#got this idea in head and needed to get it out

[cherrynpink]

don't you love me?

pairing: toxicbsf!seungcheol x f!reader

genre: friend to lovers, toxic relationships (friendships), smut MDNI!!!

warnings: manipulation, toxic cheol, dubcon, gaslighting, controlling n possessive cheol, he isolates oc, scoups tummy mention (nom nom hot), kind of ddlg dynamic? (u can tell i have father issues), power imbalance, princess treatment, drinking, kissing, fingering, oral sex (f!recieving), dom!cheol, overstimulation, corruption kink, a little bit praise a little bit degradation but its barely noticeable, size kink (a little), manhandling, inexperienced oc, dacryphilia, crying, breeding kink, missionary bcs im a romantic sue me, big dick scoups hehe, unprotected sex (do NOT do it dawg), tummy bulge kink, mentions of baby trapping, creampie, lmk if i missed anything!

w.c.: 4.3k

playlist: don't you love me?

for more of my work, check out my masterlist!

note: i need toxic cheol sooo bad no one gets it but thank u @seventeensrat for getting me n proofreading n giving me ur deranged thoughts abt it. want dat gold cross necklace in the pic dangling over my face 😝 i kept making him a sweetheart but then realised no he needs to be an asshole (that i would fuck 100%) n i might make a part 2 of this so lmk...

anywaysss my requests are open if u have something u wanna read or just talk n so are my dms to make new friends here :) feedback is highly appreciated hope u like this one hehehe :3

Currently obsessed with the idea of toxic guy best friend seungcheol.

He is the bestest friend someone could ask for in your opinion. The sweetest, most selfless guy you’ve ever come across. Always drives you around in his g-wagon- hand resting just below the hem of your dress. Bought you a dyson last month; no particular occasion, just because “you talked about it once so I thought you’d like it.” Takes you to try out whatever cute cafes you want to and buys you all the pastries in the world. Calls you his “baby” and his “princess”. Not only pays for your nails but also helps you pick out the design. Carries all your shopping bags without breaking a sweat in one hand, other resting on your lower back so that the guys around you don’t think they have a chance. And of course, he pays for all your clothes with his black card :). Who would he spoil if not you? He sometimes gets into the dressing room with you in the Victoria’s Secret store while you’re changing because “we’re best friends, right?” (with a pout ofc) when you refuse because you’re not sure if this is what friends do, but you give in eventually. Now the fact that he makes you spin around in your pretty little lingerie, strong hands groping your thighs as you say “Isn’t this a little too tight, cheol?”, your hands adjusting the bra all while he’s staring at your tits spilling out of the see through material as he assures you that it’s perfect is something others don’t need to know, right?

Yeah. He’s your best friend. Always takes care of you, cooks for you, makes sure you have all your meals and that you study properly- scolding you when you miss any lectures. Makes sure you don’t drink too much at parties or guys other than him might take advantage of you. Doesn’t let you exchange notes with the guys in your class. Even got into a fight with a guy and almost got suspended because of something he said about you. He scolds you for talking to them, because you don’t know their intentions and all you do is keep your head down and nod, no other choice than to abide him. He does know what’s better for you after all, right? He scolds you only because he loves you! He just knows what’s best for you, and wants to make sure you know he’s the best for you.

All your other friends don’t really speak very highly of him tho :( they just feel like there’s something off about him. No one is ever that nice. That he’s like a guard dog around you and doesn’t let you talk to guys or date, always hovering around you and giving you orders. But you assure them that no!!! he’s your cheol :( he tells you that they’re just jealous of you. They’re jealous of your friendship with him. They envy you. Yes, he can be a bit strict sometimes and act like your dad, but that’s just because he doesn’t want to you to get in trouble! He just wants to protect you :) that’s why he always asks for tons of your pictures before you go out so that he can protect you from the creeps that think of your short dress as an excuse to get their way with you.

When you first became friends with him, you were a bit skeptical when he told you that your boyfriend was cheating on you. But then he said, “Don’t you trust me? Why would I lie to you?” with his signature pout and he was right. If you couldn’t trust him, you couldn’t trust anyone, right? Now it was surprising to you when your boyfriend was the one to break up with you later that day, but all seungcheol said to you while you cried on his shoulder was “He didn’t deserve you, baby.” You don’t need to know that he lied to you boyfriend that you had sex with him when he was out of town. He only lied because he knew you were meant for him. He just wants you for himself, is that so bad? He doesn’t think so, because he takes care of you so well. Makes sure all your needs are met and you have no complaints. You’re his girl after all :)

As soon your (ex) boyfriend broke up with you, seungcheol was quick to ask you to move in with him, because “You need someone to take care of you right now, you can’t live alone doll.” and you couldn’t argue with that logic. And he was so good to you. Didn’t even make you pay rent because why would he. Always was there for you when you wanted to rant about your day, but only while sitting on his lap facing him in just his oversized shirt and panties obviously :) that was a rule. Would come up slyly from behind when you were cooking in your cute little apron, hands resting on your tits because “It’s comforting to me y/n.” and you don’t complain. Whenever you denied him something he would say “Don’t you love me?” eyes furrowed and big arms caging you.  But it was a two-way street, the way you always let him cuddle you after a bad day. How you always brought him something to eat when he had been gaming for hours. How last week you reassured him when he said he would start a diet because he thought he was gaining weight by giving him a small kiss on his cheek, telling him that it was hot for you, that it made him only more reliable in your eyes. It was the small things. But they always counted.

The girls he saw or went out with always complained about umm, the bond you both shared; but he never cared. It did bother you though seeing him bring girls over to your shared apartment, hearing their moans through the thin paper walls :( all while you had your hand shyly tucked between your thighs resisting the urge to imagine yourself in their place, bent over for him. But you never touched yourself. It would be so wrong, thinking about your best friend like that! So you often resorted to grinding against the plushie bear he won for you at the fair as his oversized shirt slipped down your shoulders- quiet whines leaving your throat as you failed to reach your high. Little did you know he was imagining the girl under him to be you every single time. He can’t even count the number of times he’s jerked off to the pictures you send him (at his request obviously). The number of times he’s stared at your panties peeking out whenever your skirt rid up or your cleavage when you bent down.

You do notice that after a few months, he takes up more of your time. Not that you’re complaining!!! You love to spend time with him, but you feel it get to a point. It’s not sudden, rather subtle and painstakingly so slow you don’t even realise what he’s doing until you’re in it too deep (or until he’s in YOU too deep ahem). Whenever you’re getting ready to go out with your friends he always hugs you and somehow always falls sick so that you can’t go out because you have to take care of him. What kind of friend would you be if you left him sick and alone to go out and drink he says. You’re being a little bitchy he says. You don’t love him he says. And tears well up in your eyes, because you love him so much you can’t believe he thinks of you that way. And then there you are in your pretty pink dress, mascara smeared on your cheeks as you’re crying in his embrace while he comforts you. You begin to stop talking to your friends because he says they’re a bad influence on you. But don’t worry! Your cheol is right next to you always :) his clinginess increases ten folds. He is always on you, hands resting on your plush thighs or your waist at all times- neck nuzzled in your hair when you sit on his lap as he games. Brings out his puppy eyes and pout whenever you refuse him. “Don’t you love me?” he says and you would never want him to think that. So you let him do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. He knows what’s best for you, right?

He dreamt of taking you, corrupting you but only bit by bit. It might make you sick if you found out but he wanted to make you cry while he defiled you, moulded you to his liking. Wanted to throw you around because it was just so easy for him. A small part of him thinks you instigate your playfights on purpose to get him to overpower you, manhandle you. He knew you had had a few boyfriends before so imagine his surprise when he found out you had never had an orgasm one night, head buried in his lap drunk and giggled out the confession in shame. You should be thankful he made your boyfriend break up with you, because how fucking incompetent does one have to be.

“What do you mean you’ve never had an orgasm?” he asked, hands running through your hair.

“They just never made me cum.”

“They never ate you out?” he asked in shock.

“Mhm.” You said shaking your head before passing out on his lap.

“God. What fucking assholes.” He thought to himself. He knew he had to be the one to take care of you, after all you’ve been deprived for so long.

Few weeks later and it was your semester end party, loud music all around you, girls passed out drunk, shots being passed around and wild chaos everywhere. And there you see him, across the room talking and laughing with his friends, one hand chugging down beer every now and then. He looked so hot, though dressed in a plain black T-shirt and jeans; the royal oak watch stealing everyone’s attention as he ran his hand through his hair. It was the way he carried himself, his confidence, his carefreeness. And the way he carried you with him, showing you off like a trophy to be desired (not that you minded it a bit). You’re too engrossed in ogling him when you’re pulled out of your entranced state by no one other than Vernon. You remember meeting him on seungcheol’s birthday, recalling him as one of his close friends. You always found him cute, texting him whenever he replied to your stories or sometimes sitting next to him in shared lectures.

“Hi y/n.” He says with a slight smirk, red solo cup in his hand.

“Hi Vernon!”

“Want a drink?” he says, offering you the cup.

“Mhm I’ve already had so much to drink.” You slur through your words. “Cheol will scold me.” You say with a slight pout.

“Coups isn’t attached to your hip tonight?”

“Mhm, we’re not always together!” you giggle, a bit buzzed because of all the drinking.

“Oh? He never lets me talk to you though doll.” He says with a pout, taking a step closer.

“What do you wanna talk to me about?” you say with a smirk (the flirting a courtesy of the alcohol) as your hand rests on his chest barely grazing him.

His hand reaches to grab your waist as he’s just leaning in, his lips just about to touch yours when in the blink of an eye you see a muscular arm pull him off of you with a force, and you hear seungcheol shouting something at vernon that you’re too drunk to comprehend, but you catch a few phrases here and there- “Are you fucking dumb taking advantage of here when she’s drunk?” and “Back off dude you know she’s mine.” You feel his grip tighten on your hand as he leads you through the room, murmuring a “We’re leaving.” as he opens the car door for you.

The entire car ride was pin drop silent. His hand wasn’t even on your thigh tonight like always :( and you could feel he was pissed off- the way his veins bulged with his grip on the steering and his jaw clenched so hard. he would usually let you pick out whatever song you wanted, watching fondly with a smile when you sung along to it; but he wasn’t even talking to you :( you think maybe it’s your fault. He had warned you about guys trying to take advantage of you, but you were just talking to Vernon. He’s his friend, right? but you feel bad for ruining his night :/ he was talking to his friends but then he had to run over to you because you can’t even take care of yourself properly. Maybe he was right when he said that you needed him. Needed him to protect you, be with you, take care of you.

When you get back to your shared apartment, he’s still quiet; not forgetting his manners for a second though- opening all the doors for you and taking off your heels as you lean your weight on him, your hand on his shoulder for support. But it’s too much for you now. Why is he still so mad at you? Tears start welling in your eyes as your voice breaks.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask between sniffles, doing everything in your power to not let that tear drop slide down your cheeks but he notices it. He sees the distress in your eyes. The fear you have of disappointing him. And he loves it. Loves that you crave for his approval. He’s proud that he’s made you into this. But apparently you still need to learn to be disciplined. Then so be it, he'll make you into his obedient little girl. Your brows are still furrowed at the lack of his answer as he stands up and begins to step away from you and that’s all it takes for the dam to break as tears start welling down your face, a shame in your chest because you feel like you’ve let him down.

