#770 words i think

[inbabylontheywept]

Want Better Things

“You thought that was a bioweapon?” 

The translator broke down for a second as the creature did a sort of broken exhale. Connotations were all that came through. Vague implications. Pity, the software flashed. Disgust. Anger.

A pause as it decided.  

Sadism. 

Valta was already backing away. The final decision didn’t change his behavior, it just made the hall feel far, far too short. 

“I didn’t order it deployed. I didn’t make it.” 

The thing was staring at him, and he couldn’t look away. The two eyes moved in such perfect tandem that he didn’t think it was conscious. It only had binocular vision because it only needed binocular vision. Always the predator, never the prey. 

And now it was moving in on him. 

“Oh, but what if you had? Then I could tell you all the things that were wrong with it.” 

One of its hands - a sprawling, five fingered  spindly thing - traced carelessly along the station's walls. 

“No incubation period. Symptoms arrive within 40 minutes of exposure. No time to spread undetected. Minimum should be one week. Embarrassingly low.” 

The pressure the thing was putting on the wall increased, the gentle glide turning into a buzzing scratch. Humans were strong, but not strong enough to cut through metal like this. The suit had to be powered and clawed. 

“Spread through contact. Limited waterborne. No airborne. Intended mechanism of infection is viral load being put on hands from scratching, and then passed into the environment. Pathetically inefficient.” 

The translator was working, but the thing was overeunounciating each word. The meaning was being passed along by a clean, helpful voice in his suit, even as the sound was being passed on through the environmental speakers. And the sound was dreadful - clicks of ceramized bone jarring against each other, wet muscles modulating air into something sharp and rasping. 

“Mechanism of death? Lysis overload. Could be dangerous if it was transmitted into the lungs, but since the initial load tends to be dermal all we wind up with-”

It took its helmet off. 

It took its helmet off. 

It took its helmet off it took its helmet off it took its helmet off in a biozone it - 

It looked a little pink, actually. A little scratchy. It lifted a delicate, taloned hand and rubbed its face against it for a moment before finishing. 

“-is a rash.”

Valta’s prey drive had glued him to the spot. It was too close. The stupid, stupid part of his brain that still thought he was grazing on Duranga hoped that if he stood still long enough, it might not notice him. 

The human paused a moment before continuing. 

“Do you know why they sent me? Alphonse Ericsen, PhD, MD, civilian doctor, here to speak with you?”

Valta’s snout twitched. The suit translated the gesture for him. 

“No.” 

“Because one of our grunts is a dumb fuck,” the human said simply. “And he spent two days fighting on your station with his helmet off. He got infected that way and brought back your stupid, itchy plague to our carrier ship, and now we’ve all spent the last 8 hours scratching ourselves raw. But the jokes on you, because when we were treating that guy you know what we found? That he was in the asymptomatic phase of a COVID infection. So if this-”

It gestured to its pink face with a snarl. 

“-is your idea of a bioweapon, then COVID is going to be your apocalypse. But if you work with me, and shut everything the fuck down for the next three or four months, I might be able to save most of you.” 

Valta unstuck at that. He’d spent weeks down here, worrying about nothing more than the next skirmish. Now he was looking at a genuine existential threat. 

“...What? Why would you help us? We wanted you to die. All of you. I wanted-”

The human cut him off with an exasperated wave of his hand. 

“You wanted something stupid. Doesn’t mean I have to join you. Best I can do to fix you is keep you alive and hope that you feel ashamed later. That, I genuinely look forward to. Now come on, you’re going to be the one explaining to all your friends what’s at stake here. My bedside manner is so bad that they limited my patients to virology slides and USMC marines. I think that’s actually one rung below the guys that just dissect cadavers.” 

Valta would’ve made an amused hum at that, but something already felt scratchy inside his throat. 

[reidmarieprentiss]

Tummy

Summary: Spencer doesn't like the tummy he gained, you love it.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: insecurities, body image issues, weight gain

Word count: 770

a/n: i already want to eat spencer and then the tummy?? im starvinggg

main masterlist

You're completely obsessed with Spencer's tummy, and it's impossible to resist the urge to touch it. Whether it's squeezing it gently, planting soft kisses across it, or even playfully biting and pinching, you can't help but be drawn to that spot. Every chance you get, your hands find their way to his stomach, reveling in the warmth and softness beneath your fingers. It's an obsession that leaves Spencer both amused and endlessly flustered as you indulge in your favorite pastime—giving his tummy all the affection it deserves.

However, once Spencer's tummy starts getting a little bigger, particularly after his time in prison, he begins to find your loving obsession a bit upsetting. The weight he's gained, combined with the emotional scars of his imprisonment, leaves him feeling insecure and vulnerable. Despite all the affection you shower on him, Spencer can't shake the doubts creeping into his mind. 

As you reach out to Spencer, your fingers itching to make contact with his soft, warm tummy, he recoils slightly, his body tensing beneath your touch. It's a subtle reaction at first, almost imperceptible, but as the days go by, it becomes more pronounced. He begins to pull away entirely, turning his body to the side or gently pushing your hand away, offering you a tight smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

The rejection stings, even when it's cloaked in sweetness, even when he tries to play it off as nothing. You start to notice the pattern—how he avoids letting you get too close to that one spot, how his usual playfulness seems forced, as if he's battling something inside that he can't quite put into words. The distance between you grows, and the intimacy that once felt so natural now feels strained, as if there's an invisible barrier between you and the person you love.

Finally, one evening, after another attempt to touch him is met with a gentle but firm refusal, he can't take it anymore.

"Please stop touching me there!" Spencer's voice breaks, his frustration and discomfort spilling out in a way that surprises even him.

The tension that's been building inside you spills over, and you find yourself asking the question that's been gnawing at your heart. "Spencer, do you hate my tummy? Do you think I'm repulsive since I put on weight?" Your voice trembles slightly, the vulnerability in your question laid bare, as you search his eyes for an answer.

His eyes widen in shock, and he shakes his head vehemently, his own emotions bubbling to the surface. "God no! I would never think that about you," he says, his voice filled with sincerity, almost as if the mere suggestion pains him.

"Then why do you assume I would ever feel that way about you?" The question hangs in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken fears and insecurities.

Spencer looks away, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggles to find the words. "I... I just feel like I'm not the same as I used to be. I've put on weight, and it... it makes me feel self-conscious. I don't want you to see me like that, to think less of me because of it."

Your heart aches at his confession, and without hesitation, you step closer, cupping his face in your hands so that he has no choice but to look at you. "Spencer," you say softly, your thumbs brushing against his cheeks, "I love every part of you, every inch. I don't care if you've put on weight or not. What I love is you—your mind, your heart, and yes, your body too, exactly as it is."

You take his hands and guide them to your own stomach, pressing them gently against your skin. "Do you hate this?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "Do you think I'm repulsive?"

He shakes his head again, this time more slowly, as if he's beginning to understand. "No," he whispers back, his fingers trembling slightly against you.

"Then believe me when I say I would never think that about you," you reply, your voice firm but tender. "Your body is beautiful to me, Spencer. Every part of you is beautiful to me."

Spencer's eyes meet yours, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you see the walls he's built around himself start to crumble. He leans into your touch, and as you pull him close, you feel the tension in his body slowly melt away. In that moment, you know that while the journey to accepting himself fully might take time, you're both willing to walk that path together.

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tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna @charismatic-writer @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg

[moonstruckme]

hope ur having a delightful break bb, lord knows you deserve it!!! <3 i've got a little request for you whenever you're back, if you're interested in writing it - i would love to see poly!marauders with a reader who's high and giggly and they're lightly teasing/they think it's cute!! either way, i'm sending my love and hugs and kisses to u!!! <33

Combined this with: hi lovely !! i hope you’ve had an amazing day/night <33 if you haven’t already (i’m sorry if you did, ignore this if you have !), can you write a poly!marauders x fem reader who loves sea animals and the boys decide to take her to an aquarium? Thank you both for requesting, hope this is alright <33

cw: weed

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 770 words

Sirius is fairly sure this is the best idea he’s ever had. And he will be expecting full credit. 

Your eyes are giant and filled to the brim with wonder as you stare into the tank, your face awash in a blue glow that shifts with the water. 

“A flamboyant cuttlefish,” you murmur, seemingly to yourself. 

Behind you, James squeezes Remus’ hand playfully. “You’re my cuttlefish,” he whispers. Remus groans. 

Sirius follows your gaze. “Oh, that thing is ugly.” 

“Don’t say that!” You reach back without turning around, smacking his chest lightly with the back of your hand. Your face is split into the same grin that has hardly wavered since the gummy you’d taken first kicked in. “They can change colors whenever they want. You’re totally jealous.” 

“And yet it’s chosen shit brown.” 

James releases Remus’ hand to come and crouch beside you, tracking the fish’s movements with dilated pupils. “Is that why it’s flamboyant?” he asks you.

You hum happily. “When they’re threatened, they shift colors and move their fins. They’re also highly toxic. So,” you shoot your boyfriend an impish look, “just like Sirius.” 

James’ laughter is booming. He takes on the role of your protector, sticking out an arm to ward Sirius off when the other boy grabs for you. Remus shushes them both, shooting apologetic looks towards irritated-looking aquarium patrons. 

“Where do you learn all this stuff, dove?” he asks you at a more polite volume. “TV?” 

Your grin turns sheepish. James makes heart eyes at you, thumbing at the dimple in your cheek. “Would it make you feel better if I said I read it in a study?” 

“A bit, yeah.” 

“Too bad.” 

You erupt in giggles at your own joke. James tries to catch you when you tip backwards, but instead the both of you go down, your laughter worsening. 

“Jesus,” Remus murmurs, shaking his head. He’s doing a poor job hiding his own amusement, though, the scar across his lip stretching as he suppresses a smile. 

Sirius snickers as he crouches in front of the two of you. “Having fun?” 

“Yeah.” Your grin is lopsided. Dopey. “Thanks for sharing with me. I feel nice.” 

“Anytime, gorgeous.” 

“I really like weed.” 

“Alright,” Remus steps in, hooking his arms under your and James’ armpits to haul you both up, “let’s quiet down about that, love. Go back to looking at the fish.” 

“Oh!” you gasp and point. “That one looks just like you, Siri!” 

Sirius is about done with this game, he thinks as he stands to peer into the glass. His mouth puckers in distaste. “Thanks,” he stretches out the vowels, making his insincerity heard. 

“No, no.” You throw yourself into his side cajolingly. He pretends to ignore you, and you hang off his arm, laughing. “Baby, it’s because it has fine features and it’s, like, glowy. See?” 

 “It’s a fish,” Remus points out. 

James squints, nose nearly touching the glass. “I think I kind of see it,” he says. You nod eagerly. “Why does this fish have cheekbones? Do they usually?” 

You shake your head, looking somewhat flummoxed. There’s a cute crinkle between your brows. Remus looks at you curiously. 

“Do you know what kind that is?” he asks you. 

You frown. “I don’t.” 

“Okay,” he says, taking your hand to go to the signs bordering the tank, “let’s find out.” 

Sirius is a tad jealous as you lean into Remus’ front, playing with his fingers, but Remus won't be diverted. He scans the placards until he finds it. 

