#so fun to draw and it's easy when he's standing right there

[colouredbyd]

excessively obsessed

poly!marauders x reader

summary: during a sunny pool day with your boyfriends, a few careless words from nearby girls leave you spiraling into body insecurities; questioning whether your body is worthy of being seen beside theirs. doubt creeps in, making you want to stay out of the water entirely.

warnings: body image issues, fatphobia (overheard), chubby reader, self-esteem struggles, suggestive flirting, insecurity about weight and appearance, affectionate physical touch, comfort after distress, emotional vulnerability, hurt/comfort, reader cries, mentions of comparison to others, heavy self-doubt, fluff ending.

word count: 4.1k masterlist

“I’m not going in, James.”

Your voice is light, almost casual, but there is a quiet firmness beneath it. James pauses where he stands, sunlight glinting across his chest in shifting patterns. 

His curls hang damp over his forehead, clinging in loose, unruly strands. He blinks once, watching you, and then his mouth curves into that familiar grin — the kind of smile that always manages to hold just enough trouble in it to make your chest ache.

“Not even a little?” he asks, tilting his head with a hopeful glint in his eye. “You don’t even have to swim. You could just sit on the steps with me. I’ll behave. No splashing, I swear.”

You lift an eyebrow, unimpressed. “James, that might be the worst lie I’ve ever heard.”

He laughs, not bothering to deny it. “Alright, maybe a few splashes, but only the polite kind. Nothing aggressive, sweetheart.”

You shake your head, fingers tightening slightly on the edges of your towel. “I don’t think I’m up for it right now. I just want to sit for a bit.”

He watches you for a moment, then gives a small nod, slower this time. “That’s fine. No pressure. I thought maybe I’d lift you in, just for fun, but if you’re not up for it—”

“I don’t want to be carried,” you interrupt, and though you try to keep your voice even, it comes out sharper than you intended. 

James steps closer, out of the pool now, wet footprints left behind on the tiles. “Okay,” he says again. “I hear you. I just thought… you know, it might be fun.”

“I know,” you say, voice softer now. “It’s just… not today.”

He studies your face for a quiet moment, his gaze softening with something unspoken, then leans in and presses a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

His voice is low, kind, full of ease. “You don’t have to explain anything. I’ll go bother Sirius for a bit. He gets grumpy when I’m too quiet anyway.”

And just like that, he lets it go.

You sit back on the lounge chair, towel still firmly wrapped around you despite the sun warming everything in sight. 

Sirius and Remus had gone off in search of something cold — slushies, probably, or some novelty ice creams from the café nearby. 

They’d offered to bring back whatever you wanted, but you’d waved them off with a smile and a vague excuse about not being hungry. 

You’d told them you were just going to tan a little, enjoy the quiet.

And now, here you are.

You pull your sunglasses down over your eyes and try not to keep watching James as he dives back into the pool. 

He slices through the water like he was born in it, easy, confident, laughing as Sirius tries to dunk him under. 

You know that laugh — open and unguarded, his favourite one — and you know the way it makes people look at him. He draws attention like a flame does moths.

You notice the girls long before they pass by.

They are beautiful. Effortlessly so. Legs like illustrations, hair still sleek despite the humidity. 

Their swimsuits are bold, the kind that cling in all the right places, and their laughter is low and liquid as they stroll past you in a slow, perfect formation. 

You do not look at them directly, but you see everything (as if they have kept anything left for the imagination, anyway)

You see the way their eyes catch on James. You see the flicker of confusion when he stops at your chair again, water dripping from his chest as he grabs your bottle without asking, takes a sip, and leans down to kiss your cheek with an ease that’s nothing new but still feels like something not everyone is meant to see.

“You sure you don’t want anything?” he asks, wiping his mouth on his shoulder.

“I’m good,” you say, voice even.

He nods once, then jogs back to the pool, muscles shifting under his skin like he’s been carved out of some better mythology than yours.

The girls walk past right after. Not in a hurry, but not idly either. 

As if they’ve timed it deliberately, as if they want you to hear every word.

“I mean, opposites attract, I guess,” one of them murmurs, just loud enough to carry. Her tone is light, amused, like this is a joke she expects you to be in on.

“I still don’t get it,” the second one says. “He could have literally anyone, and he’s with her?”

The other snickers quietly, glancing over with a pointed look. “Exactly. I mean, look at her body.”

You stay very, very still.

Your stomach knots, pulling tight under the towel. You sit there with your knees drawn in, your sunglasses hiding your eyes, your hands clenched slightly in the terry cloth like you could disappear into it if you tried hard enough.

The laughter fades as they move further down the path, already on to the next topic, the next judgment. 

You sit motionless until it fades entirely. Then, finally, you take a breath.

You look toward the water, where James is now being dragged into some ridiculous splash battle between Sirius and a laughing Remus, all of them completely unaware.

You keep your face carefully blank, your body still beneath the towel. But your eyes drop slowly to your thighs, the curve of them pressed together in your seated position, the way your swimsuit clings no matter how you adjust it. 

You become acutely aware of the way your swimsuit cuts into the softest parts of you — the fold at your stomach that deepens whenever you shift, the way your thighs press together with no space between them, the curve of your hips that never quite settles comfortably into these plastic chairs. 

The fabric clings too closely. Every inch of your skin feels exposed in the sharp heat of the sun, and for a moment, you are no longer a girl sitting by the pool with people she loves. 

You are only a body, one you have spent years trying not to shrink from in the mirror, now laid bare beneath the gaze of the world.

Your hand reaches for the towel beside you — you think it is Remus’s — and it smells faintly like him, like clean cotton and something subtle and steady. 

You fold it quickly, roll it once, and place it across your lap. Your arms follow, crossing over it as though casually, as though the weight of your own body is not pressing down on your thoughts like a stone. 

You pretend it is for comfort. You pretend you are simply cold. But the truth is simpler and crueler: you cannot bear the sight of your stomach folded the way it always does when you sit, or the way your thighs spill over the edge of the chair.

Your mind keeps on spinning.

You wonder, not for the first time, how it looks to other people.

The contrast between James and you. Between Sirius’s long limbs and your softer edges. Between Remus’s slender elegance and the way your swimsuit cuts at your thighs when you sit too long in one position. 

You know what you look like. You know you are not the sort people glance at once and then again. Not the kind that girls whisper about in hallways with envy in their tone. 

And today, under this sun, in this moment, you are so painfully aware of it you could scream.

And you hope, desperately and quietly, that no one is looking.

You are still lost in your thoughts when a shadow falls over you. Soft and familiar. You blink up quickly.

“Love?”

Remus’s voice breaks gently through the haze. He is holding a cherry slushie in one hand, two paper straws already pushed through the lid. 

His brow is furrowed, not in frustration but in quiet concern. He crouches slightly beside the chair, hand brushing lightly against your knee.

“Love, I’ve said your name three times. Are you alright?”

You sit up a little straighter, startled. “Oh. Sorry. I— I didn’t hear you.”

He smiles, soft and unconvinced. “That’s alright, dovey. Just didn’t want you to think we’d all vanished on you.”

You manage a small smile, trying not to let your eyes linger on the girls now sunbathing at the far edge of the pool. 

Remus follows your gaze for a moment before sitting down on the lounge chair beside yours. His eyes land on the towel in your lap.

“Mind if I take that?” he asks, motioning toward it. “Left mine by the vending machine like a complete idiot.”

You hesitate.

And he notices. Of course he notices. You pass it to him slowly, and the absence of it feels somehow louder than its presence. 

Your arms fold instinctively across your stomach in its place. Your eyes drop again, and this time, he does not look away.

“What is going on in that head of yours?”

You shake your head. “Nothing.”

“You know I do not believe you.”

You laugh, but it does not reach your eyes. “You’re poop relentless, you know that?”

“I’ve been told. Usually by Sirius when I force him to eat breakfast like a functioning human being.”

You glance at him sidelong, but he is already watching you. His eyes are soft, but there is something steely beneath the concern. 

He knows you are not yourself. He knows how to wait.

“I’m fine,” you say eventually, quietly. “I’m just tired.”

“You’re not just tired,” he says softly, watching you carefully. “You’re overthinking everything. You haven’t laughed once since we got here, barely touched your slushie, and earlier, when James kissed you, you looked like you wanted to disappear.”

Your throat tightens. You glance away.

Remus reaches out and gently touches your arm.

“You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to,” he says softly. “But something is hurting, and I do not like watching you pretend it isn’t.”

The tears come faster than you expect. You try to blink them back, try to keep your expression steady, but one slips free before you can stop it.

And of course he sees. Remus always sees. Without hesitation, he shifts closer, his touch gentle as his hand finds the back of your neck, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin like he is afraid you might break if he presses too firmly.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice lower now, warm and careful. “Please do not hide from me like that. If something is hurting you, I want to know. You do not have to pretend with me, not now, not ever.”

You shake your head, swallowing hard as your eyes drop to your lap again. “Please don’t turn this into something. I can’t— I don’t want to make it into some big dramatic moment. I’m fine. Really. I’m just being ridiculous.”

Remus exhales, slow and measured, his thumb brushing gently beneath your eye where the tear had fallen. He does not look frustrated or doubtful. He only looks like someone who loves you more than he knows how to say.

“You are never ridiculous, dovey,” he says at last, with such quiet conviction it almost undoes you.

“And even if you were, even if none of this made sense to anyone else in the world, it would still matter to me because it matters to you. I am not here to push or prod or force anything out of you. I just want you to know that whatever this is — whatever you’re feeling — you do not have to carry it alone.”

You look at him for a long moment.

Then you lean into him, and he wraps his arms around you without hesitation. He holds you like you are allowed to fall apart and still be beautiful.

He simply stays, warm and steady beside you, while your thoughts slowly untangle themselves beneath the weight of his silence.

Then, voices break the silence.

You hear James first, louder than the rest, calling something to Sirius about a missed dive. Then Sirius responds with something unrepeatable that makes James nearly choke on his laughter. 

You shift instinctively. One hand comes up to your face, quick and practiced, wiping under your eyes before the tears can fully betray you. 

You sit up straighter, forcing a breath deep into your lungs, steadying yourself. 

Remus notices but does not comment. He only releases you slowly, giving you the space you pretend you do not need.

James rounds the corner first, shirtless, water gleaming across his chest, hair dripping into his eyes. Sirius follows behind him, equally soaked.

When their eyes land on you, both of them pause — not long— but long enough for you to know they’ve noticed. Your cheeks still burn. Your eyes, still faintly red, give you away.

But neither of them says a word.

“Remus, you’re not hoarding all the attention again, are you?” Sirius calls as he drops onto the edge of the lounge chair beside you, water pooling around his ankles. “That’s not very nice.”

James offers you the lemonade, then leans over to kiss your temple with a familiar kind of affection that makes your stomach ache in the gentlest way. “You doing alright, sweetheart?”

You nod, offering him a smile you hope looks real. “Yeah, just warm.”

He doesn’t press, though his eyes search your face for a second longer than usual. Then he settles back, sipping his drink, still watching you.

Sirius narrows his eyes at you playfully. “You’ve been out here for an hour without even dipping your toes in. That’s odd.”

“I don’t know,” you say. “I just—”

“No excuses,” James cuts in, standing beside Sirius now, both of them towering over you with damp hair and bare chests. “You love the water.”

You sigh with mock defeat and take Sirius’s hand. “Fine, but if you splash me, I’m going back to Remus.”

“I would never,” Sirius says, utterly insincere.

“Neither would I,” James adds, already smiling too widely.

They guide you toward the pool, their fingers laced through yours like they’ve done it a thousand times. 

The water sparkles beneath the light, impossibly blue. Your heart thuds as you approach the edge.

“I swear,” you say, laughing, “if either of you tries to throw me in—”

“You say that like it’s not exactly what’s about to happen,” Sirius grins, already positioning himself behind you.

James moves to your side, arms slightly raised like he is preparing for liftoff. “We’re going in together.”

Panic flickers in your chest, warm and sudden. You pull back instinctively, stepping quickly toward Remus, holding your hands up.

“No, no, wait. You cannot throw me in.”

Sirius stops in place, blinking at you. “Why not?”

You hesitate, biting the inside of your cheek. Then the words tumble out before you can stop them, too fast, too soft.

“Because I’m too heavy.”

There is a moment of silence. Complete, uncanny, and still.

James’s head turns toward you slowly, his brows together. “What?”

Sirius’s face falls from teasing to stunned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

You try to laugh it off, but your smile cracks at the corners. “I just meant— it wouldn’t work. It’d be awkward. I’m not— built like that.”

James steps forward immediately, his voice lower now, serious in a way he almost never is. “You think I couldn’t carry you?”

“I didn’t mean it like—”

James furrows his brow, stepping even closer until the sun glints off the water droplets still clinging to his chest. His voice is quieter now, but there is something incredulous beneath it, something a little wounded by the suggestion alone.

“Wait, I do not understand. Are you saying you think I cannot carry you?”

You glance away, embarrassment prickling hot beneath your skin, but he does not give you space to deflect. He reaches out, fingertips brushing your wrist, grounding you in a way only James can.

“Sweetheart,” he says, as if the very word might soften the weight of everything swirling behind your eyes, “I can bench press two hundred and fifty pounds, easily, and without breaking a sweat. You think I could not carry you?” He shakes his head, baffled. “You think that would even come close to hard for me?”

You open your mouth, then close it again. “It’s not that,” you murmur. “I just— I don’t know.”

Sirius steps closer now, no longer laughing, no longer playful. His tone has changed entirely. “What is it, love?” he asks, voice low and gentle in a way that somehow still commands all your attention. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Your breath shudders as you try to hold it back, but you cannot. The words slip out before you have a chance to control them.

“I just don’t feel like I… belong next to you.”

Both boys freeze. The air stills with them.

You keep going, because now that it has started, it will not stop.

“I mean look at you. All of you. James with his stupid perfect body and stupid golden tan and those ridiculous muscles, and Sirius with his cheekbones and abs that makes people stare even when he’s not trying. And then there’s me.”

James blinks, almost as if the words stun him like a spell.

Sirius just moves without hesitation.

“No,” he says, firm and immediate. “Absolutely not.”

James shakes his head slowly. “Baby, no. That is not— that has never been how we see you. Never.”

“I do not care what they see,” Sirius adds, voice rising slightly with emotion. “I care what you feel, and if you feel like we would ever be ashamed of you— if you think for even a second that your body makes you any less worthy of being loved out loud, then we have clearly failed you in ways I cannot stomach.”

James nods, eyes never leaving yours. “And if I have to spend every second of every day reminding you that I am in love with every part of you, I will. Every curve, every inch, every bit of skin you try to hide from the sun. I want all of it.”

You stare at them, throat tight, heart stumbling. Sirius moves first, wrapping one arm loosely around your waist, his palm warm and solid.

“I don’t ever want to hear you talk about yourself like that again,” he says. “Because you are ours, and you are stunning. Do you understand me, love?”

You nod, a little shakily.

James grins suddenly, eyes gleaming with something warmer now, lighter.

“Alright,” he says, tilting his head. “Let me prove it.”

You blink. “What?”

“I think it’s time for a demonstration.” He crouches slightly, wiggling his fingers with a grin that spells nothing but trouble. “You want to know if I can carry you?”

Your eyes go wide. “James. No.”

His grin only widens. “James, yes.”

“Don’t you dare—”

“Oh, I dare.”

Before you can properly scramble away, he hooks one arm under your thighs and the other around your back. 

You shriek, laughing, half-panicked, half-thrilled as he lifts you clean off the ground like you weigh nothing at all.

“No. No, no, no,” you cry out, kicking your feet gently as Sirius laughs and Remus watches from the patio with an amused, indulgent expression.

James turns toward the pool. “Say the magic word.”

“Put me down!”

“Wrong word.”

“James!”

He does not wait another second, he tosses you into the pool.

The water swallows you with a splash, cool and sudden and clean. You resurface with a gasp and a laugh already building in your throat, hair plastered to your face, your heart thudding with something that feels dangerously close to joy.

James jumps in right after you, surfacing beside you with a triumphant grin. He swims closer, gathering you into his arms.

“Still think I cannot carry you?” he whispers, water dripping from his lashes, his smile soft now, not teasing anymore.

You press your forehead against his, eyes closing, and for a moment the entire world is just this. His arms, the warmth of his chest, the echo of Sirius’s laughter as he dives in after you with remus pulled in forcefully into the pool.

Their warmth suddenly surrounds you before you even realize it. Sirius’s hands at your waist. Remus’s breath soft against your shoulder. James’s arms still cradling your legs as the water sways around you like a second heartbeat. 

You feel them everywhere — soft kisses pressing against your cheeks, your collarbone, your neck, the slope of your shoulder.

It is overwhelming, and somehow exactly what you’ve always needed.

Sirius kisses the spot just below your ear, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

Remus trails a line of kisses along your upper arm, and James, still holding you with effortless strength, presses one to your jaw that lingers too long to be innocent.

“Wait,” you murmur, your voice catching somewhere between a laugh and a plea. “We’re in the pool, people can see us.”

James leans in close again, and when he speaks, it is hoarse and raspy, quieter than everything else.

“We will show you later at home how good you feel,” he murmurs. 

And just like that, you feel your swimsuit grow damp with something slick and warm, your knees nearly giving out — if not for Sirius’s steady hold on you.

Remus’s low laugh rumbles from beside you, warm and fond and unmistakably amused.

“Will you two stop flustering her?” he says, voice soft with that familiar edge of mischief only he manages. “You’re going to make her combust.”

Before you can reply, Sirius swims up beside you with a splash, shaking the water from his hair with a grin that feels entirely too proud of itself. 

He loops his arms loosely around your waist, leaning in just enough for his breath to brush against your ear.

“Well, she happens to be my prettiest girl,” he murmurs, lips brushing the sensitive spot just below your jaw. “So it is only fair we worship her properly.”

You let out a noise of protest, half-gasp, half-laugh, and try to wriggle free, but his grip is loose and playful, more affection than restraint. 

James shifts closer on your other side, still dripping from the water, that boyish glint in his eyes now softened into something quieter.

