#and I just keep thinking about how I want to go back to that first season

[teojira]

Scar x fem! Reader/Rover from Wuthering Waves where Reader is trying to get Yangyang back, and Scar offers to give her back for a kiss from reader 🫦

[What's the harm?] [Scar/reader drabble]

Summary: Scar strikes a deal with you, for both your and Yangyang's freedom. (You are Rover in this!)

Word count: 1k+ (I got POSSESSED)

Pronouns: She/her implied

Warnings: Possibly OOC but the game is 3 days old, have mercy. Slightly nsfw! Scar is down bad. You're Rover in this and you're also down bad.

A/N: I want him so bad, the constant flirting with MC? The way his eyes soften at her? I'm in love with him so bad.

“Where is she?” He's already isolated you for Yangyang, bringing you into his domain.

 It's unnerving, standing alone with a man you've seen cause so much trouble, someone who constantly is trying to get into your head.

The comments he makes, there are so many of them and they just keep coming. 

Is he lying about wanting you? Lying about wanting your trust? Is this just a ploy to get you on his side? 

You're not sure, your brain can't deny that this is a trap, he trapped you, but your brain can't deny that he's looking at you with a soft gaze that you're sure he's never graced another human with. He looks like he simultaneously wants to eat you alive and protect you like he claims.

Scar himself stands a few feet away, arms crossed as his eyes trail along your form, starting from your feet, lingering a bit on your chest until finally meeting your eyes. You swear you can see a twinkle in his eye, and he doesn't even remotely try and hide the way he licks his lips at you, a predator grin making it's way on his handsome face.

“Oh come on Rover, she'll be fine~”

“I'm not doing this with you, give her back.” You steel yourself, hand resting on the scabbard of your sword, ready for him to attack.

To your surprise, he knocks his head back and laughs, shaking his head, the movement jostling his locks. He turns back to you, moving closer, step by step.

“Look at that, that fire in your eye is mesmerizing Rover, you're that concerned with a woman who only wants to use you?” He coos, voice mimicking how an adult talks to a child and you feel small, taking a small step back but the distance still closes, he's not letting you get away.

“Stop. I'm not playing this game with you Scar, let me go and give Yangyang back.” You hate how your voice trembles a bit, hating yourself for his presence having such an effect on you.

“Yangyang This, Yangyang that, what about me my dear? Why don't you say my name like you do hers? With that fondness.” He glowers, finally closing the distance, stepping into your personal bubble and cornering you against a large rock.

“What are you even-” You can't help the flush that rushes to your face, your head dizzy at the proximity. The body heat radiating off of him is jarring, but not as jarring as his smell. He smells of ash and burnt wood, and a mix of his own natural scent and it feels warm and safe. For the first time since you've woken up, you feel protected, despite him being the enemy. The same one who the nation you're supposed to protect hates.

It's so stupid, it's so stupid.

"Say my name.” He's leaning down now, was he always this tall?

“W-” He cuts you off, grabbing your jaw with one hand, squeezing your cheeks ever so slightly, only releasing to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Say it, Rover.” His face is so fucking close, you can feel his breath tickling your face.

"Scar." You breathe out, your head spinning, this is wrong, you shouldn't have let him get this close, you need to get out and find Yangyang, what the fuck are you doing?

"Give me what I want, and I'll let you both go." He murmurs, eyes zeroed in on yours.

His heterochromatic eyes are beautiful already, but the way they're so dilated, barely any of his color is shown.

"I'm not following."

"Just a kiss my dear, just one."

"How do I know you're gonna keep your word?"

"You don't, but I don't think that's gonna stop you." He coos again, moving to trail one of his hands down your back, pushing you closer to his body, your chests both heaving and resting on one another.

He's right, as of right now, there is absolutely nothing that will stop you from this, from giving in just this once.

You lean in first, shutting your eyes tight.

It's Scar who does the rest, crashing into you like a wave, trying to consume you.

He kisses you like you're long lost lovers, pouring so much passion into the kiss that you can't ever hope to return, so when he pushes you up against the rock, you know this'll be a reoccurring occurrence. It's addicting, the feeling of his lips finally on yours, all the tension finally reaching a climax. His tongue is damn near down your throat, swallowing down your moans as much as he could, his hands gripping your hips so hard, you wouldn't be surprised if it left a mark later (a small part of you hope he does).

It takes everything in your power to pull away, but the second you do, he moves to start licking at your neck, you can feel his canines run along a specific patch of skin that makes your legs weak. You place a hand on his chest, trying to gently push him away.and when that doesn't work, you bring your other hand up to run your fingers through his locks and tug him away.

The groan he lets out is downright sinful. He looks up at you, his expression as if he just fucked you within an inch of your life, his hair mussed, his lips glossy from your combined spit.

"Was that good enough?"

"Oh honey, you're lucky I don't take you right here. But I am a man of my word." He hums, licking his lips and letting out a snicker. With a shocking gentleness, he pecks your lips one last time.

"Wake up now."

"Rover! Rover! Are you okay?" Yangyang has your head on her lap, one of her palms on your forehead, feeling the warmth there.

All you can do is groan and bring a hand to your face, covering your cheeks.

"What'd he do to you in there?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴏɴ!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Captain II

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Fridolina Rolfö x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You come home after being announced as captain

In true Magda fashion, everyone in her contact list gets a call. A quick 'did you hear my kid's Sweden Captain?' call where she ends it before the other person can reply.

You get a text and several missed calls that you just ignore until you're free to go to your mothers' house. It was a slip that had you forgetting to tell them that you were Sweden's new captain.

There wasn't much time between your discussion with Emma and walking out to the press conference.

The best you could have given them was a text in warning but, judging by the messages your Morsa sent and all the uncharacteristic emojis she sent with it, you assumed she was happy.

You also assumed that you wouldn't be yelled at for not giving them a heads up.

You pull up at their house and sigh.

Frido's car is also in the driveway and you roll your eyes.

You don't want to think about how many traffic laws she broke to get here before you.

You unlock the front door, unbothered with using the bell, and slip inside.

The low hum of the tv is apparent as you slide off your shoes and hang up your coat. Frido's definitely in the house because you have to put your shoes next to hers and her bag is sitting on the stairs.

You're not entirely sure why she keeps bringing a bag when all her clothes are in the spare room but you don't dwell on it long before making your way into the living room.

Momma is sitting on the sofa, watching the last five minutes of a random show before what she actually wants to watch comes on.

"Your Morsa and moster are in the garden," She tells you," Calling everyone they know to brag."

"Are you angry I didn't tell you? Are they?"

"I'm not angry and those two are much too smug to be angry as well."

You smile and sit next to Pernille, one of her arms being thrown over your shoulder comfortably.

"At least tell me you told Natalia at least. She's not got access to you while on camp like we do."

"I told Talia," You reply.

In fact, Talia was the first and only person you told before the press conference. She'd congratulated you with a laugh before teasing and saying to take it in while you could because she would be gunning for the Spanish captaincy next.

She'd get it eventually, you knew that. It was only a matter of time but, still, you were the only national captain in the relationship at the moment and you just knew she'd have something to say about it when you finally reunited.

"Good girl," Pernille says," I'd hate for her to suddenly appear at the house unexpectedly. You know what your Morsa gets like."

In sync, you both lean forward to peer out of the windows leading to the garden.

Magda's still on the phone, waving her hand around excitedly as her mouth moves quickly before she drops the call only to immediately make a new one.

Frido's also pacing around the garden doing the exact same thing and you can't help but roll your eyes at both of them.

Magda catches your eyes and instantly makes her way back inside.

"Look at you!" She cries, bursting into the room," My little captain! Look at you!"

You're pulled away from Pernille and crushed into a hug as Magda all but sobs into your hair.

"I remember the first time you wore the armband! So small! You couldn't even walk yet! It kept slipping off! Now look at you!"

"Morsa," You groan, trying to escape from her suffocating hug," Let go!"

"My baby!" She's definitely crying now. "Carrying Sweden to greatness!"

(One day, you do lead Sweden to greatness. One day, you make your mark as one of Sweden's captains. One day, you pass off the armband to a young player you saw greatness in like your captain did for you.)

"Come on," You complain," Let go!"

You're released, only to be forced right back into another hug, from your moster Frido now.

Her hugs is just as suffocating as Magda's. She rocks side to side with you as you struggle to get away.

She speaks to Magda over your head. "Do you think I can borrow your old armband? I can't just wear her shirt to matches anymore. Got to complete the look."

"Please don't," You beg but she ignores you.

"Er..." Magda says," I'm not sure actually. I'll have a look-"

"It's on the bedside table," Pernille cuts in," Magda insisted on wearing it last night when we-"

"Gross!" You complain," Please don't talk about your sex life. You know I wear the armband now. Please don't make me think about you guys having sex every time I wear it."

You peak your head over Frido's shoulder to look at your mothers.

Magda shrugs. "A healthy sex life-"

"Stop!" You clamp your hands over your ears. "Stop talking or I'll go straight back to camp. Stop talking!"

Magda waves a hand dismissively. "You'll find out what I mean as soon as you see Natalia again."

[a-b-riddle]

Not me imagining medic reader who acts weird around Ghost.

At first everyone thinks that you’re just weirded out. 6’4 wall of a man in a skull mask. His eyes covered in black makeup and eyes such a deep brown they’re almost black. Anyone in their right mind would be on edge.

But then as time progresses it doesn’t stop. You don’t ease up no matter how many times you’ve been around Ghost. Eventually the 141 begins to suspect something much more sinister.

Theories of knowing something about Ghost you shouldn’t. Are you working for Makarov and worried? Your eyes never leave him anytime he enters a room. Your voice wavering anytime he asks you a question. You’re not like that with the others. You’re hiding something. And they know it.

Johnny is the one you’ve gotten closest to in the 141. The one who wants to believe you’re not a traitor. You’re Birdie for Christ’s sake. Their bird, as they call you. You couldn’t be betraying them. He’s able to convince the guys to let him get you drunk. See if you slip up.

It’s a quiet night on base. Johnny had manage to get flavored vodka imported. Enticing you to come have a drink in his barracks.

And boy, do you.

You get too tipsy to notice how off Johnny seems. How his voice is softer, more alluring. You also down notice the phone face down on the table, serving as a live walkie-talkie between him and the others listening in Price’s office.

Johnny and you bullshit around. Talking about F1 racing, the need for more help in the medbay and even what your plans are when you get back home.

Eventually, he can’t take it anymore. He needs to know.

“What’s your deal with the Simon?” He finally asks. His question grants you pause, almost instantly sobering you up. Johnny sees it in your eyes. His heart breaking because he begins to believe he was wrong.

“Hen,” his hand grabs yours, when you don’t say anything. “I know something is going on.” You try and pull away but he doesn’t let go.

“Have-” you begin, trying to figure out how to tell him. Johnny is your friend. He wouldn’t care. But you fail to come up with the words. “Fuck.”

“Please.” He begs. “You know you can tell me.” You wait. Contemplating if you should tell him. But then it could mean losing any respect you had earned with them.

“You can’t judge me.” You made him promise, tears beginning to well in your eyes.

“I won’t.” He promises, offering a squeeze of reassurance. He knew that the moment you confessed to whatever it was you were hiding, the team would be in there. He knew what would happen to you. And although there were no romantic feelings he held toward you, he still cared.

You took a deep breath.

“It’s the mask.” You confessed. “It’s hot.” Now it was Johnny’s turn to pause.

The mask?

“What?” He asked in disbelief, pulling his hand off of yours. “What do you mean it’s hot?” “You’re worried that he’s sweating underneath it.”

“I want to fuck him.” It felt like a weight lifted the moment your confession of lust escaped your lips.

Johnny sat there, knowing his Captain, fellow Sergeant and, most importantly, his Lieutenant were listening on the other end of the phone.

“Simon.” he clarified. “Ye want to fuck Simon.”

“I mean if he keeps the mask on.” You shrug, looking at his bewildered expression. “It’s a kink, Johnny. Some people like feet or being led around on a dog leash.” You down the rest of the sweetened liquor, cringing as the last sip makes your stomach flip. “Men in masks do it for me. It’s a thing now. Lots of women like it.”

He doesn’t say anything. The room filled with uncomfortable silence until he breaks out in laughter.

“If you say anything, I will murder you and we both know I can make it look like an accident.” You threaten.

“Feckin’ hell.” He sighs, wiping tears from his eyes. “This isn’t how I expected the conversation to go.”

“Well,” you say standing, needing a moment to get your bearings. “It’s also over. I’m calling it a night.”

“I’ll walk ye back to yer room.” He says standing.

“No need.” You wave off. “I’m good.”

He knows you’re right. But now guilt eats away at him for even thinking you were a traitor. So he lets you go, listening to the sound of your footsteps fading as you walk down the empty corridor.

Several minutes later the others join him in his barracks. None of them saying something until, Johnny looks at Simon.

“Looks like the little Bird has a thing for you, Lt.”

Simon rolls his eyes.

Thankful that his mask is hiding his shit eating grin.

