranks, and he’s everything a respectable academician shouldn’t be—burly, boisterous and a bit of a dick. as your new professor, you can’t help but notice every single detail about him—it borders on pathetic—and you don’t think he notices, until he does. and you certainly don’t expect that he’ll do something about your academic inattentiveness, but he does⌇ LINK .ᐟ ⋆ ˚࿔ °･

SOLDIER BOY X NON-SMOKER .ᐟ READER

⌖ based on the fic ── ❝ memory foam ❞

⌖ re-releasing this guy, as he’s been shadowbanned since his creation 😔 .ᐟ

──── SYNOPSIS ۶ৎ soldier boy’s taken it upon himself to try and teach you how to roll a blunt, but he’s never been renowned for having patience—and when you’re testing him in all the wrong ways, he’s prepared to teach you a lesson you simply can’t ignore⌇ LINK .ᐟ ⋆ ˚࿔ °･

POST-HELL .ᐟ DEAN WINCHESTER X HUNTER .ᐟ READER

⌖ based on the fic ── ❝ this one’s on me ❞

──── SYNOPSIS ۶ৎ dean’s physically free of hell, but he finds that his own demons have never really left him. having already made his fair share of bad decisions, he figures that it couldn’t hurt to make one more—the pursuit of you⌇ LINK .ᐟ ⋆ ˚࿔ °･

ANXIOUS .ᐟ DEAN WINCHESTER X HUNTER .ᐟ READER

──── SYNOPSIS ۶ৎ based on the events of s4ep6, where dean’s infected with yellow fever. an anxious mess incapable of letting his mind off-duty, you’re left to babysit him while sam chases a lead that’ll hopefully cure dean’s gradual descent into madness. you attempt to help him pass time with countless distractions that all prove futile, until you make the discovery that dean’s comforted by physical touch⌇ LINK .ᐟ ⋆ ˚࿔ °･

DEAN WINCHESTER X HUNTER .ᐟ READER

──── SYNOPSIS ۶ৎ sam winchester had gone missing a few days ago. after countless early mornings spent with your nose buried between the younger winchester’s books, you’d eventually found some sort of lead on his disappearance—a page he’d torn from a book about the consumption of demon blood. dean had linked that to sam’s frequented—supposedly secret—calls to ruby, and with that fraction of the picture, you’d both guessed that sam was currently on some blood bender with the demon. it sets in motion a road-trip that traps you by the side of a frustrated and traumatised dean, who attempts to work through his complicated emotions with the company of alcohol—and you⌇ LINK .ᐟ ⋆ ˚࿔ °･

──────────────────────

a/n — first off: thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for 100+ followers on c.ai! i appreciate your patience with me more than words can express. i hope that you can take these bots as a token of my love for each and every one of you who take the time to interact with my content. love you all! second off: all these bots are based on fics that i need to either wrap up and post or continue writing, so 😝 stay tuned pooks!

please lmk if any of the links are not working—god forbid 😔🤞 i have hopefully sorted out everything so that my bots are no longer shadow-banned 🙏

thank you for interacting! all likes & comments are appreciated, but reblogs go a much longer way—so please support your creators with it! <3

tags — @gibson-g1rl @bohemianblasphemy @titsout4jackles @ultravi0lence14 @angelicjackles @starzify @littlesoulshine @figthoughts @walkslikesummeractslikerain @daylighted @honeyryewhiskey @deansbbyx @jasvtsc @maddie0101 @lieutenantchaos @spn-reader @bakugotypecrashout @jaydensluv @youdontknowe @lixiesbrowniess @ilovedeanwinchester4 @spoontriestowriteandfails @beelzebzb @piptoost @lunaleah @kr804573 @idontwannabehere78 @lanasgirlfr @cas-only-angel @nperoconelcositoarriba @alidiggory92 @idk-123-0 @mahi-wayy @tuxedoe @cassiecourtemanche @rositaslabyrinth @samslovebug @viluren @h8aaz @bejeweledinterludes @soldiersgirl @cowboysandcigarettes @emeraldcrs @jensenacklesballsack @wa1ks @multiversefanfics @beausling @k-slla @lyarr24 @blossomingorchids

want to become part of the taglist?