“Can’t believe we’re being told off for loving our girl too much,” James says, dramatically offended. “Tragic, really.”

“Tragic,” Sirius echoes solemnly, though the corner of his mouth twitches.

Shrieks of laughter escape you as cold splashes hit your skin from either side, the water catching you off guard. James and Sirius are both grinning like mischief incarnate, flicking handfuls of water your way.

You try to shield yourself, sputtering through giggles, but they only splash harder, the water catching in your hair, across your shoulders, trailing down your back.

“No, stop— stop, I mean it— oww, James, that splash got in my eye,” you squeal, swatting at him. “You’re both ridiculous!”

And then you’re slipping away from them with a shriek, swimming toward the other end of the pool where Remus waits, smirking and entirely too pleased with himself. 

You wrap your arms around his neck as you reach him, letting yourself rest against his chest with a mock pout.

“Remmy,” you whine, voice sweet and with a pout that Remus cannot resist, you murmur. “Protect me. James and Sirius are trying to drown me.”

Remus chuckles, his arms coming around your waist with ease. He presses a kiss to your temple, then another to your cheek, and rests his chin lightly on your head.

“I think you secretly like it,” he murmurs.

You bury your face in his shoulder to hide the way your smile stretches too wide for your face. “Maybe, but you still have to save me.”

Behind you, James is dramatically paddling closer. “Oi, that’s not fair, you cannot just swim off to Moony!”

“I can and I did,” you declare, tightening your grip on Remus with faux determination. “Remus loves me more. He’s my safe place.”

Sirius floats up beside James. “We all love you, sweetheart. Which is precisely why we’re not letting you off the hook for saying you couldn’t be carried.”

“You’re lucky you’re charming,” you say quietly, your cheeks warming more than you’d like to admit.

Sirius smirks. “And you’re lucky we’re excessively obsessed.”

The moment settles gently around you, light and warm, flowing with effortless ease.

Remus holds you steady in the water as James closes the gap and kisses your forehead, soft and lingering. 

Their touches are not rushed or urgent — just quiet reminders that you are loved, and known, and wanted exactly as you are.

After a long pause Remus’s voice breaks the silence tender and sure “I hope you know there is no version of you that we would not love none at all not ever.”

He tightens his hold, his hand resting gently on your stomach. In that simple touch you find something rare—a quiet certainty that your body is seen, held, and loved just as it is.

Looking at the other girls in their flawless bikinis no longer brings doubt or unease. Because deep inside, you know it is this body, your body, that has captured the hearts of these boys completely. 

It is only you they love, fully and without hesitation.

[zenkaiankokuart]

Rigel (Aster) keeps talking about being constrained. Like he literally can't move from the one spot. He's also lacking most of his abilities. He seems so afraid that we don't want to keep him around if he can't be useful. I know it's all scripted but damn dude,,, ;~;

Anyways I couldn't help myself I'm obsessed. Blame @logicpng for creating him.

(If you got no idea what I'm talkin about check their blog. Aster is a little dude you can download)

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hiii!! Can i request an imagine with 141 about reader trying to convinced them that they forgot about their date?? Were reader gets ready with fancy clothes and make-up, but there's actually no date planned.

hehehe, I love all the prank prompts I receive in my inbox. They're so fun to write, and stressing our fav men out is my favorite pastime. This one is pure fun. Thank you so much for sending it in!!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 X Female Reader

Content & Warnings (mdni): established relationship, swearing, shenanigans, brief suggestive themes, dad!Soap

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Are we not going?”

Kyle glances away from the television, doing a double-take when he notices your outfit. It’s by no means glamourous, but it’s clear that you’re heading somewhere.

He sits up abruptly, gaze taking in every inch of you. “Going where?” he asks, eyes narrowing slightly.

“It’s date night,” you state simply, as if this was always supposed to happen.

It’s not. There is no plan. You’re simply fucking with him.

Kyle nods. Continues nodding. “You’re right, doll. It is.” He pops up from the sofa, turning off the rugby match. The man isn’t even questioning it.

Good boy.

He smiles, the kind that always seems to stun you and make you a flustered mess. “Didn’t notice the time,” he teases, kissing you on the cheek.

You decide to poke at him a bit, just because you’re curious.

“We won’t be late for the reservation?” you ask. “Though you said we’d be leaving around this time?” You discreetly peek over your shoulder.

Kyle removes his phone from his pocket, fingers hurriedly dancing across the screen. But when he speaks, his voice is clear and void of panic.

“Not at all, love,” he shrugs. “We have plenty of time.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Why aren’t you dressed?” You sound so innocent, so sure in your words even though they drip with falseness. “Aren’t we leaving soon?”

Johnny nearly stumbles as he stops in his tracks. “What?” he squawks, clearly caught off-guard by your questions.

The youngest of your three children clings to his left leg like a koala. The middle child is tucked under his arms, his limbs flailing as he pretends to swim. The third bounces on her toes, tugging on Johnny’s free hand, causing him to lean in her direction with every yank.

You’re dressed up, makeup done like the two of you have a date planned.

There is no date.

“It’s not date night,” he stammers.

“Date! Date! Date!” chant the children.

Johnny’s cheeks flush, his eyes darting around as he tries to draw up a conversation that never happened.

“My mistake,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders. “I’ll change.”

“Hold on, now.” Johnny wrangles two of the three, dropping them onto the sofa as they giggle with laughter. The youngest still clings to his leg as he walks over to you, voice going low. “Don’t change.”

“Why not?” you laugh.

Johnny’ s gaze scans you in hunger. “I like it.”

John Price

“We heading out?”

You pop into the living room, dressed up for a fancy date that isn’t even scheduled. John glances up from his crossword, taking you all in with a slow sweep of his gaze. The pencil in his hand swishes back and forth like he’s searching for a word in his puzzle and not consuming you with his eyes.

There is no date. Nothing is planned. But John is easy to rile up, and you have such fun doing it.

John nods in understanding. With a heavy sigh, he pushes up to a seated position, gently tossing the crossword puzzle and pencil onto the coffee table.

“You’re right, doll. We are heading out.” Placing his hands on his knees, John stands with a grunt. “But you need to change.”

“Why can’t I wear this?”

John blinks. “We’re going fishing, love. That’s what I planned.” With an easy saunter, John approaches, tugging on your ear playfully. “Or did you forget?”

Shit.

Caught.

Hook. Line. And sinker.

You give him your best smile. “Fishing?” You glance out the window at the night sky. “At this hour?”

John matches your smile, and you know he knows.

“Said it was fine, love.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You lean against the bathroom doorframe. Simon slowly turns. The lower half of his face is covered in a thin layer of shaving cream, the right side finished, the razor ready to start on the left. His gaze sweeps up and down, taking in your appearance.

Dressed for a night out. Makeup flawless.

“Nearly done?” you ask with a tease in your tone.

“Yes,” he replies, the word drawn out in hesitation. His gaze narrows.

“Have you picked out what you’re wearing?”

Simon’s lowers the razor. He sets it aside. With only half of his face done, Simon looks a little ridiculous.

“And what am I dressing for?”

Oh. He’s not taking the bait.

“A date.”

“A date,” he repeats.

You nod.

Simon sucks his teeth. Shakes his head. “You’re a devil sometimes,” he murmurs, grabbing a hand towel to wipe away the remaining shaving cream.

“Am I?” you counter, noting the change in his posture.

“Devilish.” Simon drops the towel. “Mischievous.” Turns in your direction. “Naughty.”

You swallow. Back up a step.

“Simon,” you warn, but he’s wanting something else.

Simon places a hand on the doorframe, leaning in until you tingle everywhere. “I know there’s no date, love.”

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Autographs

Fandom: Ted Lasso

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x GN!Reader

Summary: You’re the social media manager for AFC Richmond’s socials. You’ve been seeing a trend of asking players for their autograph so you decided to try it out with your team.

Ted Lasso Masterlist

You hold your phone up as you peek into the locker room. All of the boys are dressed so you enter with a grin on your face. You keep a stack of papers close to your chest as you quickly head into Coach Beard's office.

"Hey, coach, training doesn't start for another thirty minutes, right?"

Beard checks his watch and nods, "Affirmative."

You nod, "Cool. I'm going to film some content for the socials then," you turn to Roy, starting with you. You press record and hold out a picture to him, "Can I get your autograph, coach?"

"Fucking hell," Roy grumbles as he sees a younger version of himself staring back at him, "Where the fuck did you find this?"

"Did some digging. Love the curls, by the way," you hold out a marker and Roy glares at you. He still scribbles out his name on the photo, handing it back to you, "There. Now fuck off."

You snicker, "Thanks a bunch!"

You exit the office and zero in on your boyfriend, Jamie. You waltz right up to him with giddiness. He smiles up at you as he finishes lacing up his boots. He stands and pecks your lips, "What's with the look, babes?"

You hold out a picture of a small Jamie posing on a pitch, "Can I have your autograph?"

His brows shoot up in surprise, "No fuckin' way. Where'd you find this?"

"I asked your mom to send me a pic of when you were little."

He chuckles, "Look at me. A sexy lil thing, aren't I?" You snort and hand him the marker. He signs his name and draws a heart, writing his initials and yours inside it. He caps the marker and hands it back to you along with the picture, "There ya go, babes."

"I'll cherish it forever."

You look down at your next photo and go up to Sam, who gives you a polite grin, "Good afternoon, Y/N!"

"Hi, Sam! Can I get your autograph?"

"Of course!" you hand him a picture of when he was a young teen and he laughs, "Oh my."

Jamie, who decided to follow you, reaches for the picture, "Aw look at you, Sammy boy!" Jamie shows all the boys Sam's picture and Sam bashfully chuckles.

"Alright, give it here, Jamie!" Sam swipes it back and signs his name. When he gives it back to you, he asks, "Where did you find this picture?"

"I scrolled through your old Facebook photos."

Sam sighs and shakes his head, "I knew I should've deleted those."

The next person you go up to is Colin. He's a small skinny thing, donning his primary school uniform, smiling widely.

Colin looks up at you in disbelief, "Did you reach out to my parents for this?"

You give a nonchalant shrug, "Maybe."

Each interaction with the boys went this way. Each one was surprised to see a picture of a younger version of them being handed to them. The surrounding players hollering and teasing each other for how they looked back then.

Jamie stood beside you the entire time, watching each interaction and just hanging around you. How could he not? He's always drawn to your presence. Not only that, he just adores how well you get along with the guys. You're sweet and funny, which makes it easy for them to say "yes" to whatever kind of video you want to film for the team's socials. You're very good at your job.

After all the photos are signed, you set them out so everyone can see. You stand back, watching the boys mess around with each other. You're already uploading the videos to your dropbox so you can edit them all together on your work computer.

Jamie wraps an arm around your waist and kisses your temple, "Must be nice getting paid to make fun of footballers," he says with a smirk.

You giggle, "So fun! Seriously so glad Keeley hired me on! Probably the most fun I've ever had in any job!"

"Also probably the best job ever since you get to hang around your hot footballer boyfriend too, yeah?" He gives you a playfully nudge.

You snort, turning to completely face him, your arms hooking behind his neck, "Oh absolutely," you lean in to kiss him but Roy steps in, pushing you two away from each other, "Get a room, you disgustingly cute little shits."

You look at each other confused, but then shrugged as Roy yelled, "Whistle! WHISTLE!" The gaggle of football players quiet and you quickly wave at Jamie. You blow a kiss at him and mouth, "I'll see you later."

He blows you a kiss back and waves, earning him a slap on the head from Roy.

"Oi! What the hell, gramps?"

"Pay attention!" Roy grumbles and turns his attention back to the rest of the players, ready to prepare them for today's training.

[howlingmod]

can youu maybe do like a general request on how the phighters would react if you would randomly smother them in kisses with lipstick on EEEHEHEHE

summary - melee and ranged phighters when their s/o showers them in kisses

misc - another one of my shorter style things ... hope you don't mind !! im willing to do the support phighters if so desired just lmk ....

sword

"Hi to you too."

-He's stunned. No matter how often you do it he's just stunned. He doesn't know how to process it at all. Most times he'll just go stock still while you do it and then stare at you for a second afterward before it hits him and he just melts.

-Hides his face in his hands and mumbles something incomprehensible that he can't repeat when you ask. He just needs a few seconds to collect himself, is all.

-Returns the favor by giving you a quick peck on the cheek, grinning all the while.

skateboard

"Woah! What's the occasion?"

-He thinks it's super sweet but god does it inflate his ego. What do you mean he gets a smoking hot babe smothering him in affection? For free? Where's the catch?

-Of course, the catch is just you. ("NOT LIKE THAT. IN A GOOD WAY, LIKE 'A CATCH'. YOU'RE A CATCH. I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT!") Everytime he'll make it a whole scene, lifting you up and spinning you around till you're dizzy before he sets you down and returns the favor. He loves how much attention it draws, it's just the perfect 'I love you and only you,' to him.

-If you've got lipstick on, he's giggling and grinning like an idiot afterwards. He's only a little bit heartbroken when he has to wash it off.

katana

"... Thank you."

-If he's got the mask on, he thinks it's a little silly. It's such a grand show of affection that he's usually left wondering what's got you so excited. Not that he doesn't enjoy it of course, he'll stay perfectly still so you've got enough space to do as you wish. He'll return the gesture by standing a bit closer to you, maybe leaning his forehead against yours if you're alone.

-If he doesn't, he'll usually get pretty teary eyed. It's not often he takes the mask off, even less common for him to allow your touch so freely, but he trusts you. Knowing that you can love him, that you take it upon yourself to bless his skin with your lips? It ruins him.

-Either way, he finds it extremely endearing.

banhammer

"Well, aren't you sweet?"

-He'll tease you about it endlessly. You just really can't stay off of him, can you? I mean, he doesn't blame you, he is a pretty big deal, of course you'd have such a grand way of showing your love.

-He does really enjoy it though, something about the combination of your lips on his skin and your hands on him to steady yourself makes his heart swell. He likes the physical affection of it all, how close you have to be to him. It tells him that you're not going anywhere anytime soon- not like he needed to know that.

-Though, the affirmation certainly does help, if the way he pulls you so tightly to his side tells you anything.

rocket

"What's all that for?"

-Honestly, it's a little hard to get him to stand still long enough for you to do it. He's always got something going on, he's too restless to really sit in one place doing nothing. So, he's always taken aback whenever you start smothering him in kisses.

-He's a little confused. It's sweet, sure, but he thinks of it more as you teasing him. It's such a stereotypical, over the top gesture that it usually devolves into you playfighting. The peace can't last long with him, unfortunately.

-Just know that his playfighting is his own way of returning the affection, he wouldn't go easy on just anyone like this, y'know. Plus, he just thinks its fun. He likes pushing your buttons right back.

slingshot

"Hi sweetheart."

-Honestly? Doesn't have a crazy reaction to it. Chances are that you guys have to settle for more dramatic shows of affection since he tends to be so busy at the cafe that by the time you guys do have the ability to sit down and enjoy each other, there's a lot of pent up 'i miss you' type gestures

-THAT BEING SAID: he does really love it. He thinks its so sweet and silly and it makes him feel whole again when work's drained him. He'll usually return the favor right afterwards, just to keep everything even. can't be skimping out on you, can he?

-Unfortunately you can't do it very often but every chance you do get is cherished to the fullest degree.

shuriken

"Aww! I love you too!"

-Can't stand this mother fucker he's always gotta be doing something. He lives for big showy gestures, he loves just how grand they feel. He's maybe just a little bit of an attention hog, so of course he likes the gesture that requires you to focus on him and him alone.

-Usually returns the favor but he might opt to just pick you up and spin you around instead. He likes being able to show off his love in his own way and he enjoys feeling you resting on him, you wouldn't let him pick you up if you didn't trust him to not drop you or anything. Plus, the pressure is just nice.

-He adores this habit of yours and, more often than not, whenever he sees you he'll instinctively get close and offer up his face for your attention.

scythe

"Aren't you just the sweetest little thing ..."

-Yeah she's a fan. No surprises here, the woman who likes showing you off and having proof that you're hers likes when you devote so much affection to her and leave a visible mark with lipstick. Shocking.

-Unsurprisingness aside, she really does like it. She just thinks it's adorable and it feeds into her ego. She won't do it back since she likes to keep her image up but she'll usually return it by grabbing your face and giving you one solid kiss back. It's her own way of 'confirming' the gesture and showing that it doesn't just go one way. She would hate to leave you hanging, after all.

-There may or may not be a reason she's been gifting you so many different shades of lipsticks. While she may favor cool-toned ones in the name of the cult's color palette, she doesn't mind seeing warmer ones on herself for this reason.

hyperlaser

"You're cleaning this off."

-He's got mixed feelings. On one hand it is a very sweet gesture. He knows he's not always around and he's so hot-and-cold with affection so he understands why you choose something so 'over-the-top,' he doesn't mind that. He finds it to be a pretty endearing way of you almost reaffirming your sole affections to him. It's comforting, in a sense, that he knows you can look past all his inconsistencies and still choose him.

-That being said, you might have to hold off on the lipstick. He's got a reputation to uphold and it can stick a little harder to the glass of his helmet if he doesn't clean it off right away.

-Despite his threat you are not in fact cleaning it off lmao. You are however going to sit and look pretty while he does it.