[luveline]

coworker!james is fueling me rn thank u miss jade!! can i pretty please request a coworker!james drabble in which someone at work, a higher-up of some kind or someone visiting from another company being kind of cruel to reader, and jamie discovers that maybe there are several people who have just not been very kind to her, and she doesn’t really understand why he’s upset for her? please and thank u

—Why is James so upset? And how do you calm him down so quickly? fem, 1.2k

The horrible heat of the first week of British summer time finally breaks. It was an eventuality. Nothing good ever lasts for James —he must’ve been enjoying it too much. The sun is gone, the clouds are grey, and the office radiators pump a meek heat into the room.

The dreary skies outside depress him. “I miss the sun,” he sighs, putting the tips of his fingers together and bringing down his hands, base of his palms apart to stretch the sore inside of his wrists. They pang. 

“Sunny again next week,” Remus says reassuringly. “Just in time for your review!” 

“Please don’t remind me.” 

“I must remind you, Jamie.” Remus stands up, and he gives James a loving squeeze on the shoulder, voice close to his ear, “Because you need to pretend you like your job, at least for the next few days. Come and get some coffee with me.” 

James waves his hand. “In a second.” 

When James met Remus, Remus couldn’t take touch. Didn’t like it or want it, couldn’t accept so much as a compliment, but things change, and years of knowing one another makes squeezing and pinching easy work. Remus flicks him without cruelty and exits the nook, leaving James on his own. 

He glares at your empty seat, confused. When did you leave? 

Doesn’t matter. Coffee. James is in desperate need of coffee as Remus recommended to warm up. He exits out of his desktop and shucks his suit jacket back on, taking a hand to run through his knotted hair as he walks. Past the desk banks of the account managers and the reception bank to the hallway that runs into the break room and adjourning kitchen. The office is a weird maze but the worst part is having the big ‘conference’ room right next to the break room, so the people inside working can judge you for eating, and vice versa. 

The conference room door is propped open. 

James recognises you from behind, your hair and tight shoulders. He should recognise the stress, having caused so much of it. 

“It’s just not good enough.” 

“I know.”

“You coast by, doing half the work of your fellow accountants.” 

“I… I was sick for a week, I know it affected my turnover. But nothing went unfinished, sir.” 

“No, because your colleagues picked up your slack.” 

“Sir, I– I promise I work hard.” 

Your voice is so oddly unlike yourself, a tone James is unfamiliar with. He’s arrogant and agitating and has no business interrupting, but he knocks the conference door anyways. 

“Hi, Mr. Vida. How’s it going?” James asks.

“James, it’s fine. We’re just going through L/N’s review.” 

James pulls one of those boyish smirks that men often share when they should be grimacing instead. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” He hangs on like he has something else to say. 

“I think we’re about finished.” 

Mr. Vida is a predictable man. He ushers the woman away to make room for the man. His misogyny is unsubtle and unfortunate, your expression laced with hurt as you gather yourself and stand to leave. 

“Not looking forward to mine,” James says easily. You round the door, and he sends Mr. Vida a suck-up smile before he goes. He should stand up for you in a way that matters, but he’d felt it imperative to remove you from the situation, rather than escalate. 

He’s on your tail, coffee forgotten as you scurry back to the desks. “Hey,” he says, finding himself in a half-jog to keep up, “wait, wait, are you okay?” 

You slow. “I’m fine,” you say, so mildly perplexed that he doesn’t think for a moment you’re playing it cool. 

“He was getting a little heavy with you.” 

You frown in agreement, but otherwise move on, rolling your chair back with your foot to open your desk drawer. “I guess so. He’s like that.” 

“Is he? I’ve never had him that mad at me.” 

“He’s not that bad.” You pull a blister pack of painkillers from your drawer and pop three out in a row. “Have you met his boss? Oh, have you ever spoken to the manager of the account managers from the Brussels office? She sucks.” 

James doesn’t have the wherewithal to pretend he wasn’t following you. He stands with his hands vice-like on the back of his chair. “What did they say to you?” 

“Who, Mr. Vida’s boss? Or the Brussels manager?” 

“Both.” 

You sit and fish a bottle of water from your bag. “I actually filed a successful grievance again Mr. Vida’s boss, he kept calling me sweetheart. I know,” —you wince— “that’s a bit much, but it was really obvious he was looking down at me, so.” 

“And the Brussels manager?” 

“She emailed me thinking I was much more involved with the lab than I actually am. She kept calling me stupid.” You take one of your tablets and wash it down with a swig of water. “But,” you add, smiling at him, “I did manage to solve her problem.” 

“What do you mean, she called you stupid?” 

Your smile slips. “She called me a bunch of stuff. Professionally, you know, but she kept asking why my foresight was so sorely lacking. You know what they’re like.” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t, no. Nobody’s ever called me stupid. Or sweetheart.” 

You smile genially. “Perks of being a girl. Or stupid.” You laugh at yourself softly.

“You’re not stupid.” 

You sober at his solemn tone. “I know,” you say. “I’m just joking.” 

“Nobody should be talking to you like that.” 

“I know, James, but what am I supposed to do?” 

He doesn’t know. What can you do? Nothing. What can James do? What should he do? 

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. 

Your frown deepens. “It’s not your fault. It’s really fine.” 

“It’s not fine. It’s not, though, it’s–”

“James?” you say. 

“What?” 

You stand up. You stand close to him, looking into his face. “Don’t be upset,” you say, mirroring his softer tone, “it’s okay. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with it at all.” 

“Well, luckily this time I had you to come and rescue me,” you say. “But it really is fine. I can look after myself, even if I shouldn’t have to. Okay?” 

Your hand finds his arm. You squeeze his wrist and his entire torso lights up, everything, his chest, the backs of his shoulders, like goosebumps but warmer and with a softer fuzz to it. Your eyes meet his, an encouraging smile playing on a pretty mouth. For the first time that day, he feels pleasantly warm, like he’s had that first hot sip of coffee. 

The pads of your fingers are so, so soft where you catch his bare skin. 

“Okay,” he says instinctively. He’d say the sky was red if you asked him to, in that moment. 

You rub the back of his thumb with yours before letting him go. You sit down and finish your drink, and it takes James a good two minutes at his own desk to remember he’s not the one who needed comforting. 

He opens his emails to write a formal complaint against Mr. Vida for poor work conduct. He doesn’t think twice about hitting send. 

[pucksandpower]

My Brother’s Father

Charles Leclerc x Piastri!Reader

Summary: apparently you’re dating your brother’s father and Charles is dating his son’s sister … what a mess!

You toss another shirt into the open suitcase on the bed, humming to yourself as you go through the closet. Charles will be home from training any minute and you want to have your little prank all set up before he arrives.

The front door opens and closes, followed by the familiar sound of Charles’ keys hitting the bowl by the entrance. “Mon amour? You home?” He calls out.

“In here!” You respond, stifling a grin. You pick up the pace, grabbing handfuls of clothing and dropping them haphazardly into the suitcase.

He rushes down the hallway, ready to convince you to join him for a shower. But when he reaches the bedroom door, his heart sinks.

“What … what are you doing?” He asks, horrified.

You glance up, your face the picture of innocence. “Oh, hello darling! I was just packing a few things.”

“Packing? For what? Are you … are you leaving me?” The words crack in his throat.

You sigh theatrically, shaking your head. “I’m afraid I have to, Charles. I can’t be with you anymore.”

“What? Why?” He staggers forward, feeling like he’s been kicked in the gut. “Did I do something wrong? Whatever it is, I’m sorry! We can fix it!”

Shooting him a mischievous look, you bite your lip. “It’s because of Oscar.”

Charles freezes. “Your brother? What does he have to do with us?”

“Well, think about it ...” You abandon the suitcase, sauntering over and trailing a fingertip down his chest. “When you adopted him, that made you his father. Ergo … you’re my brother’s father now.”

Charles gapes at you, completely lost. “I … what? That’s not how it works! I was just joking on Twitter-”

“So you’re saying you don’t see Oscar as your son?” You arch an eyebrow accusingly.

“Well, no, I don’t actually-”

You shake your head, clucking your tongue. “Shameful, Charles. Denying your own child like that.”

“But he’s not really-”

“Poor Oscar,” you lament, throwing a hand against your forehead dramatically. “Rejected by his own father! No wonder he’s been texting me constantly, sobbing about what an awful dad you are.”

Charles scrambles to catch up. “Oscar has not been … we’re not actually related, Y/N!”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” You back away, hands on your hips. “But the fact is, I can’t date my own brother’s father. It’s just … wrong. Morally corrupt.”

“You’re being completely ridiculous!” Charles throws his hands up.

Whirling on him, you jab a finger into his chest. “So you’re calling your son a liar now too? How dare you!”

He opens his mouth, then closes it, at a total loss. You stare at him expectantly, arms folded.

Finally, Charles decides to change tactics. “Fine, okay, let’s say all that is true. For the sake of argument. That still doesn’t mean we have to break up!”

You blink at him innocently. “It doesn’t?”

“No!” He grabs your hands, holding them tightly. “Mon cœur, I love you. We can make this work.”

Pursing your lips, you pretend to consider it. “I don’t know … having a romantic relationship with my brother’s father? It just feels so sordid and taboo.”

Charles groans, rolling his eyes. “You’re making no sense. This is all hypothetical!”

“Is it, though?” You wiggle your fingers free, tapping your chin. “The heart wants what it wants, Charles. And mine wants to avoid a salacious love affair with Oscar’s own dad.”

Throwing up his hands again, Charles growls in frustration. “This is completely insane! We were together before I ever ‘adopted’ Oscar as a joke on Twitter!”

“Were we?” You ask loftily. “Sometimes the lines get so blurred, don’t they? It’s hard to keep track of what came first.”

Charles stares at you wildly for a long beat. Then, abruptly, he lunges forward — sweeping you up into his arms as you squeal in surprise. You flail dramatically as he hauls you over to the bed, tossing you down onto the rumpled sheets with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Charles Leclerc, what do you think you’re … eep!” Your faux outrage melts into peals of laughter as he attacks your sides with wiggling fingers, mercilessly tickling you. “Stop, stop! I give up, I give up!”

But he’s relentless, pinning you to the mattress as his fingers dance expertly over your most ticklish spots. You thrash and giggle helplessly, tears of mirth springing to your eyes.

“Say you’re not breaking up with me!” He demands, grinning wickedly. “Say it, or I’ll never stop!”

“Never!” You gasp out, breathless with laughter. “I’ll never, hahaha, surrender!”

Lunging up, he captures your lips in a heated kiss, stealing your breath away. You melt against him with a contented hum, tangling your fingers in his soft hair as his hands roam over your body possessively. The teasing banter falls away, replaced by the familiar sparks of want and need that always seem to simmer between you.

When you finally break apart, you’re both flushed and panting. Charles gazes down at you with dark, molten eyes. “Are you done being ridiculous now?”

You try for an imperious look, but can’t quite hide the smirk tugging at your lips. “Well … I suppose I could be persuaded to overlook that our family tree is quickly turning into a wreath.”

“You’re impossible,” he mutters, dipping his head to trail scorching kisses along the exposed column of your throat.

Throwing your head back with a breathy sigh, you concede, “Fine, fine. I’m not actually breaking up with you, you lunatic.”

“Thank god.” He raises his head, his expression turning serious as he cups your cheek tenderly. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again, okay? I don’t know what I’d do without you, Y/N.”

You cover his hand with yours, turning to press a soft kiss against his palm. “I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to worry you so much. I was just having a bit of fun.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t funny to me.” He tries to look stern, but you can see the fondness sparkling in his warm green eyes. “No more jokes about us splitting up. Or pretending I’m actually related to your brother. Deal?”

Tracing the beloved lines of his face, you murmur, “Deal. I promise to leave Oscar out of our sexy games from now on.”

Charles barks out a surprised laugh. “Our what now?”

You grin unrepentantly. “What? Like you’ve never fantasized about me calling you ‘daddy’ before?”

He flushes bright red, sputtering as you dissolve into giggles once more. Leaning down, he silences you with another heated kiss — and soon, all thoughts of Oscar and Twitter jokes are utterly forgotten.

[sophsbookstore]

The Perfect Day

Charles Leclerc x hairdresser!reader pt. 2 ｡･:*˚:✧｡

Masterlist can be found in navigation!

Read pt. 1 here

A/N: In honor of Charles Leclerc winning the freakin Monaco Grand Prix!! 

Word count: 2,453

“Looks like you have no one on schedule.” The front desk lady says to Y/N.

Y/N looks up from her phone, constantly refreshing her calendar, checking to make sure what she’s hearing is correct. There has to be some mistake? Just yesterday she was completely booked for the day.

“I think everyone canceled for the grand prix, I mean who would want to miss it, Charles is starting on pole!” The lady raved. All of Monaco was rooting for Charles, there was something in the air, everyone knew that Charles was going to win the Grand Prix, he had to.

“So I guess I'm off for the day?” Y/N looks at the lady puzzled, regretting her rejection of Charles' invitation to the Grand Prix.

Y/N waves goodbye to the other employees packing their things, the girl goes back to her car, sitting in science before calling Charles’ mom. She picks up within the first couple of rings. Y/N asks for Charles, his mom calling to Charles on the other line, passing her phone to her son.

“Sorry for telling you on such short notice but my schedule is cleared if there's still an available spot to see you race today.” Y/N starts fiddling with her hands, although Charles can't see, she hopes he doesn't pick up on the pleas in her voice.