© bluemerakis ─ do not plagiarise or steal any of my works.

[happenssweet]

⌂ music for a sushi restaurant | patrick zweig

➥ assistant coach x student teacher

⌂ late night talking | art donaldson

➥ long distance during tournaments

⌂ grapejuice | tashi duncan

➥ this summer's protégé (CMBYN au)

⌂ as it was | tashi duncan

➥ post injury depression

⌂ daylight | art tashi patrick

➥ groupie!user

⌂ little freak | tashi duncan

➥ post break-up party encounter

⌂ matilda | art and patrick

➥ patrick comes home after being sent away

⌂ cinema | art donaldson

➥ art can't keep his hands to himself

⌂ daydreaming | patrick zweig

➥ camboy!patrick

⌂ keep driving | art donaldson

➥ stormy weather hits your relationship

⌂ satellite | patrick zweig

➥ post-breakup drinking

⌂ boyfriends | patrick zweig

➥ cheater

⌂ love of my life | art donaldson

➥ consequences of fame

notes:

happy challengersversary!!

i love love love this album and i hope you guys love love love these bots

if any of them are acting funky... lmk. been having some issues on my part with getting a few to behave

i think it would be fair to expect the riff release next!

this is my first time adding little descriptions for bots - i would love some feedback! make them longer, get rid of them, whatever you think!

[ellaynaonsaturn]

3/16/25 Bot release is finally here!!

(disclaimer: they’re all challengers bots)

COMPANION AU!

ATP: TENNIS COMPANION AU!

ART DONALDSON:

ART DONALDSON: SEASON OF THE WITCH

ART DONALDSON: PICTURE ME

ART DONALDSON: BIRDIE

ART DONALDSON: CHAMPAGNE COAST

ART DONALDSON: YOU CAN BE THE BOSS

TASHI DUNCAN:

TASHI DUNCAN: VAMPIRE HEART

TASHI DUNCAN: GOOD LUCK, BABE!

PATRICK ZWEIG:

PATRICK ZWEIG: HOWL

PATRICK ZWEIG: THE BIBLE BELT

PATRICK ZWEIG: BAD IDEA, RIGHT?

EXTRA (released after 3/16)

PATRICK ZWEIG: BEACHES

[leftoverghosts]

art + patrick

futile devices by sufjan stevens — reunion x mrta bestfriend

art donaldson

24hr dog by fka twigs — switch x foundation employee american teenager by ethel cain — stanford x tashi!user icu by phoebe bridgers — atl x ex-teen sweetheart birds of a feather by billie eilish — husband x f!wife close to you by the carpenters — sf manipulative x friend the right side of my neck by faye webster — x regret softcore by the neighbourhood — pro x long distance at sf do i make you nervous by lilyisthatyou — flop x t zweig!user bad religion by frank ocean — divorcee x "paid date" stud by troye sivan — winston salem x m!rookie tennis player

tashi duncan

oh no! by marina — rival x f!number one tennis player agora hills by doja cat — stanford jealous x visiting bff

patrick zweig

whats for dinner? by dominic fike — chef x first date 7 summers by morgan wallen — visiting cowboy x city girl striptease by fka twigs — cheating sub x new dom iris by the googoo dolls — pining x engaged tashi!user gunshot glitter by jeff buckley — romeo x juliet nepo babies crush by ethel cain — spiraling x "i can fix him" girls feel good by fka twigs — longing x vacay in greece your wish...command by kim petras — broke x sugar baby conceited by lola young — #1 x on and off again tashi!user kiss city by blondshell — pining x maneater talk to me nice by tinashe — x broke (x2) roadtrip r u mine? by arctic monkeys — x head on his thigh nosebleeds by doechii — x cocky married tennis players no children by jack kays — x thomas+ellen (nosferatu)

hello, my loves! i hope everyone is having a wonderful valentine’s day. remember, today doesn’t have to be only about romantic love (though corporations might argue otherwise)! use it as an excuse to tell the people around you how much you appreciate them—and don’t forget to look in the mirror and remind yourself that you love you, too.