“Here, it’s a flashlightfish,” he says quietly. You make a satisfied humming sound, leaning forward to scan the information with eager eyes. “Flashlightfish prefer to stay out of the sun,” Remus reads, “hiding in deeper reef waters during the day. They have small bean-shaped pockets under either eye which are filled with billions of symbiotic bacteria that emit a biochemical light.” Sirius lets the words filter in one ear and out the other, but you’re rapt. Your wide eyes shift from the placard to the fish itself, watching as its light winks in and out. “This light is used to evade predators as well as for a visual Morse code to attract mates and communicate within schools of fish.” 

Sirius watches as the two of you stand there for a minute, Remus’ arms slung loosely over your front as blue light from the tank dances over you both. 

“You could do audiobooks,” you tell Remus. Your voice is chock full of sincerity. “You’ve got the voice for it.”

He chuckles, setting his chin on your head fondly. “You think so?”

“Mhm.” 

“Thanks, dove.” 

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

You Should Be Sad

subby!Scarlet Witch x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: You're the last line of defense against the Scarlet Witch.

Word Count: 770

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, R uses her power to make W do what she wants, Dom/sub dynamics, Mommy!kink, Daddy!kink, R calls Wanda bunny, W calls R Mommy, W calls R Daddy, R has W rut against her,

A/N: She came to me in a fever dream of 3 different night time meds while I was sick.

The most powerful being in the multiverse was known as The Scarlet Witch and the only one she'd ever submit to was you.

The wind whipped around you, dust and debris being blown around you. The crumbling remains of Karmer-Taj around you as Wanda settled down in front of you, heels clicking against the stone. Her green sea glass eyes narrowed at you as she stopped in front, looking down at you. 

“Move out of my way Y/N.” An anger you'd heard directed at others, but never you. Your face showed no emotion and you were surprised she wasn't backing down. Before Thanos turned everything to shit the look you were giving would have had her on her knees. Begging for forgiveness for misbehaving. 

“Wanda. Don't make me say it.” You threatened to use your enhanced ability to manipulate your voice. You saw the flash behind her eyes. The realization and you watched her falter for a moment. As if she was internally fighting herself. 

“Your old tricks won't work on me anymore.” She called out, trying to seem tough, but you knew better. You knew voices better than anyone and though she tried you could still hear it; her fear. She knew it would work just as it always had. 

When the two of you first met She believed your voice to be inferior to her mind. She was proven wrong very quickly when you made her get up from the meeting, introducing you to the team, to come next to you and get on her knees. It was something she never lived down from Tony. 

You raise an eyebrow, head cocking to the side. “Are you sure you wanna test that bunny?” You changed the inflection in your voice when using her nickname. You visibly saw her shiver and tense. She couldn't even say anything as she gave a nod. A smirk coming over your face. “Heel.” You commanded and though Wanda tried to fight your voice she walked forward, stopping in front of you. Looking into your eyes which already looked a little glazed. “Sit.” You held out your leg for her to sit on your boot. Her arms wrapping around your leg. Cheek finding your thigh. “There's my good girl. Now, you're going to give up on this chase. You will give up the dark hold. You and I will go home and we will never speak of the atrocities you've committed. Those are the terms of your freedom.” You threw out the word freedom, both of you knowing Wanda didn't have freedom. 

Wanda didn't know what freedom was outside of the small leash she's always been given. Hydra, the Avengers, you, Vision, Westview. Westview was the closest Wanda knew of freedom. Look where it's gotten her, right back to your leash that she should have never unclipped. 

“Please Mommy I'm sorry. Can be a good bunny for you! Promise!” She cried out. You ran your fingers through her hair. You wonder when the last time was that she actually took care of herself. Her hair was greasy and you wonder for a moment if it's because she was too absorbed in the dark holds leash.

“I know you will be bunny. Mommy's going to keep you with her at all times. Always make sure that head is too fuzzy so you never think about leaving.” After the first time you'd used your power you had gone to apologize only for her to ask that you do it again because she ‘didn't want to think anymore.’ In the moment you didn't know everything that was going on with Wanda, but now you do. She'd be more than happy to submit so she wouldn't have to think anymore. “Rut.” Wanda's hips started without thought. Little whines and whimpers falling past her lips, “You want your boys back bunny? Want to be a Mommy?” Wanda looked up at you with glazed eyes. Her head nodded frantically. “If you're going to be Mommy then I guess I'll have to be Daddy from now on. “Call me Daddy.” Wanda let out a moan.

“Daddy! Daddy makes me feel good please Daddy can I cum?” She begged. 

“Stop.” All movement stopped. “Stand.” She scrambled to get up, looking at you with a pout, upset that you've edged her. “If you actually thought I'd let you cum right now Then you're dumber than I remember.” A whine came from the back of her throat. You cupped her chin. “We're going to go talk to Strange and apologize. We're also going to be helping rebuild the temple. Am I understood?”

“Yes Daddy.” 

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop @mrsromanovaa

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Toto Wolff with wife reader. It is heard that Benedict and Rosa were at the Dutch GP. So, what about a story based on that with their son, Jack? Just something fluff and cute. Up to you. Thanks!! :))

Race Day Surprise

Word count: 770

Pairing: Toto Wolff x wife!reader, feat. Jack, Rosa and Benedict

_____________________________________________________________

The atmosphere at the Dutch Grand Prix was electric, with fans buzzing in anticipation and the smell of burning rubber filling the air. Toto Wolff, ever the focused team principal, was immersed in pre-race preparations, his mind absorbed in the countless details that needed attention. He was a pillar of composure, but today, there was an extra spring in his step, knowing his wife, Y/N, was by his side and their young son, Jack, was eagerly awaiting the start of the race.

Little did Toto know, a delightful surprise was about to unfold, one that would bring an extra layer of joy to the day. Y/N had been working behind the scenes to arrange a special visit from Toto's older children from his first marriage, Benedict and Rosa. They hadn't seen their father at a race for a while, and Y/N thought it would be the perfect moment to reunite the family and make the day even more memorable.

As the final preparations were being made, Toto and Jack were walking through the paddock, Jack’s excitement palpable as he chatted nonstop about the race. “Dad, do you think we’ll get to see the car do that awesome drift again?” Jack asked, his eyes wide with anticipation.

Toto laughed, his hand resting on Jack’s shoulder. “I hope so, Jack. The team’s been working hard, and I’m sure they’ll put on a great show for us.”

Just then, Y/N’s phone buzzed, and she gave a subtle nod to the nearby entrance where Benedict and Rosa had just arrived. With a smile, she led the way to a secluded spot near the team’s garage, where they could keep an eye on the unfolding surprise.

Unbeknownst to Toto, Y/N had arranged for Benedict and Rosa to make their entrance at just the right moment. As Toto and Jack approached the spot, Y/N signaled Benedict and Rosa to come forward. The two teenagers, now a bit older and more mature, stepped into view, their faces lighting up with excitement as they saw Toto and Jack.

“Jack, look over there!” Y/N called out, pretending to spot something interesting. “I think there’s someone you might want to see.”

Jack turned around, his eyes widening as he spotted his older siblings. “Benedict! Rosa!” he shouted, racing toward them with glee.

Toto, catching sight of his children, froze for a moment before his face broke into a broad smile. His heart swelled with happiness as he saw Benedict and Rosa running towards him, their faces alight with joy. He stepped forward, his arms open wide, and the family gathered in a warm, heartfelt hug.

“Surprise, Dad!” Benedict said, his voice full of excitement.

“We couldn’t miss the Dutch GP,” Rosa added, her eyes sparkling as she looked at Toto.

Toto pulled them close, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t believe you’re here. This is the best surprise I could have asked for.”

As the family caught up and shared stories, Y/N watched from a short distance, her heart full at the sight of Toto’s beaming smile and the happy reunion. Jack bounced between his siblings and his parents, his joy evident as he eagerly showed off his favorite spots in the paddock.

“You should’ve seen the car’s new livery,” Jack said, proudly describing the details to his older siblings. “It’s the coolest thing ever!”

Benedict and Rosa listened intently, their faces full of pride and affection for their little brother. “I’m sure it is,” Benedict said, ruffling Jack’s hair. “Can’t wait to see it in action.”

The group made their way to the stands, taking their seats with the excitement of the race about to begin. As they settled in, Toto looked around at his family—Y/N by his side, Jack bouncing with energy, and Benedict and Rosa sharing in the moment. The sense of togetherness was palpable, a perfect blend of family and racing passion.

As the cars lined up on the grid and the crowd’s cheers grew louder, Toto felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. The race was about to start, but for him, the real victory was this beautiful moment of family unity and love. He glanced over at Y/N, who was watching him with a knowing smile, and then back at his children, his heart full to the brim.

“Here’s to a great race and even greater moments with the ones we love,” Toto said, raising his voice so that everyone could hear.

Jack, holding his siblings’ hands, looked up at his father with shining eyes. “And to surprises that make everything even better!”

[buckets-and-trees]

hii i have a request this can be for Ransom or Andy

But imagine y/n and him are in an arranged marriage. y/n is doing everything she can for him to sign the divorce paper for examples smashing his cars, serving overly salty food, cutting his expensive clothes into pieces, disrespecting his workers, and spending his money on the most useful things (but if it ransom spending money at “low class” retail shops only bc I feel like he’ll hate that), etc.

instead of giving her a divorce, he just randomly starts acting like a romantic gentleman until the night ends he punishes her 🙊😈

I have to apologize for taking so long to answer this ask... and forgive me for not using all the inspo you dropped my way, but from the MOMENT I read this, I knew it was going to fuel something very specific for I'm Your Man Andy and his entrapped fiancé reader., and so I still needed to post it as an answer to this to give some credit where it's due. So even though it took months and months to get to here, this is the result.

Title: Don't Look Too Far Characters/Pairings: soft!dark mafia Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 6.4k Summary: After jetting away with Andy for a week, you're back. The reality that this is going to be your life starts to settle in in very unsettling ways. And although Andy's taken so many liberties with you already, he finally crosses a line you didn't know was on the board.

Content/Warnings: violent behavior; spanking as punishment; emotional manipulation; explicit smut: nipple play, cock stroking, vaginal fingering, oral (female receiving), vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex; use of pet name (sweetheart), implied dacryphilia

Author Note: This is not a stand alone section! You can find the previous parts here.

Author Note 2: I've been sitting on this for a long time, and I'm excited to finally have it here to share with you. Some of you genuinely seem to love this awful Andy, and you'll like this chapter. Some of you kinda like him against your will and I think you'll like this chapter (cough @stargazingfangirl18 cough). Some of you loathe this man, and you might like at least a few things in this chapter (looking at @biteofcherry).

You are glad to get home from your whirlwind trip with Andy.

Everything had been stunning, luxurious, and beyond your wildest dreams in one of the places you’d been longing to go almost your entire life. Even Andy had been nearly wonderful and certainly subjected you to endless spoiling and copious amounts of exquisite sex.

He makes all of this so difficult.