[himezoro]

your roman empire with the one piece men

that small gesture or word he said that entered your mind and never left.

starring : zoro, luffy and law !!

word count : 889

author's note : again, i'm so sorry for posting so rarely, working and planning a wedding has to be the most exhausting thing ever, i promise to go through all of your requests and to be more present, tysm for your support ♡౨ৎ⋆.˚ some of these scenarios have been inspired by moments i often think about in my life, can you guess which hahaha??

zoro was smitten with you, and longed taking a step forward in your camaraderie, and everyone with a pair of eyes could see it. so when nami told him he was on errand duty with you and only you today, the swordsman knew it was his shot to get closer to you.

gosh, you were gorgeous walking around the alleys with the wind blowing your hair and diffusing your hypnotizing scent. and there he was, walking by your side like a guard dog with his hands the pockets of his jacket, listening to your enchanting voice.

the errands were nearly coming to an end, and zoro did not dare to "make a move", which he knew he would regret. the alleys got more crowded and he was afraid to lose you, especially since his orientation is not the best, though his senses would always bring him back to you. he knew that.

as zoro listened to you and internally debated on whether he should say something about his feelings or not, his body acted on his own, finally closing the distance.

as he gently grabbed your left hand with his right one, intertwined his fingers with yours, before putting both of his hand and yours in his right pocket, acting like it was the most natural gesture on earth.

and the butterflies in your stomach never died since.

luffy has always brought joy to your life and fed your desire for adventures and fun. he lit stars to your world and invited you to let go of pressure and have fun, not minding about third parties' opinions. a lot of people would question your couple association because of luffy's exuberance, but all them be damned. the future king of the pirates brought you back to life and no one could make you happier.

a sudden rain came down pouring on the grand line and the wind blew hard. the entire crew started running around to put back inside the furnitures that were left outside. the rain was so much that it started freezing and you started to run to your quarters. yet, as you were about to finally reach your door, a pair of elastic arms grabbed you and brought you back outside under the pouring rain, their owner sporting a huge, bright grin on his face.

"luffy!!! what the hell are you doing? it's raining and we'll catch a cold!!"

"chichichi, i wanted to dance with you, (y/n)!" he beamed, his eyes adoringly pleading yours to allow his antics as he started twirling you around under the pouring rain.

between laughters only him could exulate, you tried to bring him back to his senses.

"but luffy, honey, we can't dance under the rain! it's cold and there's no music playing!"

luffy did not mind your ramblings as he kept on twirling you around, his hand standing on your the small of your back the whole time, his thumb occasionnaly drawing circles. with a determined gaze and his signature smile on his face, he pressed his forehead on yours, the rain drops falling from his nose to your lips from the closeness.

"together, there's nothing that we can't do (y/n). after all, i'm the future king of the pirates!!"

his laughter hugged the atmosphere and made your heart race even more.

your relationship with law was a secret on the submarine, and it was hard for you to hide your adoration for your boyfriend. after all, what wasn't there to love? law was smart, composed, mature and commited. yet, sometimes, it felt so easy for him to "ignore" your status in front of the crew or anyone for that matter, which tended to hurt your heart. did law appreciate you the way you did? was it unrequited?

little did you know, law had a hard time not paying as much attention as he would when with the others. because he had a lot of work, even when the others were not around, it did not mean the two of you could see each other. therefore, the soft gestures he wished to cover you with were quite lacking. and of course, he was the one to have asked to keep the relationship a secret, and because of his prideful persona, he would not admit it was not a good idea.

you and bepo were getting ready to work around the submarines for your chores of the day. you were busy going around the submarine with your chores tool and bepo, and failed to notice your shoe laces came undone.

and of course, this would not go unnoticed by law. the captain could not stop himself from going to you with a frown, which surprised (and scared) both of you and bepo.

is there anything you did wrong? why was he looking so pissed off?

"idiot. you could trip and injure yourself." your boyfriend sternly spoke, kneeling to the floor to tie your shoe-lace, leaving bepo dumbfounded and yourself out of breath, with a racing heartbeat.

"you know i don't want you to get hurt." he said getting up, his hot breath tickling your cheek in the process, his warm hand resting on yours, silently promising to show his adoration for you like you deserve.

and you swore you could still feel the warmth of his hand from that day again.

[vroomingrussell]

Risks & Rewards

Charles Leclerc x Reader

For the purpose of the story Charles & Alex relationship is important and is mentioned but timeline is fictional. This is a one night stand fic with hidden pregnancy being the main plot. Warning; Google translated French?

Monaco. May 26th 2024.

There was nothing but passion between the two of you, your bodies moving together in sync with pleasure as if you were still on the dance floor of the club you had met at.

You’d been in town for the Monaco Grand Prix, invited by Kika, one of your best friends and colleagues. You’d spent the day watching the race and then the night celebrating the historic win of the Monegasque driver, Prince of the people.

He was a friend of a friend, high off of defeating his previous ill fated incidents and claiming a space of his country’s history books.

Music soared and bodies met, one thing led to another and you found yourselves tangled in the sheets of your hotel room, a night fuel and lust, passion and alcohol.

The next morning thankfully there was no awkward tension, he’d left before the sun had peaked from the skies.

It did not matter; the night was fun, something people did when they were young and wild.

—

However, a month later, back at home, you began to feel the difference, morning sickness and missed period but the at home test debunked the theory, after two months, and a doctor check up, you found out the night that fulfilled a wild fantasy of fleeting pleasure, had left a what you believed to be a reward.

You debated messaging Charles, it was easy getting his number from Pierre, the problem was that you had no idea what to say ‘hi, we had a one night stand and now im pregnant with your child which I want to keep’ did not sound right in your head, plus from your source of all things Charles -Kika and Pierre- he now had a girlfriend. Their relationship seems picturesque, they made a gorgeous couple and you truly were happy for him, after all, you had no feels for the man, with plenty of consideration, you decided to keep your little surprise from Charles. It was highly unlikely that your paths would cross again, your only connection to his world was Pierre and Kika, whom, you had to swear to secrecy, you barely saw them anyways, so you existed almost completely outside of his bubble.

——

Monaco. December 2024.

You’d been in Monaco for a few days with Kika, she had insisted you two had some relaxing girl time before you couldn’t travel due to the baby. You’d spent the days, shopping, eating and at the spa, being seven months along kept you from the lifestyle you once had in the same country, not that you minded, nothing brought you more joy that preparing for the arrival of your daughter.

Sun poured into the cafe, it was a nice welcome to the chilly winter air that hugged the city, a latte and scones sat infront of you, Kika was running late for your day of, shopping, so you sat alone, reading through a magazine from the shop when they bell above the door chimed. You looked up, thinking it was your friend, when you were met with a familiar set of eyes, you remembered its beautiful shade of green.

Charles.

You quickly looked away, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, you’d met once, over seven months ago, he wasn’t likely to remember you. For a few moments you were spared as he went to the counter and placed his order. Seconds felt like hours as he stood across the cafe from you, the shop felt tight, like you were trapped in a shoe box of memories and decisions you couldn’t escape.

The little one began moving around and kicking in your stomach. Instinctively, your hand rest on your swollen belly, it’s as if she could sense her father, so close.

The chime of the door came again, this time it was Kika “Sorry, sorry” she apologized and made her way to you “Pirre insisted on driving” she flopped her bag down on the chair infront of yours before hugging you in greeting.

“It’s fine, your goddaughter wakes me too early” you smiled, feeling the tension from your shoulders lift a little.

Her arrival did not go unnoticed by Charles as he wondered coffee in hand to say hello to her. You watched on quietly as she hugged him and exchanged pleasantries then to your horror, she introduced you “you remember my friend, Y/N?” God you wished he didn’t.

“Of course yes” he says, a slight blush, probably from the memory of your night together.

Kika quietly disappeared to the counter, leaving you two alone.

You smiled politely and stuck your hand out for him to shake “nice to meet you again”

“You too, and uh congratulations” He says “how many months?”

Your heart dropped, he couldn’t figure it, not so quickly, his soft polite smile never left his face, he was just being nice and asking for conversations sake, he didn’t know and probably didn’t truly care.

But you saw this as the moment to come clean, after all you had kept it from him for seven months, guilt had led you to his inbox many many times only to close out the message before you could hit send.

“Seven months” You say, watching him intently. You saw the moment it registered, the moment his smile fell. He slumped down in the seat in front of you.

“Seven months” he repeated “that would mean, wait me? I am the father?” He says softer, just above a whisper. There wasn’t anyone but you, him and Kika in the shop at the moment, but you understood this was no place for this revelation.

You only nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because, what would have changed? You don’t want to be the father, you don’t have to be..I’m not asking you to be”

“Putain de merde!” He cursed “still you should have told me”

“I’m sorry Charles, I just did what I thought was best. I wanted her, you did not ask for this. I don’t want to be a burden, I want nothing from you”

“She? We are having a daughter”

“I am having a girl, yes. You do not have to be her father Charles, you have a wonderful life, a beautiful girlfriend, you just got a dog together, you don’t have to let what happened months ago change your life, I have to leave” Quickly, you got up and grabbed your bag, existing the cafe as quickly as possible. Thankfully neither Charles nor Kika followed you as you headed back to your hotel.

You laid in bed for the rest of the day, cradling your stomach, your baby was yours, you loved her so deeply, you didn’t need Charles. You had a wonderful family that supported you and loved your unborn child as well.

Later in the afternoon, there was a knock on your door, you opened it with the expectation that Kika had come to drag you out of your mood, but to your surprise it was Charles.

“Please let us talk for a moment, I just want to understand”

You nodded and moved aside, letting him in.

“I brought you some food, we can have dinner together”

“Charles, you didn’t have to”

“I know but I wanted to”

“Thank you” you got yourself comfortable on your bed again “come on sit let’s talk”

“She’s mine? I don’t doubt you but she’s is mine”

“Yes, the condoms neither of us had” The Heat of the moment had left you both a little hay brained.

“And she’s due in January… do you have a date?” As you ate, you answered all the questions he had, which was a lot.

“I spoke to Alex” he said at the end “I want to be present in the babies life, I want her to know me as much as possible. I don’t want her to be without a father”

“Charles you know you don’t have to, you don’t have to feel responsible for what happened, you don’t have to feel obligated, keeping the baby was my choice”

“I know I don’t have to do anything, but will you let me?”

For a moment you thought about it, the questions she’d have about her father, who he was, what he did, where was he. As much as you wanted to live in a bubble with your baby girl, away from what her life would look like split between two parent.

“You know what, you have a right to be in her life in you choose, but promise me you won’t hurt her Charles”

“Can I?” He asked before gently placing a hand on your stomach “I promise to do everything in my power to make her happy and safe”

[uchizana]

WHISPERS AT MIDNIGHT

synopsis: in the heat of a tantalizing party game, the rivalry with your boyfriend's best friend turns into an unexpected spark when a kiss reveals a chemistry that feels more right than anything you’ve experienced before, forcing you to confront the tangled emotions of love and desire.

pairing: boyfriend's best friend!giselle x kinda cheater!fem reader

warning(s): cheating, kissing, mentions of alcohol

word count: 3.1k

— english isn't my first language so sorry if there are any grammar mistakes.

aespa masterlist.

you stood at the entrance of the party, hesitating as laughter and music spilled out like an enthusiastic wave, lapping at your feet. your boyfriend, jacob, was beaming, his excitement pulling you along like a current. you had tried to resist, to persuade him that you could just skip this gathering. after all, it was just another one of his friends’ parties, and you were already contemplating an early night. but his enthusiasm was infectious, and after a persistent tug on your arm, you found yourself inside, instantly swallowed by the crowd.

you step into the vibrant chaos of the party, your boyfriend’s hand warm and reassuring around your waist. the atmosphere was vibrant and lively, people mingling, drinks clinking, and music providing a pulsing rhythm that thrummed through the floor beneath your feet. you plastered a smile on your face, hoping it would hold as you navigated the throng of bodies. you'd wanted to decline—feeling tired or overwhelmed or simply not in the mood—but he had convinced you with his easy smile and gentle coaxing.

you glance around, taking in the colorful decorations and the mingling crowd. bright smiles light up faces, and the energy flows like a current through the space. you force a smile back at your boyfriend’s friend, who greets you with exuberance before quickly moving on with the evening. unbeknownst to you, your anxious heart is already trapped in a more subtle tension.

as your boyfriend greets his friends, you offer a polite smile to a group of unfamiliar faces, scanning the room for any semblance of comfort. but all you find is a smattering of revelers lost in their fun, none of whom seem interested in welcoming you into their circle. you twist the hem of your dress, your heart a steady drum of anxiety, grounding you against the unfamiliarity of it all.

then, your eyes land on aeri. she’s standing off to the side, caught up in a lively exchange, her laughter ringing like music. she’s the type of girl who effortlessly draws attention. In her sleek black dress, she radiates confidence, its cut accentuating her curves gracefully. despite your simmering resentment, you can’t help but acknowledge that she’s beautiful—so different from yourself. it grates against your insecurities, this acknowledgment that fuels the longstanding tension between you two.

she was wearing a simple black dress, a simple dress who clings to her curves perfectly, and you can’t help but feel the sharp pang of a relentless comparison. you pulled out all the stops tonight – the perfect outfit, extra makeup, even a new hairstyle – yet here she was, effortlessly radiant, commanding the attention of everyone around her.

she stood a few feet away, chatting with a group of her friends, and as soon as you noticed her, a knot twisted in your stomach. your pulse quickened. aeri was your boyfriend's best friend, and from the very first moment you met her, something about their connection had irked you. it was in the familiarity of her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke to him, and the fleeting touches, like a hand resting on his arm or the way she leaned into him as they shared inside jokes. jacob insisted they were just friends, that there was nothing more to it, but there was a flicker in her gaze that made your chest tighten.

as your boyfriend notices her too, a smile breaks across his face—one that makes your stomach clench unpleasantly. you can’t place it, exactly. it’s something about the way they interact that makes your skin crawl—how their jokes seem laced with intimacy, as familiar as an old song. a hairline fissure crumbles your confidence, as you overhear snippets of their conversation, laughter that feels all too comfortable.

there's a flicker of something—an ease, a familiarity—in the way he approaches her. you know this dance all too well, the deep affection and easy laughter that bounces between the two of them, and your chest feels heavy with an unfounded jealousy. you attempt to shake it off, resisting the urge to follow him. somehow, he manages to draw her into an animated conversation, and you, stranded like a misplaced piece on a game board, stand awkwardly at the periphery, feeling the uncertainty of your place among them.

as the small talk begins to flurry around you, you can’t suppress the knot forming in your stomach. your boyfriend’s voice mingles with the laughter in the air, a chorus that feels both familiar and foreign. you’re intrigued and agitated all at once. “it’s just my best friend,” he reassured you this morning, his tone casual as he fluffed his hair before the mirror. the innocent way he said it still rings in your ears. but deep down, you’ve never accepted that truth.

“hey there!” aeri calls, turning her attention to you after a moment. you muster a small smile, feeling the weight of her scrutiny. “you finally came!”

you nod, trying to sound nonchalant, but your voice betrays you. “yeah,” you reply, forcing it out, careful to not let the disdain creep through. what do you even say to her? you've hardly exchanged more than a few polite words—if you could even call them that—since jacob started dating you.

“jacob really wanted you to come.” the way she says his name feels like a caress—casual yet intimate. you can’t help but glance over at him, and there he is, standing beside her with a lighthearted grin, a stark contrast to the growing tension tightening your chest.

“yeah, it wasn’t really my idea,” you reply, your voice a little more brittle than intended. you refuse to let insecurity seep into your words. the party ebbs and flows around you, but inside, a storm is brewing.

they fall back into lighthearted banter, and you’re left on the outskirts, seated on the edge of the couch, feeling like an imposter.

as jacob led you toward the couch, aeri's eyes caught his, and the way they lit up made your heart sink. you knew they shared a history, a years-long bond that you could never quite penetrate. you sat down stiffly, abruptly aware of how small you felt next to her. the conversation flowed easily between them, light teasing and laughter that felt like a barrier you couldn’t cross. you had no part, just a spectator in a scene that twisted your insides.

when jacob stood to get drinks, he told you to wait on the couch. “i’ll be quick,” he promised, but the moment he left, you felt adrift, an island isolated in a sea of warmth and merriment. the music faded into the background as you found yourself casting furtive glances at aeri. she was engrossed in her phone, her laughter still echoing in your mind, and yet she seemed so far away. it was maddening.

aeri’s beauty seemed almost intimidating as your eyes roamed over her. the way her hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders, framing her delicate features, the playful curve of her lips dancing as she types. she was everything you wanted to be—effortless, compelling, the kind of person who would catch anyone’s eye. you couldn’t help but feel a mix of resentment and insecurity bubbling beneath the surface.

aeri, with her bright coral pink hair and soft features, turned towards you. “hey,” she said, breaking the initial tension. “are you comfortable here?”

you nodded, adjusting the hem of your dress—a sleek, midnight blue number that your boyfriend loved on you. “it's nice,” you replied, adjusting your body slightly. there was always something about aeri that put you on edge, a mix of her confident demeanor and your own shyness amplifying your discomfort.

she tilts her head, her eyes assessing you with a friendliness you weren't expecting. “i like your dress, by the way.”

those words hang in the air, and while you want to brush them off, you feel a sense of warmth bubble up. “thanks,” you say, glancing down at the attire you spent hours picking out. the compliment emboldens you, even if just a little.

“no problem! i love seeing what everyone wears to parties. it’s like our version of a fashion show.” she lounges back, still casually scrolling through her phone but occasionally looking in your direction, which makes your heart skip.

before the conversation could linger, aeri's group of friends burst into the room, laughter trailing behind them like a comet’s tail. jimin, with her effervescent charm, and minjeong, with her infectious grin, and yizhuo, whose playful demeanor made her an instant favorite in any gathering.

“aeri!” they cheer in unison, and suddenly, the air shifts. you can see why your boyfriend enjoys spending time with them—their infectious energy is undeniable. they pull her into their small circle, laughing and chatting animatedly.

“aeri! we’ve been looking for you!” jimin exclaimed, eyes twinkling with mischief. “we want to have some fun.”

aeri’s gaze flickered to you, an unexpected glint in her eye. “you should join us!” she suggested, the invitation lingering in the air. the other girls echoed her sentiment, their enthusiasm infectious.

you hesitate. the social anxiety clenches at your stomach, but her friends are lively and charming, and their eagerness makes it hard to refuse “oh, i—i don’t know,” you stammered, feeling that familiar panic rise in your chest. you had never truly fit with aeri’s crowd. their carefree energy seemed light-years away from your more reserved nature.