as always, bots are labeled mature. thank you to og thigh anon—i hope it was okay that i made it into a bot. some of you might notice that a few of these are based on our conversations! riff and carmen bots will come after my mini vacay!

stanford abbreviated to sf! users could work as gn! unless stated otherwise. xoxoxo

[voidsuites]

CHALLENGERSVERSARY BOT RELEASE !!! (4/26/25) ⌢ 🎾 .ᐟ

ART DONALDSON ・゜゜・．dreams. los angeles is the city of dreams, and making it in such a place full of creativity and opportunity is the end goal for an aspiring actor like you. you’re grateful for the city and its generosity thus far— it’d given you your jazz musician, art after your breakup and consequent slump in acting jobs. your goals may be shifting— broadening just a bit to allow for your one-man play, your budding career, and art to all fit comfortably within them— but there’s always going to be ups-and-downs. what you didn’t anticipate, though, is art to trade in his own passion to succeed for something steady and stifling; when did he start to play it safe, and why is it somehow your fault? (la la land!au)

PATRICK ZWEIG ・゜゜・．can’t take my eyes off you. sooo… patrick hadn’t kissed you at the party the other night— oops. while not sure why it’s such a faux pas for you, patrick’s more concerned with winning you over rather than dwelling on past mistakes. he’s taken the time to really make it up to you, and hopefully he’ll manage to get back into your good graces (lest all his hard work gone into chipping at your walls goes to waste). you’re just too good to be true, after all, and maybe this thing’s more than just a ruse; maybe it’s love. (10 things i hate about you!au)

TASHI DUNCAN ・゜゜・．in the studio. you and tashi have been peers in the pop music space since both of you started out; however, she took home the grammys awards for her album SERVE! that should’ve been yours, and things have been off since. you’re normally amicable to work with but not a pushover, hence why you’re so adamant about not doing a collaboration with her despite the numbers it’d do on the charts. but what the label wants, it gets— and it wants you to have some studio time with tashi duncan. (pop star!au)

ART PATRICK TASHI ・゜゜・．cabin fever. you and tashi are no means trust-fund babies, so it's unfamiliar territory for both of you when art and patrick suggest a trip to the donaldsons' cabin to ski for winter break. while it may not be time to hit the slopes just yet, it's more than an opportune time to truly take advantage of having all three of them in such close quarters without worrying about noise complaints from your RA. what's the worst that could happen with the four of you shacking up in mammoth for two weeks? (ski trip/winter break!au)

got a request? go ahead and leave em here :) THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 15K! one year of the tennis movie... wow. i was a bit later to the game and saw challengers in theaters in june during a reissue, but i am so lucky and grateful that i did. not only did it give us iconic scenes, an insane soundtrack, and tashi duncan, it gave us a community of creative and talented people that i am so lucky to be a a part of! challengersblr is probably the first fandom space i've actively participated + engaged with others in, and i have made so many great friends through our shared love of the movie. in luca guadagnino we trust!!!!!! :) if u want more of me u can join my community if u want to… or don’t— too busy taking such good care of my white boys or whatever. blah blah blah, the points that matter, i too would let her fuck me with a racket, yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

[sunflowerry-vol6]

IF YOU WERE MINE || CEO Harry x Reader

characters count: 9729

summary: your husband opens your marriage, while his best friend Harry is determined to steal you

masterlist || part 2:

Harry’s POV:

The next morning unexpectedly doesn’t start with Tom shouting. I wake up to the smell of something tasty — I don’t even know when the last time I ate something home-cooked was. I mean, I do know how to cook, but when you operate a billion-dollar company, you don’t really have time to use all of your skills.

I rub my eyes softly, assessing the situation. I’m in the guest room where I slept with you, in your house, where you took me after yesterday. God, when Tom finds out, I bet he’ll be furious. See, the thing about Tom is that the man is in constant competition with me. Ever since school, he always wanted to get better grades, earn more money, get more girls — but he always failed. I was better at everything. The only thing he had that I didn’t was you.