The private jet touches down in the early afternoon, and Andy allows you to avoid him until dinner. One of the things he’d made clear was an expectation from day one was having dinner together. After dinner, he insists on taking you for a ride in his Aston Martin DBS 770 Ultimate Volante – not his only sports car in the gargantuan garage of his mansion, and not even the only Aston Martin. Though he gave you no choice in whether or not to join him, he doesn’t force conversation, merely lets you enjoy the scenic drive, occasionally holding your hand. Once home, he takes you to bed and gets you to scream out through two orgasms for him before he lets you rest in peace.

The next morning, you awake alone. Andy only invokes a little small talk in the kitchen, lets you know he’ll be taking a few meetings, places a kiss on the top of your head while you eat breakfast at the counter, and then leaves.

It is more room than you have been used to in the mornings, and you don’t question it. You are happy to have the Saturday to yourself.

Three days after Andy so decisively put his engagement ring on your finger, he put a black card in your wallet. Today you will break it in.

You start at a hair salon you have never been able to afford but that had been on the “essential” list of prenuptial rituals for some of the wealthiest brides you’d planned nuptials for. Having the long-standing relationship with the establishment to arrange appointments for your clients meant they were willing to fit you in last minute for the late morning.

You hold yourself back from doing anything drastic. You don’t want to give Andy the satisfaction of driving you to go for a new style. You leave more than a generous tip.

You get lunch at a small sandwich shop – one of your favorites. You choose a table with a view out one of the large windows. It’s nice to be in a familiar place, even with the presence of Shep watching out for the non-existent security threats.

After lunch, you ask Mark to drive you to the plant nursery you love.

You get everything you want, leaving no plant behind if it strikes your fancy. You buy lovely pots for all of them and never look at price tags. When you tap your card for the enormous bill, it’s with a self-satisfied smirk on your face.

Next you go to the nail salon. They are busy, as it’s Saturday afternoon, just as you knew they would be, but they say they can take you in an hour or less, and since you have no demands on your time, you’re more than fine waiting.

As it’s late summer, it really is too warm for the plants to stay in your car, so you insist on sending Mark home with the plants – you know better than to try to convince Shep to go with him. The man has made it clear he will not shirk his duty as the point man for the security Andy has assigned to you. He’s ever present, and you don’t give him a hard time – he’s only doing his job. Shep doesn’t like your suggestion, however, and instead calls someone from the house to come pick up your plants so neither of the men have to leave.

Once your pedicure and manicure are complete, you check your phone while you’re escorted to the SUV. Your mom has sent you a text.

MOM: Call me when you get a chance! I want to hear all about your trip!

You frown as you slide into the backseat.

How did she know?

Since being trapped and installed into the life of the mob boss, you’ve avoided getting together with any of your friends or family, phone calls, and any deep text conversations. It’s self-isolation, nothing mandated from Andy. But what would you tell them about your new circumstance? Forced into an engagement with a charming, handsome man who just happens to be a mobster with control issues you were sure you could never escape from? Not a subject you want to get anywhere close to.

You only hesitate for another moment before you hit the call button and place the phone to your ear as Mark starts your drive home.

“Hello, dear!” your mom’s voice is clear and full of excitement.

“Hi, Mom,” you reply, smiling despite yourself.

Your heart aches for the weeks it’s been since you two last spoke. You missed her voice. You’re close with both of your parents. Your job had kept you incredibly busy over the past five years, but you usually spoke with them at least once a week and made it out to their house in the suburbs once or twice a month.

“I got your text,” you say simply, not sure how else to begin.

“Yes!” she exclaims, her voice full of enthusiasm. “I want to hear everything about your trip! But first, we have to talk about Andy!”

She can’t see it, but your jaw drops. “Andy?”

“He made us promise not to say anything until after lunch today – and I’m sorry, it’s why I haven’t texted or called all week, I wasn’t sure I couldn’t NOT bring him up, but he told us everything! How you met–”

“Well, you know I planned that signature gala for him,” you interject, somehow needing to jump in to clarify that point.

“Of course, yes, but how he was so impressed by you but waited until the event was over before saying anything, how he couldn’t help moving so fast with you. When he reached out earlier this week to set up the lunch with your father and I, he said he wanted us to meet him without you there so that we could thoroughly vet him and judge for ourselves without worrying you, make up our own minds even though he was obviously hoping we would approve since you’re engaged, but he didn’t reveal that detail until today.”

“Oh,” your mind is racing. “Andy always seems to have something up his sleeve.”

She laughs. “I can only imagine! And things certainly developed quickly!”

“Yes…” your voice is thick with hesitancy, and you know you can’t hide it from her.

“But your father and I want you to know that while you don’t need our approval, you have it. We’re surprised, but we approve. He’s so clearly smitten with you, and we know you would never jump into an engagement like this unless you were sure. We trust you.”

You don’t know what to say.

“I would have told you and Dad about the engagement,” you say. You don’t know when you would have. You were still so freshly coming to terms with its reality and ramifications…

Now telling your parents about Andy is yet another thing he has stolen from you.

“We know! We were young once, too! I can only imagine how much that man must have swept you away!” she soothes and exclaims, her voice bright and beaming through the phone.

It makes your chest ache because if this had evolved without Andy’s constant control, it might have been like this, and you would have gushed and been giddy with your mom right now in this moment.

“Why don’t we get lunch tomorrow just the two of us?” you suggest, wanting nothing more than to talk to your mom, but desperately needing to get off the phone so you can regroup, clear your thoughts, and figure out what in the world you are going to be able and willing to tell her.

“I would love that! Where do you want to go?”

You quickly sort out details that you promise to confirm over text, say your goodbyes, and then you end the call. You set the phone on the seat, drop your head back, and shut your eyes, fighting back angry tears. You wouldn’t let them fall down your cheeks.

“Your mom sounds like a lovely woman,” Shep interrupts your thoughts.

The laugh that tumbles out of your mouth is short and underscores how ridiculous all of this is. “She is. She’s not perfect, but she’s the best and has the biggest heart,” you respond with a genuine smile.

“She passed it on to you,” he says, meeting your eyes briefly in the rear-view mirror.

“You two should probably meet her tomorrow,” you offer up.

“We look forward to it,” Mark chimes in.

That’s the end of the exchange, but it dawns on you that while these two men have been assigned to your personal security and transportation, and they’re work for Andy, they have been nothing but professional, and you can see now that while they’re not warm and soft, there is a degree of care from them that has developed or that you’re only now recognizing exists that does seem to go beyond being a paycheck for them. Mark is probably close to your age, and you would guess Shep is eight or ten years older. Both men wear wedding bands on their left hands.

Having to have them assigned to you, you’re grateful it’s these two seemingly good men.

You’re sure there could be much worse.

You’re quiet the rest of the ride home, but your mind doesn’t stop racing.

“Would you like to get out at the front of the house or in the garage, ma’am?” Mark asks as you near the house. He always asks because the house is so large it makes a difference.

The corner of your mouth lifts as you decide, “The garage, please.”

The garage is a drive in basement level on the southeast corner of the house and holds two dozen cars, including the black Range Rover designated for you. You wonder if you’d ever be allowed to drive a car of your own again.

More aware now of the men, you notice there is a degree of ease that settles particularly over Shep now that you’re safe in the house again. You wonder if that’s always been the norm or if there’s a higher threat potential than usual. The shift does clue you into the reality that Andy is involved in more dangerous things than you thought. Instigator or target, you don’t know which he is, but regardless he’s swimming in dangerous waters, and you’re tied to his fate now.

This is your life.

Would you have chosen it?

Would you have?

A month ago, before the gala, you had genuinely been taken with him, even thought of him as you went to bed, alone, a hand on your breast and a toy between your legs and imagined what it would be like to have him there dealing out your pleasure instead. You hadn’t thought any serious interest being reciprocated from even the faintest possibility.

You had been so wrong.

And he’s dealt more pleasure than you had ever experienced.

More pain as well.

He was mindful of your physical limits, even if he rode them mercilessly.

He failed to comprehend the gravity of the rest of the pain he caused.

And today he reached a limit you hadn’t been expecting.

You slide out of the backseat when Shep opens your door, and instead of heading for the staircase in the corner, you move to the south wall of the garage and start opening cabinets. Shep tracks your movements but gives you space.

In the second set, you find Andy’s golf clubs.

Perfect.

You test a few of the drivers, and when you’re satisfied you’ve got the heaviest in your hands, you pull it clean out of the bag and make your way directly to the car you’ve noticed Andy favors most.

His silver Aston Martin DBS 770 Ultimate Volante.

The very car he drove you around in last night.

You hold nothing back in your swings, cracking the glass with your second hit. The third doesn’t do much more damage, so you move to the metal body, and here’s where you see you will get at least some of your satisfaction, easier to create dents in the metal than breaking the windshield. You do manage to smash one of the windows. Then you round on the next car.

Neither Mark nor Shep move to stop you, but you do see Shep is on the phone briefly.

You guess that you won’t be alone for long, so you move to a third car. Andy arrives as you lay into the fourth car. You look over at him with apprehension, unsure of what his next move will be. He meets your gaze, surveys the damage you’ve done so far, looks back at you, and then takes up position leaning against the Range Rover.

You grit your teeth, then raise the club over your head and bring it down with a battle cry over the hood of the silver Porsche 911 Turbo. A fifth car bears the fire of your rage, and mid-swing on the sixth is when a someone finally grabs the other end of the iron. You scream in fury and turn to face Andy, who’s looming over you, his blue eyes dark, stormy, and his mouth a thin line.

You yank against the club, but his grip is firm. You don’t let go though, still trying to wrest it from his hands, eyes locked on his, and he uses the rod to pull you closer to him, nearly chest to heaving chest (yours, not his).

“That’s enough, sweetheart.” His fingers work yours away from the metal rod, and he clasps one of your hands in his to keep you close while - eyes on you - he tosses the club to Shep, who catches it easily.

You huff and try to pull your hand away, but he interlocks your fingers and then starts to lead you away and up the stairs. Not wanting to allow him seeing any petulance from you, you comply and follow him in silence. Adrenaline starting to taper off, you feel exhaustion seeping into your limbs, and part of you wonders if Andy knew you were reaching the end of your strength and stopped you before you would have lost steam on your own. Your stomach seethes.

Once on the main floor, you fall in step with him, not needing the staff to see anything that will make them talk. Some of them may be oblivious to why you’re here, but you know there are those who are aware at different levels that you aren’t here as the other half of a fairytale.

Your destination turns out to be the family dining room, not the formal one.

Dinner, of course.

He pulls your chair out for you, tucking it politely as you sit, and then takes his place across from you.

Sometimes you and Andy talk over dinner.

Tonight is not one of those nights.

If he’s going to be silent about today, say nothing more about your vandalism on arriving home, then you certainly are not going to stoke conversation. His eyes are on you frequently, but you ignore him.

Halfway through dinner and after taking a sip of wine, Andy finally says, “Your hair looks nice.”

You scoff. “As if you really noticed. Your men told you where we were.” You know it’s hardly changed.

Andy set his fork down. “Look at me,” he demands, tone serious, and so you comply. “They’re your men, and don’t make the mistake of thinking I will ever fail to notice a detail, especially when it comes to my wife.”