“For you? There is always room.” With that Y/N gets an address sent to her and digital tickets to let her in. “I'll meet you at the entrance so I can give you your pass.” Y/N nods rapidly, thanking Charles for his generosity. Telling her that it was no problem at all, Charles bids her farewell, promising to see her later at the Grand Prix. Y/N rushes home, knowing she doesn't have long until the event starts.

She rummages through her closest, trying to find an outfit she deems perfect for the occasion. Finally landing on an outfit that satisfies her she looks at the clock, noticing that it's about time she leaves. She locks the door to her apartment behind her, shaking her hands with anxiety, reminding herself that she's there to support Charles.

When she finally gets to the Grand Prix she notices a group of people huddled near the entrance. She follows security, parking her car, dusting herself off, rolling her shoulders back, and walking closer to the commotion. 

As Y/N steps closer she finally sees what's at the center of the huddle, Charles. She waves her hand up in the air, hoping he catches her signal to him. Luckily he does. Quickly he makes his way over to her, pushing through the interviewers and paparazzi, with the green paddock pass in his hand.

“I'm so happy you came.” He says, pulling her in for a hug, kissing her cheek as he does so.

“I'm so happy you still let me come.” The pair laugh, pulling away from the embrace.

Charles wraps his arm around Y/N’s waist, pulling her close to him as the two enter the paddock. Charles lets go of Y/N for a moment, stepping in front of her and placing the pass around her neck as they reconnect with one another officially entering the grounds.

Y/N can feel everyone staring at her, anxiety starts to bubble in her chest, wondering if she was being stared at in disgust or curiosity. “Don't worry about them.” Charles turns whispering in her ear.

“It's hard, they keep staring at me like I'm some kind of animal at the zoo.”

“Y/N they are most likely looking at how pretty you are, I mean I can't help but stare too.” He smirks, Y/N playfully removing her hand around him to give him a little smack on the arm, quickly moving it back around him.

The pair make their way to the Ferrari hospitality, Charles introduces Y/N to the various staff scattered around before making his way over to his brother Arthur. Y/N has met Arthur before, giving him ‘hellos’ here and there when he comes in to get his haircut by his mom.

“Y/N! What are you doing here?” The younger driver asked in excitement.

“She's my plus one.” Charles smiles at his brother, Y/N blushing, nodding in agreement.

Before the three could say any more to each other someone taps Chalres shoulder, his engineer signaling to him that it's time for him to leave. Charles frowns, nodding understanding he gives his brother a hug, the younger of the two hyping up his older brother.

Charles goes back to Y/N giving her a long embrace before kissing the side of her head. “You're going to win today, I just know it.” Y/N whispers to Charles moments before he leaves.

“I really hope you're right.” He gives her one last glance before following his engineer toward the car.

Y/N and Arthur mingle around the paddock, Arthur introducing Y/N to almost everyone that he knows. “Is that my nephew?” Arthur yells out, moving quickly towards a man that Y/N has never seen before.

“Y/N, this is my adopted nephew Oscar.” Oscar walks over to the both of them, shaking Y/N’s hand. 

“Ahh, so you must be Charles’ new son. Congratulations on P2, I wish you luck on your race today.” Y/N gives him a warm smile, the driver smiling back.

“Thank you.” Moments later Oscar is also pulled away, saying goodbye to the two as he makes his way towards his Mclaren.

Arthur motions for Y/N to follow him, together they make their way over to their designated area, Arthur slipping some headphones onto Y/N’s head as the two settle in, anxiously watching the screen in front of them as Monaco settles in silence, manifesting Charles' win.

Needless to say the race was stressful, with the red flag barely into the first lap Y/N worried that someone would overtake Charles, wanting to scream to the other drivers not to pass Charles on such a special and important day.

Arthur and Y/N hold onto one another during every touch, maneuver, and tire change, wishing the best for Ferrari, but most importantly Charles. As the lap starts coming to an end Y/N and Arthur look at one another, is this it? Is Charles going to win his home race and finally break the Monaco curse?

As Charles pulls closer to the finish line everyone from Ferrari runs closer to the barriers, screaming for Charles as he crosses the line. Tears hit Y/N's eyes, the girl cheering as loud as she can. He has done it, Charles Leclerc wins the 2024 Monaco Grand prix.

Charles practically jumps out of his car, tears trickling out of his eyes as he cheers atop his Ferrari. Jumping down before running and leaping towards his team. As if the cries of joy couldn't be any louder they did. At that moment it seemed that all of Monaco was cheering for him. 

Charles moves throughout the crowd hugging the people who helped him most to get this victory, finally making his way to Arthur and Y/N. Y/N steps to the side, letting the brothers have their moment first, hugging one another before the driver turns to Y/N.

The two melt in their embrace, Y/N crying tears of joy for Charles. “You did it!” She pulls back, her arms still tightly around Charles' big frame. “I knew you would.” 

Charles continues to hold her. “Meet me after the race, I still have dinner with you tonight. '' Y/N nods rapidly. Charles finally stepped away to go with his rest of the team to the doc, getting ready to do their celebratory jump into the water.

Arthur and Y/N follow behind the large group, Y/N taking out her phone to snap a few pictures in celebration. One by one the big group starts to taper off, either going off to celebrate or do interviews, Arthur says goodbye to Y/N leaving the girl to wait for Charles.

After countless interviews the driver finally returns to Y/N, now fully dried he gives her a hug. “Thank you for waiting.”

“No worries! Congratulations on your race, seriously.” She smiles up at him. “You don't have to go to dinner with me, I know you would much rather be partying with everyone.”

“Nonsense, the parties will go on later in the night. Right now, I want to be with you.” He holds out his hand, Y/N gladly takes it, the pair walking towards Ferrari hospitality so Charles can change into less damp, non-Ferrari clothes.

Y/N waits outside for Charles to change, once ready the pair walk toward the parking lot. “The restaurant is fairly close if you want to walk?” He offers. Y/N looks over at her car, then back at Charles. “Sure!”

Together the pair walk out of the circuit, now entering the streets of Monte Carlo. They continue to talk with one another, getting interrupted every few meters by fans noticing Charles, everyone giving him high praise for his victory.

“Maybe we should have driven.” Charles jokes, the pair walking faster trying to get rid of the crowd following them, getting larger by the minute.

“Next time we will for sure.” Y/N nods in agreement.

“Next time? Already planning a second date before the first?” Charles smiles, the tips of his ears getting hot.

Y/N blushes in embarrassment. “Oh! I- ummm.” She stutters, getting caught off guard by Charles' question.

“I'd be more than happy to go on another date with you Y/N.” He smiles, the pair silently brushing their fingers together, slowly intertwining their hands as they continue down the busy Monte Carlo street.

Finally making it to the restaurant the staff immediately identify Charles, moving rapidly getting Charles and Y/N a room in the back. Patrons and staff of the restaurant give Charles loud cheers and high praise the further they walk into the restaurant.

Charles steps in front of Y/N pulling the girl's chair out for her to sit, thanking him she does so, Charles scooting her chair forward before taking his rightful seat across from her. The two open up their menus, engaging in slight conversation before both put their menus down, leaning forward, getting closer to one another.

“Thank you for coming to the race, and to dinner with me after.” Charles smiles, blushing ever so slightly.

“Thank you for the invite! Surprisingly, I'm glad that everyone canceled their appointments, if they hadn't I wouldn't have gotten to see you win.”

“I don't know how to feel, I'm just so excited and happy. I wish that my father would have been here to see it. We both dreamed of me winning my home race.” He looks down at the menu, quickly wiping his eyes.

“He is, he might not be physically here but he is always with you. I can say with 100% certainty that wherever he might be, he is jumping up and down cheering the hardest for you.” Charles looks up at Y/N, his eyes glossy.

“Thank you Y/N, truly.”

Before the pair can say any more, the waiter comes to the table. Both Charles and Y/N put in their orders continuing the conversation once he leaves. Charles asks Y/N about her life, wanting to get to know her more as the pair had only met days prior.

“I should really give you my number, especially since we are going on a second date. It would be weird if you kept calling my mom and asking for me.” Charles laughs, pulling his phone from his back pocket.

“Yeah…sorry about that.” Y/N looks away.

“Don't worry at all, it was my mistake for not asking for your number when we first met.” Charles hands his phone to Y/N the girl typing in her information before texting herself on his phone.

Their food soon arrives, the conversation not dying down one bit. The couple talked, not once did an awkward silence fall upon them. As the sun began to set the waiter came back with the bill. Y/N starts to reach for it, but Charles is too quick.

“Please let me, the date was my idea.”

“Charles, you literally won the Monaco Grand Prix, it's the least I could do.”

“You showing up, and coming with me tonight is everything I wanted. You can get the next one if you really want to.” He hands his card to the waiter, who soon comes back with Charles' card and the receipt.

Charles and Y/N both get up, interlocking hands once more before leaving the restaurant, Charles thanking the wait staff as they leave. “Let me walk you back to your car. I don't want you walking alone.”

The two walk in silence, taking in the warm summer air, gazing at the beautiful monte carlo sights. Charles notices Y/N’s face contorting in discomfort. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, my shoes are kinda hurting, but we’re almost there.” She shrugs.

Charles stops, Y/N following his lead the pair stand on the near empty Monte Carlo sidewalk. “Here let me.” Charles bends down, putting his knee up signaling Y/N to rest her foot on top. She does so, Charles taking off her shoes for her before getting back up off the floor, shoes in hand.

“Get on.” Charles turns around, squatting down for Y/N to get on his back. Once again she does so, quickly hopping onto his back as the pair continue to venture further into the night.

They finally get back to the parking lot, Y/N unlocks her car as Charles, ever the gentleman holds her door open for him. Y/N hops off of Charles back, staring ahead at her car, looking back at Charles who's looking back at her.

“Can I kiss you?” She asks, nervous for his response. 

Charles lets go of the door handle. “I thought you'd never ask.” He takes the sides of her face in his hands, the two engaging in a passionate kiss. Y/N wraps her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer to him. After a moment the pair pull back, still holding each other close.

“What a perfect way to finish the night.” Y/N smiles, pulling Charles in for another kiss.

“I couldn't have said it better myself.”

[arieslost]

MONACO | cl16

summary: aries’ gift to you all after she watched her favorite driver win his home race <3

word count: 802

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

the finish line at monaco has always been more of a daunting sight as opposed to an exciting one. you spent every single lap of every single monaco grand prix with your fingers tightly crossed, your lips colorless from how hard you’d press them together, just for a disappointing circumstance to rear its head.

you do the same thing today. but today is not last year, or the year before, or any time you’ve watched your boyfriend race in the heart of his hometown. today is the 26th of may, 2024, and charles leclerc is crossing the finish line as a winner.

every time he’s won has been special, but nothing holds a candle to this. it’s monaco. the streets of his childhood, the track he dreamed of winning on since he could remember.

“we won it! finally!” brian shouts over the radio, and immediately you can hear charles screaming back, crying out “YES!” over and over.

pascale, standing shoulder to shoulder with you as she had been for practically the entire race, reaches over and pulls you into a tight embrace.

“congratulations,” you say loudly in her ear so she can hear you over the cheers of everyone around you. “i can’t imagine how proud of him you are.”

“i think you can,” she replies, kissing your cheek and running her hands up and down your arms with a wide smile. “you’ve been by his side through every obstacle, just like i have.”

your eyes well with tears, and she hugs you again. “you’d better get out there. you know he always looks for you first.”

simultaneously, brian appears at your shoulder and takes your hand. “come on, come with me!”

you take a moment to hug him, the two of you jumping up and down in each other’s arms before you’re both running through the crowds of people to get a clear view of the podium, namely the top step.

you try to hold it together, because you know that a camera could focus in on you at any time, but when charles takes his place between carlos and oscar, his flag draped over his shoulders and a smile on his face that looks almost painful, you realize you never had a chance. the tears stream down your face, but you don’t even bother wiping them away. you can’t tear your gaze from the beautiful sight of your charlie at the top step in monaco. monaco.

his eyes find you as everyone sings along to the italian national anthem, the two of you included. you try to convey everything you can’t say to him yet through your eyes, and something about his expression tells you that he understands.

finally, after the ceremony is concluded and everyone is thoroughly doused in champagne (you and everyone in your general area as well, courtesy of charles), you’ve made your way back to ferrari’s hospitality and are now sitting waiting as patiently as you can to congratulate charles yourself.

thankfully, you don’t have to wait very long.

charles practically comes barreling through the door, first place trophy still clutched in his hand, race suit and hat drenched in champagne, and you don’t even feel the stickiness of it when you meet him in the middle of the room, both of you laughing hysterically.

adrenaline still pumping through his veins, charles wraps his arms around you and lifts you high in the air, spinning you around as many times as he can before he feels like he’s going to fall over. breathlessly, he sets you down, pressing his forehead to yours and closing his eyes.

“i’m so proud of you, cha,” you breathe out, fingers brushing through the hair at the back of his head before cupping his cheeks. “wow, i had so many things i wanted to say to you and now i can’t remember any of it.”

“c’est bon, mon amour,” he whispers, tilting his chin up to capture your lips in a slow, languid kiss. “just hold onto me for a minute.”

you don’t have to be told twice. you loop your arms around his neck, keeping your forehead firmly pressed against his, breathing in tandem with him and accepting every kiss he presses against your lips while his hands caress the slope of your back.