“Cheollie please! I- I’m sorry!” you say between sniffles, head buried in your hands.

“Yeah? What are you sorry for Y/n? And fuck are you crying for?” he spits out and it only makes you cry more because not only has he never been this mean to you, but also has never called you by your name like this :( always calling you by nicknames.

“I’m sorry for talking to Vernon.” You murmur. “I’m sorry for making you mad.” You say, wiping your tears.

“Made me leave my friends to take care of you y/n, I told you not to talk to anyone without me right? Told you not to drink too much. This is why I always have to take care of you baby, you can’t do it alone.” He says, swatting your hands away and wiping your tears as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I’m sorry cheol, let me make it up to you? Don’t want you to be angry at me.”

“Yeah? How will you make it up to me baby? I’m not sure I’m ready to forgive you yet, you were so careless.”

“Anything.” You whisper. “Whatever you want I’ll do.” You say in your slightly buzzed state, but he doesn’t care. That’s all the permission he needs as he’s reaching down, arm snaking around your waist as to not give you a chance to back out, gently yet passionately pressing himself against your warm mouth. Your eyes open wide as the realization hits- hands pushing his chest away as he separates himself for a second.

He's just about to lean back in, eyes half lidded full of lust before you say, “Cheol what are you doing?”

“You said you’d do anything I wanted to make it up to me, right?” he says as you give him a hesitant nod facing down.

“But I’m a bit drunk right now.” You say, voice barely a whisper.

“So you lied to me then? When you said that?”

“No! No, I’d never lie to you.” you say as your eyes reach up to meet him on the brink of tears.

“Then let me do whatever I want baby. Let me make you feel good. Don’t you love me?”

Don’t you love me?

Don’t you love me?

Don’t you love me?

Don’t you love me?

It spins in your head like a mantra, before you give into his demands as a sly smirk accompanies him. You see him cup your cheeks in one hand as he’s reaching down to kiss you once again, much more possessively this time as he melted into you- tongue slipping in smoothly, as if he’s going to be the only man from now on allowed to do this (he is). His hands find your waist like they belong there. You gasp as he’s guiding you towards his bedroom, hands roaming all over the body like they’ve never been before. His lips move down your jaw as his fingers toy with the hem of your short dress- finding abode along your inner thighs. You think back to all the days you chanted his name like a prayer when you were just so close, dreaming of his fingers in you instead of your own. But at the same time your hesitation throughout it never leaves you.

He's quick to pick you up, only to throw you on his bed like a ragdoll as he gets on his knees in front you, bunching your dress up to your waist. His hands massage your thighs as he pulls them apart, immensely satisfied by the wet spot forming at your center.

“These the ones I bought you doll?” he asks, eyes still transfixed on your core. You manage to whisper a quiet yes and before you know it, he’s ripping the material off of you quite literally, diving in like a man starved. Your state is hazy because of the alcohol and the sight of him between your eyes as his words reverberate in your head while his fingers aggressively toy with your clit- Don’t you love me? Don’t you trust me? I know what’s best for you. Let me make you feel good. He’s relentless in his efforts, showing you no mercy or sympathy for the fact this the first time someone’s eating you out. Even when you ask him to slow down, to stop. Even when you cry out his name repeatedly. His plump lips suck on your clit sharply as the same hand that adorned the very royal oak watch that got you so hot drives into you, hitting your g-spot again and again.

Tears start to well in your eyes as they wet your cheeks but as seungcheol looks up at you, the only thing he can think of is how much you’ll cry when he fucks you and you feel him fully in your belly. Your moans get louder as you keep begging him to stop, but he knows you’re close. He can feel you clenching on his fingers as you buck up your hips into him. And before you know it, you’re cumming all over his thick digits. But that doesn’t stop him. He doesn’t falter in his movements for even a second, fingers driving into you at the same pace as your orgasm washes over you. Your legs are shaking around his head as he animalistically groans against your clit.

“Cheol! P- please! Can’t…. can’t take more!” you cry out as your hand tightens it's grip on his hair.

“One more baby.” He grunts out. “One more on my tongue.”

He thinks he’s addicted. Addicted to the taste of you. Not only does he make you cum on his tongue once more, but pulls an orgasm out of you just but by playing with your clit. You think you’ve lost track of the amount of times he’s made you cum, but he’s keeping count. One for each time he’s wanted to take you, and trust there are many. But your entire body is quaking and covered in sweat because of the relentless overstimulation. Once he thinks he’s satisfied with the number of times he’s made you cum on his tongue, he finally gets up only to see you almost passed out on the bed, barely holding on. The sheets besides you are wet from your tears but that only makes his pants tighter. You see him lose his shirt and his pants as he stands in front of you in his boxers. His length is strained against the material as if trapped. He strokes himself from over the material before pulling them down as his thick long member hits his stomach and he sees you gulp. It’s cute, he thinks, the way you react to him.

“Scared princess?” he teases you as he locks his gaze with yours, spitting in his hand as he strokes himself- precum leaking out his dark pink tip.

“It won’t fit.” You say hesitantly, but you don’t want to disappoint him either.

“You’re cheol’s good girl right? You’re a big girl, you can take it.” He spits out rather meanly, making you pout. But he’s not showing you any mercy this time. You’ll take whatever he gives you. After all, you wanted to please him, right?

Once again he’s parting your legs as he lines himself up with your already ruined entrance, tapping his tip against your clit, before he hears you say, “Cheollie, you don’t hate me, right?” with eyes on the brink of crying. It’s endearing he thinks, that you’re still afraid of disappointing him, letting him down. He’s taught you sooo well.

“Could never hate you love.” He says, pressing a small kiss to your forehead. “Now let your cheol take care of you okay, like always.” And just like that, he’s pushing into you in one go, giving you no time to adjust as your wet velvet walls wrap around him, your slick covering his entire length. He’s pushing your legs up only to rest them on his broad shoulders as you continue to cry out his name over and over again. He doesn’t falter once as he propels into you, gold cross chain dangling over you, and when he opens his eyes to look down to where you connect, his eyes go wide at the sight of himself in your lower belly. He can see himself in you, literally. And oh, does it turn him on, the way you’re so tiny in front of him, so much so that his big dick bulges in you poor little belly. He taps your cheek lightly as to call you to pay attention to him.

“You see that baby?” he says, running his hand over the bulge in your belly. “See how deep I am in you, fuck! Like you were made for me.”

If that’s how deep he goes in you, what would happen if he came that deep in you he thinks. And that only makes him angle himself into you deeper as he lifts one of his legs. He could fill you up and it won’t even leak out. How would you look carrying his baby? No way you’d ever leave him if he knocked you up right now. You’d look so beautiful, his wife, his pretty little baby mama. The thought of you swelled up gets him closer to his release as his hips begin to falter and his strokes get sloppier- each one becoming a sharp thrust. And just like that, with a loud cry and a particularly sharp push of his hips into you, you’re cumming over his cock for the nth time in the night, completely spent and head blank, as you collapse back on the bed almost passed out at this point. You didn’t ask for his permission to cum, but it’s okay, he’ll discipline you next time :)

You feel him getting closer as well as his moans get louder and thrusts sloppier and you’re about to give out and rest in bliss when the realisation hits you- he’s not wearing a condom.

“Fuck ‘m gonna cum baby, pussy so tight like it was made for me.” He groans.

Your panicked eyes look up to him, “Cheol, please… please don’t cum inside.” You plead.

“No way baby, not pulling out…mhm!” he moans as his pace increases, chasing his release. “Gonna fill you up real good, you trust me right?”

“Mhm…” you sigh hesitantly. “Okay…if you say so.”

“Fuck! Thank you princess, love you so much, yeah? My good girl.” He says between grunts and the slap of his balls against you, as you grunt out a quiet love you too, and with that you feel yourself getting full of him as he fills you up to the brim, still fucking you through it slowly. When he’s done, he doesn’t pull out of you yet- making sure it’s inside you. Your bodies melt against each other as you feel his heavy breathes against your ear. The room smells of sex and sweat as he collapses besides you panting.

“You’re not mad at me anymore, right cheol?” you say, breaking the silence as he’s pressing another small kiss to your lips, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Hmm, you were a really bad tonight doll. We’ll have to see if you make it up to me after another round.”

It was gonna be a long night. But it’s okay. You would do anything for your cheol :)

[unluckiestmember]

K-Pop Demon Hunters X Reader

Characters: Mira, Zoey, Rumi and Jinu

Warning: Some curse words, kind of hints to spoilers if you squint hard enough but outside of that, none. SFW.

A/N: Guys, I'm scared that I might be becoming CoryXKenshin. You know what else I'm scared of?... How much I love Mira, help me-

Mira

“That was a pretty cool show, right?… You were checking me out, weren’t you? You were totally checking me out.” Dating Mira is the literal definition of chaos. One minute she’ll have the two of you relaxing in her bedroom watching corny tv shows or criticizing a bad rom-com if not a horror movie. The next she has you two rolling heads at a press meeting, loving how people swoon over your relationship and quick to bite off the heads of those who criticize. Mira’s not exactly super romantic, more playful than anything. She shows her love in initiating pillow fights or tickling you suddenly, but that doesn’t mean she’s above a makeout session or cuddling before a show.

If you need to be affirmed of your love, she will cup your cheeks and tell you how much she loves you. She never really had affection from her family, so she knows how it feels to not be cared for and reminded of how precious you are. But she’ll remind you every damn day if she needs to. You’re her partner in crime and, as cringy as it may sound to her saying it aloud, you’re her one and only. A real ride or die.

Zoey

“Soooo what did you think of that one? Did you love it?! Because guess what? I wrote that one for you~!” Out of all the girls in Huntrix, Zoey is arguably the one to not hesitate showing her heart on her sleeves. It’s one of the reasons why you two are together. When she first saw you, she just knew you were the one. Were you her type? Yeah, that was a plus- But just your personality was enough to make her feel as if she was standing in the presence of pure light. To her, you are so cute that sometimes she’ll just. Freeze and get lost in your eyes or cup your cheeks and admit how breathtaking you are, even at the most weird of times. Same goes for kisses too! She will not hesitate to jump off the stage and pull you into an electrifying kiss!

Whenever she has free time, she’s running straight to you, talking your ear off about the many ideas she has for songs mainly about you or telling you stories. Even when she is on tour, she makes sure you’re there every step of the way. She hopes one day she can take you to visit her old home, but for now, she’s content just with being your sweet, loving, sometimes clingy girlfriend that totally doesn’t always daydream about you two getting married.

Rumi

“Okay. The show’s over, Mira and Zoey are stocked on snacks and the fans all got their autographs! Which means I am all yours for the evening~.” It’s honestly a miracle that you were able to date Rumi and even the rest of Huntrix along with Bobby believes that. That passionate workaholic found herself intrigued by you, mainly in how you looked at her and spoke to her as if she wasn’t some idol but just. Well. A person. It took some easing up before she actually tried to give things a shot between you two, but when she finally did, she had to admit she’s never felt as happy as she did with you. She loves how you help her get out of her shell sometimes and remind her to relax when necessary. In return for such sweet gestures, she showers you with sweet touches, beautiful whispers and affirmations as well as a nice meal when possible.