Your heart skips a beat - part fear, but part some flare in your heart that you hate reacting to his words. You raise your chin in defiance. “I’m not your wife.”

“Yet.”

Threat and promise.

As if the exquisite engagement ring whose heavy weight you were growing so used to weren’t a constant reminder.

Rather than think further on that, for the rest of the meal you consider his correction that Shep and Mark are your men when you’d said they were his. It was an interesting distinction, and you would put feelers out to ask about it later - not Andy, but maybe with the men.

When dinner is over, Andy stands and reaches for your hand. He always does. It’s unsettling because if only you had ever had a choice, the gesture would be endearing. A few nights over this month that you’ve been his, he kissed the back of your hand and left to attend to business. Some nights, he wanted to watch something with you before bedtime, or go on a drive like last night. Most often he takes you to the bedroom.

It’s the latter tonight.

You walk silently to the master suite together. Every muscle in your body is taught with tension, with the simmering rage and hurt of the day seething through your veins.

Andy closes the door and turns to face you.

“Do you want to tell me why you’re so upset before or after your punishment?”

“My - what?!” You glower and put your hands on your hips. “Why am I being punished? You let me smash two more cars before you even stopped me.”

“It’s not about the cars, it’s your refusal to talk to me about something that clearly has you worked up.”

“Worked up?” Your eyes widen and then narrow. “I’m not worked up, Andy, I’m infuriated.”

“Then tell me what crime I’ve committed.”

You scoff and turn away.

He catches you before you’ve taken two steps, gripping your upper arm. He hauls you toward the bed, takes a seat on the end of the mattress, and then lays you down over his lap. He takes both your wrists in his left hand and holds them firmly while his right hand pulls your pants down.

All of it happens so swiftly that you can’t even fight him, but you cry out when the first, harsh slap hits your bare ass. The sting is sharp and shocking. The second comes quickly after. You try to shake out of his hold, but he growls your name, tightens his grip, and the third slap comes even harder.

Four. Five. He kneads the flesh of your ass between some of the smacks. Eight. Fifteen. Twenty. Somewhere in the middle, the smacks morph into a swirl of simultaneous pain and numbness – a mirror of how you feel. You’re sobbing once he finally stops, body sagging in defeat over his lap. He lifts you carefully and lays you stomach down on the bed. You fold your arms and hide your face into the frame of them to cry and settle into softer cries, and Andy lets you have the moment of privacy.

It’s not long before you register Andy’s return though, his weight sinking onto the bed next to you. Then his hand is on your tender backside, applying a cold cream to your skin, and the relief makes you let out a shuddering sigh. He works it over you slowly, gently, methodically. By the time Andy’s finished, so are your tears. You’re still full of emotions, but they’re a swirling, complicated mess. You feel like the frustration has been spanked out of you, but you’re still hurt and angry, but now you’re also confused by this tender act. This only extends when he urges you to roll over, and sit up, and he kisses your forehead. You look up at him dolefully, he wipes away the remaining tracks of your tears. He’s shed his clothes from the day and is now bare-chested and in a pair of navy silk pajama bottoms. He proceeds to gently help you take off your shirt, your bra, and then slips you into a silk robe he’s brought from the closet.

Then Andy stands, scoops you up into his arms, and heads to the balcony of your master suite. He settles down onto the loveseat and arranges you in his lap so you’re sitting sideways over him, and he wraps his arm around you. It’s more of the confusing closeness, physical intimacy that you crave but can’t give into with him. It’s the first time you’ve been out here, and it affords a beautiful view of the darkening sky. Yet another thing you would have yearned for but don’t want like this.

“Are you ready to talk?”

“I don’t even know where to begin,” you say honestly.

He puts his hand under your chin and tilts your head up to look at him. “I’ll listen to anything you have to say.”

“But will you hear me?” You ask and turn your head away and out of his hand.

He smoothes his thumb over your jaw but - to your surprise - doesn’t force you to look at him as he had before. Instead he lets his hand drop and brings it around your waist so he’s got both arms banded around you again.

“You’ve taken so much from me, Andy. You’ve made it abundantly clear that I have no way out of this, but it’s been mounting and it came to a peak today. I had a day to myself, but I couldn’t bring myself to spend it with my friends or my parents because I can’t tell them about us! I haven’t spoken or texted any of them on more than a surface level since this all began. And I haven’t gone back to work yet, but I want to work, I need to work, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell them either!”

He is quiet for a moment. And then, “I knew you hadn’t told anyone, but why do you think you can’t tell them about us?”

“What am I supposed to say?” You scoff. “I can’t tell them that you threatened me with blackmail and forced me into our engagement!”

“No,” he agrees, “You can’t tell them that.”

“So, what am I supposed to tell them?”

“That you fell for my charms, that I surprised you when I declared my intentions and by how serious I was, that I made it almost impossible for you to refuse me. It’s enough of the truth.”

You frown and scrutinize his face. “Enough of the truth,” you repeat, the words tasting bitter in your mouth. “Is that how you always live your life?”

 He lifts his chin, a flash of hardness in his eyes. “I’ve done what I needed to.”

“You didn’t need to go behind my back to meet my parents!” You blurt, the hurt in your voice bleeding out despite trying to keep it in, to keep it away from him, not wanting to share something so personal.

“I want to have a good relationship with my in-laws. My mother’s dead and my father was sentenced to life in prison when I was a kid.”

“But they’re my parents,” you stress. “I should have been able to be the ones to tell them about getting married. You stole that from me.”

Andy studies your face quietly.

You drop your gaze. You won’t tell him why stealing this moment – more than anything else he’s done – was your breaking point. You doubt he would care or understand, but he also doesn’t get to know something so personal. He hasn’t earned that right.

“You love them,” he finally says.

You nod. “We’re very close.”

He falls silent again.

Finally, you give an exhausted sigh. “Why did you have to do this to us?”

“I wanted you.”

“I wanted you, too. You should have let us fall into it.”

“Fall now.”

“I can’t,” you protest, and you look up to argue further, but he’s faster, cutting you off with a kiss.

His lips are demanding, and the heat he pours into the kiss seeps into the cracks he’s been chipping away inside you, and your traitorous body leans into the moment. You’re exhausted physically and emotionally.

You don’t know how you can ever let yourself fall for him.

But as his hands soothe up and down your back, you wonder if you have to deny yourself everything for the rest of your life?

What if you fell into him for one night? Allowed yourself to let go, to forget for just a few hours? You are so tired. And your body aches. And after so much hurt, betrayal, and anger running high through your veins for so many hours now, after the shock and release from being put over his knee, maybe you just want to forget and get lost in pleasure.

Pleasure you know he was far too capable of giving.

Not only capable of giving, but master of overwhelming you with it.

After he’s stolen so much from you these last weeks, maybe you want and need to steal a night of ecstasy without any thoughts.

You shift on his lap, his arms still around you, until you’re straddling his lap. You leverage his broad shoulders to push yourself up on your knees, and you look down at him. You can’t read everything in his dark blue stormy eyes yet, but you can interpret some of what’s there. He’s intrigued and you can see the spark of hunger flaring, but there’s something else you can’t quite read.

But that doesn’t matter right now.

He doesn’t pull you in closer, but his arms hold you steady in your kneeling stance. You reach for the tie of your silk robe, and you slowly pull it loose.

“Tonight is not for you,” your voice is low, quiet, but not soft, “it’s for me.”

His eyes narrow a fraction, but as you shrug the silky garment off your shoulders, he helps let the robe fall free to the ground.

Andy’s eyes rake over your naked form, drinking in every curve and dip of your body. His hands glide up your sides, rough palms contrasting with the softness of your flesh. You shiver despite the warmth of the evening air.

You place your hands on his chest, feeling the solid muscles there. Your fingers trace the lines down to his abdomen, following the trail of dark hair that disappears beneath his waistband. You can feel the evidence of his arousal, and he groans, gripping your hips tightly, and you squeeze his length - big as the rest of him - the cock that has ruined you.

He leans in and his lips burn a trail down your neck, over your chest and find one of your breasts, nipping on the swell before licking at your aereola and taking it into his mouth. Your fingers rake into his hair, and he sucks insistently until your nipple is almost painfully hard. He releases it with a pop, then moves to give equal treatment to your other breast. You press your needy cunt down against his groin, keening for him.

You grind against him, and he can’t help but groan. In one fluid motion, he stands, lifting you with him. Your legs wrap tightly around his waist instinctively as he carries you back into the bedroom. He lays you down on the bed with surprising gentleness. He takes less than a second to push his pajama bottoms down and off before he joins you on the bed, his body covering yours.

His weight presses you into the mattress. You feel every inch of his hard body against yours, and you arch up, desperate for more contact. Andy's hand slides between your bodies, finding your slick folds. He groans when he feels how wet you are for him.

"Always so ready for me," he murmurs against your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there.

You whimper as his fingers tease your entrance, circling but not entering. You buck your hips, trying to force him inside, but he pulls back with a dark chuckle.

"Patience, sweetheart," he admonishes.

But patience isn't what you want tonight. You want to lose yourself in sensation, to forget everything but the pleasure he can give you. You reach down and grasp his thick length, guiding him to your entrance.

He forces your hand away with a tsk, and you glare at him, but he is grinning, moving down your body already. He kisses the sensitive spot on your lower stomach, the one he discovered that always makes you gasp and arch your back for him. His shoulders force your legs open to accommodate his frame as he plants himself between your thighs.

Andy's mouth descends on your core, his tongue laving your sensitive folds. You arch into him, a moan escaping your lips. His beard scratches deliciously against your inner thighs as he works you over with his skilled tongue. He alternates between broad strokes and focused attention on your clit, building your pleasure steadily.

Your hands fist in his hair, holding him against you as you rock your hips. The coil of tension in your belly winds tighter and tighter. Just as you're about to topple over the edge, Andy pulls back, denying you release.

“Andy, please,” you beg.

Andy's breath ghosts over your sensitive flesh, making you shiver and whine. He places a soft kiss on your inner thigh, then another, slowly working his way back towards your center. You squirm, desperate for more contact, but his strong hands hold your hips firmly in place.

He chuckles, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure through you. "I thought this night was for you," he teases, his beard scraping deliciously against your thigh. "Let me take care of you."

Before you can protest, his tongue laves a long, slow stroke up your slit. You cry out, your back arching off the bed. He repeats the motion, this time circling your clit with the tip of his tongue.

Your hands fist in the sheets as Andy's talented mouth works you over. He alternates between long, languid strokes and quick flicks of his tongue, never letting you settle into a rhythm. Just when you think you can't take anymore, he slides two thick fingers inside you, curling them to hit that spot that he knows makes you see stars.

"Oh god, Andy!" you cry out, your hips bucking against his face.

He hums against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. His fingers pump in and out, matching the pace of his tongue on your clit. The dual sensations are overwhelming, and you feel yourself hurtling towards the edge.

"That's it, sweetheart," Andy murmurs against your flesh. "Let go for me."

His words are your undoing. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, your body arching off the bed as pleasure overwhelms you. But he’s anything but finished.

Andy doesn't let up, his mouth and fingers working you through your orgasm and pushing you towards another peak. Your body trembles, oversensitive but craving more. You tug at his hair, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away.