“i think you have some jumping in the harbor to do,” you say eventually, though you wish you could stay like this forever.

“with you?” he asks slyly, raising his eyebrows.

“i don’t think so,” you laugh.

but in the years you’ve spent with him, you’ve learned that when charles leclerc wants something, he will get his way. and that’s how you find yourself tightly gripping his hand as you leap into the monaco harbor with your race winner without regretting it for a single second.

note: oh guys. i cried today. i really did. i’m so happy for him and so damn proud. the first monegasque driver to win his home race in 93 years. tifosi, we celebrate <3

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

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[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Prewar!Cooper Howard has a breeding kink because he loves being a dad. He and Barb married and started trying for kids later in life than most folks around them, so much of the sex they had, especially early on, was focused on getting Barb pregnant. If he'd had his way, they would have had a whole litter of children, but hey, sometimes life doesn't work out the way you want. Still, there's the fun of trying, and there was a lot of trying. After the divorce, he's shocked when he meets someone else, and even more shocked when he feels those same urges with you. He's been trained to try and knock one in basically every time, he jokes.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

He's also incredibly possessive, and it drives him wild to think about getting to see you all swollen and filled out with his child. Particularly with you being younger that him; the ugly part of his brain is barking at him to stake a more permanent claim on you every time a guy your age so much as looks your way. Personally, he thinks he's too old to have more kids, but between his secret urges, your forgetfulness when it comes to your pill, and your twin high sex drives, well...sometimes accidents happen.

He'd be over the moon, once he knew you were happy as well (he would also worry about the news potentially being hurtful to Barb, but that'd be an issue for tomorrow). Showing you off in public, knowing that other people see how gorgeous you are and know you fully belong to him, it really gets him going, and you certainly take notice of how amorous he is when you're out together (combined with how vigorously he fucks you when you get home). Thinks you're insanely sexy pregnant and likes to watch you ride him with a big belly. You'd both better be a lot more careful about your contraception after the first baby if you don't want another, because getting to see you that way only makes his kink worse.

The Ghoul has a breeding kink because he's incredibly possessive. It's been literal centuries since he's come across anything in this world that he cares for enough to want to claim it, and you're officially claimed. He wants everyone, including you, to know that you belong to him and only him. Other ghouls can smell him on you much more strongly if he cums inside you, and he enjoys the way filling you full scratches his most primal itch. It's just an added benefit that he's almost positive he can't actually get you pregnant, but...there are records of ghouls reproducing with other ghouls. Haven't stranger things happened?

The little thrill he gets at the idea is just nature trying to take over.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

You'd be hard-up to get him to admit it, but he wants you to need him. He wants an excuse to baby you and pamper you and force you to let him do things for you without the vulnerability of admitting that he wants to do those things for you anyway because he's deeply in love with you.

You complain that your feet hurt during your journey for the day? He'll carry you everywhere you want to go from now until the end of time, if that's what you want. Stomach and appetite troubles? Name whatever you want, he'll find it for you, no matter how many caps he has to pay. Tired? "Of course you're tired, sweetheart. Let's stop for today. Here, sit down. Do you need some water? Eat this, you need some calories. Let me rub your legs and feet for you." It is endless and sort of surreal for you to adjust to.

Speaking of journeys, I think he also secretly wants to settle down a bit. He does already after he meets and falls for you, seeing how much the constant trekking back and forth across the irradiated desert takes out of you, and he definitely would want to do so expeditiously if you were pregnant. It's not like secure places don't exist in this world. He can keep you, and anyone else who may come along, safe just fine.

He'd be afraid to fuck you if you were pregnant, worried that he'll hurt you or make you sick or make something bad happen with the pregnancy. But if you reassure him, maybe beg a little, he'll do his best to make sure your urges are satisfied. Sit on his face and let him slide his tongue through your insanely sensitive folds, lie back and let him fuck you with those agile fingers while he jerks himself off. You'll miss being properly penetrated, badly, but you won't go without.

He wants an excuse to be even more protective of you than usual. Give him a reason to literally pluck men's eyes out for daring to so much as look at you, a reason to never let you out of his sight ever again. If you thought he was ready to commit violence to keep you safe before, you haven't seen anything yet.

I can't imagine it would be easy to have a big family in the Wasteland, but reminding him how much he loves being a dad would certainly have the thought on his mind.

[theemporium]

[1.7k] travelling can be stressful, but it's a little easier when your swiss grizzly bear boyfriend is by your side.

.

It was stupid. 

You were fully aware it’s stupid. People liked to remind you how stupid they found it. It was something so, so stupid and being so painfully aware just made it worse. Because logic didn’t work, despite what countless people tried to tell you. Their reassurances and rationality didn’t help the way your brain spiralled until it could latch on to every single possible thing that could go wrong.

And you knew, nine times out of ten, nothing would happen. In fact, you could count on one hand the times your spirals had played out and became a reality. But that didn’t stop you having the spirals, and it didn’t stop the way your brain processed everything. 

Unfortunately, even your own common sense lacked in the battle between your brain and the anxiety travelling brought you. 

It was something you were mostly mocked for and, truthfully, you could understand their perspectives. It did sound silly when you tried to explain to your coworker the fact you couldn’t sleep the night before a journey, even if you had done it a million times before. It did sound dramatic when you tried to explain the fear a new destination brought you, regardless of how much research you did. But they didn’t get it, they don’t understand that voice in the back of your head whispering away. 

What if this is the one time something goes wrong? What if there is an accident?  What if something gets cancelled?  What if the traffic is worse than usual and you’re late? 

Random but burdening questions rattled in your head on the days coming up to a big trip. It’s why you hated booking them in the first place, because you knew exactly how you would react. And you told yourself it would be different, that you wouldn’t be so dramatic this time, that you could handle it.

And, without fail, you would find yourself sick to your stomach the morning of the trip, unable to stomach anything beyond a piece of toast (if you were lucky).

“Do you think you would know if I was replaced by an alien?” 

You blinked, taking a few moments to process the question before you turned to find Nico already looking at you, a contemplative look on his face. 

“What?” 

“Like, I’m sure you would notice but how long do you think it would take you to figure it out?” He questioned, his hand resting on your knee and lightly squeezing as he spoke. 

You stared at him for a few moments, trying to wrap your head around his question before you let out a breathless laugh. “What are you going on about?” 

“You looked lost in your thoughts,” he said, keeping his voice low so he couldn’t be heard above the music the taxi driver was playing through the radio. “I can see inside that pretty head of yours. You were spiralling.”

Your cheeks flushed in response. “I’m sorry—”

But Nico cut you off with another squeeze to your knee and a kind smile on his face. “You don’t have to apologise for it,” he reassured you. “I just wanted to help.”

Something in your chest tightened at his words. 

“For the record,” he continued, saving you once again when he could see emotions overwhelming your ability to speak. “I think it would take me five minutes tops if you got replaced by an alien.” 

You snorted. “What? Five minutes? There’s no way.”

“I know you, schatz,” Nico shrugged in response. “I would be able to tell.”

“Aliens could have crazy technology far too advanced for humans to comprehend,” you argued back and, for the first time since you went to bed last night, your brain was thinking about something other than long security lines, overpriced airport snacks and cancelled flights. “I could have been replaced by an alien months ago and you wouldn’t have realised.” 

“I would know,” Nico said, sounding far too sure of himself as he flashed you a smile. “I doubt aliens would know that you make a little sound whenever I–”

“Nico!” You hissed, your eyes widening as you glanced at the taxi driver with worry. 

And the fucker had the audacity to giggle in response as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, tugging you against his side as much as your seatbelt would allow. 

“I was just going to say when I tickle you,” he said with a shameless grin. “I don’t know what dirty thoughts are in your head, schatz.” 

You huffed, nuzzling further into his side. “You’re evil.”

“And you love me anyways.”

You rolled your eyes, but Nico knew from the smile on your face that he was right. 

You knew exactly what he was doing and, truthfully, you couldn’t even find it in yourself to call him out on it. Because it was working. Because he was Nico and he would deny it but he wouldn’t stop, even if you did call him out. Because there was a warm feeling in your stomach at the idea that someone—that Nico—cared enough to go out of his way to make you more comfortable.

Because he was Nico Hischier and he was just the kind of guy that went out of his way to make his loved ones more relaxed, to take on that captain role beyond the ice.

You barely got a chance to climb out of the taxi before Nico was already reaching for the bags in the boot of the car, pulling them out and only giving you the lightest ones he couldn’t physically carry whilst also holding your hand. You didn’t bother to hide your smile.

It was a feeling you didn’t have with many people. Or at all, usually. Especially when you were travelling. Your brain was working on overdrive, your eyes constantly looking around like some unexpected variable was going to throw your plans off. You couldn’t physically stop how wired and on edge travelling made you.

But something about travelling with Nico made it easy to just let your brain switch off. 

You were far too focused on ogling the way he casually carried more bags than one person should, carrying them with such ease that made your head spin a little. Far too focused on the way he guided you through the bustling airport, so sure of himself and so in control as he led you towards the front desk where you could check your luggage in and grab your boarding passes. 

You didn’t even get a chance to reach for your hand luggage before Nico took the smaller suitcase in his hand, his other hand on the small of your back as he led you towards security with no sight of the panicked rushing that you were used to. 

“Do you think aliens could make it past airport security?” 

You snorted. “Do not start this again.”

Nico’s smile widened in response. 

Security passed as quickly as one would expect for such a busy airport (meaning not very fast at all) but it was easy to not think too long about it when Nico was chatting your ear off with a million different topics. The possibility of missing your flight (despite being over three hours early) didn’t cross your mind as Nico scrolled through the endless TikToks Jack had sent him, or pictures Jonas had sent, already back home in Switzerland earlier than Nico.

“Here,” Nico called out to get your attention. 

You turned around, finding him reaching into his backpack before pulling out a bundle of fabric. You raised your brows in questioning but took it from him without second thought. It took you a few moments before you realised it was one of his hoodies. 

“You brought two hoodies?” You questioned. 

“No, one is for you,” he answered like it was obvious. “It’s your favourite one, too. I made sure not to pack it away in the big case.”

Your face softened in seconds. “Nico.” 

“None of that,” he murmured as he stepped forward, taking your face in his hands as his thumbs lightly skimmed along the apples of your cheeks. “I want my girl to be as comfortable as possible, okay? So, you’re gonna put that hoodie on, we are gonna get some food in you and then we can relax by the gate. I have card games and playlists and your kindle in my bag too, because you almost forgot to pack it last night. I made sure it was charged too.” 

Your eyes welled up with tears before you could stop yourself. “I love you.”

He beamed in response. “I love you too,” he answered before leaning down to press a lingering kiss against your lips. “And I cannot wait to kick your ass at the new card game Timo taught me on the way back from LA.”

“Oh?” You raised your brows. “You’re so sure you’ll win?”

“I always win,” he murmured against your lips, kissing you again before he pulled away. “I won you, didn’t I?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You’re so cheesy today.”

“You’re going to be stuck on a plane with me for the next few hours, better get used to it.” 

“I should have taken Jack up on his offer to go to the lakehouse instead,” you grumbled, but there was unwritten relief on your face as you wrapped your arms around his waist, leaning against him as he squeezed you closer. 

“You’ll love Switzerland far more than you would have liked Michigan,” Nico assures you, lips brushing against the top of your head. “The food is better. And so are the views. And it has something Michigan doesn’t have.”

Your curiosity peaked. “Hm?” 

Nico’s head shifted down a bit, his lips brushing against your ear as his voice dropped until it was a whisper only you could hear. “A cabin I booked away for the week, just for me and you. No city, no people. Just us, a lake and so many surfaces I can’t wait to fuck you on.”

Your cheeks burned as you pulled back, glaring at his smug expression. “Nico!”

“What?” He looked giddy, dimples popping and making your stomach twist in desire. “I saw those little dresses you packed, baby. Don’t think I won’t be taking full advantage of it.”

“You’re a menace.” 

“And this menace loves to make you come,” he retorted, quickly leaning down to kiss you again before you could reply. “Now, c’mon. We have plenty of time to kill and I even downloaded some movies Nina recommended. Everything is going to be fine, baby.”

And you were just so inclined to believe him. 

.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[10:14 am]

(cw: pregnant reader, some cussing I think, pregnancy symptoms/discomforts)

You groaned as you continued walking. What would have been a beautiful day for anyone else felt awful for you, nearly 2 weeks overdue. The sun was shining brightly- which was making you hot and sweaty. There was a breeze- which wasn't strong enough to cool you down. The birds were singing- just more noise to piss you off.

"Come on, honey. Keep going, almost back home," Jaehyun smiled at you while his hands gripped your forearm.

You glared at him, fury in your gaze, "you better not be lying to me like the last lap around the block Jung Jaehyun."

Being nearly 2 weeks overdue was a major pain in the- everywhere. You back ached, you couldn't sleep, you felt every movement of the human inside you, you were hot, cranky, tired, swollen everywhere, and sore. You had spent hours bouncing on a yoga ball, eaten spicy food, chugged various teas, ate viral salads, and here you were, going on your- you lost count- walk since your due date. One foot remained on the curb of the sidewalk while the other stepped on the road for uneven steps to "really open your pelvis." Jaehyun was very supportive, maybe even a little too supportive, in helping you during this tough period. It was him that encouraged all this excessive movement! Lovely!