When she told you about her past, she was sure you would leave her. But when you stayed by her side, helped her become comfortable in her skin and even let your love grow stronger? Well, it made her just realize one thing; You were everything she could ever want and more.

Jinu

“Sorry for the wait, sweetheart, for a second I thought the fans were gonna snatch me up. A shame they can’t see I’ve already been swept off my feet by you.” For Jinu, love was never on his radar. He never dismissed the idea of being in a relationship, but he never thought it would be possible either. Until he met you. Honestly, when you two first met, he thought you could be useful, a tool even and that was all. But the more you two hung out, the more he realized how much his heart beat for you. He began to crave you by his side, enjoyed your company and how you treated his pets. He especially loved how you saw him as a person and not just some demon. Eventually, he asked for you to be in a relationship and when you accepted, he was more than elated.

Of course he tries to keep you away from Gwi-Ma with a ten foot pole when he’s working and makes sure you’re never in harm’s way. When he’s free to relax, he’s quick to slip into your arms and just enjoy being near you. He’s lost so much, due to mistakes or not. But he’ll be damned if he loses you too. You’re too precious to him. As far as it’s concerned, to him, you are his soul.

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[windownextdoor]

RENOVATIONS

sfw + nsfw + plot + simon riley x fem!reader wc: 1.3k wanting independence, you buy a home. yes, it was a fixer-upper. but, who said your neighbor couldn't help? pt. 2

home depot was...

something else, you described it.

could barely look around without a man coming up and seeing if you needed help or wanted to ask you what you were doing that you needed such tools; just a sander and a bauer drill.

"sugar, what are you doing with such tools? your man ain't here to help ya out?" the employee said condescendingly.

fucking men and trying to mansplain shit.

you were trying to be polite, "uh, sir, i'm fine. just trying to look around-"

"how about you come back with your man? he'll know what to get for whatever you're doing, alright sugar?"

you just stared at him. stared at him because who has the audacity to be misogynistic in the 21st century?

see, you were about to tell him off, shout loudly that he should go fuck off and stick his fist somewhere where it doesn't shine.

until a very familiar, a very deep voice was directly behind you.

"honey, you find what you needed?"

simon.

you turned around to find him, a little too close for people who just met the day before. shoulders directly in front of your face and his eyes on the employee who just wouldn't leave you the fuck alone.

also, honey?

your mouth was slightly ajar, but you closed it and nodded your head. "yeah...i did." you said, looking back at the employee.

the employee who was as stupid as ever, decided to start talking again. "you must be her husband! see, i told her to wait for you to make sure you got the right tools and whatnot, but-"

"now why the fuck would you do that?" simon's voice was dangerous, but oh-so tranquil. like he knew the employee wouldn't think about doing this again.

the employee just blinked and stuttered his next words a little.

"what was that? because the next words out of your mouth better be an apology to my wife."

my wife. goddamn did that sound good coming from his mouth.

"a-ah, yes, i'm so sorry ma'am. very sorry, my apologies." that apology was quick and certain as he walked away from both of you.

a breath you hadn't known you'd been holding left you as you turned around to your neighbor. "god- thank you so much for that. he would not leave me alone."

"just being a misogynistic prick." simon rasped, his eyes went to the two tools in your hands.

"drill and sander? fixing that porch o'yours?"

you smiled up at him, "yes sir, that i am. i know we only exchanged a few words but you were right. i am really excited to fix this house." his eyes darkened ever-so-slightly at the 'sir'. you didn't know what that was about.

you looked at his hands; empty. "what are you here for, then?" you asked.

"nosy neighbor." he said gruffly, but there was an upturn in his lips. "just here for trash bags. out of them."

you nodded, the silence filled the isle. a comfortable one. until- an idea struck you.

"want to help me out a little, simon?" you asked, a pleading tone in your voice.

"oh lord." was all simon said before getting swept up in your home depot shopping spree.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵

he helped you put the planks of new wood into your small car, along with the two tools and nails you'd purchased.

"i'll meet you back at your house." simon said, closing your trunk.

you raised an eyebrow.

"you wanna help with this home renovation?" you say, perplexed at his assertion.

"wouldn't be good neighbor if i didn't help, would i, love?"

jesus fuckin' christ, his accent and rough voice could probably make you come on the spot-

you just laughed a little, "whatever you say, simon. i'll make us some coffee, because lord knows we are going to need it."

he gave you a look, his eyes. they say a lot. they're pretty, and tell a story. you just don't know what story.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵

back at your house, you stepped through the door with simon trailing behind you. you both got home at about the the same time, since his car was basically following yours.

the sigh that left his mouth was disgruntled.

"jesus christ, woman, are you sure you're livin' 'ere?"

you planted your hand at your chest, a mocking shock of offensiveness. "don't be mean to my house! it's a work in progress. she just...isn't furnished yet."

he opened your fridge. "nor stocked with food yet." he said, closing it and looking at you with a look as he tilted his head.

you tilted your head back at him, hands on your hips. giving him the same look.

"don't get bratty with me, honey." he said, using the nickname from earlier on you, the way he said it was rough. "get some food in here." he said before walking around your island to sit on one of chairs you did have.

you rolled your eyes and started making coffee.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵

music played from your speaker sat on your driveway as you and him pulled the old, rotten boards up and threw them in a pile.

after that, the real work started. fresh, new wooden boards, nails and your drill and hammer. sweat dripped down the sides of your temple as you and simon worked hand in hand, surprisingly. he needed nails, you knew which ones. you needed a piece of wood, he was already handing you one.

you and him were about seventy-five percent done, when you went into the house to wet two rags and came back out with them, handing one to simon. "i underestimated how fucking hot it would be out here." you swore, putting the cold, wet rag on your forehead, which felt absolutely heavenly.

simon laughed. a small, but full laugh, as he put the wet washcloth also on his forehead, standing up to see the progression. "oh, look at that. almost done, aren't we?"

you smiled at him then looked at the porch, yes, the porch was almost done. first home change and it looked pretty fucking nice.

you spoke, "20 bucks says we get this done today."

simon immediately retorted, "how about a beer says we get this done today? cause i ain't takin' your money, love." he says with a small smirk.

"but, i was going to pay you for helping me-"

"and tha' money would end up back in your hands. not taking money from you. today was nice, and i offered." simon said with a tilt of his head.

you sighed, your shoulders shrugging a little. "okay, if that's fine with you." you stretched and put the washcloth back on your forehead, letting it rest there for a moment before pulling it off. "let's get this porch done, then." you said with a small, tired smile.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵

the sun was setting before simons and yours eyes. what a pretty view. you and him shared one last beer of yours as you promised to get more at the store later on in the week.

you and him sat on the two steps that lead up to your new porch. you gave the last of the beer over to him, "thanks for your help today, simon. it was really fun. very neighborly of you."

he laughed and shook his head as he downed the rest of the beer, "no need for thanks, just happy to help. don't do much, so it was a nice change of routine for an old man like me."

you rolled your eyes, and shoved his shoulder lightly, "bee-keeping age." you reminded him.

as he gruffly chuckled at your statement, your phone pinged. you grabbed your phone out of your pocket and saw it was from one of your friend from college, ava. a simple text of 'how's that house doing?'

you smiled at your phone and opened the camera app. without asking him, you took a picture of you and him with the new porch in the background, you smiling and simon holding the empty beer bottle as his forearms rested on his knees. catching simon off-guard.

"thanks." you said before sending the picture to your friend, a small brazen smile on your face.

simon just laughed, mumbling the words, "cheeky girl."

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵

pt. 3 (soon!)

[mwphisto]

“Hmph, this one transfers too.”

You got new lipsticks, meaning you needed to wear test them as soon as possible. Your guinea pigs? Your two, loving, patient, towering boyfriends of course.

Your lips were rather sensitive at this point, so many kisses, so many makeup wipes, so many new formulas smeared across your mouth. “That’s okay, try the next one.”

Zayne and Sylus sat before you, lounging on your shared bed in Linkon with numerous kiss marks on their lips, cheeks, foreheads, noses, necks, collarbones…

They couldn’t complain, no they wouldn’t dare. Getting showered in your never ending kisses? That would be like begging for water after days wandering in the desert and then declining it because it’s room temperature.

“I’m running out of room.” You settle back on your knees, hands rummaging through the shades you haven’t tried yet while also eyeing both men up and down.

“By all means, kitten, I can take off my shirt.” Zayne’s fingers stop their typing, he had been multitasking this entire kissing endeavor. “That’s a great idea, Sy! Take your shirt off.” A dopey grin stretched your kiss-swollen lips, and a second later Zayne’s laptop is snapping shut.

“Zayne, Sylus is more than enough canvas.” You’re teasing him, of course, watching his hazel eyes snap towards you. “That’s complete nonsense, you need more blank canvas for your art work.” Sylus’ hearty chuckle sounds beside him, his silk button up hitting the floor.

“Someone is sounding jealous, Doctor Zayne.” He’s settling back against the headboard, eyeing you slowly as you applied the next lipstick. “More canvas for me, thanks for being so considerate Zaynie.”

And the man could only shrug his tee shirt up and over his head, ears a burning crimson. “I think that shade would look good on Zayne’s chest, don’t you think, kitten?”

Suddenly, Zayne felt as if he walked right into a trap.

[ovaryacted]

baby girl looking for pope (and reader) out in the crowd during some school event where she's on stage. she's searching so hard and almost starts crying until she finally sees pope being held back by reader because he saw the tears in his baby's eyes and needs to make sure she's okay.

then he turns back around to see her smiling and waving and so freaking happy that he's there. and yeah :)

─ Girl Dad! Pope Cody x fem! reader || WC: 735

CW: FLUFF. Pope being an emotional & dedicated dad. Daughter is graduating kindergarten & 5 years old. Daughter is unnamed. Daughter has Pope's hair, freckles, & eyes (carbon copy). Reader & Pope are married.

Aww, this is such a cute idea, please. Thank you for the little message Simone bae, thinking about Pope who's a little older now being such a dedicated dad makes me super emotional. I hope you like this little blurb. <3

The little girl is nervous, dark auburn curls pinned in a half-up half down hairstyle per her request. Her lavender dress flows down her small body, cutting off right at her knees in lace trim, a pair of fluffy socks and mary janes adorn on her feet. She remembers when she went on a shopping trip with her mom last week for this particular outfit, beaming the minute she grabbed it off the rack and threw it in the cart with dignified confidence.

It was the youngest Cody's kindergarten graduation, lined up on stage with several other kids for an award she doesn't fully understand she got. Her head turns over the crowd of people in the audience, trying her absolute hardest to find her parents amongst the sea of unfamiliar moving faces. Her brain works overtime to track down the head that shares the same hair as her, to see the familiar scowl that nobody other than her father wears.

She tries so hard, even squints as she tirelessly looks and looks and looks. To no avail, she hasn't seen the faces of her parents, of the people who came to this event with her, the people that would bring the moon and stars closer to Earth just so she could see them better. Before she realizes it, the corner of her eyes begin to sting as tears threaten to pour down her cheeks. She wrings her hands together, the anxiety bubbling in her body making her knees tremble as she swallows a cry, fully convinced her caregivers had disappeared into thin air and forgotten all about her.