"Too much," you gasp, but he ignores your weak protest.

He adds a third finger, stretching you deliciously as he continues to lap at your swollen clit. The intensity builds rapidly, and before you can catch your breath, you're tumbling over the edge again. This time, Andy pulls away, allowing you a moment to recover.

He kisses his way up your body, pausing to nip roughly at your collarbone. When he reaches your mouth, he kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You moan into the kiss, your hands roaming over his broad back.

Andy positions himself between your thighs. You reach between your bodies and guide him to your entrance. You need him inside of you. He pushes in slowly, stretching you deliciously, filling you completely. You both groan as he slides in to the hilt, and you throw your head back. He stills there, kisses along your jaw, then gives a soft rock of his hips, rutting against you, but not thrusting.

“Move,” you plead, wrapping your legs around his waist to urge him on.

Andy leans down and claims your lips again, demanding the intimate kiss as his price, his tongue licking into your mouth to tangle with yours. He then sets a steady rhythm that has you moaning with each thrust. You buck your hips to draw him in with each stroke. The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your mingled moans of pleasure.

You drag your nails down his back, leaving red trails in their wake. He hisses, then retaliates by biting down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. The sharp pain mixed with pleasure makes you cry out.

"Harder," you demand, needing more, needing to lose yourself completely.

Andy growls, his grip on your hips tightening as he complies with your demand. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in, the force of his thrust pushing you up the bed. You cry out in pleasure, your nails digging into his shoulders. He sets a punishing pace, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.

The headboard bangs against the wall with the force of his movements. Your walls clench around him, drawing a guttural groan from his throat.

"That's it, sweetheart," Andy grunts, his voice rough with exertion. "Take what you need from me."

You're climbing higher and higher, chasing that blissful peak. Andy snakes a hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit. He rubs tight circles over the sensitive bud, and it's too much.

You shatter, screaming his name as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your body convulses, clenching rhythmically around him. Andy fucks you through it, prolonging your orgasm until you're a trembling mess beneath him as he chases his own release.

It takes a few more strokes, and then he’s spilling his hot seed inside of you, groaning against your neck. He collapses his weight onto you for a few moments, catching his breath. Your hands roam over his back. If you had been given the chance to choose him, to choose this life, wrapped in his arms right now you would have felt blissfully content, and so since tonight was a pass on reality, you let a satisfied sigh fall from your lips.

Andy’s lips find yours again, and you kiss until you feel floaty and boneless beneath him, head empty of all thoughts.

When the fervency of the kisses finally slows into a languid calm, Andy finally rolls off of you. He reaches for the switch to turn off the soft lights that had been on, then settles on his side, facing you. He traces lazy patterns over your form with his fingers, and you close your eyes and simply feel.

You didn’t know you had fallen into sleep except that the motion of Andy pulling you into his chest so he can spoon up behind you pulls you back into consciousness. He chuckles softly at your little mewl, and then pulls you a little closer to his warm chest and plants a kiss on your neck, just below your ear. You settle against him without complaint.

You’re exhausted, and you don’t know where he finds the resilience, but his hand snakes down to cup your cunt again, and you hum as he begins to work your clit. You have no strength left in you, but if you don’t have to work for it and Andy’s going to give it to you, you’ve learned under his hand that he always knows how to coax out one more climax from you when you think you’re already spent.

Your breath speeds up again, and you can feel the promise of pleasure pulling at your muscles, tightening them for one final release.

As he works you quickly up to that point, he speaks directly into your ear. “You said tonight was for you, not for me. It’s the lie you needed to tell yourself to let go, and that’s fine, but know that your pleasure is always pleasure for me.”

And so unfairly, your body comes for him right then, exactly as he wants you to, and you cry out before going even more limp in his arms. He presses another kiss on your neck, and you can feel his satisfied smile against your skin. You desperately wish you could break out of his arms and roll away from him, but you do not have even an ounce of strength left, and so you simply let the exhaustion overtake you and escape from him in sleep.

You’re vaguely aware of how close Andy keeps you all night. Since he typically does, it’s a surprise when you wake to an empty bed. There is only a vague suggestion of sunlight beginning to come in the windows, so you know it’s still incredibly early. The sheet is down around your waist, and you splay your arm out to where Andy should have been. The bed isn’t cold, but there’s only a hint of warmth, so you know he’s been up for a while.

As if unnervingly on cue, Andy comes in from the ensuite bathroom and hums at seeing you awake. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

He strides right up to the edge of the bed, leans down, and plants a kiss on your cheek, then rubs his hand softly over your jaw.

“Morning,” you respond.

You hate how lovely this scene should be. Your heart wants it, but your brain reminds you not to accept this contrived intimacy he pretends is real and normal.

He crosses the room and retrieves his phone, starts to put on his watch, the finishing touches before he embarks on his day.

“You can sleep in,” he says softly.

“Why are you up so early? It’s Sunday.”

“Early tee time at the country club,” he answers.

You make a vague sound of acknowledgement and pull the sheet and duvet back up to burrow in for a lazy morning of more sleep and maybe some reading.

“Enjoy lunch with your mom, by the way,” he says at the door. “I’m teeing off with your father, so I’ll persuade him to have lunch with me to give you two time as just mother and daughter.”

You suck in a sharp breath and he departs, dropping this revelation, and leaving you to seethe at his making yet another bold move, seeping steadily further into the foundations of your life.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

SO

YEAH

Still with me here?

Even though I figured out the plot point for this chapter a while back, when I wrote it, I had to take a break a few times because I was upset over how some things were playing out.

I was also surprised by some of the development with her security detail of Mark and Shep. I randomly made them up really quickly during Prepare for Takeoff, but then here I learned they were going to end up being even more important than I thought (including something key for two specific future plot points).

[thoughtsfromlayla]

26 Ways of Taking You: C for Cockwarming

Summary: You and Dream come to a compromise after you asked for some "space." It never ends well for you, does it?

Notes: ~770 words, I kinda gave up after a while. Well maybe didn't give up but like "Well that's about it" and then called it good. Not my longest work but, still hot.

Warnings: MDNI - 18+, public intercourse (no one bats an eye though), slight humiliation, GN! reader, penetrative intercourse

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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You conceal your face further as another voice follows, your hands clutched desperately onto Dream’s jacket lapel. Your face was thoroughly red, from embarrassment or greedy pleasure, you’re not entirely sure. Beneath you, Dream is going about his business as he addresses the audience for the day. All while completely ignoring your shaking form sitting on him, cock deep and pulsing within your walls. 

Ever since he escaped from the Burgess Manor a few months ago, he has not been able to keep his hands off of you. At first, it was a welcomed touch. You had missed him for those 106 years just as he missed you. But, after a while, it got a bit ridiculous. 

He followed you around like a lost puppy, hands never leaving your waist, lips wandering from lips to neck to chest. And like teenagers in love, sneaking you between crevices and aisles to have a few fast minutes of “fun time” just to satiate his touch. You had your own responsibilities to tend to, especially after the heart of the Dreaming came back. You feel as if you would have gotten a lot more done if he hadn’t always pulled you back into bed after the first few rounds of passionate lovemaking during the waking hours. 

In a desperate conversation, you asked for space so you could get a few things done. Morpheus wasn’t at all pleased with it, as he isn’t with most things that aren’t in his control. But, for his lover? He will permit it, after one more act. 

Which is how you got here, scandally clad, arms tucked between your two chests as he talks to the Dreaming residents and your arousal soaking his pants. You felt like a top teetering on top of a highly sprung string, suspended from undeniably perfect pleasure and something not quite. What made it even more unbearable is how you could feel Dream’s smugness radiating off him. 

He had a possessive hand on your lower back, something like insurance so you couldn’t easily get off him when you thought it would be too much. The other was resting on the arm of his throne as he keeps his kingly appearance. 

“Yes, that sounds like a plausible idea,” He agrees to something you weren’t paying attention to. “What do you think, darling?” 

When he asks, he shifts in his seat and his cock moves within you, just slightly. It had the promise of pleasure but was stopped short by how little he moved in you. A mixture of a whine and whimper escapes despite your bitten lip. You only respond by nodding once, barely a tick of the head. A chuckle from Dream bounces you, barely, and just like before, barely gives you the pleasure you seek. 

“If my equal agrees then you have my permission.” His free hand shoos away the resident.

When they turn, he runs a finger down your spine and asks you another question. 

“Had enough yet, my love? Or can you go for more?” It was completely condescending, to speak to you in an “I told you so” kind of tone. And even though you were practically begging at the seams of your body for some sort of friction or release of any kind, you are just as stubborn as your King. 

“No, you can keep… going!” Your last word came out as a small squeal as he suddenly thrusts up into your weeping cunt. Your eyes roll to the back as you throw your head back with a moan that flows through the air. The open air ceiling seems to taunt you and you’re sure every dream and nightmare of the realm can hear the lewd noise you just made. The statues that were carved along the column of the room seem to turn their eyes towards the two of you, making you feel all the more exposed to Morpheus’ actions.

“Very well, let us keep going.” He lays back in his chair and his legs spread further, in turn spreading you further for him as well.

You unceremoniously sink further down on him and you’re left panting into his neck. You’re close to tears at the teasing and under stimulation you were receiving. Oh, what wouldn’t you do to have your king’s full attention on you instead of living off the scraps of his shifting movements and lazy fingers stroking circles on your hip. 

“Bring the next audience in,” Dream commands, and the doors open again. 

“You are cruel, my king,” You barely sob into his body. 

“Not as cruel as you might think,” He quips with a pinch to the supple of your hip. 

Previous || Next

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

At the peak hours of 1:47 AM, Layla bought the entire 3,000 page series of The Sandman but said that it was free cause her tax refunds came back.

Good thing her major is not in finances.

♡ Yours, Layla

[merrybloomwrites]

HS4 at Midnight?

Summary: Harry's performance with Stevie Nicks has his fans wondering if HS4 will be announced soon. Little do they know that you and Harry have other exciting news to share.

Word Count: 770

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Harry steps out wearing his suit, you get hit with a wave of nostalgia. It’s been nearly a year since he’s last been on stage, and what a year it’s been. So much has happened in your lives, and miraculously, Harry’s fans still haven’t figured it out. 

They’ll know soon, though. But the secret is safe for a little bit longer.

“Can you help with the pin?” He asks, and you quickly straighten the bird he’s wearing in honor of Christine. 

“How are you feeling?” you ask.

“Excited. And nervous. I always love singing with Stevie. But it’s been so long, and I just know my fans are gonna go crazy. It’s been so calm lately,” he answers.

“I know, I love our little bubble too. But I really think it’s the time to pop it, don’t you agree?”

“You’re right, as always,” he says and presses a kiss to your lips. 

After another few minutes you leave Harry’s side so he can head backstage. You join Gemma and the rest of Harry’s friends who are there to watch. 

When he comes onstage you stick close to his sister. You’ve become so close, especially lately, and you’re truly both a bit emotional watching Harry sing with one of his idols. Neither of you do a great job holding in the tears of overwhelming pride seeing him up on that stage.

After the show is over you and Harry head back home, choosing to ignore social media for the moment. But you can’t help checking the next day, and one thing in particular catches your eye.