As much as you grumbled about it now, he truly had been such an angel your whole pregnancy. He had painted the nursery 4 times when you couldn't decide on a shade only to end up choosing the first color he had painted! He never complained about waking up to get you your fast food cravings in the middle of the night and even tried your weird combinations.

Finally your familiar front door came into view and you left Jaehyun's hold in favor of making your way back to your favorite spot on the couch. You sighed in relief as you settled into the cushions of the couch, the air conditioning quickly cooling you off.

"More raspberry leaf tea, honey? A date or some pineapple?" Jaehyun asked.

You sighed tiredly, your eyes falling shut. "Can I just get some peace and quiet please?" You asked quietly.

"Do you want a snack for your quiet time?"

You felt yourself getting overwhelmed, hot tears filling your eyes. You breathed deeply, trying to get yourself to calm down, but all you felt was your body temperature rise all over again as your feelings rose. Your breath trembled as you repeated, "Can I please just get some peace and quiet?"

Jaehyun scrambled over to you in a panic, "Honey! What's wrong?!"

You felt your shoulders shake as you cried harder. "I feel terrible! This baby was supposed to be out like 2 weeks ago. I feel like a hippo, I can't do anything by myself. I'm tired of raspberry tea and salads and dates and pineapple. And you always want me to be active and I hate it! It takes a lot of work for me move the way I used to with my center of gravity thrown off and an extra 30 pounds to move. I always feel the baby moving and even when I want to be alone, I'm not! I can't ever have any peace!" You ranted while hot tears streamed down your cheeks, "And every time we go to the doctor she always mentions that this kid has gotten you big ass head- do you have any idea how much damage a head the size of yours will do to my body?!"

Jaehyun looked at you in pure shock. His eyes were wide and lips pursed. "I-I-I don't know what to say." He didn't dare mention that the doctor had mentioned the high likelihood of a c-section.

"Because it's not happening to you! You don't get it and you want me to do everything the way I used to but I can't! And I really, really feel like if you try to touch me in any way for the next 3 days I will hire someone to kick you in the balls since I can't get my legs that high," you add while exhaling shakily, using the backs of your hands to wipe away at your tears.

Jaehyun cleared his throat with a decisive nod, "I'm gonna go shower. I'm closing the windows and turning down the air for you. Then I'm going to draw you a bath with your favorite bubbles. Can I get you anything else before I give you your peace and quiet?"

"I want an iced coffee, please."

Jaehyun opened his mouth to argue- you were supposed to be limiting your caffeine! Then he remembered the rant from a minute ago and decided not to. He disappeared into the kitchen, whipping up your coffee and setting it beside you along with the TV remote.

"Honey?" Jaehyun started almost nervously, "I love you."

You sipped your coffee happily, "I love you too!"

Jaehyun wasn't sure he'd get used to the mood swings that came with you being pregnant, but luckily they wouldn't last that much longer since you went into labor just 5 hours later. This of course brought a whole new wave of you cursing him and screams- but at least at the end of it all he got to welcome your beautiful baby girl.

[introloves]

REMI I NOW HEREBY NEED SOMETHING, ANYTHING, ABT ATSUMU FUCKING READER IN OSAMUS BED.

After he wins a game he’s just so so so excited to get his hands on you. It just so happens that Osamu’s room is on the first floor while his is on the second!!!! His brother mentioned he’d be working late-… suuuurllyyy he would understand !!

(he’d kill him)

ask and you shall receive 🪽

atsumu fucks you on osamu's bed + atsumu's a loverboy sorry not sorry + f! reader

— word count; approx 800 words

it’s always a frenzy with him. especially after games, it feels like he can’t breathe until he has you next to him. unit he can touch you and slot his mouth until yours, stealing breaths and whispers that giggle at him to stop enough to think, to let you get comfy against the door.

and while he loves attending to you, listening to you very well because he's rounded out how men are when they're in love. the drive and adrenaline coursing through his body makes him a little stupid. hips bumping into every corner from here to what he thinks is his room, until you fully open your eyes against his kisses. eyebrows furrowing at the unfamiliar layout.

"'tsumu." you mumble, rolling your eyes when all that is responded back is a hum from him- feeling his hands reach down and press his palms against your tummy, fingers tilting down to your waistband until you push weakly at his shoulders.

disengaging and meeting the lidded eyes and well formed pout on his face.

"this is osamu's room." you hiss, watching banners and posters that pertained to his twin decorating the wall. the bed shoved to the corner fitted with gray sheets and a black comforter- something atsumu hardly cared about.

but he's relentless- scoffs at why that would matter and responds back with a; "so?"

before hauling you to the bed, eyebrows scrunched with the smell of sleep and cologne similar, but oh so different. whining already when that hand that was making its way down finds the apex of your thighs and slides a finger in.

whole body taut- the singular word of "wet" playing over and over in his head. shucking his shorts down to his thighs to fist out his cock, ridding you of yours with movements so impatient all you could do was lay back and look pretty.

it's all he wants, what he likes. knowing you can lay and take it all, hands fisting osamu's comforter when his cock slides all the way in.

sheathed, your arousal already painting the dark hair laying at the base of his cock. toothy grin flashed your way with how cute you spasm, how you roll your eyes back and grab at his hoodie to bring him in.

wondering where the outcry from earlier went, you didn't seem to care this was osamu's bed now?

"pretty little thing." he laughs, pretty like him. frenzied thrusts meeting you, watching every jolt, shivering with how good this all is.

the high from winning and taking you eating away at the integrity of his stamina- he knows he's going to cum quick, but he isn't embarrassed. thumb reaching down to press mean circles around your clit over and over, only now listening to the loud squeak of the bed, backboard that doesn't belong to him slam into the wall over and over.

"c'mon." atsumu beckons, eyes softening at how you're trying to give him what he wants- barking out something that resembles a groan when you let yourself go. thighs squeezing, rocking, tensing around his unrelenting hips, eyes shut tight and face scrunched up all cute for him.

cumming down the length of his dick, running the seam of your ass and finally pooling down against the bedding.

messy, messy and finally paired with his own spend- trying his hardest to keep it all inside of you, last ditch effort of grabbing at your thighs and hauling you up his body.

thighs pressed around his middle while he sits up on his knees.

interrupted by the name of his brother flash across his phone screen, bothered by the fact that he was in the middle of attending to you- even when this was his room. "sorry baby." he murmurs before letting you down, body curling down to press a kiss to your forehead and answering the call.

"what?" atsumu nearly snaps, hand reaching down to grab at the corner of the already messy comforter- wiping the mess of you both from his cock. "if you're not out of there in ten minutes i'm burning your clothes you ingrate." osamu seethes, making a point to pound his fist against the wall adjacent to his room.

trying not to meet your horrified face, figures he should have checked to see if his twin was home in the first place, waving him away before chucking the phone back down. too busy to listen.

interested in joining an anime server? look no further than the love club! click here if interested!

[hairmetal666]

They're sitting in Eddie's bedroom, Steve propped up in the bed, flipping through some sports magazine, Eddie curled on the floor using his knee as a table as he scrawls notes for Hellfire's next campaign. Metallica spins on the record player, volume low. They're doing this more and more, being together and doing their own thing, music a soft backdrop to it all.

Eddie's deep into his planning, enough so that he manages to forget that Steve Harrington is in his bed. He keeps hearing something, though. It just manages to catch at the edge of his awareness, but when he fully tunes in the only sounds are Steve flipping a page, Ride the Lightning, the shift of blankets as Harrington taps his fingers. It happens a few more times, but when he tries to catch it, it's gone. Steve hasn't reacted at all, to the point Eddie wonders if it's all in his own head.

The next time, he's interrupted before he even gets back into it, that noise again, but this time, now, he's aware enough to see that it's Steve. And he's not, like, reading the magazine out loud to himself. No. He's singing along.

To Metallica.

And he wasn't idly tapping his fingers before. He was tapping along to the beat.

"You're singing along?" He asks before he can stop himself.

Steve looks up, a faint smile on his handsome face. "It's not too bad."

"Not too--Not too bad." Eddie's nearly screeching. Can't wrap his mind around Steve--"You've been listening to Metallica on your own? You've been--you--" He jumps to his feet, notebook spilling onto the floor. Steve's just looking up at him with big eyes and a gentle grin.

"Sure, Munson. You like it, yeah?"

He nods, mutely, unsure how he so thoroughly lost the plot that Steve's been listening to Metallica just because Eddie likes it.

"Got a taste for any other metal bands I should know about, Harrington?" He flops down on the bed, making Steve bounce a little.

"Well, Dio's pretty okay."

This time Eddie does really, actually shriek.

---

Eddie swans into the kitchen to greet Steve, who's already lounging on the couch with a beer. There's another one on the coffee table, waiting for Eddie.

"Just helped yourself, Harrington?" He teases.

Steve shoots him a look. "Wayne grabbed them before he left. What the hell took you so long?"

He can't say it's because he wanted to look nice with Steve coming over, even if they are just getting high and watching movies. Of course taming his hair took so long that he didn't have time to find a shirt, and Steve's knock at the door had him grabbing the first thing he could and jamming it over his head.

"You want chips?" He asks.

"Wait--Eddie--" Steve stands, pointing at Eddie's chest.

"What?"

"That's my--oh my god, I've been looking for that."

And, well, he had thought it was a little strange that the t-shirt he grabbed was gray. He pulls at the fabric, stares at the upside down Hawkins Tiger with a basketball in its mouth.

"It's my favorite sleep shirt. I thought Robin took it and you--"

Eddie's face heats. Steve's shirt. Of course. Steve stayed over one movie night, forgot the shirt, and Eddie. Well. He was going to give it back, but--

"Here, man, my bad." He goes to pull the hem over his head. "I didn't know it was your favorite."

"Nah," Steve says. He's sitting back on the couch. "You should keep it. You look really--" he pauses and takes a sip of beer. "It's nice on you, Munson."

He's sure his blush is a horrendous thing to witness, has to fight the urge to hide in his hands. "Right. Uh. Chips!" He whirls towards the cabinets, refusing to think about the matching pink stripes across Steve's cheeks.

---

"C'mon, Munson, you're hogging the covers." Steve's sleepy mumble cuts through the dawn quiet.

"Mmph," Eddie groans. Rubs the soles of his feet against Steve's shins.

"You're a dick," Steve grumbles. He shimmies closer, which is what finally does the job at fully waking Eddie.

"Wha--huh?" He blinks.

"You stole the blankets, man. If you're not going to share, the least you can do is cuddle."

"Uhh." Eddie is sure he's dreaming, but Steve's warm, strong arm slips around his waist, pulls them together.

Eddie doesn't know what to do. Where he should put his body. Does he relax into it? What do his arms do? They're not usually this rigid, right? But what do they do when he's sleeping? Somewhere in his gay panic, he has the presence of mind to grab the edge of the blanket and throw it over his friend.

"Better?" He asks. His voice is all wrong but maybe Steve will attribute it to tiredness.

"Mmm." Steve's grip tightens around his waist, his nose nuzzling against the nape of Eddie's neck. His breathing is already slow and deep.

Eddie can't imagine sleep finding him anytime soon. Not when Steve, his crush, his best friend, is holding him like this. Not when he now knows what the real thing would be like. Not when it's so impossibly out of his grasp.

---

Steve and Wayne are watching a Cub's game. Eddie's curled up on the couch between them, trying to work on a sketch, but his brain keeps skipping to a song he's writing. The lyrics have been easy, coming to him like nothing, but the melody...he wants it to be heavy, loud, wanting, but it won't fit.

He glances up at Steve, chatting with Wayne about some baseball thing called a ribee. His hair's not done, flopping softly around his forehead, and he's wearing his result-of-too-many-concussions glasses, the yellow sweater from that horrific boat ride, retrieved by one of the kids and painstakingly washed by Karen Wheeler.

Steve looks sweet, soft, relaxed. He laughs at something Wayne says, and Eddie's a lost cause. He's just fucking smiling at the pretty boy on his couch, hanging out with his uncle, too far gone to be able to fight it.

A melody forms in his head, and it's soft. Not sweet, no, but gentle. Almost tender. Nothing like he imagined.

---

It's early, early enough that Wayne's not home yet, but he got tired of trying to sleep. Didn't want to bother Steve, who still softly snored in Eddie's bedroom. So, he grabs his acoustic and his notebook, goes out to the couch to work on the song. It's coming along, really good, one of his best. He hasn't shared it with the guys yet. It's--he's not ready, lays him too bare.

There's a clatter from the kitchen, Steve's voice, deep and sleep rough, says, "Hey, Munson."

He pushes the guitar and notebook aside. "Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet, I'll--"

Steve shakes his head, pads into the living room. He's wearing the yellow sweater, a pair of Eddie's sweatpants, bedhead rampant. He curls up next to Eddie, pulling the couch afghan over his feet. "What're you working on?"

Eddie's ears get hot. "Nothing much. New song I've been noodling on."

"Cool." Steve's smile is little and fond. "Play it for me?"

"Ahh," Eddie says. His hand twitches around the neck of the guitar. "Not sure if it's quite ready for that."