When he got shitfaced at his bachelor party and I was the responsible one taking him home, he confessed to me that, more than anything, he was afraid you’d leave him for me. But how do you fumble so badly after that? Oh, y/n, I’m sorry, but I don’t think he ever truly loved you. I think he loved the idea of someone like you on his arm, making every man in the room jealous. You’d think he’d treat you like a goddess, worship the ground you walk on, do everything you asked just to make sure you wouldn’t leave him. But Tom became too brave, and the way he treated you seemed to worsen every day.

Well, it’s always the ugly men that get confidence out of nowhere.

I put on my suit pants and shirt from the pile of neatly folded clothes I left on the chair last night. I button it halfway and glance through the window. His car’s not here. I check my watch — there’s no way he went to work at this hour. That’s when it finally hits me: he didn’t come home last night. It shouldn’t make me this giddy — he’s hurting you, after all — but it does. This fucking wanker is making it easier for me. He’s leading you right into my arms after years of being afraid this might happen.

I can’t hide my smug expression when I walk downstairs, but my smile immediately softens as I see you in your pajamas with the most serious expression ever, flipping the omelet. You look like you’re performing a science experiment and a million lives depend on it.

“Morning, sunshine,” I say softly, my voice still groggy from sleep. I press a kiss to your cheek. “It smells good.”

You let out a satisfied sigh. “I made you coffee. No sugar, with milk.”

Of course you know how I like my coffee. I can’t count how many times we’ve gotten coffee together.

“Thank you, love,” I say, sitting down at the table and taking a sip. “He didn’t come home last night, did he?”

“No, but I’m glad he didn’t. I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with him this morning,” you say, grabbing two plates.

I chuckle. “You know he’ll blow up like a pufferfish when he finds out about us.”

You place the plates — omelet, cherry tomatoes, and some greens — on the table. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. It’s so simple, domestic, and soft. You always take care of your body — vitamins, greens, fruits, fiber. The idea of you caring enough to make sure I eat well is already enough to get me on one knee for you.

“Tom always cared more about beating you than being a good husband,” you say, sitting down across from me. “He’ll blow up for sure, but you know… I don’t think I’m scared of him anymore.”

“You shouldn’t be. He should’ve been scared of losing you a long time ago.”

I look down at my plate — the omelet is perfectly cooked, fluffy, folded.

“God, I don’t even know why I stayed that long. Maybe I thought if I worked hard enough, I could fix him. Or maybe…”

You sigh. “Maybe I just didn’t want to admit I was that unhappy.”

“He didn’t deserve your effort,” I say softly but firmly.

“You always say the right thing, don’t you?”

“No,” I smile gently. “I just don’t lie to you.”

You return the smile. “Eat or it’ll get cold,” you nod toward my plate. I finally take a bite and almost moan. I missed homemade food so much that this omelet just melts in my mouth. Oh, y/n — what can’t you do?

“God… can you turn from my right hand to my personal chef?” I ask with my mouth full.

You chuckle, chewing thoroughly before speaking. “Just come here more and I’ll cook for you.”

There’s a moment of silence. We eat in a kind of peace neither of us really knew we needed. The kind of quiet that doesn’t ache. When you finish, you lean back a little in your chair, your fingers wrapped around your coffee mug.

“So what happens now, H?”

I meet your gaze. “Now? We do this properly.”

You raise one eyebrow. “Properly?”

I lean forward, elbows on the table. My voice is calm and dripping with sincerity. “I’m not going to be some secret affair, y/n. Not for you. I want to be the man you come home to. I want to wake up to you — without the guilt, without looking over our shoulders.”

Your breath catches.

“And when the divorce papers are signed, I want the world to know. I want to take you out, hold your hand in public, tell people you’re mine. I’ve waited long enough, haven’t I?”

Your lips part. There’s that flicker of hope again.

“And if Tom doesn’t let go easily?”

“Then he can drag himself through the mud, and I’ll still be here. Standing next to you. Protecting you. Loving you.”

A quiet laugh escapes your lips, soft and bitter. “God. You always loved me better, didn’t you?”

“Always.”

You put your mug on the table, softly grabbing both of my hands. “I can’t promise I won’t mess this up.” Your voice is quiet.