“They’ve all got a theory,” you say to him, providing no context.

“Who?”

“Your fans. They seem to have noticed a pattern.”

“Ah, and what would that be?”

“That you always do a performance like this and then announce a new album right after. So far I’ve seen about twenty people saying ‘HS4 at midnight?’”

Harry laughs and replies, “Oh they have no idea what’s about to go down.”

You’re about to respond when a sound distracts you, pulling you away from the conversation. 

A few more days pass and you walk into the living room to see Harry on his phone, giggling and typing.

“What are you doing?” you ask. He doesn’t answer, just turns his phone to you so you can see what he’s up to. He’s on instagram, making a story to post to his main account. It’s just a black screen with the eyes emoji and the word “tomorrow”.

“Oh you are so mean,” you say, laughing right along with him. 

“It’s fun to tease them, just a little bit. And see all their theories. I wonder if anyone will guess right.”

“A couple might. I mean, most will guess new album but there will definitely be some who think differently.”

“We’ll know soon,” he says as he officially posts his story. The views come a second later, and within minutes people are posting all over the internet, excited to finally hear from Harry after a year away.

The two of you spend time that evening crafting the announcement post, choosing just the right pictures and caption. You hope that people won’t be disappointed, but try not to think about the potential negative responses. Rather, you and Harry focus on the excitement you know will come.

The next morning, after a quiet family breakfast, Harry looks over the post one last time before sharing it with the world. 

Under a series of photos of your beautiful family, all posed just right to hide your newborn daughter's face, is the caption “Baby Styles. Out now. This past year has been the most exciting time in my life. Becoming a father has been a truly wonderful experience. To my wife, thank you, thank you, thank you, for this gift. I am so impressed by you, so proud of the mum that you are, and I cannot wait for us to watch this little girl grow up together.”

For the rest of the day, you and Harry keep an eye on the comments while taking care of your two month old. As expected, some people are disappointed by the lack of new music, but the response is overwhelmingly positive. Everyone is excited that Harry is officially a girl dad, and the word ‘congratulations’ is written so many times it starts to look fake. 

That evening, you settle in for your favorite concert of all time. This one happens every night, and it’s just for you and your little one. As Harry croons to your daughter, you grow impossibly more fond of this man.

[seneon]

i fear i need more grunge dabi hcs

★ DOING GRUNGE¡ DABI'S MAKEUP BEFORE A SHOW

about. 2000s quirkless au. gender neutral reader. fluffy fluff. mentions of acne scars. wc of 770+

notes. i fear i don't accept requests for mha BUTT I'LL ACCEPT FOR GRUNGE DABI... might even turn grunge! dabi into a series bc im such a loser for grunge dabi... part one.

your boyfriend, a drummer of an underground band that went by the name of LOV— literally pronounced as ‘love’, is having a small concert at a local bar. he has requested that you help him with his makeup for tonight, for the vocalist that usually does everyone's makeup ran out of products.

as a young girl who dreams of becoming a fashion designer, you know makeup is an essential part of fashion. so you excitedly agreed to do your drummer boyfriend's makeup.

now look. dabi has never seen your makeup skills before, he's a bit scared that it might turn out to be what he didn't like or was expecting for the night.

“jeez, touya. trust me when i say i do my girlfriends’ makeup for their late night parties and their special proms! i even did one of my mom's friend's daughter's makeup for her quinceañera and she absolutely loved it!”

you exclaimed and reassured him, still rummaging your vanity drawer for a pencil sharpener to sharpen your blunt black eyeliner pencil.

the male scratched his head and looked at you finally finding the tool. he glanced at himself in the mirror where he is seated comfortably at your little silky beige chair. “they're all fancy and pretty though. have you ever tried something emo?”

“nope!”

“see… that's why i told you to get references from the magazines in your living room.”

“touya, baby. do you not trust your amazing girlfriend?” you paused for a moment and looked at him who quickly held his hands up in defense. “no! i do. it's just that—”

“i won't mess up your eyeliner,” you said softly with a smile, finishing your sharpening before blowing off the access. “all you need to do is trust…”

dabi stared into the vanity mirror, slowly angling his head from the left then to the right. his lips remained sealed shut, as if he couldn't speak. he couldn't find the right word to say. the todoroki is having an inner conflict about your work.

“do you like it? is it up to your expectations?”

does dabi like it? well, he's unsure if he likes it or not. i mean, all he could think about throughout this entire process is the fact that your face is so close to his as you did his makeup.

the way your fingers are so gentle on his face and skin that he tried his best to not lean into your touch numerous times and ruin the makeup.

he quietly sits, occasionally opening his eyes just so he could steal glances at your face. he immediately shuts them if your eyes are directly staring right into his own turquoise ones, not before murmuring a soft sorry.

it's only when you apologize that he hears your soft little chuckles, or giggles, he couldn't quite differentiate. but he loves hearing them either way. it's like music to his ears, a form of comfort that he uses to ease and calm himself down before a concert.

is it up to dabi's expectations? it was more than what he expected. he only asked for eyeliner, but you gave him the full set. there were some acne scars on his face, but now they're gone. he has quite the heavy eyebags, and now he looks so refreshed.

it was like he looked like a whole new different person with the skills of your handwork. honestly, dabi quite likes this final look. he is more than satisfied with the results. but before he could speak of it, you poked his cheek.

“y’know, i actually didn't need to do much to your face. you have pretty skin except for some of the acne scars. i only added some foundation to level out your skin tone. then some black eyeshadow and your ultimate best friend, eyeliner.”

“my eyebags..?”

“oh yeah that too. but listen, you need to get enough sleep too!”

enough sleep huh? he could hardly balance his studies and his band, how is he supposed to get efficient sleep..? he nods in silence anyways, actually considering his sleep schedule after you tell him to get enough sleep.

“it's amazing… i love it more than the usual ones toga did for me.” said the drummer as he looked up to your standing figure, you did the same by looking down at him before bending to his height, gaze focused on the mirror.

“i tried my best for you, touya. i’m glad you like it,” you gave him a quick kiss on his cheek, leaning your chin on his broad shoulders. “you're gonna do great later, like always.”

dabi hummed under his breath, tilting his head to reciprocate your kiss. “thank you pretty angel. i always perform well whenever you're around.”

TAGS ★ @saewako @seumyo @rotten1angel @jaysgirlx @kyoghurts @heartkaji

© SENEON 2024 ♱ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[purinfelix]

back home ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

pairing: joão félix x reader (established relationship) summary: after a solo trip away, you're a little worried about how your boyfriend might react to your return warnings: none, angst if you squint hard enough maybe? w/c: 770

a/n: HELLO IM ALIVEE im sorry for being so ia akjdnsa no excuse i'm just lazy ... but in the mean time i did go on a trip with some friends (which is what inspired me to write this lol) and went to my first in person football match !!! anw hope yall take this as my apology for being so inactive <3333

“It’s only two weeks.” 

That’s what you told your boyfriend months before you had begun planning your solo trip, knowing he was the type to fret over you and whether you were organised enough. You continued repeating this phrase to him leading up to your departure - you had mumbled it into his hair, whispered it into his ear, and even shouted it across rooms when he raised his protests. Whenever he would think a little too hard about how long it would feel for two people who never seemed to spend more than a couple of hours apart. Even so, you appreciated his worrying over you, taking it as a sign of him caring for you. 

But now, two weeks later, as you fidgeted nervously in the backseat of the taxi he had called for you to take home from the airport you found yourself repeating the phrase again, only now to yourself. It felt as though the moment you two had separated, all of Joao’s worrying had found a new home within you, and you had already begun counting down until your reunion. This was only made worse by the fact that it seemed your boyfriend was growing more and more comfortable in his solitude - and ultimately, your absence. It worried you to see this, as much as you could through the frame of your phone screen during each of your nightly facetimes. 

Even now as you stood fumbling with the keys to your shared apartment, you couldn’t stop yourself from worrying. What if he had come to enjoy his ‘alone time’, and took it as a sign to distance himself? What if this distancing led to him spending time away from you, or even worse - a breakup? As your mind wandered to the worst-case scenario, you pushed open the door with trembling hands. 

A tuft of brown hair peeking out from above the couch cushions let you know your boyfriend was home. Your many bags slipped off your arms and fell to a heap on the floor with a soft thump, the sound alerting Joao. 

You braced yourself, ready for a scowling expression or even one that was completely vacant. Ready for him to scoff, stand up and walk out of the room, disinterested at your return. Or for him to begin telling you about how he had already begun moving out, and how maybe this time apart had done you both some good. 

“Oh, thank god.” 

His voice was soft, fragile almost, as it broke the silence between you two, followed shortly by the padding of his feet as he rushed over to you. His body crashed into yours, sheer force sending you a couple of steps backwards and any worries that plagued your mind far, far away. If it wasn’t for how tightly he was holding you, hands digging into your shoulders, you were sure you would’ve fallen over. 

You struggled to muster up more worrying thoughts, overwhelmed by the warmth of his body pressed up against yours, the feeling of his embrace. You let out a deep sigh, not of fatigue or frustration but pure relief, feeling yourself melt into his touch. 

“I missed you,” he muttered, face pressed into your hair as if he was afraid letting you go might cause another two weeks apart. 

“I missed you too,” you heard yourself admit, words muffled against his chest. But he still understood you, which he made clear by squeezing you even tighter. 

It felt like forever before you broke apart, but still not enough as Joao continued to press gentle kisses to your temple, lingering with each one as if trying to show you just how much he had missed you. Finally, he brushed past you to shut the door and pick your several bags off the floor - bags which had required much effort for you to haul around but he managed to pick up with much ease. 

“Welcome home,” you can hear the smile in his voice, even though he’s faced away from you as he begins to walk to your shared bedroom. You watch him disappear around a corner, and he begins telling you about how his plans to surprise you at the airport with a bunch of flowers were ruined by training running overtime. You’re still in the doorway, a little dizzy - from jetlag, from a lack of sleep and proper food, from how hard he squeezed you in that hug. Even so, you feel a smile tug at your own lips because even though it was ‘only’ two weeks, you couldn’t be more glad to be back home. 

[callme-holly]

Can you do headcanons for Dally,Ponyboy,Johnny(All separately) dating the Shepards little sister please 😋Like maybe she’s a twin of Angela or just another sister whatever is fine and she’s genuinely got a good heart but is tough and badass and good looking

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐝!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 [𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬, 𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐝𝐞]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - i did my final show last night so im done with everything for a solid six weeks. i'm still taking requests !!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 770 words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - brief mentions of fighting (i think)

Ponyboy Curtis - 

In the book, we know that Pony and Curly are friendly with one another so you two probably met through Curly. 

I'm getting the vibe that Pony came over to help Curly with homework or something (not that curly bothers with homework) and saw you for the first time and just developed a fat crush on you 

It would probably take a lot of courage on his part to finally ask you out because, not only are you pretty intimidating, but the rest of your family? Scary. 

Honestly, I don’t think the rest of the Shepard siblings would have a problem with you and Pony being together. 