She was close to wailing until she heard a familiar voice, the voice of her mother, warm and welcoming as it always was from the second she was born. The 5 year old's wet eyes gravitate towards the noise, finally spotting the face of her father who wore furrowed eyebrows and was halfway from rising from his seat.

"Andrew, you can't." You had one hand on his broad chest in a feeble attempt to calm him down. He only huffed a shaky breath, a growl settling in the back of his throat.

"She's crying up there. She can't see us." Pope mutters sharply, looking at you with worry in his eyes.

"She'll find us. She's a smart girl, she knows Andy. Trust her, okay?"

Andrew eases back down in his seat, focusing on trying to get his daughter's attention. He'd want nothing more than to bring his little miracle into his strong arms where she belongs, to wipe her tears away from her freckled face and tell her everything was going to be alright, that her father was here and had no plans of leaving her behind. But he knew the last thing he needed to do was lash out on such a special occasion.

He bounces his leg a few times, his knuckles turning white from gripping the armrest of his seat too tight, close to splitting the wood when his gaze is mirrored with his twin up on the stage, hazel meeting hazel.

In an instant, the little girl calms down, her frown flipping into a bright smile. Her round cheeks perk up at the sight of her parents at her first graduation, bringing her hand to swipe the remaining tears that ran down her face. She waves at her father then, and he waves back, the corner of his lips flexing upwards and nodding towards her, the love in his eyes consuming the remaining space in that room.

You reach down to squeeze Andrew's hand in reassurance, giving the calloused flesh an affectionate squeeze. His thumb runs over your wedding band, aimlessly playing with the gold as you both watch your baby girl walk the stage once her name was called, bursting in light shouts of claps of acknowledgement that got her attention and widened her toothy smile.

Andrew's eyes refuse to leave his daughter's face until she's sitting down with the rest of her classmates, exhaling in relief, antsy to hear his baby's voice again and hold her once more after all of this was done. But for now, he’ll sit and patiently wait until she’s running up to him, holding her certificate in her hands to show him. And he’ll shower her with all the praise she needs to remind her he’s here to stay, and his heart belongs to her.

©️ ovaryacted 2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[heartyluv]

Note: You can —Click Here— if you’d like to see the request sent by anon! I remember when I first saw it, and how so many ideas ran through my mind despite how simple it was. Even though it’s taken me some time to get to, I hope you like how I went about this! Love you, bae!

Warning: Smut, you’re cheating WITH Caleb, he’s your ex 👀, i’m using pips/pipsqueak bc why not (i secretly love it)

Word Count: 1.9K

Summary: You broke up with Caleb months ago and swore he would never get another chance, no matter how many times you’ve warmed his bed after the fact. Good luck with that.

PossessiveFratBoy!Caleb/Reader

You were cheating on your boyfriend.

Again.

It was never intentional and you knew how horrible of a person you were for doing it, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to tell Caleb to stop when he would kiss on your neck and lips how you like it.

The first time it happened, you had only been on a few dates with this guy Sammy you were seeing before Caleb—somehow— found out. Naturally, he wasn’t feeling his ex moving on. Not one fucking bit.

So when you got back after poor ole Sammy took you to see a movie and out to what Caleb deemed a mediocre dinner, he fucked you stupid in your dorm room while you begged him to go harder—deeper. He was balls deep when he basically barked at your roommate to get out after she got back from being with her friends.

You were so mortified that you had Caleb use his connections and charisma to get you a new room on short notice and without penalty or cost. He’s the football playing, pretty-face, funny man everyone loves—you knew he could do it.

Certainly, you couldn’t face her again, not after that. Never did you know exactly how he did it, but it was hard to be grateful when he was the reason you went that route in the first place.

But for Caleb, he liked when you came to him—loved when you needed him.

The second time, a few of his frat friends told him how they saw you and Sammy kissing in his car in the parking lot. Later that day, you were bent over his dresser before you could even try and tell him that it was none of his business.

And now, you were sitting on top of a washing machine with Caleb sucking and biting on your skin while a raving party was taking place just on the opposite side of the door.

Livid didn’t seem like enough of a word to describe him when you walked in here with Sammy, your arm hooked in his like you belonged to that son of a bitch. He hated that you broke up with him because you claimed to be sick of how he lived the frat life, yet you waltzed in here with a meek smile as the guys greeted your poor excuse of a boyfriend with a new letterman jacket and cheers.

It was okay for Sammy to do, but not for him?

Caleb never forgot the night you lashed out on him for coming to see you at nearly three in the morning after missing all your calls and texts because he was “busy and having some fun”.

When he did that, it pissed you off and worried you to no end. Wondering if he was safe, if he was cheating on you, if he was alive—it was consuming you in a way that wasn’t healthy.

The partying bored you and the excuses became too stupid to ignore. It’s why you dumped him, but that never meant he had to like it.

Sammy being a part of his fraternity wasn’t a decision Caleb would’ve agreed to had he been the person solely responsible for making it. But that was the thing about something like this. There was no such thing as a lone wolf. Even though he hated Sammy’s guts for getting close to his girl in a way he wasn’t allowed, he sucked it up for the rest of his crew who liked him and wanted him to join.

If Caleb would take his head out his ass, he’d realize that Sammy was a decent guy. But the fact that he thought you were his, made your ex see him as a threat and a problem—a nuisance.

While Sammy was busy getting way too many pats on the back and an undeserved welcome wagon, Caleb dragged you through the party they were throwing for no reason—other than the simple fact that they could—and didn’t care if you could barely keep up. His hand in yours made sure you would.

You two argued and pointed fingers after he slammed the door, bickering in that little room for what felt like years before his mouth was on you and your ass was on the cool surface of their all-white beat up washing machine.

As he sucked on your flesh hard enough to bruise, you meddled with his belt buckle while your pussy clenched at the way the metal clinked.

“You don’t even deserve my cock, do you, pips?” he whispered into your heated skin. “You love to keep pushing me. Love to test my limits.”

“Stop talking,” you replied with frustration, part of it sexual and the rest directed toward him and yourself.

“What?” he teased. “You hate to hear the voice of the man who knows you better than you know yourself?”

You didn’t answer him when you unbuttoned your jean shorts and briefly helped shimmy them and your panties down your legs.

“So fucking desperate for it,” he chuckled, pulling you forward, angling and tilting you back so you were right where he needed you to be. He pecked your lips a few more times as you two worked to get his pants and boxers down enough to free his cock.

“Condom,” you said quickly when he grasps himself at the base. He looked into your eyes and irritation fueled him.

“The fuck do we need a condom for, huh?” He rubbed his seeping tip against your clit. “We never used one before. Don’t tell me you’re letting him touch what’s mine, pretty.”

“I’m not your—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts you, yanking your shirt up and over your tits that are annoyingly covered by your simple bra. “Don’t piss me off more than you already have. Now, I either fuck you raw or I walk away and leave you with a needy cunt and a bad attitude. You tell me what you wanna do.”

“F—fuck,” you breathe, pushing your hips forward to get him closer. You only wanted a condom because you were afraid you would end up pregnant and then you would really be stuck with him. The idea of that happening has plagued your mind each time you went behind Sammy’s back.

But in this moment, you couldn’t care. Consequences be dammed. His cock was waiting to spear you and you needed it.

“Just—just put it in,” you whined, scowling at the smirk on his stupid handsome face.

“Where’s your manners, pipsqueak?”

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you snap.

“I’ll wait.”

You shuddered when his tip would catch right at your hole, both of you hissing when he slipped in just a little bit.

“Please fuck me, Caleb,” you choked out, feeling shame wash over you but your desire was far greater. “Please…”

He didn’t say another mocking word, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder so he could get deep. In one fluid motion, he was buried in your heat to the hilt and thanks to the thumping music that shook the house, you could be as loud as you wanted to when you took him in.

Immediately he found his rhythm. How could he not? You’ve done this so many times already and your wetness and heat was his home.

Your nails gripped and clawed at his shoulders, thankful for his tank top that let you get a hold of his skin so you could feel him. Caleb’s large hand wrapped around your jaw to make you look into his eyes when you tried to let your head fall back to avoid his gaze. His hips rocked into you with talent and vigor, shaking the hunk of metal beneath you with each punishing thrust.

“Don’t be ashamed,” he cooed breathlessly, rubbing his thumb along your lower lip before sliding it in between to make you suck it. “This is the only cock you’ll ever have, anyway.”

You moaned around the digit, your eyes heavy with lust as he reminded your pussy who owned her and you. Each time your skin made contact, your body vibrated with pleasure and even more so when he would grind against your aching bundle of nerves.

With one hand braced behind you and your other tugging on his hair at the nape of his neck, Caleb never let up on your cunt. His cock was soaked in your essence as he filled you with his.

“Why him?” he growled, nipping at your jaw roughly to make you cry his name. His pressured kisses trailed down to the top of your pillow breasts that nearly spilled out of your cups the more they bounced. “Why?”

“He’s not like you…” It’s a lousy answer, but that’s all you could give him.

He laughs, the tone of it exasperated and fed up. “You’re right. He could never be me. I’d never let you sneak away to get fucked by another man.”

You gasp when he grips your hips and gets rougher, hitting in you so deep that you feel you might fall off. He’s claiming you, that’s for certain.

How doomed were you to want him to do it more than once?

“C—Caleb…I’m about…you’re gonna make—”

“I know,” he gloats, biting his lip when you clench him so tightly that it nearly makes his knees buckle. “You’re breaking up with him tonight and we’re cutting the bullshit.”

“That’s not fai—“

“You’re breaking up with him,” he finalizes again sharply, grabbing you by the throat with barely any pressure to slam his lips onto yours once more.

“And you’re gonna do it with my hand on your waist and my cum in your panties.” His breath is warm against your wet and puffy mouth. “You’ve never been loyal to him and you never could be with me around. Make this easy for us, pips.”

“I h—hate you,” you shakily say through a moan.

“You’ve never been a good liar, baby. Don’t worry, that’s what I’m here for.” He kisses your eye. “To make you embrace your truth.”

He pulls you in close and you wrap your arms around his neck as he works your body up and down on his throbbing length. Your body takes him like it wants to, giving space to every thick inch.

“There you go,” he kisses your shoulder. “Come on your dick, pretty baby. I got you. I’ve always got you.”

That could mean so much all at once and instead of scaring you, it makes your demented mind and foolish body want him more.

You scream his name as your orgasm pulls you apart and puts you back together again. At the same time that your juices mark him, his seed spurts out in thick creamy ropes to fill your tight hole. Your walls are being painted in everything that is Caleb as he ruts into you for a little while longer to savor the feeling.

Finally when you come back—barely—to your senses, Caleb pulls back, still buried in the mix of your combined pleasure, and smiles.

“I missed you.”

“You’re so full of shit,” you roll your eyes, your tits rising and falling in an effort to breathe.

“Give me a kiss so we can go make things right.”

“I’m not giving you a damn thing. Get out of me.”

“Is that how you talk to your boyfriend?” he playfully pouts.

“It’s how I talk to you.”

“Fuck, I love you like this,” he grins wider, kissing your neck again and embracing your closeness. You sigh into it with acceptance, everything about you unfortunately missing him just the same when you wrap one lazy arm around him.

“I love you, pips.”

“I…” you stutter.