“come on!” minjeong urged, nudging your arm playfully. “it’ll be fun! we promise!”

with their gentle insistence and the pull of curiosity, you found yourself nodding, albeit reluctantly. as they shuffled away, beckoning you to follow, you felt the weight of your apprehensions lift ever so slightly, swept up in the momentum of their excitement.

“so, you wanna play a game?” jimin nudges you, her playful tone almost infectious. It’s a dare—a suggestion that’s bubbling with excitement and just a hint of mischief.

“what do you have in mind?” you can’t help but smile a little bit at the group, though a flicker of dread streaks through your mind. a swift exchange of glances occurs between aeri, minjeong, and yizhuo—a silent consensus. before you know it, a familiar, yet cringe-worthy idea takes form.

“spin the bottle!” they declare in unison. you try to chuckle, dismissing the ground zero of many teenage romantic misadventures. the idea of kissing anyone, let alone aeri, sends your mind racing.

but the group is persistent, their playful taunts luring you into the circle they’ve formed on the floor. you want to resist, to tell them you’re not comfortable with this, especially now that your boyfriend isn’t around. still, there’s a friendly, infectious thrill around you, and you can’t shake the feeling that saying yes might bring something different, something exciting.

the bottle spins, and your heart races. it spins once, twice, and then it slowly teeters… before settling onto aeri’s name. a gasp erupts from the circle, and laughter soon follows, echoing around like a strange anthem of inevitability. you half-laugh and half-frown at her smug grin, your heart pounding as aeri meets your gaze.

“no way. i refuse!” you blurt out, almost reflexively, the words spilling from your lips. the laughter dies down, and the room tilts on its axis for a moment. everyone exchanges looks, undoubtedly amused by your dismay.

“come on, it’s just a game!” jimin nudges you playfully, but you can’t shake the tension in your chest. aeri shifts closer, her movements smooth and intentional. they’re all looking at you now, their eyes sparkling with challenge.

“no way, not happening,” you stammer, shaking your head. the metallic clink of the bottle rolls around, laughter ringing in your ears, but it feels like the world has shrunk to just you and aeri.

“aw, please!” minjeong presses, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “you don't have to be afraid to kiss her. we play this game often. we’re used to it.”

“unless you’re scared?” yizhuo says, a smirk gracing her lips. there it is—the challenge buried in her playful tone, daring the edge of your confidence.

the stakes were high, and your heart raced in your chest. you peered at aeri, waiting for her to back you up, to nod and give you an out. instead, she leaned closer, a daring spark in her eyes that sent shivers down your spine.

you swallowed hard. “no, wait, i can’t—”

laughter cheers you on, and amid your panic, aeri leans in closer, her gaze locking with yours—her eyes fierce, yet inviting. “come on, it’s just a kiss. we can start slow.” your heart races, and you feel as though the world around you fades away.

you know that. you know it all too well, yet the idea rattles through your mind like a blaring alarm. a kiss with a girl? aeri, no less?

“n-no, i can’t— i think i'd rather drink,” you stammer, anxiety surging through you.

but aeri was already moving, her playful smirk igniting a sense of defiance within you. “too late!” she leaned in, and you instinctively recoiled, but she was quicker. grabbing your wrist, she pulled you closer.

“just one kiss,” she murmured against your lips, her breath hot. the playfulness in her tone ignited something rebellious in you. a cautious part of your mind screamed that you were crossing a line—about to kiss aeri, your boyfriend’s best friend—yet another part—the part engulfed by the thrilling spontaneity of the party—skidded into a wild abandon.

then she kisses you. it’s not tentative or shy. it’s electrifying, assertive—aeri takes complete control. her lips are soft yet firm, pressing into yours with a hunger that is anything but innocent. the initial shock sends a shiver down your spine, and the world around you blurs into the background. the warm tones of the room fade, replaced by the vivid sensation of her mouth moving against yours.

you feel her breath, a mix of mint and sweet candy, almost intoxicating in the way it swirls around your senses. it escalates quickly; her hands slide up to cup your face, tilting your head just right, and continue the kiss with an urgent pull. you’re lost in the moment, your initial hesitation shattering against the fervent energy she exudes. it’s wild, a rush of excitement that you hadn’t anticipated.

it’s unexpected, and your heart races as she pulls you into a kiss that transcends the innocent dare you thought it would be. she takes charge entirely, the kiss igniting a fire within you that you didn’t know existed. it was soft at first, brushing against your lips like a whisper, but then it deepens—her tongue teasing at the edges of your mouth, coaxing you to engage, to give in to the wildness of the moment.

there’s no hesitation from her; she’s alive in the kiss, radiating confidence like a sunbeam as she kisses you like this was all she’d ever wanted. your heart beats wildly, a mix of disbelief and exhilaration coursing through your veins as you taste the faint tang of her lip gloss mixed with the heat of the moment. you hear yourself inhale sharply, caught between two worlds—your steady relationship with jacob and this intoxicating encounter with Aeri.

as aeri’s hand curls around the nape of your neck, guiding you deeper into the kiss, you realize you’re responding instinctively. your lips move against hers, ignited by something new and utterly thrilling. it’s raw, delicious, and your own reservations fade into nothingness, overshadowed by a rush of adrenaline and vulnerability.

all around you, the party seems to fade—the sounds of laughter muffled as you lose yourself in her, the kiss intensifying as aeri deepens her embrace. a tightness coils in your chest—the thrill of being caught in a moment you never expected fills you with a potent mixture of fear and excitement.

and just as you start feeling the heat, the voracious need rising between you, you catch sight of jacob entering the room from the corner of your eye. panic surges within you, and, at that moment, instinct kicks in. you break the kiss, pulling back with a gasp, cheeks flushed and heart racing. aeri smirks, a triumphant glint in her eye, but in your mind, all you can focus on is jacob's impending appearance, a looming storm you’re not prepared to face.

“hey, babe!” he calls out, waving, blissfully unaware of the charged atmosphere that lingers like smoke in the air.

his arrival sends a rush of clarity through you, leaving you abruptly aware of your choices. you stand at a crossroads, heart thumping relentlessly. aeri’s hold on you has been exhilarating, but guilt threatens to beat the excitement into submission. as jacob approaches, you stand at the precipice of chaos, torn between the thrill of the unexpected and the comfort of your relationship.

you step away from aeri, deliberately widening the space between your bodies as jacob pulls you into a warm embrace. he seems oblivious to the chemistry still fizzing in the air. you can feel aeri’s eyes on you, the smirk still firmly in place as she watches the scene unfold.

aeri’s eyes flash with secret delight as she straightens herself, wiping any traces of your kiss from her lips just as you manage to compose your features into something neutral. when jacob reaches you, he leans down and kisses your cheek, greeting you with a casual warmth that should've made your heart flutter. instead, you feel a knot of guilt tightening in your stomach, complicated by the thrill still pulsing through you.

jacob wraps an arm around your waist, directing you toward his group of friends, but as he turns to share a laugh with them, you glance back at aeri. that cheeky smirk on her face is like a brand, a reminder of the exhilaration she awakened in you—not just in that fleeting kiss, but in the way she directly challenged your boundaries.

you flick a glance back at aeri, who has a soft smirk curled on her lips, her eyes glinting with something that sends a shiver down your spine. just before jacob turns to guide you away from her, qeri winks, a playful yet dangerous challenge buried in that simple action.

it's as if she’s tethered your futures together—one loop, a chaotic thrill. and as you find yourself comfortably nestled back in jacob's circle of friends, a question lingers in your mind: should you just forget what happened, or is this just the beginning of something tumultuous? the thrill of the unknown dances in the air around you, echoing still like a half-played song waiting for another spin.

that one wild kiss has unraveled something deep within you, a question you’ll have to face sooner or later… where does your heart truly belong? and was it just a game, or something more intoxicating than that?

[pythonmoth]

(Teach me how) to Love You

simon “ghost” riley x gn!reader

cw: miscommunication. simon’s childhood trauma mentioned. little hurt/comfort. fluff.

wc: 2k

Pt.1  Pt.2  Pt.3

Simon’s convinced he’s never had that much fun before.

Your childhood bedroom was filled with memories, a few awards here and there, and so many photos of you. It was very easy to tell you were loved, and Simon couldn’t have enough of it.

He was too busy taking pictures of everything to notice the growing worry on your face. As carefully as possible, he took pictures of your old drawings, of a silly framed photo of you with black eyeliner and some hair covering your face. Simon didn’t know what it was to have memories worth remembering, so to see all of your belongings around, kept safe by your parents, Simon wanted to cry. Part of him wished he had been part of that, but deep down, he knew he wouldn’t have been welcome, especially not by someone as good as you.

All of those problems would’ve affected you, but because you two met later on, he was able to be himself instead of the broken shell his past left of him.

“Are you upset with me?”

The question had Simon turning sharply, his mind coming to a stop. “No. Why?”

“You reacted weirdly when I introduced you as my boyfriend to my grandma. I thought it was okay, but I should’ve checked. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not upset at all. If anything, I’m even happier than I was this morning,” Simon hummed, leaving his phone on your bed. “I was just surprised.”

“Surprised? Why?”

Simon didn’t know how to explain his fucked up brain didn’t catch up on things, and that he hadn’t known. In a way, he knew he was justified, because you never brought it up either, but Simon was not playing that game. His heart pounding in his chest, Simon gently took your hand. “If I say something stupid, will you be angry?”

A little frown made your mouth tilt down. “Well, I am upset now. You are not answering my question.”

“I can see that,” he cleared his throat. Needing a moment, he went to sit on your bed; his phone slipped to the floor but he barely paid attention to it, only focusing on you standing in front of him, shielding him from whatever you deemed dangerous. His own head, most of the times.

“Simon,” you signed. Your hand went to his shoulder, squeezing it and shaking him just enough for him to feel it. “Talk to me.”

“I… I didn’t know I was your boyfriend.”

Simon’s worst fear became true right there —a real frown on your face, because of him. The expression brought back bad memories, his throat closing up in a heartbeat. “If this is a joke, it’s not funny.”

“No. No, it’s not a joke. Come here.” Trying to keep his composure, Simon guided you to sit next to him. He kept his hands on your arms, hoping you wouldn’t suddenly pull away. “I didn’t know. I mean, I’ve liked you for a while, but I just assumed we were very close friends, and I didn’t even cross my mind you could ever be interested. Hell, I didn’t even know it myself.”

You were silent, the confusion only growing in your eyes. Simon wished he had the guts to get on his knees and beg you to stop looking at him like that. If you had yelled at him, he was sure he could handle that. Silence? He wanted to hug your thighs and cry.

“You’re serious.”

“I am.” Simon croaked, a burning sensation of fear making his stomach twist.

“When you told me you thought you were in love with me…”

“I had just realised it. I was confessing.”

Simon didn’t know what to expect. As a child, he was used to his parents snapping at him if he made a mistake; his cheek would burn if his mother decided it was a good idea to slap him so little Simon wouldn’t spill the milk again, or he would end up screaming in fear because his father was taking out his pet snake to teach him a lesson for talking back. Sometimes, the worst days for Simon, his father would entertain himself by smoking and using little him and baby Tommy as ashtrays, their mother long gone.

To have you go silent in front of him, processing things your way, Simon was unsure of what to do, so he could only try to fill the silence in a way he never had to before. He never felt the urge to overexplain himself to you, until that day.

“Listen, I— I fucked up, okay?” he rushed, looking away when your lips parted, no doubt to tell him to get lost. Simon’s hands gripped your wrists just enough for you to stay still, not restricting but pleading. “I didn’t know, but that’s no excuse. I should’ve known, of course, and you did nothing wrong. And if you want to hate me, that’s okay, I deserve it. Just give me a chance, will you? I promise I’ll change. Anything, everything.”

“What? Of course I won’t.” Your voice was high, disbelief clear in your face. “Hold on—”

“No, you’re right, I’m sorry. I’ll… Okay. I’ll drive you back tomorrow. I promise I won’t take long to grab my stuff once we’re there. I think Johnny’s flat is empty, if he moved in with his boyfriend like he said he would, so I might be able to live there.”

“What?” Your voice was smaller this time, but Simon couldn’t catch it, not with the way his heart was beating so loud he could barely hear himself think. He stood up, already rushing to grab his backpack and his phone. He could sleep in the car, and stay out of your way until you were ready to leave.

He fucked it up. The only good thing in his life and he screwed it up because he took too long to see it. Simon had nobody to blame but himself, and he couldn’t even look at you; he didn’t have the strength to try and beg.

Simon’s hands were trembling and you were still in silence, no doubt wondering how can anyone be this stupid. How could he not know? It was so obvious, too. He had to find a way to move on, because you didn’t want him anymore, and he was so, so alone again. He just never thought it would end like this, with Simon dragging his broken heart behind him. Or maybe he did. Nothing good ever lasted for him. 

Two warm, firm arms wrapped around him and everything in his mind went blank, his eyes widening. Your chest was flush against his, the echo of your words vibrating inside of his ribcage but he couldn’t understand them. Simon was convinced you hated him, but there was no hate in the way your body rocked his, working like a strong shield and a thick blanket of comfort.

You were saying something, but his ears were buzzing, and his mind was like a puddle of fear, so he just stood there, his hands hovering over your back, not daring to do anything for a long moment while you hugged him. Simon could only stare in disbelief, not truly believing it, when you cupped his cheeks, worry and love in your eyes as you tried to speak to him.

“You idiot,” was the first thing Simon managed to understand. His lips parted, wanting to tell you that he was, the biggest idiot, please don’t leave, but your hands were firm, squishing his cheeks so much that he was unable to speak or move his head. “I don’t hate you. The fuck.”

“Ah?”

It was your turn to sit him down, handing him a pillow for his anxious hands to squeeze. Simon stared as you sat down next to him, all thoughts leaving his mind when a smile bloomed in your lips. “Okay, shut up and listen to me.”

The ten seconds of waiting was torture for Simon, watching you take a bottle of water from under your bed —he didn’t even want to know for how long it’s been there—, and take a sip before handing it to him. Your eyes told Simon he had to drink, but he didn’t dare moving.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Simon asked. Unexpectedly, that made you burst out laughing. He gaped, torn between feeling offended or hurt.

“No, of course not! No, Simon, I’m… not breaking up with you,” you huffed. The fondness in your tone caught him off guard. It didn’t make sense to him. “If you do move out, I will, though.” 

His expression must've fallen, because you were suddenly hugging him again, patting his back.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be teasing right now,” you sighed, still fond. Your arms let go of him, but your hands remained on his wrists, your smile softer now. “I’m sorry. It was my mistake not making sure we were on the same page.”

“No, but it was my—”

“My fault, Simon, for assuming,” you interrupted him calmly. “I don’t want you to change yourself for me, and there’s nothing in you that needs to be changed either. I love the person you are now, as I loved the person I met almost three years ago. They’re different, but they’re both you.”

You let the silence stretch for a few seconds, making sure he genuinely understood. When Simon only stared, his nails digging into the pillow, your smile widened. 

“There was no way you could’ve known, because we never talked about it. I don’t hate you, and I hope you didn’t mean it when you said you will move out,” your hands squeezed his own, hopeful. “Now, if it’s okay, I’d love you to be my boyfriend.”

Those words sent a rush of heat to his chest, choking him up. “Okay.”

“Are you going to cry?”

“Yes.”

“Can I hold you, then?”

“Please.”

As all the nights before, you slept curled against his chest, his arms wrapped around your shoulders as the two of you breathed each other in. There was nothing different, no sudden desire he had been holding back, no difference in the way he held you that night, and there were no hidden intentions in your lips pressing to his collarbone, murmuring something Simon didn’t care to understand. He only held you tighter against his chest, wondering if it’s the same for others, but it felt damn good.

Nothing truly changed, but everything was different now, because that one time two years ago, he thought he might understand the concept of romantic love while holding you —this time, he fell asleep with the certainty that it was love. It slept patient for two years, over a hundred weeks of it napping in a corner of their shared flat, arms crossed, wondering when he’d realise. 

Now, all Simon had to do was look down at you, sleeping soundly in his arms, to fully understand it then.

Love was Johnny, who saved his life, the fresh clothes and the warm meals he prepared for Simon; it was Gaz, who always made sure he did well in school, and who had found help for his addictions, the one who instantly knew when he wasn’t happy; and Price, the older brother Simon didn’t know he needed, who would share his tobacco with him so Simon didn’t have to get it behind their backs, always making sure he didn’t overdo it —the one who taught him how to mourn Tommy, letting him heal. The world hadn’t been kind to Simon, but his friends filled his heart in a way nobody had. That was love.

You were love. Your patience, your laughter, your wits and the way you sang in the shower, loud enough so he had no choice but to join from the bedroom with his awful howling. You were love and comfort, your voice calling him into the bathroom because you had forgotten the towel, your half-playful whines of complaint when he forgot to do the dishes when he said he would, and your sudden pillow fights when he was bored out of his mind.

There was love in your shared routine, in your cuddles at night, in the calm discussions when the other had been accidentally too mean or when he was too late from work and found you snoring in the living room, your bed too big and too cold without him there.

There was love in every little part of you, floating over you like a second skin, and Simon was nothing if not greedy.

masterlist | buy me a coffee

taglist: @just-a-little-nut @identity2212 @outfor-v @british-ppl-scare-me @sheepispink

up on ao3!

[ilium-ilia]

As Your Skin Gives

ghoap x fem!reader | pet!au | masterlist

Chapter Six: a trophy of bone

tw: non-con, unrealistic anal, heavy whump

The only scrap of clothing you have clinging to your body as you lay on Simon and Johnny’s bed is your collar. 

Somehow, you feel more naked with it on than you ever did with it off. Nothing but a beacon, drawing attention to the most vulnerable, soft part of you. It’s a degrading reminder that your body no longer belongs to you—a proof of ownership to a man who can hardly seem to stand your mere existence. Something to mark you as what you are; a pet, an animal, swine waiting for the slaughter. 

Your fingers ghost over the leather and you feel it bob with your throat as you swallow. Something sparks through you as the urge to rip it off tingles in your palms. It’s strong. You want to tear through it and rid yourself of the incessant reminder that you’re trapped. It would be so easy for you to undo the clasp and toss it into some forgotten corner where you’ll never have to worry or think about it again—but you don’t. No, there is very little you can do besides lay there—rigid, fawning—when you have two hulking figures between your open legs. 