Angela would be so incredibly supportive and she’s definitely there to prepare you for every single one of your dates. She’ll also sit up late with you just to gossip about your relationship because, let's be real, she’s a girl’s girl 

Curly would be a little put out at the fact that you’re dating his buddy but he’d get used to it pretty quick. Be prepared for a lot of teasing on his end. 

I think Tim would be insanely protective of you. He doesn’t show it, but he only wants what's best for you and he’s always got an eye on Ponyboy, even if he’s a nice kid.

He’d probably talk to Darry just to have an extra pair of eyes on the two of you to make sure there’s nothing going on.

All in all, your relationship with Ponyboy would mostly be accepted among your siblings 

Johnny Cade - 

Nobody would expect you to get with Johnny Cade, and honestly, he probably hadn’t expected it either

He probably let it slip to Dallas that he found you absolutely stunning but was too afraid to talk to you because you’re totally badass

Dallas for sure set the two of you up and Tim for sure beat his ass for it afterwards

Johnny is such a sweetheart though, so your siblings weren’t too mad when they found out about the two of you getting together  

Once again, Angela is nothing but supportive and she ships you two so hard that it’s crazy

If Johnny needs help or advice, he’ll go to her because Angela definitely knows you best

Curly probably wouldn’t care all too much. 

It’s not that he doesn’t support, but he doesn’t have a connection with Johnny at all, therefore he probably won't tease the two of you as much. 

Tim, much like with Ponyboy, will be a little wary at first, mainly because he knows Johnny is Dallas’ best friend 

But after he sees that Johnny has nothing but good intentions, he’s definitely supportive

I’d almost go as far as saying he lets Johnny sleep over when he needs it because he understands what it’s like to be apart of a shitty household and he also knows that he isn’t gonna try anything with you

Dallas Winston - 

Oh, Dallas…

He first met you when he was crashing at the Shepard house and he would not stop flirting with you

He kept asking you on dates until you agreed to go out with him

Y’all probably kept it a secret for a while because you know that your siblings wont be too happy about it and boy were you right

They probably caught the two of you in your room one night after Dallas snuck in and it’s safe to say it took a solid week of begging on your part before you were allowed to even look at him again

Angela would send so many death glares to Dallas, it’s a shocker the bullet got to him before she did 

She would be so protective of you, that whenever he;s round, she’s always by your side to make sure he doesn’t hurt you

Curly would make pointless little jabs at the two of you every chance he gets

Either that, or he’s doing everything he can to ruin Dal’s life

Dont even get me started on Tim’s reaction. 

He’d beat the shit out of Dallas for even thinking about you. Nobody touches his sister. At least nobody who goes by the name of Dallas Winston. 

I think after a while, and after they see that Dal has mostly good intentions, they’d let him off the hook a little. But that doesn’t mean they don’t have a constant eye on the two of you.

You and Dallas would honestly make such a power couple though. Y’all are definitely the most feared duo in Tulsa and he loves that 

[rebelliousstories]

First

Relationship: Maximus x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @fallout-girl219

Warnings: Fluff, Allusions to Suggestive Themes, Brief Angst

Word Count: 770

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: When you finally get over one hurdle, there is another waiting for you.

Laying back in the sheets, a couple was trying to catch their breath. They were slowly pulling the covers back onto their bodies as they lay there. She reached over and tried to find the hand of the man next to her.

“You doing okay there, Max?” She asked, thumb rubbing over his own.

“Uh huh.” He replied, not quite finding his words at the moment.

“Need anything?” This time, she rolled over and visibly checked up on the man. He was panting less, but still sweaty. His eyes held a far off look while he stared at the ceiling.

“Uh uh.” Maximus declined, slowly coming back down to earth from wherever he ended up. But even though he declined, his face morphed into something sour the longer he thought.

“What is it, Maxi? What can I do?” She was stroking a hand over his face when, without a word, Maximus turned towards her on his side and burrowed into her chest. Giggling lightly, she pulled him closer and laid down on her back.

“Did you just need a cuddle?” Maximus nodded quickly into her chest, and wrapped his arms around her body while it was cuddled up to his.

“That felt good.” He murmured, half of the words being muffled by the skin pressed against his own.

“It usually does. There’s a reason we sound proof the vault doors too.” This prompted a chuckle from Maximus, who found the predicament funny.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Maxi? You’re so quiet.” She stroked her hand down his back, and trailed it up to scratch through his short, cropped hair. They sat in silence for a minute while the man gathered his thoughts.

“I’m okay, just… thinking. But I’m good, thank you.” He replied, smushing his face further in his partner’s chest.

“Why are you thanking me sweetie?” There was wonder in her voice as she thought about what Maximus was talking about.

“Just for being there. For being you and doing this with me. It’s a weird feeling but I finally feel safe and like I can take things slow for the first time ever.” He poked his head up to look her in the eyes, and all he saw was love. She trailed a hand to stroke her hand over his cheek and drew him in for a delicate kiss. So much of his life was hard, rough, cut-throat, that to be treated with such softness was a foreign feeling. It had taken a very long time until they could be at this point.

“I love you so much, Maxi,” pulling away no matter how much Maximus tried to follow her lips. “You deserve to have some nice things in your life. And if one of those is me, I’m honored.”

“You’re not just one thing that’s nice in my life. You’re the main reason my life is nice.” He proclaimed, pushing himself on to his elbows above the woman in the bed. Maximus leaned down and captured her lips in his once more; this time with more vigor and attention. Trailing a hand down her side over the covers, she shivered lightly as the touch tickled her. Maximus broke away from the kiss and just smiled down at her. 

”I’m hungry.” He stated plainly, getting up off the bed and wandering into the kitchen. She laughed out loud as he rifled through the cabinets to find something to eat and was happy that he finally found what he had, apparently, been searching for. A can of tuna.

Maximus grabbed a fork and made his way to the bed after opening and draining the can. He slid under the covers once more and offered a bite to the girl next to him, to which she declined. She watched him happily eat the canned fish in the bed, but pushed him off when he tried to kiss her again.

“No sir. You go brush your teeth and wash your hands before coming back to me. I don’t want that smell lingering.” The man pouted as he was kicked from the bed, and went to do as he was told. In the meantime, she got out of the bed and lit a candle to get rid of the remaining smells. By the time Maximus made it back to bed, she was back under the covers and looked like she was dozing off. He slipped back underneath, yet again, and held her close.

“I love you.” He whispered, unsure if she could hear him or not.

“I love you too.” She whispered back, happy that he felt comfortable enough to say it.

[lecsainz]

from pit stop to push-up

pairings: lando norris (platonic) x driver!reader

summary: you go to the gym "of your own free will" with lando.

authors note: I can say that I love writing about the reader driver and her friendship with the drivers. in my head, she and lando would be the most chaotic duo on the grid.

word count: 770

☆. . . masterlist!

Y/N groaned as she pulled herself out of bed, dreading the upcoming workout with her trainer. She knew it would be tough, but she also knew it was necessary if she wanted to stay in peak physical condition for the racing season.

As she made her way to the gym, she spotted her teammate Lando Norris chatting with some other athletes. She tried to slip past him unnoticed, but Lando spotted her and called out a greeting.

"Hey Y/N, what's up? Ready for some training?" he asked, grinning.

Y/N scowled. "I'm never ready for training. You know that, Lando. It's always a nightmare."

Lando laughed. "Ah, come on. It's not that bad. Besides, I hear your trainer has some new exercises that are supposed to be killer."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Great. Just what I need."

They entered the gym and met up with their trainer, who greeted them with a wicked smile. Y/N knew she was in for a tough session.

As they started their workout, Y/N couldn't help but complain. She grumbled about the exercises, the weights, the reps, and everything in between. Lando just laughed and teased her, making her even more frustrated.

But as they neared the end of their session, things took a chaotic turn. Y/N was in the middle of a difficult set of squats when she suddenly lost her balance and stumbled. She crashed into Lando, who was doing pull-ups on a nearby bar, causing him to lose his grip and fall to the floor.

Their trainer rushed over to see if they were okay, but Y/N and Lando were too busy laughing to answer. They helped each other up and continued joking and teasing each other, making light of the accident.

As they left the gym, Y/N realized that despite the chaos and the tough workout, she had enjoyed herself. She felt grateful for the camaraderie she shared with her teammate and the support of her trainer.

"Same time next week?" Lando asked, still grinning.

Y/N groaned, but she couldn't help but smile. "Sure, why not? But maybe we should stick to individual workouts next time."

Lando just laughed. "Where's the fun in that?"

As Y/N and Lando finished their workout, they said their goodbyes and headed off in different directions. Y/N, thinking the training was over, started to head towards the exit, but her coach called her back.

"Hold on, Y/N. We still have one more exercise to do." Her coach insisted.

"Oh come on, coach! I'm already exhausted. Can't we just call it a day?" Y/N complained, already tired.

The coach finding amusement in the excuse she always gave and simply replied with the same thing after every training session. "Nope, we need to work on your endurance. Let's go, one more round."

Y/N groaned, but reluctantly followed her coach to the next exercise. As she started the workout, she couldn't help but complain. "Why do I even bother coming here? This is torture."

Your coach stated the obvious. "Because you want to be a better driver, right?"

Y/N joked. "Yeah, but I don't want to die trying."

Lando, who had come back to retrieve his forgotten phone from the gym locker, overheard Y/N's complaints and couldn't help but laugh.

"Come on, Y/N. You can do it. Don't be such a baby." Lando made a joke about his best friend.

"Easy for you to say, Mr. Fit and Fabulous. You probably do this in your sleep." She stuck her tongue out at him.

Lando struck a pose, flexing some of his muscles. "Hey now, I work hard for this body."

Y/N rolled her eyes, "Well, you can keep it. I'll take a pizza and a nap any day." saying dreamily.

Everyone laughed as Y/N finished up the workout, feeling both exhausted and relieved that it was over.

Y/N celebrated. "Finally! Can we go get some food now?"

"Sure, but don't forget to stretch first." The coach spoke, interrupting the celebration.

"Oh, come on! Can't I just skip it?" She said, trying to convince him.

"No, you can't skip it. You know the rules." The coach gave her a playful look.

Y/N grumbled as she begrudgingly started to stretch, but deep down she knew her coach was right. If she wanted to be the best driver she could be, she had to put in the work, no matter how tough it was.

[lov3-lik3-ghosts]

If I could slip in a request! This is rotting my brain-like I can't get the Mother Knows Best song out of my head.

So Emmett finds his mate but her mother's much like Mother Gothel(from Rapunzel or "Papunzel" as the little one I nanny says). Very controlling and tries to keep her from believing that Emmett is actually interested in her, trying to make her believe she made it all up in her head but Emmett's not having ANY of that!

Please and thank you! <3

Mother Knows Best, Unless She Doesn’t

Pairing: Emmett Cullen x fem!reader.

Warnings: Not beta nor proofread. Insinuations of sexual intentions. Use of an insensitive joke.

Format: Drabble.

Word Count: 770

Note: Hi, sweetheart! I’m so sorry this took me so long, life has been really catching up to me. I hope this turned out how you were hoping. The little one sounds absolutely adorable! @twilightlover2007

| mother m-list

Emmett’s hand smooths over your hair with a tenderness unfamiliar to you. His marble skin is ice against the tear stricken heat of cheek, rest against the bare muscle of his chest beneath you.