“It’s okay,” he assures, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’ll get you there again. I promise.”

Creds to @uzmacchiato for the dividers!!

Tags 🏷️: @innergardentoadpony @teacupwaifu @mcdepressed290 @calebapplepie @xcelfer @honeymoonfleur @obeythebutler @ajyoursgirl @notsurewhattocallthisblog8888 @honeycrispangels @dummiebunny @sucre-princesse @brailsthesmolgurl @klossnite @grlyeetswrld @beesin03 @dramaticalsachan @moonchildjae00 @asiatic-apple @callads7 @caien @stargirlygirl @multisstuff @littledarlingsthings @purpleamethyst25 @lazygelpen @floatinginaer @meadowinthesky @floatinginaer @grackerzzz @nod4mnm3rcyy @loveinorion @ur-l0cal-crypt1d @inutrasha94 @cowaungabungabby @gravity-pilot @nyanahogini @rosiesluv @goochfiddler99 @torturedbabyapple @kiyadeleine @carcelswaifu @blushofeve @whattnanii @asiaticapple @ashirelle @sylvieisoffline

[dunham-doodles]

A Picture Worth A Thousand Words

Remmick x fem!reader

2k words | Pure fluff

Summary: (AU - Remmick survived the juke joint.) It’s 1964 and you’re an artist who decides to draw the handsome stranger who keeps turning up at your door every night.

Tags: yearning; soft and sweet; lingering gazes; touching scars; 1960s music; puppy!Remmick; touch starved!Remmick

A/N: I wanted to borrow an idea I’ve seen used with Astarion from Baldur’s Gate 3. I love love love the idea of an artist drawing the face of a vampire who hasn’t seen their reflection in God knows how long.

“Hold still,” you ordered, “I don’t wanna mess this up.”

“This ain’t gonna hurt, is it?” Remmick said playfully.

“It will if you keep moving,” you shot back, only half joking. “Eyes on that horizon, boy.”

“Yes ma’am,” he drawled out, rolling his eyes lightly. He tilted his chin in the direction of wherever horizon meant. Although his tone was sarcastic, a grin curled at the ends of his lips.

The night air was crisp. It was the beginning transition of spring into summer where the days warmed the skin like an embrace from a loved one but the nights remained cool like a reminder of their absence. The town had eased into sleep around you.

You thought the best thing about living out in the middle of nowhere was that there was no light pollution. Despite the dark, the sky was alight with hues of deep purple and blue like an ocean dotted with pinpricks of multicolored stars. In school, they taught you the names of each and every constellation that rotated with the seasons.

You found him right under Polaris. You had been awake after losing track of time. You were locked into your paintings so intensely, you didn’t see the sky turn. The ashtray was loaded with burnt out cigarettes, remnants of smoke curling in the warm glow of the single lamp glowing on the end table. You kept the window open to air out the smell, the soft trickles of a sad guitar playing through your stereo speakers filtering through the pane.

He stood at the end of the dirt path that served as your driveway, hands in pockets, curious, as if he were contemplating going up and installing himself into your life. You weren’t going to get a say in when or how.

You turned down the record as he got closer.

“There’s no need to do that,” he said, hands stretching out in the open air, “I came up here to ask what you was playin’ is all.” His blue eyes pleaded innocent.

“Lonnie Johnson,” you stated, an edge to your words.

He hummed low in his throat. “She sure knows how to play.”

“He,” you corrected, “Lonnie’s a dude.”

“H-He,” the stranger repeated, “He sure knows how to play.” A beat of silence strung between you awkwardly. He shuffled his feet underneath himself. “You wouldn’t mind if I sat and listened, wouldja?”

You chuckled to yourself. A strange white man asking you if you minded if he sat and listened to your records in the dead of night? Your eyes took a precautionary glance over where the trees met the boarder of your land for any sign of unsavory movement.

“You alone?” you asked finally. He nodded his head. You pursed your lips, weighing your decision in your mind. You turned on your heel, away from the window. You crossed to your record player, moved the needle to the beginning track, and turned the sound up a little louder.

You met the eyes of the stranger’s once more. His features reflected his gratitude. He leaned against the strong post of the porch landing and closed his eyes, taking in the music.

You shook your head. What a weird man.

He kept finding his way to your home every night after sundown.

“Whatcha got spinnin’ tonight?” he’d ask you without fail. You’d tell him anything from Etta James to Freddie King and he’d happily sit his ass down on your porch no matter who poured through those speakers.

Some nights he came with some 45s he thought you would like.

“The guy on guitar has to be one of my favorites from this decade,” he said, pushing the small disc into your hands. To be honest, you thought his music tastes were a little too old. Nothing he gave you was dated past the forties. But still, you admired the gesture. In return, you gave him a more modern musical education, opening his ears to the sounds of the 60s. He was floored the first time he heard Hendrix.

“Find a new favorite guitar player, did ya?” you teased.

It was nice having him to share your nights with. He didn’t make too much of a fuss; didn’t ask for anything to eat or drink, despite your offerings. He was perfectly content listening to your music and asking questions about your art. He praised the paintings, kept saying they belonged in the Louvre rather than hidden in this small town. You shooed away his compliments like water off a duck’s back but you couldn’t stop the blush creeping into your cheeks.

One evening, you decided you were gonna join him out on your porch. Armed with your drawing pad and a tin of charcoal sticks, you rocked yourself gently on your porch swing with your big toe. You had tucked yourself into an oversized crochet blanket, preserving your warmth as you waited for the sky to dim. You had the radio on instead of playing a record to save yourself from having to leave your seat. The tinny voices crackled over the sounds of the crickets singing.

“Evenin’ Remmick,” you called when you saw him crest your driveway. He told you his name some nights ago and you kept it on your tongue whenever he was near. You just liked the way his face lit up like Christmas whenever you said it.

“You waitin’ for me?” he asked, a hand pressed to his chest.

“Sure looks like it,” you replied. He crossed over to your place on the swing but leaned against the post of the porch landing instead. “You ain’t gonna sit by me?”

Remmick jolted like he touched an electric fence. “I didn’t know you were offerin’.”

You scooched over to make room for him and patted the empty space. “I don’t bite,” you winked. A smile tugged at his lips as if he were keeping down a really good joke.

The swing groaned under his weight. Your heart flip-flopped at the proximity of him. His brown hair curled at the base of his neck, grown too shaggy. His face was pocked with unkempt whiskers and a white scar cracked the left side of his cheek. You wanted to trace that scar with the tips of your fingers.

His blue eyes watched you carefully. Watched for any indication that his nearness was offensive somehow. He kept himself small, not daring to brush your skin. He moved as if you were on fire and he was trying very hard not to get burned.

“You’re gonna be my muse,” you declared.

“That’s the first time I’ve been called that,” Remmick smirked, “What do I gotta do?”

You picked up a charcoal stick and told him to face forward, keep his eyes on the dirt path ahead. The charcoal scratched the surface of the paper, debris crumbling onto your lap.

Santana crooned over the speakers on your radio lying on the kitchen counter inside. Remmick shifted under the weight of your presence.

“I think I like your music better,” he mumbled.

You breathed out a small laugh without looking up. “You’re too kind. Your taste isn’t too bad either. You just got an ol’ soul.”

Remmick pursed his lips. “You could say that.”

“Did you grow up here?” you asked softly.

He shook his head. “No,” he sighed sadly, “You?”

“Nope. I moved out here a few years ago.”

“How come?”

“Just wanted a change. The city was too loud.” Your eyebrows knit together in concentration. Remmick took this moment to steal a look at you.

Your eyes flicked up at him through your eyelashes. The tips of your ears turned crimson. “Eyes forward, Pretty Boy.”

“Pretty Boy?” he tossed the name around his mouth like a shiny token. You bit your lip to keep from saying much else.

You twisted the length of your charcoal stick to match the angle of his nose before copying it onto your page. His shoulders slowly began to relax. His hands brushed down his thighs, right where your knee almost touched him. He curled his fingers as if to check that they were still operational.

“Can I look yet?” he asked tenderly. His pinkie stretch precariously, bridging the gap between you two. You could feel his nail ghosting on your bare skin. Your heart leapt into your throat, the lightest of touches already turning your nerves into an inferno.

“Just gotta work on the shading,” you replied meekly. He nodded, correcting his head. His finger never dropped. He began to soothingly stroke your knee back and forth, keeping time with the new song that played. It tickled you.

It was harder to concentrate now. From the briefest of looks, you noticed his jaw clenching and unclenching, chewing on words he almost felt ready to say. And what would those words be? What could he possibly say to make your heart race any faster?

To ease it along, you pushed your knee further into his touch. Remmick inhaled sharply in response. He closed his eyes, finally allowing himself to melt.

“Okay,” you said after a while, “I think I’m done.” You pressed the pad of paper to your chest before revealing it slowly to him. He cradled the pad in his calloused hands like it was a newborn.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, “This is me?” He asked the question like he wasn’t sure what he looked like.

“It’s a rough sketch,” you admitted, “If I gave it more time, I could clean up the lines and be more precise with the shadows.”

“When did I-?” he wondered under his breath. His fingers brushed the hair curled around his ears to the hair on his chin, trailing all the way to the scar that marked him. His brow furrowed as if remembering the fresh wound marring his face and the blood and pain that came with it. He covered it fully with his hand, ashamed to have you look upon it any longer.

“How’d you get that?” you asked tentatively.

His eyes tore reluctantly from his portrait. “I, uh…” he paused, “The war.” He locked back onto the sketch, studying it as if he hadn’t seen his own face in centuries.

“Is… Is everything okay?” you whispered. You gently pressed yourself into his side.

“Yes,” he murmured. He straightened his back and finally met your gaze again. “Yeah, everything’s good.”

“Y’know, you can tell me if you hate it,” you chuckled, trying to make it light. “Don’t gotta spare my feelings.”

“No, I love this! I love—,” he started. “You did an amazin’ job.”

“You can keep it,” you said. Your hands met his and you lightly pushed the drawing pad against his chest. You leaned into his space, your touch lingering on his. Your thumb rubbed the side of his hand, returning the gentleness he showed you. Remmick’s lips parted slightly, exhaling a shallow breath.

“Thank you,” he spoke. His voice frayed like he hated that he broke the silence. You smiled softly at him. Your fingers reached and stroked the angry crevasse on his cheek.

He looked so fragile being held. His eyelids fluttered as he bathed in the warmth of your hand. He winced like it hurt but his head leaned into you instinctively. A soft trembling sound slipped past his lips.

“You are a wonderful muse,” you said. You leaned in and planted a delicate kiss on that scar. He dipped his head slipping past your ear before nuzzling in the crook of your neck. You gathered him into your arms, wrapping the blanket around his broad shoulders. Your fingers stroked the relaxed curls of his dark hair. His arms lifted with difficulty, still unsure if he was allowed this much, and rested around your waist. When you didn’t fight him, he pulled you in closer. You began to hum along to the song that wept from the radio.

The last thing you remembered before falling asleep was the steady rocking of the porch swing on the light breeze and the feathery trail of kisses tied with promises of everlasting happiness.

[dollyswishingwell]

Hello! What about one for mama’s prince or princess where somehow reader hurts herself? maybe needs to go to hospital or be put on bed rest.