"Oh, yeah." Steve nods. His face does something weird and squiggly that Eddie's never seen. "Just never heard you play before. Thought now might be...you know."

Eddie swallows, hard. "Well, maybe we'll get a show up at the Hideout soon."

"Of course. It's just--this is just you."

He blinks at Steve for a few long seconds, can't believe he's about to do this, but--It's not like Steve will know it's about him, anyway. "It's not a full song yet, alright? Just a verse and half of a chorus, so like. Don't judge it too hard."

"I would never." He can sense Steve's smile but can't look directly at it, knows it would kill him.

He situates the guitar, spins the notebook to read the lyrics like they aren't already burned into his brain, starts to play. His fingers are deft and sure, his voice a little rough, a little raspy with nerves.

The song ends and he's afraid to look at Steve, to see the thoughts written plane on his face. The silence extends, though, and he asks. "So, what did you think?"

"It's--that wasn't what I expected." Steve's voice is weird. Wobbly. Eddie chances half a glance at him, but can't make anything definitive out from his expression. "I didn't think--that's not the kind of music I thought you made."

He licks his lips, swallows. Puts his guitar down. "It's not usually."

"It was a love song." Steve says. His eyes burn into Eddie's.

He can't say anything for seconds that seem to span minutes. "Yeah, Steve," he says in a voice cut with gravel. "It's a love song."

"Eddie," Steve whispers. He reaches out then, thumb tracing along Eddie's jaw, the scars that linger there from the bats. "Is this okay?" He can only nod as Steve's hand twines through his curls.

He's shaking, just a little bit, not because he's inexperienced but because this is Steve, because it's happening, because their lips are meeting and a trembling noise falls from his mouth at the sweet way Steve kisses him.

It's gentle and quick, but they don't part when the kiss ends, stay sharing air as their foreheads rest together. Eddie can't stop smiling.

"Please tell me I'm not dreaming, Stevie" he whispers.

"You dream about me?" Steve asks, eyes blazing.

"I wrote a song about you, and you think dreams are a reach?"

Steve laughs, brushes a kiss against the tip of Eddie's nose. "I loved the song."

"Yeah?"

"Can't wait to hear the whole thing."

"Well, stick around for a while."

Steve leans in, kisses him again, longer this time. "Just try to get rid of me, Munson."

[nvuy]

doctor, doctor — veritas ratio

summary. you’re the worst person ever, distract him from his work, beat him at chess, and yet doctor ratio still can’t seem to hate your presence as much as he lets on.

notes. “nvuy please update your fics” NO.

my favourite person ever informed me that when owlbert lists all of ratio’s degrees, chemistry is not one of them, so i thought that was funny. but anyway i always lowkey forget ratio exists but then he appears in game and i go Good Lord and then go about my day. that man’s arms do something to me.

warnings. suggestive content, one intense make out session, you’re a freak LMAO, ratio thinks you’re a freak too, this is lowkey crack, i wrote this tipsy, gn reader but you do wear lipgloss.

“Hi, Doctor.”

Veritas’ fingers slid against the screen like nails on a chalkboard. A headache was already starting to form behind his eyes, and he squeezed them shut for a moment before he unwillingly opened them again.

“Yes. Good evening to you.”

Keep the pleasantries. Don’t yell. Don’t throw a punch. Don’t slam another book on anyone else’s head.

You sat down in the seat beside him with a purple soda can in your hand. “Whatcha doin’?”

Veritas cleared his throat. “I’m working.” He glanced up at the top of his screen. “And, judging by the time, you should be working as well.”

You weren’t even listening, choosing instead to pick up a stray notebook that he’d left on the desk. The page was filled with scribble and stupid math symbols—actually, that was not scribble. That was just his handwriting.

Gross. You grimaced at the page before you turned it. The next page, and the next, creased and scarred with harsh pen markings, looked undoubtedly the same.

“Work is for losers,” was all you remarked. You obnoxiously sipped at your drink.

Ratio scoffed. “How you even landed a position working for Madame Herta is beyond me. You are clearly a liability.”

You snorted. “I got hired because I’m sexy and smart.” You were picking at your nails, painted a deep purple like his hair. “You’re only here because Miss Asta needed help. After her problem is solved, you can go back to moping about how you don’t have a chemistry degree.”

You watched his jaw visibly tighten. His teeth gnashed together, and you swore you could hear them grinding behind his lips.

“It is a work in progress,” was all he said.

“Yap, yap.” You made a talking gesture with your hands. “I’m the professional here. That’s why Miss Asta made me lead chemist.”

Such a shame your ego overshadowed such a pretty face.

“What do you want?” he asked, trying to return to his notebook.

“I want to play chess.”

“I’m busy.”

You blew a raspberry. You punched him playfully in the shoulder. You almost hurt your knuckles bopping his bicep. “You’re just scared you’ll lose.”

His glanced up so quickly you swore you heard his neck crack. He raised an eyebrow in a challenging gesture, as if daring you to repeat yourself.

You only stared at him expectantly.

“One game,” he rushed out, face reddening in frustration. The look he gave you could’ve killed, but you knew him better than that. His strangely jacked physique wasn’t built to maim, and if he wanted to smack you with his tablet, he would’ve done so already. “And if I win, you will leave me alone.”

“Mmm, okay.” You shrugged. “And if I win, I get a kiss.” You tapped your cheek twice.

Veritas reeled back. Then, taken aback, he spluttered, “that’s all?”

You took another sip of your drink.

Then, you blinked. “Yep.”

Ratio, too, reciprocated, blinking wildly as if he hadn’t even processed what had come out of your mouth.

You grinned at him, eyes crinkling below your lashes as he eyed you down like he was viewing a sample through a microscope.

Then, he sighed. “Fine.” He tapped away on his screen. One of his floating gadgets projected a holographic chessboard onto his desk. “I suppose somebody has to dull that ego of yours.”

You leaned back in your seat and waved him off lightly. “You can go first.”

The chessboard flipped, and the white pieces faced him.

*ೃ༄

“Hey, does this thing have speech detection?” You leaned closer to the board. “Knight to B4.”

As expected, the small porcelain knight upon the board moved forward into its newly assigned position.

Ratio scoffed, clearly irritated. His fingers tapped idly against the desk. “You are so frustratingly lazy. It’s a miracle you get your work done, and such a shame it impedes your potential brilliance.”

You only made another talking motion with your hands. As he thought long and hard about his next move, you yawned. He took everything so seriously.

No wonder he was so jacked. He was constantly tense. It probably counted as a workout.

“You think I’m brilliant?” you asked with a smile.

“I think you have selective hearing.” Finally, he moved one of his pieces forward. “But, yes. Miss Asta speaks highly of you.”

“Aww. I’ll give her a smooch later.” That was a relief to hear, actually. Sometimes you worried if she’d boot you out of your position because of your tardiness. It was good that she still wanted you working in the station, despite lagging behind on reports and important meetings.

When you glanced up from the board after telling a pawn to move forward one space, Ratio’s eyes caught yours before he briskly looked down at the hologram once more.

Ratio was trying to read the board. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Just what are you doing?”

“Winning.”

“You are not winning.”

“Sure I am.” You leaned back in the seat once more. “Checkmate.”

Veritas’ eyes snapped up to gawp at you.

“Excuse me?”

“Checkmate,” you repeated. “I know I’m distracting. I have that effect on loser nerds with big egos.”

Veritas was staring at the board again. He was trying to piece together your previous moves, as the holographic board began to play in reverse. He was no cheat, no, never, and you didn’t expect him to do it as you were watching either, but it was clear as day.

He lost.

Your tongue carded along the rim of the soda can. “L-O-L.”

“This doesn’t even make sense,” Veritas mumbled, fingers rubbing circles into his temples. “You didn’t even have a plausible strategy.”

“Yeah, I did.” You placed a defensive hand over your heart. “You just don’t know it, because I have such a great poker face.”

“Chess doesn’t warrant a poker face.”

“Well, then, if you’re not willing to know my genius strategy–”

“No.” Veritas glared at you. “You will tell me.”

“Sure. I’m more worried about my reward, though.”

The look he gave you made you howl with laughter. It was a twist of his lips into something unsavoury as if he’d just swallowed a shot of vinegar. His brows knitted together and those unfairly long dark lashes casted a jagged shadow over his cheeks.

The chess board disappeared with a small noise and the screen returned to normal.

You leaned forward, batting your own lashes at him.

Veritas, after displaying a shaky grimace on his lips, met you halfway and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to your cheek.

You looked offended when he pulled back.

You whined. “What was that?”

“Your reward,” he argued.

“You just brushed your lips on me. Do you kiss everyone like that?” You were quite literally sulking, more so to get on his nerves.

It was working.

You swore you noticed a vein twinge on his temple. “I don’t just kiss anyone, thank you. Especially not over a game of chess.”

“You’re not getting my genius strategy, then.”

“Fine.”

This time, when his lips went for your cheek again, you turned your head.

Veritas let out an embarrassing noise that you’d never forget.

When he tried to pull away, clearly flustered and radiating so hot you were convinced he’d combust right there in his chair, you locked a hand in his hair.

Flustered for a moment, he then returned your enthusiasm ten fold, large hands curling around your waist and keeping the excited jittering of your legs still.

“Somebody will see,” he mumbled against your lips quietly.

To address his concerns, you dipped down lower in your seat behind the wall of his desk. Anyone that was watching would look away if they knew what was good for them.

Pulling away from his lips proved difficult. You caught the taste of his evening coffee, as well as the scent of cashmeran, and something that smelled faintly of chestnut and the smoky smell of a nice warm fireplace.

“You smell nice,” you whispered. Your voice was slightly hoarse. “What’re you wearing?”

The grin you had stretched on your face said it all.

Veritas snarled against your lips. “A physics degree.”

His lips hit your teeth when you grinned. “Can’t taste better than a chemistry degree.”

“You are horrible.”

Your hand crept along the waistband of his pants, feeling along the ribbons and the sleek expensive material. It was like cotton, but somehow even softer against your fingers, as if the thread count was bordering on six-hundred.

He reeled back when he finally processed the feeling of your fingertips slipping below his clothes. “Watch yourself.”

“Blah, blah, blah.” He made no effort to remove your hands, so a finger then hooked beneath the border of the hole over his chest. “Come ‘ere, Doctor.”

The light in your eyes was almost as intimidating as when you pressed your lips back into his, this time firmer, as if you were trying to mould your skin to his.

His skin was surprisingly warm for how cold he behaved. His scent was addicting. Freshly printed books and a warm winter’s night.

It tore a low and pleasant groan from your throat.

Surprisingly, he did not push away when your lips slipped from his mouth and traced the line of his jaw.

Instead, he sighed defeatedly and angled his jaw for you. You hummed, clearly content.

“Enjoying yourself?” he mused.

“Mhm.” You wondered whether he’d let you suck a bruise beneath his ear. “You’re soft. For a man.”

Veritas scoffed at that. He would insist that you were softer, but he instead bit his tongue. Of course he was soft. He took care of his skin, and he didn’t waste his life away drinking that filth you called soda.

He usually hated that artificial grape flavour, but he supposed the taste of your lips helped quell the awful amount of sugar still resting on your tongue.

He stiffened beneath you. He hadn’t even realised you had crawled into his lap. “Are you leaving marks?”

“Yep.” Your lips had dipped down to the base of his neck to stain the thin stretch of skin there.

“Oh, you–!” His eyes squeezed shut when your teeth carded along his jugular in warning.

The poor man looked two seconds away from a heart attack. His pupils almost turned to slits. He couldn’t tell whether he wanted to push you away or draw you closer. It was a mix of heat and blur that made his vision swirl with colour.

He felt unreasonably dizzy. He was grateful he was still sitting at his desk, for he was sure his knees would have given out beneath him otherwise.

Your lips pulled back for a moment. Sticky. He could smell a tinge of kiwi fruit from the gloss smeared over your lips. He was sure it was lathered all over his jaw like thick paste. The remaining hour of his shift would be a mix of rushing the rest of his report, and trying to scrub your makeup from his face.

Part of him wanted the stains to stay there, as unprofessional the thought was.

His silent brooding while your thighs warmed his were interrupted by approaching heels. Black kitten heels, to be exact, with a dark pinkish plum soles. He recognised her footsteps from miles away.

His heart stopped.

“Um… Doctor Ratio? I’m just receiving word that– oh my stars!”

Too late.

Veritas sprang from his seat, shoving you back into your own chair, much to your chagrin. Your hand fell from beneath the material of his shirt.

The damage had already been done, however.

Poor Lead Astronomer Asta stood frozsn, face red, holding a clipboard with way too many pink highlighted paragraphs on the paper.

Veritas awkwardly cleared his throat, and tried to wipe the sticky gloss off his lips. “The report will be with you in an hour.”

Asta merely blinked at him. Her cheeks were brighter than her her.

Her eyes then flitted towards you. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

You waved. “Hey, queen.”

Then, she nodded once in a greeting, squeaked an, “okay, thanks,” to the doctor and then rushed away, still hot in the face.

You could see the uneven rise and fall of Veritas’ chest. You were sure his heart was racing beneath his skin; yours was exactly the same, maybe arguably even quicker.