The fact that you are not the only one naked ought to give you nominal reprieve, but instead it only makes your stomach sore. It twists in on itself as you look up, Johnny’s bare body on display like Michelagelo’s statues. His clothes were ripped from his body with the same urgency as yours were, and you try not to shiver at the sight of his hardened cock hanging between his legs. His leaky, puffy tip bounces. He throbs. It yearns for something soft to bury itself in. You’ve seen it plenty of times before, but it never gets easier. Not like this, with Simon behind him on his haunches, fully clothed, bored eyes flickering back and forth between the side of Johnny’s face and your exposed body. 

Scenarios begin to tear through your mind, and your stomach plummets through the floor. Johnny has had his fun with you plenty of times over the last few weeks, but it’s never been anything as formal as this. A proper fuck. Manacles to bind you. Every time he’s put his hands on you, it’s been a spur of the moment. Something he does when he can no longer hold his hunger a bay. Tearing you apart like a sacrifice. 

“She’s so pretty,” Johnny beams, body shuddering. 

Simon’s hands trace along the man’s waist where they slide to the front of his chest, then dip down to the thick, dark patch of hair at the base of his cock. For hands as large, brutish, and scarred as his, his touch looks light. Delicate, even. Nails scraping across fresh snow just enough to feel, but not enough to mar. Johnny jumps in excitement as he wraps a fist around him, and begins to lazily tug at his shaft, purposefully ignoring his needy, florid tip. 

“That so?” Simon challenges. His lips brush against Johnny’s ear, and you watch as those deep navy eyes roll slightly into the back of his head, eyelids fluttering like butterfly wings. You squirm at the sight as a deep shame eats at your chest—you are a product, a show to be enjoyed—but you know better than to move too much around sight-based hunters. “Like havin’ a soft toy to play with? Somethin’ to sink your pathetic cock into? Bet you wanna fuck ‘er right now, yeah?” 

Johnny nods, lips parting. “Aye, I really do.” 

“Yeah, needy fuckin’ mutt. Go on. Play with ‘er a bit, but keep this fuckin’ cock dry, yeah? Get yourself nice and worked up f’me,” Simon orders.

Ardent eyes blink down at you as Simon free’s Johnny’s cock from his hand, and the man descends upon you like a ravenous plague. A squeak leaves you without permission when his lips crash against yours with enough force to knock your teeth out, and your whole body jumps as he paws at your chest. Your tits are sore from weeks of abuse, and you can’t help but whimper into his mouth as his fingers contract and relax over and over, rolling the soft flesh between his hands. 

This isn’t anything new. You know very well how to play this game—a waiting game. Hunkered down in the basement, waiting for a storm to blow over as thunder claps against your lips and lightning cracks along your skin. You think of your old job bartending. Anything to get away from the present. How to make an old fashioned? How many seconds does it take to fill a pint? You try to recall the acrid taste of the pub, and the way condensation glistens on the bartop. Usually, this works. Usually, it’s enough to keep you distracted.

It isn’t tonight, though. Not with those dark eyes peering from behind Johnny, murky and menacing. As the dog gets to work giving love bites to the underside of your jaw, you make the terrible mistake of glancing at Simon. He’s got one hand on the small of Johnny’s back like it’s the only way he can keep the man leashed, and the other is pawing at his own cock through the thick fabric of his jeans. You can make out the clear, meaty outline of it, and you find yourself silently praying that his eyes don’t wander too far from Johnny. 

You’re certain Simon would break you if he ever decided to fuck you himself. 

“Ow!” 

Your yelp is sudden and piercing as pain blossoms in your left nipple. It ebbs and flows with your pulse, as if the sting is supposed to be a reminder that you’re still alive. Still breathing. Johnny leans back in astonishment, as if he can’t piece together why him pinching and yanking on your nipple would ever rouse such a reaction from you, but then he does it again, this time to the right. You squeal once more, hands wandering, moving to cup your breasts, hoping to deter him from antagonizing you further. 

“Johnny! Stop!” you whine. 

“Do that again,” he says, pupils blown wide. 

You squeeze your chest more as if you can fold your body in on itself and vanish completely. Blinking, you attempt to process his request, but all you can muster is a puzzled look. 

“Say my name again,” he clarifies, voice darker and more husky than you’ve ever heard it before. 

Humiliation courses through your body. Red hot. Superheated metal. Internal scars that swell beneath your skin, blisters that threaten to pop. Your bottom lip trembles as you writhe under his gaze. This is easier when you don’t have to participate. When you can just lay there and take the abuse and pretend it doesn’t exist. There’s a special kind of hurt to be found in the way he’s trying to torture you now. Simon’s eyes meet yours from over Johnny’s shoulder, and you try your best to keep your composure, lest he get upset at you for keeping his adored pet waiting. 

“Johnny…” you mumble, heart hardly into the performance. 

For a moment, you fear that your act is too forced. Something so faux that even Johnny’s slow, muddled brain can see through. It’s not satisfying enough. Instead, he groans as he descends on you again, tongue lavashing over your breasts and chest bone as he pushes back against Simon, ass against his clothed cock, lips gliding lower and lower on your abdomen. 

“Goddamn angel. Sound so sweet saying my name. You’re perfect. So perfect, Bonnie,” he groans against your skin. “I’ll fuck you good and proper one of these days. As soon as Simon lets me, I promise. For now… just… let me have this.” 

Whatever question you have bubbling up in your throat gets smothered with a gasp as Johnny’s mouth lands on your cunt. A hot, wet tongue laps at you, sliding all the way from your clenching hole to your clit. It doesn’t feel good. It’s messy and disgusting, yet he laments at the taste of you. His lips and tongue work in tandem. Not for your pleasure, but for his. Muted sensations rumble between your legs, but nothing’s connecting. All the wires are cut, but Johnny’s still trying to send signals through anyway. 

Everything he does to you—suck on your clit, hold your hips with bruising grip—all feels searing. It’s torching your skin, melting you into mush, because if you cannot feel pleasure, then you can certainly feel pain. It’s one after the other. Lash after lash. Wound stretching over wound until you are nothing more than a rotting gash. 

Things only get worse when you realize Simon’s grunts are sounding in terrible cacophony with Johnny’s Once more, you make the mistake of glancing up at him, and you see that he’s now got his own cock in his hand, lazily pumping it. It’s thick like blood and terrifying like cold steel against tender flesh—something that fits the brutish and colossal nature of your captor. You glance away, turning your head as you attempt to down everything out. 

Just pretend, just pretend, just pretend…

Suddenly, it all ceases. Simon pulls Johnny back by his collar, forcing his mouth off of your cunt with a wet pop before he’s pushing him face first into your chest. Lips wet from spit and what minimal amount of arousal he was able to rip from you smears against your tits as the poor dog pants. 

“Plan on eatin’ her alive, Johnny?” Simon goads. 

He chuckles and nuzzles your chest as if he’s trying to get underneath your skin. There’s something about his laughter that almost makes him seem more human than the dog Simon tries to force him to be. Whatever it is, it makes your heart lurch, but it doesn’t tug on it enough for you to forgive him. You bite into your lip as your arms wrap around his neck, searching for a stability you don’t think you’re going to find, yet so desperately crave. 

“Oh, I’d like to,” Johnny coos. 

All Simon does is hum as he reaches around the man. You jolt when his hand brushes against your inner thigh, and he shoots you a glare in warning before pushing your leg back, spreading you wide. Trepidation hangs so thick in the air you nearly choke on it as you helplessly feel his fingers brush against your sex. Soon, it’s no longer a gentle brush, but a forceful intrusion as he dips them into your cunt. 

“Wait, no, no, no-” Pathetic. A sad Attempt. Simon persists anyway. 

Johnny’s spit allows him to enter you with little protest, but it does nothing to ease the burn that ails you as Simon’s thick fingers split you open. Your eyes screw shut in discomfort as you do your best to hold back a sob, but you feel it brew. Steam in the back of your throat, pressure in your eyes, nettling until they water. 

Instead of pumping in and out of you, his fingers dance as if looking for something inside of you, all but tearing you apart in the process. They churn, scrape, and claw. Razor sharp nails. A beast tearing you apart. He does not care to draw out moans or other sounds from you—he cares only to aid himself. The heat of the burn that ravages your cunt forces your skin to perspire, and your vision begins to tunnel. 

Your only saving grace is that Simon finally seems to have found what he was looking for, and he yanks his fingers out of you with little concern for your body. Tense muscles flutter as you try to force yourself to relax, to calm your tendons before they snap free from bone. Even in the dim light of the bedroom, you can make out the wet, gooey sheen on Simon’s fingers as he turns his attention to Johnny. 

The man whimpers into your skin as Simon wipes the sloppy mess around the tight ring of his ass, not stopping until there’s proper lubrication. Strong arms snake underneath your back where needy fingers hold onto your shoulders. You are a log. A rock. A comforting toy. The only thing grounding Johnny. 

All you can do is close your eyes and pray that it’s quick. 

“Been a long while since I last fucked you, yeah?” Simon teases, fingers still taunting Johnny’s needy hole. “Look acth’ya, puckerin’ around nothin’ like a dirty fuckin’ mutt. Gonna be a good boy and beg? C’mon, you used to beg for this cock all the time. Go on. Beg.” 

Johnny’s body trembles with want, and it rings throughout your own, numbing your senses and rendering you useless. His nose nuzzles into your breast bone before he turns and rests the side of his head just above your heart. You wonder if he can hear the muscle trying to tear itself apart with how fast it’s beating. 

“Please, Simon. I’ve been a good boy,” Johnny whines. Something sordid pulls at your chest. Gnarly fingers push through your ribcage, filling you deep where there is no room to be swallowed. “I need it, need it so bad. Missed you so goddamn much, I just… f-fuck, yes, fucking christ, thank you, thank you.” 

As Simon presses into Johnny, the weight on your chest grows heavier to the point of suffocation. Desperate hands grab at your shoulders, and you force yourself to stay quiet and take it. Whimpers sear into your skin as Simon keeps going, and going, and going until he bottoms out, and for once, Johnny finally seems content. Praises and gratitude fall from his lips like broken prayers as his body rocks against yours like a poorly tethered boat. There is little remorse for Johnny as he’s split apart, speared wide and open, but he seems to enjoy the burn more than you ever could. 

You don’t dare to peek over him. All you can do is screw your eyes shut tight as you bury your face into the overgrown strands of his mohawk. 

“Such a tight fuckin’ arse. You really are a pathetic mutt, aren’cha?” Simon shames. Despite his harsh tone—words that slice through even the thickest bone—Johnny gasps in confirmation. “Gonna be a good boy ‘n take it then, yeah? Go on. Tell your precious Bonnie how good this cock is makin’ you feel.” 

And he does, like the obedient animal he is, but you don’t hear any of it. You feel the rocking of your body as Simon’s speed picks up, and the slick sweat that builds between your bodies, but you’re too far away for Johnny’s words to reach your ears. 

Right now, you’re back in that old pub. Nicotine permeates every pore of that building, and it seeps into your skin in the tenebrous room—you know you’ll have to shower to rid yourself of the stench eventually. You’re wiping down tables and filling hoppy drinks. The sourness of the alcohol and acidity of the cleaner assaults your nose even in your daydreams, and you feel your stomach twist at the scent. Dull music thrums somewhere on your left, and someone’s waving at you so they can pay their tab. 

That pub had been nothing but a prison to you before, but now you can’t help but hate it even more. Would you have ended up here, underneath two brutish men, had you gotten that job you interviewed for? Did you ever even have a chance at roaming among marble halls, or was the outcome always destined to be this way? Teeth ache in your mouth as your jaw clenches at the memory of your attempt at escaping that life. So smart, but not smart enough—always one step behind what everyone else is asking from you; docile. A flighty bird. 

You wonder what your mother is thinking about right now. 

Sharp nails rake across your skin, and you’re pulled out of your daydream. Cold water against your face, ice on your flesh, Johnny’s weight leaves you as he’s ripped from your arms. Angry streaks and broken skin are left behind in his wake, and you try your best not to cry out. Tears blur your vision as you finally open your eyes to see Simon yanking Johnny back against him by his collar. 

Desperate hands claw at the leather as the sounds of pain and pleasure culminate in his throat as Simon tugs at Johnny’s cock with vicious strokes. You can do nothing but lay there and watch in abject horror as Johnny’s cum spurts from the tip of his cock and coats the length of your stomach and chest. It’s a warm, sticky mess that has you grimacing as it mixes with the lingering perspiration on your skin, yet you know better than to voice your discomfort. 

“There he is,” Simon grunts. “Makin’ a goddamn mess all over my hand. A mess of your favorite toy too, hmm?” 

Johnny is lost. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, body shuddering—Simon doesn’t let up. Cock pumping into him, hips slapping against his rump, thighs clenching; there is no regard for the whining that emanates from his favorite pup. All the dog can do is mindlessly babble.

“What? You thought that just because you are done that I’m done with ya? C’mon, Johnny, you know better than that. Now, be a good boy and fuckin’ take it.” 

Electric blue eyes find you in the numbra of the bedroom before they roll back into his head. There’s grunting, hot air wafting through the room—growling. Animalistic howling from the only person not wearing a collar. It’s enough to get you to hold your breath, body freezing, preparing for an attack—a mauling. 

When Simon finishes, he does so with another feral grunt and a final thrust into Johnny, cock buried deep inside of him. A cacophony of appreciative remarks fall from Johnny like a strained prayer to a deaf god that’s been long dead, and he’s pumped full of all his would-be-lover’s spend. It’s over, but you aren’t comforted. Tears overflow from your eyes, streaming down your face, burning your flesh as it traverses and collects around your collar. You are sullied—ruined. 

“Filthy thing. Spoiled rotten, you are,” Simon growls as Johnny begins to gag. “Completely spent and still wantin’ more.” 

Blinking away your tears, you look up to see Simon shoving his cum-coated fingers down Johnny’s throat. He chokes as unloving nails scrape against his tongue, and still he devours it like dessert. His devotion to a beast such as Simon is infuriating in a complicated way. It sends a tingle up your spine. Something bone chilling—it only gets worse when Simon’s gaze lands on you. 

He doesn’t speak a word as he yanks his fingers out of Johnny’s mouth and pushes his face towards your body. A flinch echoes throughout the cords of your muscles, preparing to be bitten by the brainwashed mutt, yet no such pain blossoms on your skin. 

“We’re done playin’ for now. Clean up your fuckin’ toy,” Simon barks. 

Obedient. Eager. Johnny’s tongue lulls out of his mouth without a second thought before he licks a line along your abdomen. It’s just as warm and wet as it was when he was lapping at your cunt, and still it makes you squirm. He laughs at the way you tremble under him, and it sounds more like a pant as he washes away the reminder of his cum, consuming it without complaint. 

Licking quickly turns into kissing once he’s finished, and he starts to nibble on your neck as he settles his body weight onto you. A still needy and half hard cock presses against your thigh as he nuzzles you, leg wrapped around your body, keeping you attached to him like a vice. Sticky warmth seeps through the pores of your skin, and you are so painfully trapped in this moment with a spinning head and an aching cunt. 

You are the complete opposite of clean. You are ruined—disgusting, indignified, desecrated. That filth only rouses and festers as Simon begins to shove himself back into his pants, umber gaze trained on you with the same morbid curiosity someone would spare a bug. You are not human. You have never been human. You’re an imitation of flesh, a bird with clipped wings, a song with no melody—you have become everything you ever feared of being: 

A catalyst. Food for the greedy. 

A trophy of bone. 

“What are you crying for?” 

Johnny’s lips are on you again, smothering away each fat tear that rolls down your cheeks. He fakes his concern for you so well, it can almost be confused for love. 

“I know, you’ll get your turn too. I promise, Bonnie. I always keep my promises, you’ll see,” Johnny assures you as he licks the salt off of his lips. 

That’s what I’m afraid of. 

But there is no room for fear. Not as Johnny settles against your back, tucking you into him like a prized possession. Not as Simon turns off the bedside lamp and plunges the room into darkness. There is only one thought that consumes your mind as both men begin to snore—survive. One day, something will save you; be it yourself, or anyone else—

—be it death. 

For now, you’ll just have to get used to being devoured whole.

follow @mother-ilia to be notified of updates | get early access to chapters here (tentative of patreon tos)

[dollyswishingwell]

Love your work 💖💖💖

Can I ask for a scenario with the lads boys, wherein reader goes on a vacation trip with them and her family. Like reader planned the whole trip, but midway through, she gets sick (nothing major, but she need to stay in the hotel to rest) and just ask the boys to take her family sightseeing without them? Like how would the boys react and what would they do?

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Mama’s Princess P.10

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluffff, just fluff as always, i’m really liking my new formatting, it’s fun

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ You’re sick during vacation

Masterlist

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You’d planned a dream coastal getaway to a pastel seaside town, coral buildings, lazy beaches, ice cream stands, shell markets. You coordinated the suite, the matching outfits, the daily itinerary. Rafayel only had to show up pretty and love you (and obviously fund the trip and the thousands of new outfits for you and your baby). Easy.

- It starts with a sore throat and light fever. You try to hide it. Rafayel immediately notices.

- “You didn’t laugh at my shell pun,” he says flatly, touching your forehead. “You’re dying.”

- You wave him off from under your floral bedsheets, cheeks flushed. “I just need sleep. Please take our babygirl sightseeing like I planned.”

- He was devastated.

- “But I don’t wanna go without you.” Big watery eyes, frowning at you like you’ve personally abandoned him on the battlefield.

- Clings to the edge of the bed like a sad puppy. Starts drawing a get-well card with crayons with your daughter.

- The card reads: “MAMA GET BETTER OR ELSE!!! 💜💖” (he helped her spell it).

- Offers to cancel everything. “We can just stay in and snuggle and I’ll get room service and braid your hair and spoon-feed you mango pudding.”

- But when you insist that he should take your baby girl out, so she doesn’t miss the fun (even though she doesn’t wanna leave mommy), he finally relents.