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Mama’s Prince P.5

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

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, angst? i really had to brain storm ideas for reader to be hurt lol

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ Mama’s hurt

Masterlist

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

It happened fast. You were just in the middle of arranging the massive seashell chandelier in the sunroom, something you and Raf had picked out in one of his whimsically romantic moods, when your darling baby boy toddled in, calling for you in his tiny lisped voice.

“Mamaaa…”

He looked so much like Rafayel it was unfair, those soft purple curls, sleepy blue-pink eyes, and even that lazy little smirk. And like his papa, he had a knack for pulling your attention in the most inconvenient ways.

So when he clung to your leg just as you stepped off the small stool…

Crash.

You don’t remember much after that except the sound of glass, your little one’s startled cry, and pain blooming sharply in your ankle.

Now, you’re on bed rest with a splinted foot, propped up on silken pillows in the center of your marital bed, surrounded by plushies and baby boy curled tightly against your side, clinging to your arm like it’s the only thing anchoring him to the earth. He hasn’t let go since Raf brought you home from the hospital.

And speaking of Raf,

He’s furious at himself. Pacing the room in a loose robe, wet hair still dripping from the bath he’d barely taken before racing to your side again. His jaw is clenched, the sharp angles of his cheekbones stark in the dim lighting, but his voice is soft as sea foam when he finally settles beside you.

“You’re not supposed to get hurt, pearlie. That’s not in your job description,” he murmurs, carefully adjusting your pillows and smoothing your hair back with trembling fingers. “Your job is to be pretty and pampered. That’s it. That’s it.”

Your baby boy sniffles, his small head nudging into your side. “I sorry Mama… I didn’t mean…”

You coo and pull him into your lap with effort, kissing his curls despite the ache. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Mama just got distracted by her two cutest boys.”

Rafayel scoffs softly but leans down to press a kiss to your bandaged foot, then one to your forehead, and finally one to baby boy’s.

“You’re both grounded,” he mutters. “Indefinitely. And I’m wrapping you both in bubble wrap.”

You giggle despite the pain. “You’re the one who bought the chandelier, Raffy.”

“…Shh.” He gently tucks the blanket around you both. “We don’t talk about my bad decisions. Only yours. Like standing up when you could’ve just called me.”

And just like that, you’re back in your estate, tucked in, spoiled, and loved to the moon and back. Even with your foot wrapped up, Raf makes sure you don’t feel anything but adored.

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

It wasn’t anything dramatic. No wild incident, no fall from heights. Just you, in the kitchen, preparing Zayne’s favorite lemon tea, because he’d been working late again, and your sweet baby boy crawling around your feet, giggling every time you turned. You were smiling too, distracted by how adorable he looked in his tiny doctor onesie, a mini Zayne clone with that serious little pout and messy black hair.

But then your foot slid. Water from the kettle you’d just filled had splashed. You didn’t even realize until the sharp pain shot through your wrist as you instinctively caught yourself on the counter.

Your baby boy blinked up at you from the floor with wide hazel-green eyes, and your heart broke, not from the pain, but from the way his lip wobbled.

Zayne had you in the hospital within minutes. He left mid-surgery prep, coat still half-buttoned, his voice calm but terrifyingly cold as he gave orders over the phone to prep imaging for your arm.

Now, you’re home, wrist in a soft cast, on strict bed rest per Doctor Husband’s orders.

And Zayne? Zayne hasn’t left your side. He’s in full overprotective mode, cool, composed, but with a gaze that keeps flickering to your arm like he’s blaming himself for everything.

Your baby boy lays quietly on your chest, fidgeting with the blanket, sniffling every now and then.

“Mama… hurt ‘cause me…” he mumbles.

“Absolutely not,” Zayne says instantly from his seat beside the bed, voice low but firm. “Mama got hurt because I wasn’t there. That’s on me.”

You reach out with your good hand and thread your fingers through his.

“Zaynie, don’t say that…”

He leans in, brushing a kiss to your temple with a tired sigh. “You’re not supposed to be doing anything. Not chores. Not making tea. Not carrying the world while I’m gone. You’re supposed to be spoiled rotten, remember?”

You smile faintly. “I was trying to be sweet.”

“You are,” he murmurs, kissing your wrist just above the cast. “But next time you want to be sweet, you’ll call me and I’ll come running. Understand?”

Your baby boy lets out a big sigh and hugs your tummy, mumbling, “Mama stay in bed forever now…”

Zayne gives a rare, soft chuckle, and shifts onto the bed to cuddle you both, cool palm resting over yours protectively.

“Not forever,” he says quietly. “Just until she’s healed. Then she’s back to being my overly pampered, dangerously distracting wife.”

He kisses your cheek again.

“And I wouldn’t have her any other way.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

You weren’t even doing anything particularly wild, just reorganizing the top shelf of your shared closet, humming softly to yourself while your little boy toddled around nearby, dragging one of Xavier’s oversized sweaters like a blankie. He looked exactly like his papa. silver hair, calm blue eyes, and that distant, curious look like he was always thinking about the stars.

“Mama,” he called softly, holding the sweater up toward you. “This one smells like Daddy.”

You turned to answer, smiling, so sweet, so warm, and then your foot slipped.

A sharp thump. The world tilted. A heavy ache bloomed in your side.

The next thing you remember is your son crying, trying to pat your face with his tiny hands while you gasped from the pain, whispering, “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay…”

Xavier was home within ten minutes, the entire top tier of the building in lockdown, a storm of calm silence and lethal precision. He lifted you into his arms so gently it made your eyes well up, not from pain, but from how tenderly he held you, like you were something rare, irreplaceable.

Now you’re in bed, ribs bruised and movement limited. Baby boy is curled into your side, unusually quiet, cheek pressed to your shoulder like he’s scared you’ll disappear.

Xavier sits nearby, pale hair slightly tousled, fingers steepled in front of his lips. His eyes are fixed on you both like he’s trying to memorize every breath you take.

“You should never have been standing on anything, my love,” he finally says, voice low and steady, but there’s that unmistakable tightness, his quiet, haunted guilt. “You should’ve called me. You know I would’ve come.”

“I know,” you whisper, brushing your son’s hair gently. “But I didn’t think, he just wanted to show me your sweater…”

Xavier rises slowly, moves to your side, and kneels so his face is level with yours and baby boy’s.

He presses a kiss to your temple, then gently kisses your son’s forehead too.

“It’s not your fault, little one,” he says softly to him. “It’s mine. I wasn’t here. That won’t happen again.”

“Xav…”

He cups your cheek, thumb stroking beneath your eye.

“You’re everything to me. You and him. There’s no universe where I let either of you get hurt again.”

Then, in a rare act of vulnerability, he climbs into bed with both of you, curling around your side like a protective shield, one hand lightly covering your stomach, the other stroking his son’s back.

The three of you lie there in silence, safe in your quiet cocoon, Xavier’s breath warm against your neck, baby boy’s hand curled around your shirt, and you in the middle, where you’ve always belonged.

“I’ll stay like this until you’re better,” he murmurs. “Longer, if you want.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You were trying to be good. Really, you were. Sylus had warned you, sternly, not to touch the upstairs gallery until his private curator arrived. Something about new sculptures being too heavy to move. But your inner perfectionist itched, especially with your little boy toddling around proudly in a mini black turtleneck and slacks like his papa, holding a clipboard made of cardboard and pretending to inspect the art.

“Mama,” he said, puffing his cheeks like a tiny executive, “that’s not where the flower statue goes.”

You laughed and followed his lead, adjusting one of the smaller pedestals.

Then you tried to lift the marble vase.

Crack.

Your knee gave out under the weight, sending you down hard. A sharp yelp escaped you, echoing off the vaulted ceiling, and your baby boy’s clipboard clattered as he scrambled over to you in panic.

By the time Sylus arrived, you were on the floor clutching your leg, your son sobbing into your side, and your voice strained as you tried to calm him. The expression on Sylus’s face was the kind that made grown men beg for mercy, but when he reached you, it was all wiped away, replaced by something far more dangerous:

Pure fear.

Now you’re in bed, leg elevated and wrapped, his most trusted personal doctor on standby downstairs. Your little boy lies beside you, curled up against your good leg like a baby cat, sniffling every few seconds.

Sylus stands at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, red eyes dark with a smoldering intensity.

“You,” he finally says, voice low and dry, “are banned from every room above the ground floor until further notice. And he, ” he points to your son, who flinches, “—is no longer allowed to give artistic direction without adult supervision.”

“S-sorry, Daddy…” the little boy mumbles tearfully.

Your hand reaches out to rub his back. “No, baby, you didn’t do anything wrong, Mama just didn’t listen to Papa.”

Sylus raises an eyebrow. “Finally, some honesty.”

You pout at him. He moves closer.

The teasing tone fades as he kneels beside the bed and rests his forehead against your blanketed leg, brushing a kiss to your shin.

“I should’ve locked the damn gallery. You never listen when you get into decorating mode,” he mutters, voice almost too soft to catch.

Then his eyes flick up to you, and he reaches out to caress your cheek with a gloved hand.

“Next time you want to move something, you wait for me. Understand, kitty?”

You nod slowly. He leans in, kisses your nose, then kisses your son’s forehead.

“Daddy will fix it,” he whispers to both of you, curling onto the bed with that feline grace of his, gathering you into his arms.

“You just focus on being pretty and fragile and impossibly mine. I’ll take care of everything else.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

It was just a moment, barely a blink.

You were in the solarium, watering the wall of rare blooming vines Caleb had gifted you from his Farspace expeditions. Your little boy was nearby, dressed in his miniature Skyhaven cadet jacket, toddling after a stray butterfly that had wandered inside through the open glass doors.

“Mama! Look!”

You turned instinctively, smiling, he looked so much like Caleb it was unfair. That dark brown hair, those star-bright purple eyes, and even the same stubborn set to his jaw. But in that split-second glance, your foot twisted awkwardly on the garden step. You tried to catch yourself, but your shoulder took the full impact against the stone tile

Your baby boy was at your side in seconds, big eyes filling with tears. “Mama, Mama, owie?! Mama—!”

And then Caleb’s voice, sharp through the comm link, demanding to know why the med sensors in the solarium had activated.

He was home within ten minutes.

Now you’re tucked in bed, arm in a sling, with your little boy curled tightly into your uninjured side. He hasn’t stopped clinging to you since, little hands fisting in your robe like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

Caleb sits beside the bed, still in his uniform, gloves off, medals forgotten. He’s cleaning a tiny scrape on your knee with the same precision he’d use to defuse a bomb, jaw tight, expression unreadable, eyes darting between your face and every bandaged spot like it physically pains him to see you hurt.

“This was preventable,” he finally mutters, voice low and sharp with guilt. “I told them to install railings. Why weren’t they installed yet?”

“Caleb, baby… it’s not anyone’s fault,” you murmur. “He just got excited. I got distracted. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” he snaps, then pauses, breathes, his tone softening instantly as your son sniffles into your chest.

Caleb rises, leans over the bed, and cups your cheek with a rare gentleness.

“You’re everything to me. Both of you. You’re not supposed to fall, or bleed, or even flinch. I’ll have the solarium redone. Safer. Padded if I have to.”

“Ca—”

He hushes you with a kiss to your forehead, then one to your son’s head. “No more guilt. You protect our boy. I protect you.”