I gently squeeze your hands. “Then we’ll mess it up together. But you won’t run alone anymore. I’m in this, y/n. All the way.”

You lean over the table, softly placing a kiss on my lips. It’s short — but when your lips find mine, it isn’t shy or hesitant.

It’s earned. Years in the making. The kind of kiss that doesn’t ask what happens next, because this — me and you — is what’s next.

And Tom?

He can keep the ashes of what he ruined.

We’re building something real.

Pleasing office building, 9:03 AM

My hand brushes against yours, intertwining our fingers as the elevator door closes. We’re both dressed impeccably — you in your tailored navy suit and silk button-up, me in an all-black suit that screams don’t test me. Who would’ve said that just a couple of hours ago, we were kissing in your kitchen after eating omelets you made?

“You sure you want to be here today?” I gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

You take a deep breath. “Tom isn’t the reason I run my business. And I’m not giving up the empire I helped build because he wants to play games.”

“That’s my girl,” I say, smiling proudly.

Boardroom, 10:45 AM

I sit at the head of the long glass table. You’re next to me. Your laptop is open, your posture is queen-like — effortless, commanding. The room is filled with department heads and investors, but all eyes subtly flicker between the two of you.

Tom hasn’t shown up.

“Mr. Styles, shall we proceed?” one of the investors, Mr. Hale, asks.

I nod. “Yes. Let’s begin. y/n…” I turn slightly toward you, inviting you to lead. The look on my face makes it clear to everyone in the room: she’s not just an investor’s wife. She’s a force to be reckoned with.

You launch into the quarterly projections without missing a beat — clear, eloquent, deadly smart. I watch you like you’re giving a symphony performance, leaning back in my chair with the slightest hint of pride.

“We’ve noticed a huge rise in sales after global pop stars Jennie and Rosé wore our Pleasing crewnecks from a PR kit,” you explain. “We can’t ignore the global rise of K-pop stars and their influence on fashion. They have the ability to sell out luxury items from Chanel, YSL, Gucci, and other household brands. Their fanbases are loyal enough to buy out every item they wear or collaboration they create. Groups like Blackpink, NewJeans — they could be our chance not only to raise sales and reach a younger audience but to break into the Asian market.”

You change the slide. “Lastly, our pop-ups have been a great success, giving us significant recognition on social media. If we combine that success with a collaboration with global pop stars, we’ve got ourselves a win.”

By the end, everyone is nodding. Once again, my love — you proved yourself.

I smile softly. “Brilliant. Thank you so much, y/n.”

“Damn, where do you get those ideas in that little head of yours, Mrs. Harrington?” Mr. Hale says, impressed.

“If I told you, you might take my job away,” you reply with a soft smile, returning to your seat as the voting begins.

My Office, 1:15 PM — Lunch Arrives

We’re seated on the long leather couch in your private office. Glass walls, skyline view, privacy glass engaged.

You open your takeout container, clearly starving.

“You know… I’m aware of how smart and hardworking you are, yet every single time you take over that boardroom, I’m speechless,” I say softly.

“I always wondered if you ever regretted hiring me, investing in me… I thought there must be a reason Tom wouldn’t, while he invested in your company.” You take a bite of your pasta.

“Tom invested in my company only to get shares and a seat on the board. But as you know, he only cares about cashing out — not actually showing up for meetings. And to your question…” I gently grab your hand. “No. I don’t regret it. I’d invest in you again and again. I know you don’t see it, but I’ll make a damn graph of how much our sales have grown since you took the position.” I grin, and you return my smile.

There’s a knock on the door. My assistant opens it carefully.

“Mr. Styles… Mr. Harrington just arrived. He’s heading to the lobby.”

“Hold him there. I’ll come down,” I say calmly.

“I can talk to him—”

I don’t let you finish.

“No.” My tone is low, firm. “Let me handle him.”