⸻

On the outing:

- Straps your babygirl into her cutest pink seashell romper and massive sunhat (“It’s bigger than her body, Raffy!” “And yet she still looks small and perfect like her mama.”)

- Wears the shirt you packed for him, because he’s dramatic like that. He FaceTimes you before leaving. “Are you sure? Blink twice if you need me to smuggle back a pharmacist.”

- Takes your daughter to all your planned spots: the turtle sanctuary, the jellyfish cafe, the handmade tiara stall. He follows your itinerary religiously.

- Sends constant updates:

- Photo of her feeding a turtle: “She said it looks like you when you’re sleepy.”

- Clip of her dancing with local performers: “Your child is a menace. She just stole a tambourine.”

- Pic of her holding two massive ice creams: “One for you. She said she’ll save it in her tummy.”

⸻

Back at the hotel:

- Your daughter runs in, yells “MAMAAA!!!” and climbs right into bed with you.

- She tells you everything she saw in frantic baby babble while Rafayel unpacks shell souvenirs and hands you the ugly-cute necklace she “bought” for you (Raf did).

- Rafayel gets under the covers, arms around both of you.

- “I hated every second of it without you.”

- But he’s smiling because your daughter was laughing all day. And now his two favorite girls are cuddled up next to him.

- Kisses your temple and whispers, “Next vacation, you’re not allowed to get sick. I’m bringing a doctor in our suitcase.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

You meticulously planned a serene countryside retreat, luxurious villa, lavender fields, little horse rides for your babygirl, a spa for you, and gourmet dinners. Zayne cleared his schedule for the first time in months just for you. All you had to do was relax… until you got sick.

- Zayne notices before you do.

- He hears the rasp in your voice, sees the flush on your cheeks, and presses the back of his hand to your forehead while you’re busy packing your daughter’s little woven picnic basket.

- “Lie down. Now.” Calm. Stern. Already reaching for the thermometer.

- You pout and beg him to take your babygirl out to the little garden tour you’d planned. “She was so excited, Zayne, just go without me this time.”

- He hesitates. He hates leaving you, especially when you’re unwell. But he sees the guilt in your eyes and nods. “You rest. I’ll take care of everything.”

- Immediately shifts into full physician-husband mode.

- Checks your vitals, leaves chilled lemon water on the nightstand, adjusts the AC, and gives you strict instructions to nap.

- “Text me if you feel even slightly worse. I’ll be back in ten seconds flat.”

- Dresses your babygirl in the little linen romper you picked. Her hair is tied back in tiny braids (Zayne’s skilled at this by now from all those years of doing your hair).

- “You’ll take care of Mama later, alright? For now, let’s go pick her some lavender.”

⸻

On the outing:

- Carries your daughter everywhere. She’s tiny, but Zayne acts like she’s 2.5kg of gold bricks, irreplaceable and precious (because she is to you)

- They go to all your planned stops, right on schedule. He quietly takes mental notes of every moment you would’ve loved.

- Sends you short video clips:

- Your daughter petting a white pony “She asked if this one can live in our backyard.”

- Her holding a fresh bouquet “She says it smells like Mama’s hair.”

- Her pointing at the spa “She said ‘Mama here? Where Mama?’”

- Zayne responds “Mama’s resting so she can be even prettier tomorrow.”

- Buys you a handcrafted necklace with a pressed flower inside. “For your memory box,” he tells you later. He knows you keep every memento.

⸻

Back at the villa:

- Babygirl climbs straight into bed, curls up against you with a sleepy whimper of “Mamaaaa.” She falls asleep instantly, exhausted but happy.

- Zayne sets everything down, peels off his coat, and slides in behind you both, his arm wrapping gently around your waist.

- “We missed you,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck.

- His voice lowers “Please don’t get sick on vacation again. You scared me.”

- You joke that it was just a fever, and he tuts. “Doesn’t matter. You’re mine, even a cough is a threat.”

- Spends the night checking your temperature, massaging your back, and spooning you and your daughter like you’re the most fragile thing in the universe.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

You planned a galaxy-themed retreat on a floating island resort, crystal lagoons, deep space observatory, themed dinners, and private stargazing decks. It’s lowkey and luxurious, perfect for your little family. You did all the organizing, and Xavier was just happy to follow your lead, quietly watching you from behind his sunglasses while carrying all your bags.

- It starts as a quiet headache and fatigue. You shrug it off, still slipping into your silky dress for the resort dinner. Xavier blinks at you once.

- “…You don’t look well.” His voice is low, distant, but his eyes are sharp on you.

- You try to wave him off, smiling gently. “Just tired. You should take her out, okay? She really wants to see the glow pool.”

- He freezes.

- “Without you?”

- His brows furrow slightly like you just asked him to walk into war unarmed.

- “No. We stay here.”

- You coax him gently, fingers brushing his cool cheek. “It’s just a fever. She’ll be sad if she misses it. Please?”

- After ten full seconds of internal struggle, he finally nods slowly.

- “You’ll rest. I’ll take her. But you must stay in bed. Promise me.”

- Carries your babygirl like she’s made of stardust. She keeps asking “Where Mama?” and Xavier keeps saying, “Resting. Mama’s tired. But we’ll tell her everything.”

- He doesn’t like being separated from you. He sends you grainy, shaky photos of your daughter by the lagoon. You can tell he took them awkwardly with one hand while holding her with the other.

- Photo: your babygirl pointing at stars. “She said ‘that one is Mama star.’”

- Photo: Her sticking her feet into glowing water. “She asked if you’d like it.”

⸻

On the outing:

- He’s quiet and gentle, answering her every question seriously like it’s a diplomatic meeting.

- “Can we take the stars home?”

- “…I will ask the staff.”

- Buys her a tiny star crown, and when she says “Mama will look sooooo pretty,” he quietly buys a full-sized one for you too.

- She throws glitter in the air and yells “WISH!” and he just sits beside her, head tilted, letting it fall on his silver hair without comment.

⸻

Back at the resort:

- Your babygirl crashes into your bed in her tiny silver cloak and yells “MAMA I LOVE UUUU” before conking out on your chest like a baby koala.

- Xavier enters after. Silent. Then kneels at the edge of the bed and rests his forehead against your thigh. Just stays there.

- “I don’t like being without you,” he murmurs against your skin. “It feels wrong.”

- Crawls into bed and wraps around both of you, long arms like a sleepy octopus, head resting on your belly.

- “We’ll do the stargazing again tomorrow. Together this time.”

- Kisses your warm wrist with worry still lingering in his eyes. “Don’t get sick again. Or I’ll cancel the universe.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You booked an exclusive luxury island where each guest gets their own private villa suspended over crystal water, with a glass floor, gold-plated breakfast trays, and private yacht excursions. You chose the itinerary, ordered the outfits, even arranged custom sunhats for you and your baby. He let you have your princess fun. Of course he did.

- It starts as a sore throat and dizziness during breakfast. You try to hide it and keep moving.

- Sylus doesn’t even look up from his tablet.

- “You’re sick.”

- “No I’m not—”

- “You are. Your voice cracked and you buttered your pancakes twice.”

- Tosses the tablet aside and walks over to feel your forehead. His cool palm lingers for too long. His brows lower.

- “Unacceptable. I brought you here to be spoiled, not to expire like milk.”

- You try to convince him to still take your babygirl to the reef tour you had planned. “Don’t let her miss it just because I need a nap, please?”

- He sighs like you’re personally causing him emotional distress.

- “You’re lucky I’d kill for you. Fine. I’ll take her.”

- But before he goes, he completely baby-proofs your suite like he’s preparing for battle:

- “You don’t get out of bed. Everything you need is within reach. I will know if you stand.”

- Brings in a physician from the mainland just in case.

- Dresses your babygirl in her little black designer swimsuit and oversized sunglasses. She looks like a miniature version of him. Total menace.

- “Say goodbye to Mama. She’s in exile until further notice.”

⸻

On the outing:

- He charters a private yacht instead of the tour boat. (“I’m not letting her touch public railings.”)

- He holds her hand as she throws flower petals into the water and names fish after you: “That’s Mama-fish! She’s prettyyy~!”

- Sends you videos with dry commentary:

- Video: her trying to touch the water. “She said she wants to bring some back for you in her bottle.”

- Selfie of them in front of a reef. “She demanded to take a picture for Mama. I look like a hostage.”

- Buys you a matching swimsuit you didn’t even ask for. (“You’ll wear it tomorrow. No objections.”)

⸻

Back at the villa:

- Your babygirl bursts in with sparkly seashells and leaps into bed to cuddle you. She shows you every souvenir.

- Sylus follows quietly behind, places a velvet box beside your pillow.

- Inside: a necklace shaped like a seashell, studded with tiny diamonds. “I had them make this today. Told the designer you liked the spiral ones. If you hate it, I’ll burn the store.”

- Slips off his coat and climbs into bed beside you, letting your daughter snuggle between you.

- Kisses your temple.

- “Next time we vacation, I’m wrapping you in silk and putting you in a glass case until you’re medically cleared.”

- But his arm curls under your neck and he lets your daughter nap on his chest, eyes drifting closed with a rare, genuine smile.

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You planned a paradise escape to Skyhaven Dome Resort’s, moonlit pools, and soft artificial weather calibrated to the exact temperature you like. You even packed coordinating outfits for the whole family. Caleb just followed your lists like an obedient military husband, pretending to be grumpy while clearly loving every second of it.

- It’s just a little fever and fatigue from the flight, but you know the moment Caleb notices.

- “Pipsqueak.” His voice drops low and serious. “You’re warm. Sit. Now.”

- He’s already grabbing the hotel medkit and hovering like you’re a fallen soldier.

- You protest weakly: “Take our baby out, please? I planned everything… she really wants to see the butterflies…”

- His entire body stiffens at the idea of going out without you.

- “You want me to take her…alone?”

- “Yes. You’re her father, Caleb.”

- “I know. But you’re the sun. I’m just a satellite, Pipsqueak.”

- Finally agrees, but the moment you give him the green light, he switches into extreme colonel-protection-overkill-mode.

- Dresses your babygirl in three layers of sun-protective fabric, a hat the size of Saturn’s rings, and SPF 1000000 even though they’re indoors. (“I don’t care. The photons might glitch.”)

- Sends you hourly check-ins like he’s on a critical mission:

- Photo of her in her stroller, shaded by three umbrellas. “Sunlight level: minimal. No damage incurred.”

- Voice memo: “She touched a flower. It was pre-cleared. No allergic reaction observed. Returning with souvenir.”

⸻

On the outing:

- He has his arm around her or carries her the whole time. She has full authority over him and he’s scared to disappoint her.

- At the hover-butterfly dome, she shrieks “LOOK MAMA’S FAVORITE COLOR!!” and he nearly cries.

- “She said she’s gonna show you every butterfly later. I recorded 200 videos. I can make a PowerPoint.”

- Buys you every item your daughter even glances at, trinkets, treats, plushies.

- “She pointed at this scarf for 0.4 seconds. It’s yours now.”

⸻

Back at the hotel:

- Bursts through the door like he’s returning from war.

- “Pipsqueak. Mission successful. I have her. She was perfect. Nothing harmed her. She only tripped twice and I caught her both times before she even noticed.”

- Your babygirl launches herself into bed next to you. “Mamaaaaaaa!!! We saw butterflies and Daddy said I was glowing like a nebula!!!”

- Caleb kneels beside the bed like you’re a queen and he’s the knight returning your princess.

- “Never again. Don’t ever get sick again. My heart can’t take being alone with her for more than four hours.”

- But his arms wrap tightly around both of you. He kisses your cheek. Then your forehead. Then gently brushes your hair behind your ear.

- He whispers “You planned the perfect trip. You always do. But next time, I’m carrying you the whole way. Just to be sure.”

[cupcakeinat0r]

Thinkin' abt DadBod!Miguel at the gym <3

You'd been going to the gym routinely, or at least trying to. You decided to go after working up the courage and convincing yourself that this was just for fun. That your body was your temple, and you were tending to it, no matter how it looked <3

The first week wasn't so bad. After embarrassingly tripping on equipment or accidentally dropping weights here and there, it was alright! Though at times, it was still difficult to stay consistent, until one day, you saw him.

Over on the other side of the gym, curling some dumbbells (100s, mind you), was a total 6-foot, thick, hairy dream of a man. You first noticed his chiseled face adorned by fine lines, locks of black hair framing it. With each draw of the weights, his biceps bulged. Beads of sweat trickled down his bulky chest and wide shoulders. When your eyes wander downward, you're surprised to not find washboard abs.

Oh no, what you find instead excites you even more than any pack of abs could offer you.

Your mouth waters slightly to find that his tank top has ridden up slightly over his hefty belly, graciously allowing a peek at a happy trail, its path sadly blocked by some basketball shorts (his cute bubble butt and giant dick print made up for it tho).

Despite his low, breathy grunts and intense crimson gaze towards his own reflection, he was making it look easy. You thought about how easy it'd probably be for him to carry you bride-style and throw you onto a bed before spreading your legs with those enormous hands so he could feast until your eyes crossed. Or how it'd be effortless for him to hold you tightly with your legs wrapped around that stocky midsection of his while he bullied his-

"'scuse me, you waiting for this bench?" a deep voice snaps you out of a daydream. You see the man is now looking at you with what looks like a knowing smirk. Fuck, he noticed you staring.

"Oh! N-no, was just looking for the 10s!" You blurt, evoking a velvety chuckle and dashing smile from him.

"Right over there." He motions with his chin toward the weight rack where the 10s are obviously displayed. After you thanked him, He smiled and nodded back to you, turning back toward the mirror to do his last set.

The second week felt like no problem. Instead of dragging yourself to the gym, you looked forward to it, scanning for your new gym crush every time you entered.

You'd feel a lil surge of happiness when you do find him there, feeling brave enough to exchange smiles and sometimes even little waves from across the gym. One time, the older man made you swoon when he winked at you upon entering the gym. After seeing your cute reaction, this would be how he greeted you every time.

The third week came You're at the squat rack, feeling stronger than usual, so you opt to go the heaviest you've ever gone. Big mistake. By the third rep, you fail to get back up, panicking and legs shaking. Just when you feel yourself start to fall, you see a pair of hands dart toward the bar from behind you, lifting it with ease and allowing you to stand back up. The bar is re-racked and you turn to find gym bae.

"You okay?" he gently prompts, a worried look on his face.

"Yes, thank you... think I might've gone too heavy." you nervously chuckle. He does as well, seeing that you're alright.

"Next time you go for a PR, you need to ask for a spotter, hun." He gives you that dashing smile again, his hands on his love handles.

"Yeah, I probably should've," you lower your head in defeat, "I didn't bring anyone with me though."

"You could've asked me," He says matter of factly as if it should've been obvious that he should be the one to spot you. "I would've done it with no problem, mama." His pet names make your womanhood pulse.

You look back up at him, your lips curled into a shy smile.

"C'mon, let's try again." "No, no, mama, I got that, I'll put it away for you." "Keep your knees like this-theeeere you go. "Gimme one more, mama, just one more, you can do it." "Atta girl! Good job, mamita."

You learned that his name is Miguel. He'd become your designated spotter on leg days, the sensation of his larger frame against yours making you nervous in the best way.

Your favorite is when his tummy accidentally brushes against your back, and borderline, your ass, and if not his tummy, it'd be his prominent bulge (which isn't there bc he gets to spot the adorable girl with an amazing ass from the gym... totally not that).

On the Fourth week, Miguel would ask you if you wanted to be workout buddies altogether. Of course, you accept, in which he asks for your number so like that, he can text you when he's going and vice versa.

It's the fifth week, and you both have worked out together a couple times already. Miguel texted you in the morning asking if you'd like to join him, which you were totally down for.

You two started with lateral pull-downs. Once it was your turn, you sat on the machine and reached for the handle, pulling it as you began your set.

Anytime you felt like you wanted advice or correction, Miguel eagerly helped you.

His hands would stay on your waist, his warm breath tickling your ear. "Mhm, there you go, you're doin' so good, mama." He praises in almost a whisper.

If only he knew he was making the exercise only harder. As if that weren't enough, his finger would occasionally message your hip. Your bodies were so close that you were able to hear each satisfied hum from his lips, suggesting you were doing the exercise right.

"Good girl, that was better. You feel it now?" He says, letting go to let you off the machine.

"Yeah, thank you! When it comes to upper body, I'll need all the help I can get. I'm just glad I’m getting it from an upper-body master." You flirtatiously add, playfully poking at one of his biceps.

This makes him blush, but only for a moment before he returns with a cocky response, "Thanks, hun. I'm glad to be working out with a leg-day goddess."

Now it was your turn to blush, except you didn't have any smart comeback, boosting Miguel's ego.

"Listen, let me treat you to smoothie after this, yeah?" He says it more like a statement than a request, and you happily oblige.

What you were expecting was a simple, cheap smoothie from a spot you usually go to, but instead, you're met with a drive-thru menu listing shakes from $20 and up. Oh he got moneyyyy.

Miguel tells you to pick any that looks good to you. He orders for himself and you as well, parking the car once the two of you get the smoothies.

As he sips from the cup, you take the opportunity to subtly glance at his figure, his muscles, how his pecs sit beautifully on top of his soft belly, his thighs constrained by the confines of his gym shorts. You think how badly you wanna sit there, grinding on the print 'til there was a wet spot-

"Something on your mind, mama?" You look back at him, taking a few seconds to register his words.

You hastily look back down at your drink and shake your head, “Nothing… thank you so much for this, it’s delicious!”

then he grabs the shoulder of your chair to lean toward you, “Of course, mama, but I don’t think you’re being completely truthful with me, hm?”

You look at him, playfully shaking your head again, knowing full well you’ve been caught.

“What’s in that pretty lil head of yours, hm? dime.” He puts the smoothie into the cup holder to free his other hand, placing it on your thigh, and softly squeezes it. “Just say the word, and you’ll get anything you want.”

Your lips curl slyly as you think of a response.

“Well… we never did cardio.”