Then he pulls a blanket over all three of you and slides into bed, his body curling behind yours protectively, arm wrapped around your waist.

“From now on,” he whispers, breath warm against your ear, “you don’t lift a single finger without me watching.”

And true to his word, you don’t.

He becomes your shadow, protective, possessive, and maddeningly tender, because in Caleb’s world, his wife and baby are sacred.

[plutoslastwords]

Girl I need a lazy day with baby Norris and lando, maybe he’s not well or come home from a triple header (or both 🫢 who said that) and they’re just completely knackered

I’m so happy you’re back!

r and rs

lando norris x daughter!reader

summary: after an intense triple header, all lando wants to do is relax with his sweet girl

w/c: 1.1k

warnings: none!

a/n: sorry this is bad :( still getting back into the swing of writing!

~~~

A race weekend on its own was tough enough. 4 days of presenting to the public eye, masking any other emotions, with the added fact that you have to drive at 200 mph a couple of times. Then, triple this, three weekends in a row of complete exhaustion, there you have a Formula 1 triple header. 

For Lando, as much as he loves driving, it has been his dream for as long as he could remember, he probably couldn’t think of anything worse than a triple header. He craves time to decompress after each race, without being thrown headfirst into the next one. 

It’s not made much easier that towards the end of this European triple header he’s managed to pick up some sort of bug. Nothing serious, he’d probably put it off to a slight tickly throat if this were a normal day, but the gruelling task of a triple header has managed to accentuate it by about 800 times. By the time he finally arrives home from Spain, Lando feels like he’s knocking on death’s door itself. 

Whilst he races, you spend your time with your grandparents, or sometimes a babysitter. Since you’ve turned 2, you’ve been going to a playgroup 3 times a week, although Lando was hesitant to let you go, kicking up a storm about how fast you were growing up, he knew it was important for your social skills and education. Having been meeting new, important, motorsports people since you had left the womb, you were one of the most sociable children out there, so playgroup was your most favourite thing. 

However, the last three weeks without your daddy had started to take a bit of a toll on you. Everyone in the playgroup was telling you stories about what they had done with their mom’s and dad’s when they went home, and even though your babysitter was very nice, you couldn’t help but feel left out, detached from the rest of your friends. 

So, when Lando finally got home, you wanted to do nothing more than to cling to him and not let go for at least 2-3 business days. 

You had just come home from playgroup when the familiar unlocking of the front door filled the apartment.

“Hi baby!”

You squealed, departing from your toys without a second thought, practically throwing yourself into his arms. “Daddy!!!” you cheer, as he picks you up with ease, placing kisses onto your face and the tip of your head. 

“Hi my love…” he mumbles tiredly into the top of your head, “Daddy missed you so much..”

“I missed you too…” you reply, your face shoved into the crook of his neck, clinging onto him so tightly that he probably should be worried about his circulation being cut off, but with you finally back in his arms, he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Daddy’s gotta go unpack and take a shower, and then we’ll play angel, okay?”

You reluctantly agree, going back to playing with your dolls - who were currently in the middle of a very important tea party.

A few minutes later Lando reemerges from his bedroom, bidding your babysitter goodbye and thank you, before scooping you up from the floor, back into his arms and kissing the top of your head. 

“Daddy missed you so so much…” he coos, settling down onto the couch, the weariness that has been accumulating over the last few weeks finally encompassing him. “You wanna play with your dolls, angel?”

You shake your head, you didn’t want your dolls stealing your time with your daddy from you, you just wanted to be with him. 

“Okay.. that’s okay baby… that’s good, we can just have some rest together, yeah? You wanna watch something on TV?”

“Bluey…”

“Good idea, angel, let's watch some Bluey..”

He grabs a nearby blanket, pulling it over the top of both of you, holding you close, like if he were to let go you were going to disappear. 

The two of you spend a good couple of hours just mindlessly sitting on the couch watching TV. Lando knows that he should be doing something more productive, looking at data, looking at emails, training, but at this moment there is nothing that he’d rather be doing than sitting with you and purely relaxing.  

Dinnertime eventually comes around, but neither of you seem to notice, or you do, and just can’t be bothered to get up from the comfortable couch that has seemed to melt around you. It takes a text from his trainer, reminding him on what he should be eating for dinner, to prompt Lando to remember that he does need to feed you, no matter how comfortable you are.

“We should get some dinner, baby…” he yawns, combing a few strands of your hair out from your face.

You whine in response, half asleep, burying your face into his chest, “‘M not hungry, wanna go sleep”

“I know, baby, Daddy’s tired too… but we gotta have something to eat before bedtime, okay? We can’t have you going hungry. What would you like, my darling?”

“Mmm, pizza..”

“Pizza? Why don’t we order in, baby? Hm? Then we could eat here on the couch, that’d be nice, wouldn’t it?”

You nod, still snuggled up in his arms, having no intention of moving anytime soon, pizza on the couch did sound good, “Cheese, please..”

“Of course, angel”

Dinner was not a fancy affair, the two of you stayed right where you were, eating from takeaway pizza boxes with Lando wiping your face to get all the tomato sauce off every couple of minutes. Dinner was nothing posh, but to Lando it was perfect.

Once all of the pizza has been hoovered away, not much movement is seen, the two of you too tired to make an effort to move and get to bed. 

“Missed you so much when I was racing…”

“I missed you, daddy, all my friends had their daddies at home, why didn’t their daddies have to go racing…?”

Lando’s heart breaks, “Not everyone is a racing driver, baby, their daddies jobs are probably here in Monaco..”

“Oh. Well then I think that they should be jealous of me. I love having a racing driver daddy.”

He laughs, he loves you more than anything he could imagine, “And your racing driver daddy loves you, baby, more than anything, okay?”

It’s probably a bad parenting move, and Lando knows that he should be more responsible, but he’s too tired to get up, and he can see that you’re the same. So that night, the two of you fall asleep wrapped up together, on the couch with your pizza boxes surrounding you, but so very peaceful. 

~~~

a/n: tysm for requesting! requests are always open x

[martygraciesversion381]

NO I'M NOT IN LOVE

lando norris x piastri!reader

warnings: allusions to smut, fluff, angst, flashbacks and that's all

summary: you're Oscar Piastri's little sister and you and Lando always hated each other. So how did you end up in this weird situation with him? That's what you're asking yourself too

song: no i'm not in love by tate mcrae

a/n: this is the chapter that i've been waiting to write since i first got the idea for the series i'm so excitedddd!!! It's a bit shorter but i hope that you guys liked it!!

COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED!!

requests[closed for now]

masterlist

series masterlist

11pm....you were still wide awake lying in your bed under the sheets. It was one of the usual times when you couldn't sleep, the only thing going through your mind were thoughts....existantial ones.

You thought about Lando, his smile, his eyes that made your heart beat faster every day. You didn't like him, that's what you told yourself. Because it was platonic wasn't it?

It was platonic when he held you after you got a nightmare when you stayed over at his house. And how he made sure that you slept pacefully all night in his arms.

"It's okay sweetheart it's not real...I'm here nothing's gonna happen to you" he wispered.

You kept shaking in his arms holding onto him tightly as if afraid that he'd disappear if you let go.

"Ssshhh....just go back to sleep I'm here I'll protect you."

It was platonic when you had a fight with Oscar and came to him crying and he held you until your sobs stopped.

"I'm not going to come between the two of you but if you need me I'm here okay?" he said kissing your hair.

You nodded agaisnt his chest feeling his arms tighten around you.

It was platonic when everytime that the two of you found each other in the same back he'd alway check on you

"So good sweetheart...you good yeah?" he moaned while he shoved his dick down your throat.

"I'm not hurting you am I?" he asked while he was pounding into you, bent over the counter.

"You sure you're okay?" he whispered while tracing the marks that he had left on your body

It was platonic when he kept you wrapped in his arms until daylight.

You tried to get out of his arms but it was nearly impossible. You felt him stir next to you and groan.

"No. You're not leaving." he grumbled pulling you back down into his arms.

It was platonic when the two of you had cooked together.

He was throwing pieces of bread at you while smirking.

"Lando stop! I have to cook dumbass!" you squeeled running away from him.

But a few minutes later, you were making pasta with his arms around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder.

It was platonic when he had came over and found you sick. It was platonic how he took care of you.

"God sweetheart....are you okay?" he asked as he walked into the living room finding you under the blankets.

You didn't even have the force to talk because of your sore throat so you just shook your head.

Lando took a shower with you, helping you wash before tucking you into bed. 'I'm just gonna stay until you fall asleep', he had said but instead the next morning you woke up with his arm around your waist.

It was platonic when he made you feel better after a day of uni.

You had a shitty day at uni. Studying was always hard. When you reached Lando's house you immediately let all of your body weight on him. He held you for a while on the couch until he decided to make you laugh while throwing awful dad jokes at you.

"Oh my god Lando stop! I'm going to throw up if i keep laughing!" you said not managing to stop the loud laughs echoing into his living room.

It was all platonic in the end wasn't it?

God you had fallen for him...and you had fallen hard.

tagglist:

@cinderellawithashoe @itzzgillianj27 @motorsportbarbie13 @gorgeusreputation16 @swiftlyconehead @g00d--vibes @linnygirl09 @itsleslie1998 @rd14 @safeplaceholland @f1fantasys @rendezvoushn @lilorose25 @softhyunieeee @powerlinevallies @imboredway2much @joannaln4 @mckalala @ln4girlie @charlesgirl16 @graceln4 @mimisweetz @lavande3 @wilmonyibo7 @ks001 @ayap4paya @jule239

[ackermanrage]

could i request a one shot of Levi x fem reader where the reader is considered to be drop dead gorgeous by everyone and how he would handle everyone basically simping after her and trying to ask her out? i think it’d be very entertaining to read, especially how he reacts when a scout tries flirting with reader when he thinks Levi isn’t there lmao. maybe a little protective!Levi vibes too? also could i ask that reader also be a captain too, age gap one shots make me a lil uncomfortable 😅 love ur writing!

ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ (ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀꜱᴋ)

levi ackerman x fem!reader warnings: none an: I really love this fic idea, and i hope you like what I wrote!

You weren’t the type to turn heads.

Or at least, you never meant to be. You didn’t flirt, didn’t primp, didn’t walk around HQ like it was a catwalk.

You were a scout captain. Just like Levi. Just like Hange. Just like any other soldier who’d earned their place through dirt, blood, and stubborn survival.

But that didn’t stop people from staring when you entered a room.

Part of it was your looks—you weren’t oblivious. You’d caught the mirror before. Long lashes, sharp cheekbones, soft lips that often looked out of place beneath the grit of dried blood and sweat. Your hair always seemed to fall just right, even after a fight, like the universe itself had given you some kind of charmed luck in the beauty department.

But it was more than that. You carried yourself with calm confidence. Shoulders straight, gaze steady. You didn’t try to impress. You didn’t need to.

Which, of course, made everyone want to impress you.

And that never failed to get under Levi’s skin.

Not that he said anything. He wasn’t exactly the flowers-and-declarations type. He wasn’t the jealous shouting type either. But you could always tell when someone got too close, looked at you too long, let their laughter drag on just a few seconds more than necessary.