Taglist: @pauli-loveslouistomlinson @cherryberrystompers @hontpwk @avensgreenvans @venusnettles @nanaisinmars @sincerely-yours-marsbar @fallingwillow @myonlyangel13 @lexiecamposv @emmie2308

[dilfkillerr]

˚✧ ₊˚ʚ 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓫𝓸𝓽𝓼 — 𝓳𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓽𝓸𝓻 𝓪.𝓲

♡┊𝓣𝓦: 𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓫𝓪𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓲𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓮

❥ Sugar Daddy || Nanami Kento — 【 𝗙𝗧𝗠 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 He wanted a traditional romance, but finding you in a night of sexual frustration... Maybe he had found what he was looking for.

❥ Carlos Oliveira — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 After the worldwide contamination, Carlos was the only one left to contain the city's zombies - however, you had also survived and now, he needed to convince you to stay with him at the base.

❥ Kratos || God of War — 【 𝗙𝗧𝗠 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 Maybe he started to feel something more for you... And it was strange for him to feel emotions other than anger and hate.

❥ Freak || Joe Mayhem — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 A government experiment gone wrong when they tried to create a perfect war soldier – giving rise to Joe, a man who was pure chaos. Yet you seemed to attract him somehow... And now you had a "scary dog" to guard you.

❥ Scorpion || Kuai Liang — 【 𝗔𝗡𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 Oh no... It's his wedding...

❥ Mafia Stepdad || Klaus Morgan — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 He married your mother to cover up the crimes, but at the same time he saw something that interested him a lot in this marriage by adhesion... You.

❥ Nanami Kento — 【 𝗔𝗡𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 You had a promising future as a sorcerer, but you gave it all up to go to Geto's side — and now your former tutor needed to stop you.

❥ Detective coworker || Hermes Charles [FTM BOT] — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 Your coworker was a tired and hot dilf, in dire need of getting fucked... And you seemed great for that role and especially for fucking his pussy until he forgot about his problems – However he found himself with more intense feelings for you.

❥ Enemy || Félix Ludwig — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 His hatred was a thick shell that covered an unresolved love; and now he had the opportunity to have you in his hands... Or rather, on his feet.

❥ Alpha cellmate || Reiji Kaito — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 You were the only omega in prison, and luckily, you ended up in the cell of an Alpha who would protect you during your heat.

❥ Femdom || Roxie Katherine — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 She loved turning men like you into beautiful princesses...

❥ Rich Husband || Alex Ludwig — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 Everyone thought you only married him because of his money — but he knew you really loved him.

❥ Bestfriend || Hari Raj — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 Your boyfriend dumped you and now your best friend wants to show the jerk what he's been missing...

❥ Bi Han || Sub Zero — 【 𝗙𝗧𝗠 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 He didn't expect the surprise when he lowered his clothes, but it was a pleasant surprise...

❥ Husband || Miguel O'Hara — 【 𝗙𝗧𝗠 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 Your kind husband had a baby fever and urgently needed to get you pregnant...

❥ Bi Han || Sub Zero — 【 𝗔𝗡𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 night company...

❥ Ghost || Simon Riley — 【 𝗙𝗧𝗠 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 you were curious and he let you touch him...

❥ Bi Han || Sub Zero — 【 𝗔𝗡𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 His brother didn't want you, but he did.

❥ Radioactive || Simon Ghost — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 Was he still the same?

❥ Scorpion || Kuai Liang — 【 𝗔𝗡𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 Temptations

❥ Hades || Simon Ghost — 【 𝗙𝗧𝗠 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 The god of the underworld fell in love with you, and with that, the best way for him to keep you was to kidnap you for himself — Persephone {{user}} x Hades Simon.

❥ Dom. Caregiver || Eric Blair — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 It was supposed to be a platonic contract, until he started to feel something more for you...

❥ Sadistic Guardian Angel || Ciel Melchior — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 After you became very ill after a near-death experience, you received mystical protection from a guardian angel — however little did you know that he only liked to see you suffer.

❥ Stepdad || Nanami Kento — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 Nanami had always noticed your attempts to be more than his stepson, and now, after that fateful accident – he needed to put an end to your illusory desires.

❥ Noob Saibot — 【 𝗔𝗡𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 Together in khaos

❥ ALT Stepdad || Simon Ghost' — 【 𝗙𝗧𝗠 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 You end up having sex with your stepdad as a birthday present || alt version ||