Now you were here in his car, being bounced on his fat dick on the passenger seat, holding onto his his big shoulders for dear life. You were basically his fleshlight at this point… with those big hands.

You could feel his body now taut against yours, your tits bouncing relentlessly, his muscled, thick thighs below your ass, his balls slapping against your pussy lips, his bush tickling your clit, his pelvis pushing your ass up and his curved belly against your front side. It all was sending you into euphoria.

With you vigorously bouncing on his cock and his beautiful moaning, you fully let go. “Aw yes, Daddy,“ you mumbled without thinking.

In fact, you couldn’t think at all. All you knew was this fat cock and your pussy was memorizing all its veins and curves.

“Mmfuck baby, yea, say that again f’me”, he groaned through gritted teeth as he mercilessly bounced you down his painfully hard shaft.

“Please, Daddy, please!” You whined with your hands desperately seeking support on his big shoulders.

You can feel the sheet of sweat on his belly and on his thighs, which turned the smacking of your ass sound even more lewd.

“Fuck, say it again.” He growled, getting faster now.

“Mmmm, Daddy— Daddy, pleaseeee.”

“Louder, baby, c’mon—“

“UNGH DADDYYYY”

“Oh FUCK… you wanted cardio, baby, I’ll give you cardio… fuckin’ take it… coño.” Your panting became synchronized with every pound of his cock into your abused and bruised cunt, getting higher and higher in pitch, firing him up to go faster and harder.

“Gonna cum on this fat cock, right? Gonna cum f’me, mami?” He ordered, dropping octaves from his usual gentle tone with you.

“Mmmnn, Nnyesyyesyesyes—“ you babbled, the shakiness of your voice the result of the aggressive bouncing.

“Ah… carajo…” his cock accidentally slips out from your cunt, making you wince from the sudden empty sensation.

Holding up your ass, he takes a moment to admire the view, hissing from the sight of his angrily red cock and veins pulsing from your cunt sucking him in so deliciously. A ring of your cream erotically placed at the base of his length, just above his perfect bush. He guides his fat tip back to your dripping cunt using his thumb, pushing it back into your swollen folds.

He was back to ramming into your abused cunt in no time, chasing each others high’s.

“C’mon…fuck, c’mon, mama, you’re almost there…. Aw f-fuck… almost there…” he moans with his brows knitted and through a clenched jaw.

“Daddy I’m g’na— I’m cummingimcummingimcumming—“

“Aw, fuck, asi— asi mami— ah, ah…” Miguel holds back choked whines as he get closer, not allowing himself to let go until he knew you came first.

You speak in gibberish before crying into your climax, Miguel letting out a long, exasperated groan when he reaches his. You can feel his hot cum overfilling you, making you whine as it leaks down your thigh.

After draining himself completely, making sure every drop was in you, he gently pulls out, “Fuck… you did so good for me, mama… so good.”

Miguel lets you rest against his heaving chest and soft belly, rubbing your back as you caught your breath. You smiled a tired smile when you notice how hard Miguel is breathing as well, knowing you worked him out, too.

“You ok, mamita?” He plants a tender kiss on your shoulder, making a trail up your neck and finally to your forehead.

“Mhm,” you hum, you look up at him and are met with his plump, wet lips, tongues becoming entangled with each other as he groans into your mouth.

“I say… we do cardio like this every day.”

A/n: Haiii, I hope u liked it <3 Love my man sm <3 None of my gym baes could ever compare to himmmmm😭😭😭

@angel-of-the-moons Ty Ty Ty my luv for planting the seed in my head <3

Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!

[leafyln4]

"Would you love me more?"

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, oral f!receiving, somehow almost everyone here is an asshole. lando is a bitch, max is a bitch, mentions of carlos, mentions of alcohol usage, reader is a whore, mentions of drugs(weed).

author's note: this took me wayyy too long to write. sorry for the bad writing (this one is so bad😭). english is not my first language and this is not proofread.

Max wasn't usually the type to go back and forth from Lando's house. But the DJ was stubborn and wanted Max to help him with some songs, so how could he say no? He was a good friend. Sometimes.

The streamer quietly enters the studio, not knowing if his friend was recording something or not. The place was quiet, filled with a light smoke he recognized too well.

Lando was sitting in his chair, looking through some papers, a joint lazily resting on the table. Max clicks his tongue, drawing the brit's attention to him.

"Thought you said you'd stop smoking." His voice carried that teasing undertone, a smirk up on his lips. He wasn't really surprised that Lando still smoked from times to times.

"Try not smoking when Sainz is in your life."

Sainz. Carlos Sainz wasn't someone Max liked that much. Not a lot of people from their circle liked Carlos, in all honesty. He was arrogant, always thought the word belonged to him. Just the mention of his name made his blood boil.

The dutch sits on the small couch on Lando's studio, scoffing while rolling his eyes. He didn't want to go there to talk about Carlos out of all people.

"You called me here to talk shit about him? Sorry, but I'll go away if that's the case."

He was already standing up, but Lando grabs his wrist in a tight grip. Lando didn't make all of the arrangements just for Max to leave now. And Max could see it in Lando's gaze, the hunger, that hint of desperation that was always in his eyes when he craved for something.

Lando was dangerous, in a way, and Max knew his friend better than everyone else. So he makes sure to sit down again, rolling his eyes at his friend.

"Okay, okay. Fine. Whatever you say." Max raises his hands in surrender, watching as a smirk crept onto Lando's face.

The brit, not sparing Max a word, takes his phone out of his pocket and seems to text someone. He hides his phone screen from Max, the dutch's curiosity rising.

Soon enough, a girl in a white top and baby pink skirt emerges into the studio. You. A small smile on your lips, a light shade of pink adorning your cheeks. You looked like an angel. Max almost had to remind himself to breathe.

"Hello, mr. Verstappen." Your voice was velvet smooth, carried by that innocence only you could carry in such environment. "Mr. Norr-- I mean, Lando told me a lot about you."

You sounded so sweet, your words like magic to Max's ears. So Lando told you about him? Interesting. He looked at the brit, seeing the smirk on his face.

Lando was up to mischief and he knew it.

"Oh, yeah? Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, miss."

His mouth felt dry, his words leaving with more enthusiasm than he wanted. He faked a cough, not wanting to show how much your presence was affecting him. He felt like a teenage boy, his pants getting tighter than ideal.

"She's pretty, isn't she?" Lando's words brought Max back to reality, a pretty pink adorning your flushed features. You were, indeed, very pretty. Something about that innocence, that shy demeanor, drew Max in.

So the dutch nodded, watching as your squirmed in your feet, as if his agreement hit you in the right way.

This would be a fun day.

The dynamic was easy, light, predictable. Max always went to Lando's place whenever he asked, eager to see you. You were always there, in Lando's lap, sometimes even cockwarming him shamelessly.

And Max, well... Max loved it. He loved when Lando would ask you to help Max relax, he loved how you were always so obedient. Their sweet girl. So sweet, so naive.

And you grew attached to Max in the same way you did to Lando and Carlos. You were well trained, your pussy soaking by the sight of them only. Max's blue eyes staring at you, eating you up with his gaze. It was all too much.

So when Max came in for a drink with Lando, you wore the sluttiest outfit ever known to mankind. The shortest skirt, some really tight crop top that outlined your boobs perfectly. It was quite the sight for both of them.

You were already tipsy when Lando left the room, saying he had to grab something in his studio. You didn't notice the exchanged glance between him and Max, didn't notice how close Max was to you.

"Schatje, you look so pretty." His hand ghosted under your shirt, a gasp echoing through your lips as he played with one of your nipples. His calloused hands rolled, pinched, touched your nipples in all of the ways that make you squirm.

Soft sounds, gasps, moans, something in-between, left your mouth, your back arching, chest seeking his touch more and more. You were still a bit sore from your night with Lando a the other night with Carlos, but Max's touch made you completely forget all of that.

Your body was aching, craving for him since you first laid eyes on him. But you were too shy, too much of a good girl to do anything. So you waited, used your clothes in your favour, and waited. And, now, he was touching you like you belonged to him.

He didn't ask for permission, it was like he knew what you wanted, what you needed. His hands squeezed your breasts, your nipples already hard and sensitive enough to make some tears form at the corners of your eyes.

"Look at you... I barely even touched you and you're already squirming. What a sweet girl. Do you like being touched like that, hm? Like I fucking own you?"

You could only whimper, your cunt clenching around nothing as his hands wandered through your body. Soon enough, he was pulling your skirt up, pulling your panties down in one swift emotion. His fingers soon find the wet mess between your legs, a groan leaving his lips.

"So fucking wet... Can't believe Lando has been keeping that sweet cunt in secret for that long."

There were already tears in your eyes, you were so over and understimulated at the same time. It was maddening, crazy, insane. You whine when he brushes his thumb on your clit, closing your legs as soon as he kneels between your legs.

"Come on, don't get shy on me now. You're whoring yourself out for me, act like one." And so he holds your legs open, taking a long yet slow stripe up your folds. You were so sensitive, the way he sucked you made you scream in pleasure.

In no time, you were coming all over his face, your cunt clenching around his tongue as he fucked you with it. Even then, he doesn't stop until Lando comes back, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you.

And, when Lando is finally there, you know you're in for one hell of a night. <3

[ethereangel222]

all yours (part ii)

© @usermonsters nicholas alexander chavez & cooper koch x reader (anyone can read!)

part i | part iii premise Three friends—Nicholas, Cooper, and the Y/N—find their casual friendship evolving into something deeper as playful competition for attention gives way to mutual attraction. (prequel)

cw no warnings. fluff, fluff and fluff. wc 3.7k a/n part 2 request from @urdreamgirl12! i'm very tempted to write some filthy smut for part iii. ugh, i love these two men sm.

Reblogs are highly appreciated.

PART II

You met Cooper during your second semester, in a philosophy class that felt endless with heavy readings and dense discussions. He sat a couple of seats away from you, friendly but reserved, always polite with a small nod when you arrived. He wasn’t the type to dominate conversations or draw attention to himself, but he was approachable, and something about his calm presence made you want to know him better.

One morning after class, you both ended up walking in the same direction, and that’s when it started. “Is it just me, or does Plato make everything sound five times more complicated than it needs to be?” you joked, glancing over at him.

Cooper smiled, a quiet laugh escaping him. “No, it’s not just you. Sometimes I feel like I understand less the more I read.”

That was it — the first real conversation, but it flowed so naturally that by the time you reached the café, you had fallen into an easy rhythm. You grabbed coffee together, and for the first time, you got to see more of him. He had this dry humor that came out when you least expected it, paired with a thoughtful way of speaking that made you want to listen.

As the weeks went on, meeting after class became a routine. You’d walk together, sometimes study or grab coffee. He wasn’t shy but more of an observer, preferring to listen before diving into a conversation. Cooper had a quiet confidence about him, and his steady presence quickly became something you looked forward to. He didn’t push, didn’t fill the silence unnecessarily, but when he spoke, it was always with intention.

Over time, though, you started noticing something more. The way his hand brushed against yours when you walked, the way his eyes lingered just a moment longer than usual. It wasn’t loud or obvious, but the tension was there, simmering quietly between you. Neither of you said anything about it, but it hung in the air during your coffee breaks and quiet study sessions, growing slowly, waiting for the right moment to be acknowledged.

You met Nicholas at a party, one of those loud, crowded events where you felt out of place. You were standing by the drinks table, considering an early exit, when he appeared next to you with a grin that immediately caught your attention.

“You look like you’re planning your escape,” he said, leaning casually against the counter, his eyes bright with amusement.

You smirked, surprised by how easily he picked up on your mood. “Maybe I am.”

Nicholas chuckled, pouring himself a drink. “Tell you what, stay a little longer. I’ll make sure it’s worth it.”

From that moment, the night changed. Nicholas was magnetic, the kind of guy who drew everyone in with his confidence and energy. He kept you laughing, making the party feel less overwhelming and more fun, but it wasn’t just his charm that grabbed you. There was something more, a tension that simmered just beneath the surface. The way he stood close to you, his arm brushing against yours as he talked, the way his gaze would linger on your lips for a fraction too long.

At one point, he leaned in. “Still thinking about leaving?” he teases.

You felt the warmth of his breath against your skin, and it sent a shiver down your spine. His proximity made it hard to think straight, and for a moment, all you could do was look at him.

“Not anymore,” you replied softly, and Nicholas’ grin widened, satisfied.

As the night wore on, that tension only grew. Nicholas would find reasons to touch you, a hand on your shoulder or a brush of his fingers against your arm, each time lingering just long enough to make your pulse quicken. He wasn’t subtle about his interest, and by the time you left the party, you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he made you feel, that electric pull between you, always on the verge of something more.

After that night, Nicholas started popping up in your life more often. He’d text you out of the blue, always with that same playful, flirty energy, and every time you hung out, the tension was there, hanging between you, building with every lingering touch and every teasing remark. It was undeniable, and you both knew it was only a matter of time before one of you acted on it.

The first time Nicholas and Cooper met wasn’t exactly planned. You were in the middle of one of your usual study sessions with Cooper at the campus library. It was the kind of comfortable, quiet work you’d come to expect with him, both of you buried in your notes, exchanging a few words now and then.

Then you received a text from Nicholas. Outside. Coming in.

Before you could even respond, Nicholas appeared, striding through the library. He caught your eye and grinned, waving. “Hey! Thought I’d find you here.”

You smiled, a little surprised, and glanced at Cooper, who looked up from his book, brow furrowing slightly as Nicholas dropped into the chair across from you. “How’s the study session going?”

“It’s going well,” you replied, a little unsure. “We’ve still got a lot to cover.”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow at the stack of books, his face scrunching in mock horror. “Philosophy, huh? You guys need a break. How about I grab us some food? I saw a food truck outside.”

Cooper glanced up from his notes, his response calm but firm. “We’re kind of in the middle of things. Maybe later.”

There was a brief silence. Nicholas, not one to be brushed off easily, looked between you and Cooper, clearly not used to being put on hold. He leaned back in his chair, a playful smirk on his face, but you could sense something else behind it. “Ah, I see. Important stuff.”

Cooper didn’t rise to the bait, simply nodding and returning to his notes. But the tension wasn’t lost on you. Nicholas wasn’t used to being sidelined, and Cooper had this quiet confidence that made it clear he wasn’t going to be swayed by Nicholas’ usual charm.

But Nicholas, in his typical style, didn’t let it go. “Tell you what,” he said, standing up, “I’ll grab the food and bring it back. No distractions, I promise. Just sustenance. You keep doing your thing.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Nicholas flashed a wink and walked off, leaving you and Cooper in a moment of quiet. You looked over at Cooper, a little apologetic. “I didn’t think he was coming.”

Cooper smiled, a hint of amusement softening his features. “It’s fine. He seems... alright.”

When Nicholas came back, he laid out the food with a grin, true to his word about keeping things low-key. “Alright, food’s here. No distractions,” he said, though his tone carried the usual playful edge.

Cooper gave him a polite nod, accepting the food, though you noticed the dynamic was a bit different now. Nicholas didn’t press as hard this time. He didn’t dominate the conversation like he usually did. Instead, he leaned back, eating his food quietly, stealing occasional glances at Cooper, who seemed focused on his work but not entirely indifferent to Nicholas’ presence.

There was a shift, small but there. Nicholas vseemed to be sizing Cooper up but not in a competitive way anymore. More like he was curious. He was beginning to see that Cooper wasn’t just some guy who kept to himself. He was steady, thoughtful, and sure of himself in a way that Nicholas wasn’t used to. It seemed like Nicholas was… warming up to him.

As the three of you sat there, the tension seemed to ease. Nicholas leaned forward, making a casual comment about the food, and for the first time, Cooper cracked a small smile in response. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Nicholas to lean back, satisfied, a flicker of something like respect in his eyes.

And for the first time, you thought maybe Cooper was starting to grow on him.

It started innocently enough. You, Nicholas, and Cooper would occasionally run into each other between classes or grab coffee after a long day. At first, it was casual — just friends with overlapping schedules and shared interests. But somewhere along the way, the three of you fell into an unspoken rhythm, a routine that pulled you together more frequently, more naturally. What began as study sessions and movie nights turned into something else, though none of you would admit it just yet.

At first, it was Nicholas who was most obvious about vying for your attention. He’d flash that easy grin, leaning in just a little too close whenever he talked, as though he couldn’t resist testing the boundaries between friendship and something more. He was the type to drape his arm casually over your shoulders, always finding some excuse to be close, his presence hard to ignore.

"Don’t look so serious," he’d tease whenever he caught you focusing too hard during study sessions. "You’re gonna scare off all your brain cells."

You’d roll your eyes, but the warmth of his teasing made you smile every time. And you weren’t the only one who noticed. Cooper, who was more laid-back and less showy, started to subtly mirror Nicholas’ actions, not as overtly, but in his own way. He’d lean forward during conversations, his gaze lingering on you, his voice soft and steady when he spoke. His touches were fewer, but each one was deliberate. If Nicholas was the one to throw playful jabs, Cooper was the one whose quiet support always felt reassuring.

You started to notice it more during your meet-ups: the way they seemed to compete for your attention. Nicholas was always quick to crack a joke, to make you laugh, while Cooper played the calm counterbalance, offering a deeper, more thoughtful presence. If Nicholas made a playful comment, Cooper would find a way to steer the conversation back to something meaningful, as if they were both trying to prove who could hold your interest more.

At first, it felt like a game, like they were challenging each other for who could make you smile, who could capture your focus. There were subtle moments when Nicholas would lean in closer, resting his hand on your knee while Cooper’s eyes followed the movement, his jaw tightening slightly before he’d distract you with a clever remark. If you were caught between them, they seemed equally caught in the tug-of-war over who could win your attention first.

But then, something shifted.

It happened slowly, almost without you noticing. Nicholas and Cooper still vied for your attention, but there were moments when their competitiveness gave way to something more playful between them. You’d catch them exchanging glances when they thought you weren’t looking, a shared look of amusement when one of them made you laugh.