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth, thick with the confession your mate just pulled free from you. There’s a suffocating silence radiating your proximity, broken only by the scratch of his fingers against your scalp and your steadying breaths.

Emmett’s quiet is all consuming in the way it opens your mind to your mothers taunts.

“You really think a boy like him is interested in anything but what you can give him?” She croons, cradling your cheeks between her cupped palms. There’s something in the way that she thumbs your cheek that makes you flinch.

“Emmett’s different.” You defend, glaring down your nose at her feet.

Her grip tightens around you. “Different?” She scoffs, mocking. “They all want the same thing, sweetheart, and it’s not your heart.”

There’s a moment you believe her, mind rampant with all the times her warnings came backed with half-truths made to keep you safe. But Emmett streaks through your thoughts like a live art piece, wild and free and imprinting so deeply into your soul that he marrs the very essence of all you are and all you’ve ever been.

“You don’t know anything of what he wants.” You snarl, lip curled into a sneer.

Her hand drops as quickly as her face does. A cloud of dark dilutes her eyes, once too sweet now unforgiving. “Oh?” She asks, rhetorical. “Is that how it is?”

You can only swallow.

“Fine. When he breaks your heart don’t come crawling back home to me, simpering for attention.” Her voice is as rough as her gaze. “I’m sure because you’re so in love he won’t mind you living with him.”

When. Not if.

“Trust me,” Your lower lip betrays your squared shoulders, trembling in a fashion not unsimilar to your heart. “I won’t.”

You’d shown at his home in as much a disarray as you felt. Overflowing bag rucked over your shoulder, cheeks wet and flushed and your nose running. He was the only one home aside from Esme, who left your side with a reluctant glance in Emmett’s direction, and you were led to his room without question.

The story fell from your lips through wet blubbers and soft sniffles that calmed only when he’d pulled his shirt over his head and forced you against his chest.

His lack of words is stark from his ever running mouth and the worry gnaws that your mother was right. That now was when he’d give up the ruse and tell you you weren’t enough, weren’t giving him the one thing he wanted.

The tingle of his skin against yours wages you free, sparking only through the lack of your completed mating. Emmett wants you for much more than physicality, proven by the brush of his large palm down your spine. By the grin he bears when he hands you the lunches he made, by the flowers he planted you out by your favourite tress of trees, by the pillow beside his head, cased in your favourite colour just because it was your favourite.

“I’d wait a thousand lifetimes.” Emmett’s voice is a tragically delicate caress against the wary shields of your heart.

“What?” You utter, soft and frail as you feel.

“To touch you.” He clarifies through a humane swallow. “To love you in that manner. I don’t need that from you, I just need you to be here, existing with me. I’ve lived lives without you and none of them have come even close to worth living then the one I’m living with you.”

“What?” You repeat. This time with much more choked awe.

“You’re not going back there.” He diverts. “You’re staying. She can’t take you back if you don’t want to go, you’re legally allowed to refuse now.”

“Em,” You shake your head, swallowing thickly.

“No.” He continues. “You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. I can find you somewhere. But if you think I’m letting my mate go back to a woman that speaks to her the way she does then I’m speaking to Carlisle about getting you on crazy people meds.”

You huff a laugh despite yourself. “That’s insensitive, Em. You know the correct term.”

“Maybe,” He smiles widely. “But it made you laugh.”

“Was that your goal?” You ask with a shake of your head.

Emmett lowers his head, lips skimming yours with every toying word. “That’s always my goal.”

His lips meet yours.

~ 𐀔 ~ 𐀔 ~ 𐀔 ~

Likes, comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated and very encouraging!

[mayullla]

Hello! For this event can I ask Yandere Kazuha 🌸 with fem reader? Thank you for your wonderful works, I really enjoy your stories! I wish you a nice day! (\(*^ v ^*)

Title: Sweet Love Letters

Character(s): Kazuha (Genshin Impact) Warnings/tags: Sof yandere Kazuha, Fem!reader, 770 words (drabble), reader can be viewed as someone wearing pink tinted glasses, "mutual love"

[ - A little present~! Event - Closed - ]

You liked the letters that he sent, and kept them in a small box in your desk that you would always look through. You thought you were madly in love, yet many would say that he was in love with you more, and part of you could not help but feel your heart flutter at the thought.

Kazuha's letters were all written with such whimsical handwriting, yet his words were heavy with emotions and thoughts. Each word was so carefully chosen just for you. How much he loved you, the things that he did as he was reminded of you, the things that he saw, all written on paper inside an envelope.

Kind and caring he was, sweet like cherry. The first time you read the first letter, you could not help but blush. Heat on your cheeks as you carefully read the letter again, wondering who would give you such a lovely poem, leaving it in your mailbox for you to find.

Almost every day a letter would come, and with it expressions of how much he loved you. You could not help but fall for the written words back then. Every day you wondered who it was, who would send such beautiful letters. It was only later that you found out after two months.

Kazuha was the name he told you.

Your eyes widened as he smiled at you, his face dusted in pink, telling you that it was him who had sent you those letters. While he wanted to talk to you for the longest time, it was oddly difficult to bring the words out of his mouth when he looked at you.

So he resorted to sending letters.

It was awkward to finally see the person who sent you those letters all this time right in front of you. All of a sudden, you could only stutter your words out, looking down shyly at the floor.

You got to know him more as time flew, finding out the many things that he liked to do and his likes and dislikes. As you watched him and learned more about his personality, you fell for him more and more, and you knew he was still the same, reciting poems to you about your dreamy eyes or your beautiful smile.

The first time you heard it from his lips, you could not help but cover your face, feeling your ears burning in embarrassment and shyness. You could not look at him in the eyes at that moment, only listen to him chuckle at your expressions.

Others would watch you and coo at how lovely the two of you were, as you would look the other way, unable to contain the smile that was only on your lips. The moment you would look at him, you felt as if you were blinded by his, as if delighted that people would think of you and him as a couple.

You thought he was cuter than yourself, even as he whispered how cute you were almost every day. His eyes never left you, as you would ramble on or when he would whisper it in your ear when you hugged each other, holding your head and pushing you closer to him. When he gifted you a beautiful hairpin and a mirror, helping you put it on and you watched him with the mirror. They were beautiful, but in Kazuha's eyes, nothing was more beautiful than you.

You could not help but fall in love as you laid in his lap under a tree. Your eyes closed as you fell into a dreamless nap, sleepy from the sunlight and the soothing voice. As he combed your hair with his hand, you could not help but become drowsy.

Truly, nothing is more beautiful than you in Kazuha's eyes.

He had fallen in love with you for the longest time, long before he had sent you those letters, yet never had the chance to talk to you. Watching as you slept in his lap, humming as he could do nothing but stare at you.

The poems of love he sang, he could only wish he could tell you more. He wished he could tell you how much he loved you to the point of insanity, he wished he could show you how much he loved you, yet even with poems, he was limited.

His true feelings he whispered in the wind, his obsessions, his insanity so carefully hidden for fear that you would become scared. His craving for you, he spoke to the wind, wishing that it would carry it to you for him.

[cozage]

Hello!

Firstly, I love your work ❤️❤️

Secondly, I saw your 2k follower milestone post.

Could you do Trafalgar Law as a girl dad? Like with a black wife (I'm black and I want this man so bad lol)

Maybe with him finding out she's pregnant, then finding out it's a girl. Just how he'd take the news and how he'd treat their daughter.

And, if you have the time, maybe when she's older and wants to date somebody. Idk I feel like he's a protective loving father 🥲🥲

A/N: I could go on and on about Trafalgar Law as a Girl Dad. He was made to have a daughter.  Characters: female reader x Law Cw: some talk about infertility and diseases, little bit of angst. Total word count:770

Girl Dad

Trafalgar Law was not expecting a positive pregnancy test. All signs had pointed he was infertile, a result of Amber Lead Sickness he had as a child. 

Even despite that prognosis and you all being careful, the test in front of him was positive. He was going to be a father. 

A part of him was ecstatic. The two of you had talked about kids before, through adoption or other options. But this child growing inside your womb was his child, made of DNA from him and his favorite person in the whole world. 

He spirals a few times, alone in his office. What if the baby had Amber Lead Poisoning? What is the life expectancy of a child in this generation? What if the child spreads the disease to you and you get sick? Some nights he can’t sleep; he’s just up thinking about What-ifs.

He frets over everything during your pregnancy. If your BPM or heart rate is even slightly elevated, if your bloodwork is just slightly off, he starts to worry. He runs test after test, just to make sure everything is okay

Even things like the way the nursery room is set up stresses him out. If the bed is too big or if the blankets will be a problem, the risk of certain paints or old furniture. This man has studied so many medical diseases that he’s paranoid about anything and everything.

At week twenty he’s running a weekly scan and finds out it’s a girl. He breaks down in tears, thinking of his mother and his sister. He wished they could be here to celebrate with you all. But it’s only the two of you in his little doctor's office. 

He wanted to find a more fun way to tell you the news, but his tears of joy tell you everything you need to know. Of course it’s a girl. You always knew he would make the best father for a little girl. 

When she’s finally brought into the world, Law cannot stop staring at her. She has your skin and his eyes, and you’ve never seen a more beautiful combination for a human being.

Sometimes you’ll wake up in the middle of the night just to find Law holding her while she sleeps, completely transfixed on her. He’s always smiling like an idiot, just watching her sleep.

He is always whispering in her ear, telling her how much he loves her and how special she is. She grows up constantly hearing how much she is loved by everyone on the ship. 

As she gets older, Law has a hard time saying no to her. She wants that cute princess dress? Of course she can have it. You’ve never seen this man bend his will so easily to another human. But he'd give her the moon if she asked.

He will dress up in tiaras and have tea parties. Everyone on the ship will! Sometimes you’ll be walking around and it will be strangely quiet, and you just know you’re little princess has gotten those boys doing her bidding in some way or another. 

He sets up a little desk for her in his office when she turns three, and you are BAFFLED. The man never lets anyone in his office! And now your daughter has a DESK in there, full of crayons and coloring books and journals.

She has a knack for medicine too and loves to make her own “potions” (aka dyed water. Law isn’t THAT crazy) in the lab. He starts teaching her how to use pipettes and measure out liquids. Once she turns 8, he shows her how to run tests and read medical data. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. 

On the ship, she has full reign. Whatever she wants to do, she’s welcome to do it. Law only ever raises his voice at her when she’s in danger or when he’s scared. 

On island visits, it’s a little bit different. He doesn’t like her to leave his side, even as she creeps into her teenage and young adult years. 

He has a really hard time letting her have her freedom. He knows what kind of people wait around the corner of islands on the Grand Line, eager to get a girl of her stature and her beauty. He’s trained her how to fight, but he’s still desperate to protect her from the world.

It’s hard sometimes, having a husband who loves so deeply and wants to protect so much. You often have to be the mediator, reminding Law to be gentle and reminding your daughter that he just wants to protect her. 

But you’re a family, and you always love each other and forgive each other. It’s not always perfect, but you would never trade it, and neither would Law.