“Terrific.” Veritas turned his head to ridicule you. Scary for a dude with lipgloss smeared all over his face. “You’ve traumatised the poor girl.”

He heard you sigh. “I was just getting started.” You slouched in your chair, defeated. You checked your watch, noticing the giant seven tick over. “I’m hungry.”

“Eat, then. It’s dinner time.” He sat back down in his chair after he was sure he’d cleaned his face of your makeup.

“I was having dinner.” You finished the last of your soda and tapped at the can absentmindedly with your nails. “And was just getting to dessert.”

“You have an awful tongue.” He waved you off with his hands, fed up. “Now, shoo. I’m busy.”

“You’re so boring. What do you do for fun? Read?” He opened his mouth to answer, but you stopped him before he could embarrass himself even further. “Don’t answer that.”

Veritas rolled his eyes.

Instead, he chose to ignore you and pull the data back up onto his screen. His handwriting is still the most horrific thing you’ve ever seen, but it’s almost fascinating watching him write like that.

It’s just a line that only he can understand. Like his own nerd language.

You found it sort of hot.

Your eyes darted over to the bathroom door. “Hey, Doctor… What about–”

His eyes flared, and his grip on his pen grew tighter. He almost split a hole into the paper. "We are not having a rendezvous in the bathroom, nor will I be coming home with you.”

"Aww."

"But, for what's its worth, I commend your bravery in asking such a bizarre thing."

Ooh, praise. Lovely. "Eh." You clicked your tongue and leaned forward to kiss the side of his hair. “Worth a try.”

When you pull away, he does not look up, but his cheeks are tinged a lovely pink.

[sixosix]

HE BUILT A FIRE JUST TO KEEP ME WARM | LYNEY

notes wc 2.5k, a LOT of talking. but i hope you can enjoy:)) because im so nervous to post this

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“So that’s your decision. Alright.”

…That’s it?

The confusion on your face must have shown. Arlecchino casts a glance and smiles in her own way, only a ghost of it.

The ease of her answer feels like walls cracking, chipping slowly one by one, then collapsing altogether. It’s such a surreal, nearly maddening feeling. The glaring reminder that it has always been your choice dawns on you. So that’s it.

“I don’t want to chain you to the throne.” How embarrassing it is to realize that you were the one chaining yourself in, locking it in place, and suffering from the weight of it this entire time.

‘Father’ accepts it; it’s about time you did, too.

“Alright,” you echo numbly, lagging from disbelief.

As it turns out, the teacup in Rosalie’s hands had been the poison ‘Father’ was offering. She wanted to show Rosalie what it looked like, but Rosalie’s answer was pretty clear when she flung it away the moment you entered the room.

‘Father’ offers the cup meant for you, and you inspect it nervously. The glass feels fragile and smooth to the touch. The fate of your future, your memories, the people you’ve met that have led you all the way here, your entire being—

All in one cup.

You already gave your answer. It took a good minute, but still, it was the quickest choice you’ve made yet. The ‘tea’ seemed tempting for a split second: an easy way out, a free restart button. You know better now, though. Arlecchino’s showing you mercy, and Rosalie’s giving you a choice.

You look up at Arlecchino, uncertainty in your nerves. “But I can’t go back here?”

Arlecchino tilts her head. “You mean to return here as a child of the House?” She chuckles shortly. “Of course not.”

Oh. Ah, well. That is to be expected.

“Why would you be? You’re not an orphan anymore, are you not?” Arlecchino’s gaze swings pointedly at Rosalie’s direction, who is talking animatedly to Freminet. Freminet blushes as Rosalie coos and frets over him like she does to you.

You find yourself smiling fondly, then promptly realize that this is what Arlecchino means. You have a new home now, with Rosalie.

“So I guess this is really my goodbye to the House?” you mutter, feeling limp suddenly.

Arlecchino gently places her clawed hand on your head. You stiffen for a tense moment but eventually relax into it, realizing that this could be the last time she would even see you as her child, even when you weren’t a long time ago.

“It’s been your goodbye when you left,” she reminds you coolly.

Your shoulders slump in defeat.

“But I’m sure the children still see you as family, and you would be our most important guest of all,” Arlecchino says, looking ahead. “Don’t underestimate their love for you, even if you’ve already forgotten them.”

“I don’t think I could ever forget my first home even if I tried,” you laugh, a little bittersweet thing.

“Then still feel welcomed here, on behalf of their feelings.”

Her voice isn’t gentle, nor does she assume to be part of the House that would want you back—she still wears that cold detachment in her words, but you know her. You know this is the closest she can give you. You want to hug her, pull her in, and bury your face in like a child, but again, you know her. Arlecchino doesn’t like things like that—so you’ll settle for sniffling and pretending like you aren’t crying.

“Thank you for everything, ‘Father’,” you whisper, voice quivering.

She doesn’t say anything in return, but her gaze is more open. It’s enough of an answer for you.

“Come,” Arlecchino calls out, her voice ringing clearly and making everyone halt to listen. “Let us meet up with Tartaglia; it’s about time he arrived.”

The warmth of her hand slips off as she walks out. You would’ve chased after it, but Rosalie comes dashing over and squishing your cheeks until your lips are puckered. Freminet spares you a secretive smile before he runs after Arlecchino and your vision is swallowed by Rosalie’s worried face.

“Ma chérie,” she coos. “You’re really sure about your decision? I promise I won’t get mad if you stay with Miss Arlecchino!”

“Maman, you’re my home now,” you say. “I’m already grateful that you still choose to keep me. I know it’ll be difficult to adjust—”

“Nonsense.” Rosalie releases your cheek, only to pinch one gently. Her face is stern, daring you to finish. “I’ve raised you as my own long enough; what’s years more? But this time, you share with me, okay? Whatever danger lies ahead of you, I want to be a part of.”

The waterworks continue. “O-Okay.”

You’re positively drained, tired, and fatigued when the long hand strikes 10 in the evening. You yawn, then lay flat on the grass, the blades of green tickling, but that’s the least of your worries. Paimon flutters around unsurely before eventually settling on Aether’s side. Aether smiles stiffly, all tense and awkward, as he pats your arm in comfort but doesn’t even touch you.

You eye his gloved hand. “Do you think I’m going to bite you or something?”

“I— I don’t know!” Aether says, sounding genuinely distressed.

“I already apologized.”

Aether grimaces. “That’s the thing. I don’t feel like I deserve it. If anything, I should be begging for forgiveness for even blackmailing you.”

You shrug. “You can’t blackmail me anymore. Maman already knows.”

“Still…”

“Aether,” you give him a helpless smile that has him blinking dumbly in awe. “I’m the one who gained everything here. I couldn’t even give you anything even when I was supposed to help you.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Aether murmurs in embarrassment. “You led me to The Knave. We have a meeting tomorrow about my sister—fingers crossed she knows something.”

“I hope the best for you,” you say lightheartedly.

Aether smiles weakly, a little unsettled by this sudden act of kindness. “So what’s your plan from now on?”

“In the eyes of the public, The Knave transferred me out of her care and assigned me to Master Childe. In reality, I don’t have to leave anything behind by staying with the Fatui. Master Childe will be training me personally, and I can be of aid to the House whenever they need it—I just wouldn’t be one of the orphans anymore.”

Aether hums thoughtfully. “So you’re going to leave Fontaine?”

“Only for a bit. I’m taking maman with me, but I would still get homesick, so I’d convince Master Childe to drop by now and then.”

Aether laughs softly. “I guess we’ll be seeing each other occasionally.”

You stare at him momentarily, wondering what would’ve happened to you if you never met him. “If anything, I should thank you, Aether. Your friendship with Master Childe made me an easy ally for him. I don’t know where I would’ve gone if it weren’t for him volunteering.”

Aether waves dismissively. “It’s nothing. I’m sure Childe’s excited to spar with you. I really did nothing.”

You hug him.

Aether is frozen for about two minutes before Paimon nudges him, and he reboots back into life by throwing his arms around you and squeezing you into a hug. It holds the same warmth as Arlecchino’s sweet gesture, so you stay like that for a little while. You gesture for Paimon to join in, and she beams and envelops your heads with her tiny arms.

At least until Aether drops his arms and suddenly looks anxious. “Okay, we should stop before Lyney hears about this again.”

Your heart jumps out of your throat at the mention of that name.

Right… You need to talk to him next.

Aether seems to know what’s going on in your head and grins. “Good luck.”

It’s the next day. You haven’t heard of Lyney nor Lynette since Rosalie’s kidnapping, and you realize belatedly that they’re giving you space. Or perhaps just straight-up avoiding you. You don’t know which is easier.

With the help of Aether, you stand face to face with the house they moved into once they were adults. It’s small and blended in with all the rest, but the cat blinking up at you slowly in a hat was surely a rarity.

“Hello, kitty,” you say.

The cat responds with a slow, measured blink.

It’s the cat from the party Lyney invited you, but that has led to a series of unfortunate, humiliating events that you’d rather forget, so to you, the cat has done nothing.

“May I come in?” you ask politely as if expecting a proper, eloquent response.

The cat meows and then starts scratching on their door. The worn marks on the bottom of the door imply that this isn't the cat's first time either. One, two, three— Then you’re faced with Lynette, who has that expression on her face that seems to say she had been expecting you, but you were a little late.

“Y/N,” she says as the cat saunters inside.

“Hey, Lynette,” you say, playing with your fingers. “Sorry about… lashing out yesterday.”

Lynette tilts her head. “I was never upset about that. I was simply worried about you—you’re family to me, too.”

Your chest aches. “Lynette…”

She steps aside, gesturing vaguely. “Come inside. Lyney is probably fixing himself up in his room; we’ll give him three minutes.”

“He has a show?”

“No. He’s meeting you,” Lynette says, then doesn’t clarify. She walks in calm strides toward the kitchen. “Want some tea?”

“Um, yes, please.”

Their home looks well-worn in a loved way, with trinkets sprinkled everywhere. There are different models of Lyney’s hats displayed on a shelf, which you find endearing. You ask Lynette about the cat, which she tells you goes by the name Rosseland, an assistant to their shows and their beloved pet, and the cause for the mountain of hats in their home.

It’s a little terrifying how easily she indulges you in conversation, just as with Arlecchino. She resembles ‘Father’ in that way. You feel like you aren’t deserving of their mercy. Lynette should be angry at you; you hurt them by being selfish. Instead, Lynette pours you tea and smiles.

“You seem uneasy,” Lynette observes, sipping.

“Well, I think you know the reason why.”

Lynette shakes her head. “There’s no reason to be. If you think I forgave easily, Lyney has forgiven you long ago.”

“That’s awful.”

Lynette smiles. “I think it’s special. We’re twins, Lyney and I, but I think if I were in his body for even a day, I wouldn’t be able to recreate what you two have. He treasures you deeply, more than you know.”

Speechless, your mouth hangs open. “That’s…”

A door bursts open, and a disheveled Lyney emerges, looking around in confusion until his gaze finally settles on you. He breathes out. You straighten up under the full intensity of his undivided attention, just like it had always been.

“Seven minutes,” Lynette says impatiently.

Lyney flushes, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

Lynette sighs, then turns to you. “Go on. Go to him.”

What! Why do you have to be the one to move? You want to voice your complaints, but Lyney is already moving aside to give you space through his doorway.

You cast a fearful look at Lynette, but she avoids your gaze as if expecting it. Betrayed, you shuffle through the living room and brush past Lyney, into his room. It’s messier than the rest of their house, with makeup, clothes, and props. But you find it endearing—it’s Lyney’s room and reflects him.

“Sorry,” Lyney says. Before you could interrupt, he clarifies: “I couldn’t clean this all up properly before you came over.”

But you had time to fix yourself up? You want to ask in amusement, but you settle for shaking your head instead. You’ve visited to apologize, not bully him more.

“I’m sorry, too,” you say. “For the way I treated you yesterday—no, the entire time we were together, I mean.”

Lynney coughs, turning redder. “I know you are. And you know that I forgive you.”

Just like Lynette had said. “You shouldn’t.”

“It’s my feelings, you know.”

At the mention of feelings, you suddenly recall a few words he said in the heat of the moment and suddenly find yourself flustered, squirming on the bed. As if hearing what you’re thinking, Lyney flinches and stumbles back, his face layers and layers of red.

“I still mean it, though,” Lyney stammers out.

“Mean what?”

“My… confession,” he trails off lamely, blushing like a maiden.

You blink in surprise. “I thought you were just saying that to make me stay?”

At the moment in the flower shop, you had a feeling you knew what he was going to say as if you were reading it from a book, and the sequence would go as follows: Your heart was not the first for Lyney to steal. But there was Rosalie, there was ‘Father’, there was the throne, and believing that Lyney was just using whatever he could to get what he wanted again seemed better.

“What?” Lyney’s face falls, horrified. “No, no, of course not! You asked me why I would go to… lengths for you, and I answered honestly.”

“Oh.”

Lyney frowns. “Y/N, I knew I couldn’t make you stay, but I still wanted to say it.”

You find yourself struggling to keep contact with his eyes all of a sudden. “So you meant it? You actually really like me?”

“Yes,” Lyney says, so painfully sure of himself that your face bursts into flames.

You can’t handle the sight of his eagerness laid bare just for you—vulnerable, open, and unapologetically honest. 

“I’m not easy to love, you know.”