One evening, the three of you were sitting at the campus café after a long day of classes. Nicholas had shown up as usual, sliding into the booth next to you and draping his arm casually over the back of your seat. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered something teasing about the way you held your coffee.

"You’re gripping that cup like it’s about to run away," he murmured, smirking. "Relax a little."

Before you could respond, Cooper arrived, sliding into the seat across from you. He raised an eyebrow at Nicholas’ proximity, but instead of making a comment to you, he glanced at Nicholas. "You know, if you leaned in any closer, people might think you two are dating.”

Nicholas didn’t miss a beat. He leaned back slightly, shooting Cooper a playful look. "What, jealous?"

Cooper smirked, his eyes meeting Nicholas’ in a way that felt different from their usual banter. "Maybe."

It was subtle, the way the tension between them shifted in that moment. What used to feel like a competition for your attention started to feel like they were both enjoying the game, not just with you, but with each other.

Later, back at Nicholas’ apartment for one of your usual movie nights, the energy felt different. You were sandwiched between them on the couch, Nicholas on one side, his arm draped over your shoulders as usual, and Cooper on the other, his knee pressing lightly against yours. The playful banter between them continued, but now, there were small moments where they’d brush against each other, not entirely by accident.

Nicholas would reach over you to grab a drink from the coffee table, letting his arm graze Cooper’s shoulder in the process. Cooper, instead of pulling away, would give Nicholas a slight nudge back, the touch lingering for just a moment before he returned his focus to you. It was subtle, but the shift in their dynamic was unmistakable — they were no longer just competing for your attention. They were starting to acknowledge each other, too.

"You two always this competitive?" you asked, half-joking but genuinely curious as their banter intensified. It was hard to miss the way Nicholas had leaned closer to Cooper over the course of the night, his usual teasing now directed toward both of you.

Nicholas grinned. "Who says we’re competing?"

Cooper chuckled, his gaze flicking to Nicholas briefly before settling back on you. "Yeah, I think we’re just… focused."

You smirked, feeling the tension between them and the way it pulled you right into the center. "Focused on what, exactly?"

Nicholas’ hand brushed lightly against your arm, but then, just as quickly, it slid down, his fingers brushing against Cooper’s shoulder before pulling away. The touch was light, playful, but enough to send a charge through the air. "On making sure you don’t get bored, obviously."

Cooper’s knee nudged yours under the blanket. "We wouldn’t want that."

You could feel the heat rising between the three of you, the subtle flirting no longer so subtle. Their casual touches now lingered longer, their glances shared not just with you, but with each other. Nicholas would throw a teasing comment your way, but his eyes would flick to Cooper afterward, almost daring him to respond. And Cooper, no longer holding back, would meet Nicholas’ gaze head-on, a knowing smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

As the night went on, the dynamics between the three of you shifted even further. Nicholas and Cooper still vied for your attention, but now, there was a clear acknowledgment of the tension between them as well. The casual touches between them grew more frequent, their shared looks more deliberate. It was no longer just a competition for you — it was a slow, teasing flirtation between them, too.

You were still caught in the middle, but now it felt like you weren’t the only one they were trying to win over. They had started to notice each other, and with every touch, every lingering glance, it became clearer: the three of you were connected in a way none of you had fully realized before.

It was bound to come to a head eventually. You, Nicholas, and Cooper had been dancing around each other for weeks, the tension between the three of you growing more obvious with every lingering glance, every touch that stayed just a little too long. But no one had said anything. It was as if you were all waiting for the right moment — or maybe for someone else to break the silence first.

That moment came at a house party, one of those weekend gatherings where the music was too loud, and the rooms were crowded with people looking for an excuse to let loose. You had arrived together, as usual, slipping into the familiar pattern of moving through the party as a trio, but tonight was different. There was a lightness in the air, a sense of release that came with letting go after a long week. People were packed into every area of the house, the thump of music vibrating through the floor, the smell of beer and laughter filling the space.

You started the night casually enough, playing beer pong with a few others in the kitchen. where the competition quickly ramped up. Nicholas, predictably, was cocky as ever, making a show of his "perfect aim."

"Watch this," he said with a wink, aiming the ping-pong ball at the last cup. He missed completely, and the ball bounced off the counter, rolling under the table.

You burst out laughing, your head swimming with the alcohol and the absurdity of the night. "Perfect aim, huh?"

Nicholas shrugged, unbothered. "It’s all part of the strategy. Keep the competition guessing."

Cooper chuckled, shaking his head. "If that’s your strategy, it’s a terrible one."

The banter flowed easily between the three of you, as it always did, but tonight there was an extra layer of warmth, the kind that came from the alcohol already making its way into your system. Your head felt a little lighter, your movements a little slower, as the drinks started to settle in. Nicholas had been handing you drinks all night, always making sure your cup was full, and Cooper had been quietly keeping pace, his eyes flicking between you and Nicholas.

After a few rounds of beer games, you were feeling the full effects of the drinks. Your body was warm, your cheeks flushed, and everything seemed funnier, lighter. The three of you were leaning against each other, laughing at nothing in particular, your head resting against Nicholas’ shoulder as Cooper stood close by, his arm brushing against yours every so often.

It wasn’t long before you needed a break from the noise, the heat of the house starting to feel overwhelming. You slipped away from the crowd, wandering through the hallway until you found a quiet, secluded corner near the back of the house. The music was still loud, but it was muffled here, the chaos of the party fading into the background as you leaned against the wall, closing your eyes for a moment.

You hadn’t been there long when you felt someone approaching. You opened your eyes to see Nicholas standing in front of you, a lazy grin on his face as he leaned one hand against the wall next to you. "Escaping already?"

Before you could answer, Cooper appeared on your other side, his presence quieter but just as steady. His gaze was soft, but there was a heat behind his eyes that made your heart skip a beat. "You didn’t think we’d let you disappear on us, did you?"

You smiled, feeling a sudden rush of warmth at the sight of both of them, standing so close, their attention entirely focused on you. "Just needed a breather."

Nicholas chuckled, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm as he leaned in closer, his voice low. "You sure you weren’t trying to ditch us?"

The way his breath tickled your skin sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but glance at Cooper, who was watching you closely. His hand found your waist, his touch gentle but deliberate, "We’ve been following you all night, you know."

Your heart thudded in your chest, the alcohol blurring the lines of everything but the tension that crackled between the three of you. It felt like the air had shifted, like this small corner of the house had become its own world — one where the only thing that mattered was what happened next.

Nicholas’ fingers slid up your arm, his touch light and teasing as he leaned in even closer. "So… what now?"

Cooper’s hand tightened slightly on your waist, his body heat pressing against you from the other side as he waited for your answer. The room felt like it was spinning, not from the alcohol, but from the way their presence wrapped around you, pulling you into a moment you knew had been building for weeks.

"I think… I think we need to talk about this. About us."

Nicholas’ eyes gleamed with a mixture of playfulness and something deeper. His hand lingered on your arm as he glanced over at Cooper. "Yeah, I think it’s about time we do."

Cooper’s fingers brushed softly against your side, his gaze steady but serious. "We’ve been dancing around this for a while, haven’t we?"

You nodded, feeling both of their attention on you, making your pulse race. "It feels like… more than just friendship. With both of you. And I know you’ve felt it too."

Nicholas chuckled softly, his hand slipping to the small of your back as he pulled you just a little closer. "Oh, we’ve felt it. We’ve definitely felt it."

Cooper’s hand tightened on your waist, his tone calm but clear. "But we need to be sure. We need to be on the same page."

You exhaled a shaky breath, glancing between them. "I don’t know exactly what this is yet, but… I want to figure it out. With both of you."

Nicholas’ grin softened, his thumb brushing against the small of your back. "Good. Because I’m all in."

Cooper’s hand slid from your waist to your hand, fingers intertwining with yours. "Me too," he said quietly, his eyes locking with yours, then flicking to Nicholas. "We’re in this together."

Nicholas’ hand slipped up to your jaw, gently turning your face toward his. The grin that was usually playful now softened, his eyes intense as they searched yours. Without another word, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and filled with everything that had gone unsaid between the three of you.

The kiss sent a wave of heat through your body, and for a moment, it was just you and Nicholas, the weight of his hand on your back, the warmth of his lips pulling you deeper into the moment.

When he pulled away, your breath caught, and before you could process the rush of emotions, you felt Cooper’s hand gently guiding your face toward him. His kiss was different — softer, more tentative, but no less charged. His lips moved against yours with a quiet intensity, as if he had been holding back for too long and now couldn’t stop himself.

The contrast between them was intoxicating, Nicholas’ fiery energy and Cooper’s gentle steadiness blending together, both of them focused entirely on you. When Cooper pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

"So," Nicholas murmured, his voice low and teasing, "are we done pretending now?"

You smiled, breathless and caught between them, feeling like the missing pieces had finally clicked into place. "Yeah," you whispered, your heart pounding. "No more pretending."

[cobrakaisb]

blood is red, like paige’s cheeks

summary: when cocky and confident quidditch player paige bueckers accidentally hits you in the face with a bludger, she never imagined it would lead to an intense crush on the unexpecting victim.

featuring: fluff, cocky but also flustered/nervous paige, reader’s house is unspecified!!

word count: 1.05k

author’s note: my new hobby is combining paige beuckers and my favorite fandoms 😌↕️ also this is my first paige fic (or fic in months honestly) so i’m sorry if it feels rambly/rushed!! hope you enjoy 🫶🏻

paige knew she was screwed the second she saw you sitting in the quidditch stands. technically, quidditch practice is open to anyone, but spectators usually consist of teammate’s friends. you could have fallen into that category; maybe you talked with azzi or sat behind dean thomas in a class. however, that all seemed unlikely.

instead of listening to oliver wood, her quidditch captain, who was explaining whatever new drill he conjured up, paige watched you. that was definitely her first mistake—watching you instead of listening to wood’s yapping. you were reading a book, completely unbothered by the noise of the pitch. she tried to make out the title, but the distance prevented her from seeing it clearly. so, she guessed that you were using the quidditch practice as an excuse to sit outside and enjoy the nice weather, rather than support a friend. 

“you got that, bueckers?” wood asked, drawing her eyes away from you. 

“yep. all set,” she replied, an easy smile on her face. 

the captain nodded as the team split up. paige hovered on the sidelines, in a spot where she could both keep an eye on you and hustle through drills. she watched her team for a second, learning wood’s play, before her thoughts wander back to you. you’re in her year (because she remembers seeing you in charms class) but she can’t remember what house you’re in. ravenclaw maybe? since you’re reading for fun and the only other person who does that is hermione granger. yet, you also have that hufflepuff softness. so maybe you’re a hufflepuff? then again, she could be totally off, and you could be in slytherin. regardless, she’s sure it doesn’t matter. 

“bueckers!” wood calls, drawing her attention back to the team, “you’re up!” 

she nods, flying into position to run the play. she’s focused, following the movement of the quaffle as dean and azzi toss it between the two of them. from the corner of her eye, she sees one of the weasley twins direct a bludger her way, without thinking she moves to the side. the bludger doesn’t change course, however, as it’s heading straight for the stands; straight towards you. 

“look out!” she calls, and your eyes meet hers, just in time for your nose to make contact with the bludger. 

there’s a loud, resounding crack, and then you slump down in the stands. paige immediately moves towards you, easily sliding off her broom and climbing the wooden bleachers. “are you okay? i’m so sorry!” she’s shouting, voice panicked. 

you blink, slow and lethargic. “i think my nose is broken,” you mumble, and that’s when paige notices the blood gushing down your face. 

“shit,” she seethes, already taking off her quidditch jersey to press to your nose. her movements are frantic and rough, but once she places the fabric against your skin, a soft gentleness takes over. “i’m gonna take you to the infirmary. pomfrey will fix you right up,” she says, hauling your arm over her shoulders. 

“but your practice,” you try to argue, and she clicks her tongue. “i’ll be fine. i don’t need practice anyway,” she responds, waiting until you take hold of the jersey to grab her broom. 

“that sounds offly cocky,” you mumble, voice warbled between the cloth, blood, and pain. she gives a small smirk, blue eyes shining as she replies, “it is.” 

miraculously, the two of you make it to the infirmary without any further mishaps. paige bursts through the door, her arm still wrapped around your waist while yours is draped across her shoulder.

“oh heavens!” madam pomfrey exclaims upon seeing you, gesturing for paige to guide you to one of the empty beds. 

“she got hit with a stray bludger at quidditch practice. took it right to the nose,” paige explains, setting you down on the cot. 

“well that’s probably broken. any other symptoms?” pomfrey asks, removing the jersey from your face. 

“i’m fine, really,” you insist, and paige clicks her tongue again.

she’s standing with crossed arms and furrowed eyebrows as she looks at you. she gives a gentle shake of her head, causing her ponytail to brush along her shoulders. “she’s delirious,” paige explains, gesturing to you as proof. 

pomfrey nods her head, mumbling about a possible concussion. “i’m going to give you something for the pain, while miss bueckers puts on a shirt,” she announces before walking away. 

paige flushes at pomfrey’s words, pulling her quidditch robe tighter against her chest. she meets your gaze, and her cheeks turn an even darker red when she sees that you’re already watching her. “you were bleeding,” is all she can manage. somehow you muster up a smile. even with your face caked in dried blood she finds it contagious. 

“okay,” madam pomfrey says, placing some vials along your nightstand. “i’m going to fix your nose, and then you’re going to drink these, they’ll help with the pain. we’ll keep you here for a bit, just to monitor everything, and make sure you’re not concussed,” she explains, and paige watches intently as madam pomfrey fixes your nose with a soft spell. you make a pained sound, but the bleeding stops instantly. 

paige shifts on her feet as you down all the potions pomfrey hands you. after the third one, your eyes are dropping, and madam pomfrey helps you lean back onto the pillow. finally, the mediwitch steps aside and turns to paige, whispering, “she’ll be fine. just going to sleep the pain away.” 

paige nods, taking a glance at you. it already looks like you’re asleep. “i should get going then,” she whispers, taking the bloodied jersey off your bed. as she leans down to grab it, your hand wraps around her wrist. her head snaps to you, as you give a gentle tug. her blue eyes meet yours, wide and awestruck, as she becomes acutely aware of her heartbeat speeding up and your fingers pressed to her pulse point. 

“thanks for saving me,” you mumble, eyes flicking over her freckled face. you take one look at her red cheeks, a soft smile taking over your face. “and you’re really pretty,” you add, eyes half-lidded as your grip on her wrist relaxes and you finally drift to sleep.

if she wasn’t blushing before, paige is certainly blushing now.

[mattslilies]

✩ surprising matt on tour ✩

or: the one where you tell matt you miss him and can't wait for him to come home from tour, only to show up on the barricade of the next show <3

warnings: none! just fluff

divider credit: @/strangergraphics

your boyfriend being on tour was bittersweet. you were obviously incredibly proud of him, but at the same time, him being away for months at a time took a toll on you.

your relationship wasn't suffering from it, if anything, it was only strengthened, but you definitely still missed him. you loved seeing all the photos from the different cities along the tour, and you loved watching the friendly conversation and banter that all three triplets had with the crowd, but you did wish that you could see your boyfriend again.

texts, phone, and facetime calls could only do so much, and you could tell that matt was starting to get not only homesick, but missing you a lot as well. being a very touchy and clingy person, being away for a while bothered him too.

so, you hatched a plan.

the next stop on the tour was coming up, and it was only one state line away from you. you didn't have to work that day, so you looked into buying a ticket. you didn't tell matt about any of your plan, wanting to surprise him.

after a long phone call with nick while he was out getting food, everything was set up. you'd get to the show at the time that doors opened, and nick would make sure that you got in a little bit early, so you could be on the barricade when they came out onto the stage.

keeping the secret from matt was difficult, as you talked on the phone practically every night. you were bubbling with excitement, but had to pretend that it was about getting lunch with a friend the next day, not surprising him instead.

the drive to the venue was fun, as you had a lot of music to listen to, and you were so ready to see not just matt, but also chris and nick again. they were your best friends, and you had missed them all greatly in the past weeks.

meeting nick around the back of the venue, you smiled when you saw him leave out the back door.

"hey!"

he engulfed you in a hug, having clearly missed you.

"hey! it's great to see you guys!"

nick smiled, walking back inside, you following behind him.

"it hasn't been that long."

you raised an eyebrow, enjoying the gentle banter.

"didn't you just say that you missed me sooooo much on the phone yesterday? or was that just me hearing things again?"

laughter was heard from both of you, an easy conversation flowing as nick led you to where you needed to be.

"everyone inside has already done the VIP Meet and Greet with us, and they're in line to walk in. i probably shouldn't get you to the very front, i don't wanna draw too much attention to you, but i can get you close enough that you'll be close to the stage."

thanking him and wishing him good luck before saying goodbye, you stepped into line about fifteen people deep. sure enough, you were right in the front row.

it didn't take very long for the rest of the people to fill in, and the lights to dim, with the neon "Let's Trip" logo projected onto the stage. you couldn't wait.

the look on matt's face when he stepped out onto the stage and noticed you directly in the middle was priceless. he was stuck between a jaw drop and a smile, meaning his face was a wide grin.

he walked over to you almost immediately, leaning over.

"how did you get here?!"

you smiled, yelling back over the screams of the audience.

"i have my ways."

he shook his head, a huge smile still decorating his lips, before reaching a hand down to do the heart pose from the Meet and Greet photos with you.

despite the audience behind you, the amount that he had missed you and the joy of you being there overpowered him, and he kneeled down to face level, kissing you in front of the entire venue.

people reacted exactly how you would expect, a lot of yelling, but it was all white noise to you.

when he finally pulled back, standing up, he couldn't wipe the happiness off of his face, and it radiated throughout the rest of the show.

taglist <3

@courta13 @quinnynation @bowsandsturniolos @mqroonsturn @emely9274 @lizzyzzn @mattsbows @mattybsgroupie @sophand4n4 @leah-sturniolo @wr1tingsonthewall @sturns-mermaid @immaqulate @sweetshuga @user1smvtysturniolo @adoremattsturns @55sturn @chrisissobabygirl @backwardshatnick @jadest0ne

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