“A little bit late for the warning.” Lyney smiles sadly. “I love you anyway.”

“Even when I’m like this?”

Lyney tilts his head. “This is just one of the many reasons I’m helplessly devoted to you. There’s really no use in trying to push me away, you know. We’ll find each other again eventually— Are you crying?”

Lyney stutters and frets over you like Rosalie does when you’ve iced yourself to her plants. It’s a little funny, so you give him a pathetic, wet laugh.

“W-Was it something I said? Was it too soon? I’m sorry. Pretend you didn’t hear anything. Fuck, I’m so bad at this.” Lyney groans, burying his face in his hands and continuing his self-criticism.

“Shut up for a bit, Lyney.”

He shuts up right away.

You draw closer to him, wiping your tears away. His breathing halts and his eyes have been swallowed up, pupils dilated. You pause until you can feel his breath on your face, looking up at him for permission. Lyney nods but seems confused, so you just show him.

‘Father’, Aether, and Rosalie have their own kind of warmth, but kissing Lyney is entirely different. It feels as if he’s burning you from within, from your cheeks down to your toes, in a pleasant shiver.

notes last chapter next:( I AM KIND OF SAD ACTUALLY

taglist moved to comments because Tumblris strange

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Exceptions

Summary: You’re finally pregnant and Joel can’t keep his hands off of you. With another raider group getting too close to Joel’s community he has no choice but to leave you behind in the very capable hands of his brother.

Pairing: Raider! Joel x fem. reader / Raider!Tommy x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.7k

Rating: E

Warnings: Raider!Joel, Raider!Tommy, smut (unprotected sex, oral sex), jerking off, slapping, dirty talk, established relationship, unspecified age gap (around 15 years prob), lactation kink, cucking (kinda), pregnancy, kinda pregnancy kink?, derogatory language, infidelity kink ?, Joel and Tommy do not touch or really interact with each other but are in the same bed, but if that's not your thing kindly move on, thanks!

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Part of Desire

Joel got even more protective of you once you found out you were indeed finally pregnant. 

Only a very trusted circle of people were now allowed near you and you could count the days he had chose to leave you to take care of something up on one hand. 

That was until a rather disgusting raider group had gotten a little too close for comfort to the place Joel had marked as his territory. 

He had told you that he had to leave for a couple of days to take care of this himself, his cock steadily drilling into you from behind while his hands both were playing with your tits. They had grown quite a lot and now in your sixth month of the pregnancy he was waiting impatiently for your milk to come through. 

He had put all kinds of pictures and thoughts into your head about how he would milk you dry the moment he had his first taste. 

He would be so mad it finally happened once he had been gone for almost a week.

You woke up wet. 

Which was not uncommon. You had been even more horny since you found out you were pregnant, but this morning you woke up with your shirt wet. 

„Fuck,“ you sighed, your fingers ribbing over the wet spots over your tits. 

„Watsgoingon?“ A tired voice behind you mumbled, an arm sneaking around your waist, a warm palm cradling your belly. 

„Joel is gonna be so upset,“ you pouted as you cuddled against Tommy’s chest, feeling his chin rest against your shoulder. 

Since Joel had to leave, he left the only person he trusted to look after you behind and in charge of the compound. 

His brother. 

And Tommy has been instructed to do everything to keep you happy. 

And boy did he.

With his mouth. His fingers. His cock. 

There was just something about Tommy Miller calling you a cheating cock dumb whore that did it for you. 

Not that you were cheating. No, this arrangement between the three of you had been going on for years. Though you and Joel were strictly faithful and only fucking each other, his brother was something like a treat Joel granted you for being a very good girl. 

And you always were a very good girl for Joel. 

Joel liked to watch when you and Tommy got together. His presence in the room making it somehow even more filthy. 

You just had to stop fucking Tommy once Joel had decided that he wanted to be the one who got you pregnant. The first time.

But playing with the scenario of being caught cheating did something for you that drove you over the edge every single time. 

Tommy had a lot of sex. With both men and woman. 

He had two wives who currently were pregnant themselves. 

You did not like both of them though. 

But it was you who he always came back to. 

He began to kiss up your neck, his hands rubbing over your belly, his cock poking against you from behind. 

„Think my milk finally came in,“ you mumbled and he stopped, taking a deep breath before he carefully turned you so you were laying on your back. His dark eyes were on you as he reached over to the side to turn on the lights and you both looked down to your chest where the fabric of one of Joel’s shirt you had put on to sleep were drenched. 

„Fuck,“ he cursed lowly before he came to kneel between your legs. 

„Joel’s gonna be so pissed he wasn’t here for that,“ he said with a shake of his head, before his fingers traced over the cold damp fabric of the shirt, your nipples hard and you shivered. 

He helped you out of the shirt, throwing it behind him and he just looked at your tits with pure hunger. 

You knew he wanted a taste. 

But Joel was clear. 

No one but him was allowed to taste you. Not even his brother. And he shared almost everything with his brother.

You saw him close his eyes as he took a deep breath before he lowered himself between your legs and began to eat you out, most likely as a distraction for himself, not that you were complaining. 

Your hands ran down your body, your fingers brushing through his hair, before you gathered the long strings of his hair into your hand in a makeshift ponytail, keeping his hair out of his face as he looked up at you with hungry eyes, his tongue slipping though your folds. 

Tommy’s hand gripped your thighs, pulling them further apart as he feasted on you, his tongue playing with your clit, teasing you. 

„Tommy please,“ you let your head fall back, your arms spread out on the mattress beside you. 

He sucked your clit into his mouth while one of his hands came up to touch your left tit and you shattered, coming with a cry of his name, your whole body shaking. 

You had been overly sensitive for a couple of days now, the lightest touch leaving you shaking and hungry for more. 

He cleaned you up, slurping obscenely and you sighed, before he came up, smirking up at you before he kissed your belly. 

„Wanna sit on your cock,“ you hummed. 

„Oh yeah?“ He asked, kissing up your body. 

You nodded. 

„Just gimme a minute. Can’t feel my legs yet,“ you joked and he hummed self satisfied before he laid down next to you. He wrapped his hand around his cock and slowly jerked himself off. 

Sucking your bottom lip in you looked at how his hand moved over his length, your pussy clenching in anticipation at having his cock inside of you. 

„See something you like, doll?“ He teased and you nodded before you rolled to your side to get onto your knees. You crawled over to him and he grinned up at you. 

You were about to straddle him, when he shook his head. 

„Turn around. Wanna see that ass bounce on me,“ he said and you obeyed, turning around. You sat down on his legs, feelings his hands pull you back, your pussy rubbing over his cock. Grabbing his cock you lined yourself up before you slowly sank down on him with a long moan. 

„Fuck yes,“ Tommy groaned before he slapped your ass. Hard. 

Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth you slowly began to move, rolling your hips on top of him. Your hands came up to cup your tits before you began to ride him, bouncing on his cock, while Tommy continued to slap your ass. 

Closing your eyes you only focused on the way he was filling you when you heard the door open. 

Opening your eyes you smiled widely when Joel walked in. 

„Hey baby,“ you hummed, crying out when Tommy chose this moment to thrust up into you. Joel crossed his arms as he leaned against the door, his dark gaze focused on you as you rode his brothers cock, your belly swollen with his child. 

„Having fun?“ He asked and you nodded.

„Missed you,“ you whimpered and he smiled before he walked over. He bend down to kiss you, his hand on your throat possessively, and you moaned against his lips as Tommy continued to thrust up into you. 

„Yeah?“ He asked and you nodded, looking up at him. You gasped when Tommy slapped your ass again. Joel chuckled as he sat down on the bed. 

You moaned when you felt Tommy pull you against his chest and carefully turn the both of you so you were lying on your side with him behind you, his cock still inside of you. His hands were on your hips as he continued to fuck you, now a little harder, his cock twitching. 

He was close and so were you. 

„Guess what?“ You asked, biting your lip and Joel raised his eyebrow. 

„Wanna taste my milk?“ You grinned and Joel’s eyes widened before they darkened. He laid down in front of you, kissing your lips first, his big hands both palming your tits before he slipped down the bed, his lips closing around one of your nipples. 

Tommy groaned behind you, his fingers now between your legs playing with your clit, bringing you to the edge.

And then Joel sucked.

And you? 

You came with a loud cry of Joel’s name, your hands flying into his hair to keep him against your tit. 

Your eyes rolled back, the sensation of Joel sucking on your nipples and Tommy cumming inside of you so overwhelming you almost passed out. 

„Fuck, Fuck, Fuck,“ you heard behind you, Tommy fucking his cum into you. 

„Oh my god,“ you moaned, still riding out your orgasm. Out of breath you whimpered once Tommy pulled out. He kissed your shoulder as he rolled out of bed and you felt Joel pull you against him.

Within seconds Joel had you in his lap.

You were still asking yourself when he had taken his clothes off when he impaled you on his cock, groaning at the feeling. 

He moved you on top of him, his eyes fixed on your tits before he leaned in again, sucking on your other nipple and you shivered. He hummed as he sucked on your tit, your milk filling his mouth, the sensation so foreign, yet so fucking good. 

There was a knock on the door and he released your nipple with a plop, his cock thrusting up into you.

„Whatever it is, ask Tommy. I’m busy,“ he yelled, slapping your ass and you moaned loudly. 

„You been a good slut for Tommy?“ He asked you and you nodded. 

„He taste you?“ He asked and you shook your head. 

„Good,“ he hummed, his face leaning back down against your tits again. 

„Cause this is mine,“ he grunted before he pulled one of your nipples into his mouth again. 

„Yours,“ you gasped with a smile. 

[eddiesxangel]

dilf!eddie having jealously sex bc he saw his girl (not yet but anyway) on some date with a guy her age...

-🎈

It’s been weeks and you and Eddie’s schedules have yet to coordinate. He had his kids on the weekends and you’re always busy. You never give a reason you’re just busy.

So when Eddie entered the restaurant to get his pick up order he was a little surprised when he sees you sitting at the booth with a guy. A guy who was about your age Eddie guessed.

He gave the hosted a fake smile as his skin started to crawl as he watched the blonde hair blue eyed Chad looking fucker lean in and whisper something in your ear that’s made you laugh.

So this is why you’re “busy”

“Your food will be out in a minute sir” the hostess smiled and walked away.

This gave Eddie his opportunity to walk over.

“Fancy seeing g you here, babygirl”

You almost chocked on your drink as his deep baritone voice filled your ears.

“Eddie, um, hi.” You try and keep your cool.

No you weren’t avoiding him but this date had been planned for weeks, and you didn’t have the heart to cancel.

“Hey man” the douche nods to Eddie and he can’t help but roll his eyes. How on earth did his girl go for this chump? Eddie completely ignored him.

“Who’s this baby?” Your date turns to you. “Your dad or something?”

You almost choked again and Eddie sneered as the smug look graced your dates face.

“Can you give us a minute?” You turn to him.

“I don’t think— "

"listen to the lady." eddie glared and he looked so hot while doing it.

"I'll give you ten minutes"

"I’m sure thats how long you need" Eddie mumbled under his breath but you giggled.

Eddie stuck out his hand and you take it and he leads you around the corner to the alcove by the bathrooms.

“So….” You start awkwardly.

“That’s you type huh? Thought you wanted a more mature man?” He raises his brows.

“I-I mean…”

“What is it babygirl? He fuck you as good as I did?” He tucks a price of loose hair behind your ear. “I don’t think so.”

“How dare you!”

“You need to be reminded?”

The way your pussy clenched as his tone was a betrayal of your own. You missed his touch but he was being such as asshole you didn’t want to give in.

“Fuck you”

“Gladly” he leaned in and kissed you deeply.

You let a moan slip and you feel Eddie smirk against you.

Eddie dragged you into the bathroom and locked the door

“Eddie” you moan completely forgetting that you were on a date.

Eddie can’t get enough of you, he’s been thinking about you every moment of every day since that first night you hooked up.

“Need this tight pussy” he flips you towards the sink so you face the mirror. You watch intently as his hands wrap around your waist to in your pants and pull them down.

You wiggle your bare ass at him before his fingers run up your already wet slit. It didn’t take much for you to get ready when Eddie was around.

“So wet f’me already”

“Only you.”

“Yea only me? Not that Ken doll out there?”

“No eddie you! Only you!”

“That’s right babygirl.”

You hear the jingle of his belt and soon after his hard tip brushed through your folds.

“Eyes on me” he guides your chin to keep looking at him through the mirror as he plunges inside of you.

Your mouth falls open as he fucks into you, his hand moves lover, holding your throat in place as each brush of his cock feels so deep inside of you.

His grips on your hip is tight, his hand slinks down from your throat to your breasts and he squeezes it over and over again.

“Can’t get enough of you, like a fuckin drug”

“So big” you slur. Your orgasm hits you quickly and Eddie is cuming shortly after.

You feel a light smack on your bare ass before he helps pull your panties back up.

“Now you’ll think of me dripping down your leg while you finish this date.” He gives your ass another squeeze before slipping out the door without another word.

You take a minute to catch your breath and exit the bathroom to see Eddie with a takeout back heading out the door. You say a quick goodbye to your date, makeup some lame excuse about not feeling well and chase after Eddie while he is still leaking out of you

😌🤭🫨