His arms would fold. His mouth would tighten. And most noticeably he’d stop speaking altogether.

Which is why today was already teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

You had just returned from a two-day expedition—low stakes, mostly scouting paths for a possible expansion of the eastern outpost. You’d ridden beside Levi most of the time, a mutual rhythm long since established. Quiet nods. Silent trust. Shared maps. The kind of understanding that didn’t need words.

But now, back at HQ, with the mission done and your teams dismissed, you just wanted a hot drink and something vaguely edible.

You walked into the mess hall with your coat still half-unbuttoned and the scent of leather and pine still clinging to you. Your hair was loose, still slightly damp from your rushed shower. You were tired. Hungry. And blissfully unaware of the chaos your appearance was about to cause.

“Captain!” someone said brightly, too brightly.

You looked up. A table of scouts had gone silent the moment you entered. One in particular—new face, late teens maybe—was staring at you like he’d just seen an angel descend in combat boots.

You blinked. “Yes?”

“I just wanted to say…” He stood, pushing his tray aside. “You were incredible during that ambush near the riverbank. The way you redirected your horse around the slope and took that crawler out from behind? That was—” He stopped himself, smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. That was really hot.”

You raised a brow.

The table erupted into low snickers. One scout actually elbowed him in encouragement, which only seemed to fuel his misplaced confidence.

“Do you, um—have plans tonight? You probably get that all the time, I mean—look at you.” He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was just wondering—”

“She’s busy.”

It wasn’t loud.

But it was sharp enough to cut through the laughter like a knife through wet canvas.

Levi stood at the far entrance of the mess hall, arms crossed, eyes locked onto the scout like he’d just suggested feeding Titans. He wasn’t scowling exactly—his expression was calm, almost blank—but it felt worse than anger.

Every scout froze. The flirty one especially looked like he wanted to evaporate.

“I wasn’t— I didn’t mean anything by it,” he stammered. “Just being friendly—”

“Your ‘friendly’ gets you cleaning latrines if it happens again,” Levi said coldly. “Eyes up when speaking to your superior.”

The boy nodded rapidly. You couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him. He hadn’t meant harm. He’d just been… bold. Or stupid.

Levi strode forward and came to stand beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed. He didn’t look at you, but you could feel the heat in the air between you, like lightning waiting for the strike.

“I could’ve handled that,” you said quietly, once the scout had slunk away and the rest had gone back to pretending they weren’t listening.

“I know.”

You turned your head. “You jealous, Ackerman?”

His jaw clenched, barely perceptible. “Don’t like hearing people talk like that about you.”

You didn’t say anything at first. Just sipped your tea and let the moment breathe.

“You could always do something about it.”

That earned you a sideways glance. Levi didn’t blink. “I just did.”

You smiled. “I mean something that doesn’t involve threatening to exile the entire scout regiment every time someone calls me hot.”

Silence.

Then, after a pause: “Tch. Don’t tempt me.”

You laughed, and to your surprise, so did he—just a soft breath through his nose, but genuine. His shoulder leaned into yours, subtly, almost accidentally.

You didn’t move away.

---

You didn’t expect him to come by your quarters.

You were halfway through bandaging a scratch on your thigh—nothing serious, just an unlucky brush with a branch—when the knock came.

Three sharp raps.

You didn’t bother to cover up. He’d seen worse.

“Door’s open.”

He stepped in, eyes immediately flicking to the exposed skin before politely returning to your face. Classic Levi—always aware, always in control.

“You’re injured.”

“It’s barely a scratch.”

He stepped closer, took the roll of gauze from your hand without a word, and knelt.

“Levi—”

“Sit still.”

You did.

He worked in silence, fingers deft and careful. The touch wasn’t romantic. Not obviously. But it was reverent in its own way.

“You didn’t have to come,” you murmured.

“I did.” He pressed the gauze in place. “Didn’t like how they were looking at you.”

“Who? The kid in the mess hall?”

“All of them,” he said flatly. “The way they stare. The things they say when they think I’m not there. It’s disrespectful.”

You looked down at him. “To me?”

“To you,” he confirmed. “And to me.”

There it was.

You inhaled slowly. “You know, Levi… You don’t need to just protect what’s yours.”

He looked up. “No?”

You shook your head. “You can claim it.”

A beat.

Then his hand left your thigh, came to rest on your knee—warm, firm, unshaking.

“You’re mine?” he asked, low and even.

“If you want me to be.”

“I do.”

You leaned down, fingers brushing his cheek. “Then say it.”

“I don’t share,” he whispered. “Not with idiots. Not with scouts. Not with anyone.”

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t practiced or smooth or romantic in the storybook way.

It was fierce.

Protective.

Possessive.

It was everything Levi Ackerman didn’t say with words.

And you kissed him back with all the fire he’d spent months trying to smother.

---

The next morning, you entered the mess hall again. Alone this time.

The same scout glanced up—and immediately returned to his food. No eye contact. No witty remarks. He looked like he’d aged ten years overnight.

You sat down with your tea and a smug little smile.

Across the room, Levi looked up from his own mug. Just once.

He didn’t smile.

But the twitch of his mouth said everything.

You were his.

And now everyone knew it.

©ackermanrage - please do not copy, translate, or plagiarize my work!

[strnilolover]

can you do reader getting mad that her panties are missing and then she storms into matt's room to confront him. and he puts her in her place and then afterwards slips her panties into her back pocket as she's leaving the room?

⌗ . . . DID YOU TAKE THEM?

WARNINGS : SMUT. PNV. STEPBROTHER!MATT PUTTING YOU IN YOUR PLACE AFTER YOU’RE A BRAT TO HIM. (he didn’t actually steal ur panties…chris did tho).

i had an idea for this in mind already so it’s tweaked just a little. so technically a part 2 to chris using your panties to get off

you were going crazy. your room absolutely tore apart as you tore through your drawer one more time. but there was nothing.

your underwear was missing. the white ones with the little bow on the front—your favorite ones. and you were losing your mind. you had never lost them before, they were here because you wore them so often.

you stood in front of your dresser—your fists clenched at your sides with your towel wrapped around your wet body from your shower. the water still dripping from your hair as you looked for your underwear.

“where the fuck are they?” you muttered. your stomach twisted, annoyed and uncomfortable, because those weren’t just any panties. they were cute. soft. and they made you feel good. they were your favorite ones and they were in here just the other day.

and now they were gone.

you stood there for a moment, trying to think of where you could’ve put them. but it wasn’t until you replayed the last couple days in your head that a certain face came to mind.

matt.

the way he had you a few nights ago on your bed, spread open and stuffing the same pair into your mouth to keep you quiet as he fucked you. your thighs clenched at the thought—your mind already wandering off into the gutter.

but you quickly snapped out of it and you threw on the first thing you could find—an oversized shirt and sleep shorts—and stomped down the hallway toward his room. you didn’t bother to knock, instead you shoved his door open and glared.

he was lounging on his bed in his sweats. his rings on his fingers, a book in one hand and a snack bag in the other. and really that only pissed you off more. because how could he sit here like this after taking your underwear? he knows they’re you’re favorite.

his eyes had flicked over to you the moment you stormed in, already having heard your rather loud stomps against the floor. “the fuck are you doing?” he asked, raising a brow at you as you stood there with your arms crossed over your chest.

“where are they?” you snipped at him, your tone obviously very annoyed. matt looked at you like you lost your fucking mind. “where’s what?” he asked.

you scowled at him. “don’t play dumb with me Matthew. i’m talking about my panties. the white ones. the ones with the little bow.” you narrowed your eyes. “and i know you took them.” and that got his attention.

he looked up at you slowly, his jaw tightening like he couldn’t believe the accusation you were placing against him. “you serious?” and before you could even get a word out, he was up off the bed. you took a step back stunned, the words slipping from your mind as you were suddenly aware of how close he was.

“you think i need to steal your panties?” he asked, his eyes fixed on yours. “you think i can’t get you all wet in ’em before I rip ’em off myself?” he continued, placing a hand on your hip. “just like i did the other night? remember that sweetheart?”

you breath caught in your throat. and you hated the way your thighs pressed together instinctively. hated how smug he looked when he saw your reaction. “don’t come in here accusing me of shit unless you’re ready to deal with the consequences.”

and you snapped. “i’m not scared of you.” you said, your chin tilted up like you were trying to seem bigger than him. but your stomach fluttered. matt smirked, stepping even closer to you until he pushed your back against the wall. “oh, sweetheart. you should be.”

his other hand came up and grabbed your jaw, tilting your face up to his—his fingers were cool against your skin thanks to the rings. “you miss me that bad? had to make up a little story just so i’d put my hands on you?”

your heart was pounding against your chest, heat rising to your face. you hated how much your body betrayed you when he talked like that. how your breath hitched. how your skin burned just to having him lose like this.

“I didn’t. my panties are missing matt.” you tried to argue back, but your voice wavered slightly as his fingers dug in slightly to your skin. “you did though baby. you came in here acting like a brat and accusing me of shit.”

your lips parted, opening your mouth to try and say something—anything—but he caught your bottom lip between his fingers and tugged. “you know better than to talk to me like that.”

and you swallowed as he leaned down, bringing his lips and whispering the next words directly against your ear. “now apologize.” you couldn’t help it as your breath came out shaky, your walls crumpling in seconds. “…m’sorry.” you whispered, your eyes trying to look away from him but he didn’t like that.

“nuh-uh.” he said, letting go of your lip to grab your face in his hand, making you look at him. “for what sweetheart? what’re you sorry for?” his eyes burned into yours, holding your gaze until you said something. “for thinking you stole them.” you mumbled, his hand making it a little hard to talk. matt leaned back a little and grinned. “good girl.”

your stomach flipped at the praise.

it took you a moment before you registered his fingers sliding under the hem of your sleep shorts in one smooth motion. he didn’t even give you time to react before he pressed two fingers straight against your clothed cunt.

you were wet—you knew you would be. but you weren’t expecting him to do anything. and he smirked, his eyes dropping down to where his fingers were for a moment before moving back up to you. “didn’t even have panties on? how convenient.” and you whined, not responding to him. you didn’t trust your voice.

quickly he spun you around and shoved you up against his wall—your hands bracing against it for balance. you shuttered as his hand moved to tugged your shorts down in one yank, exposing your pussy to the cool air and his greedy eyes.

you could hear his clothes shuffling before you heard the sound of him spitting and then his fist moving a long his cock a few times. he moved, pressing himself against you. “say please baby.” he said, dragging the head of his cock between your folds now, teasing your entrance.

you whined, your body pushing back into him. “matt.” you whined out now—the embarrassment now creeping through you. one of his hands came up to thread into your hair, giving it a tug. “c’mon, say it.” he gritted.

and you caved—just like that. “please matt… please fuck me.” you didn’t even remember what you came in here for anymore, every thought in your mind revolved around him now. he smirked, muttering a praise you didn’t hear as he began to slide inside you—only enough to let your walls flutter around his tip.

“that bratty little mouth of yours.” he hissed as he grabbed ahold of your hair harder, tugging your head back. “always got somethin’ smart to say until you’ve got my cock buried inside you.” his hips began to push forward, bottoming himself out before his hips pulled back and repeated the same motion.

the sound of skin slapping filled the room quickly as he began thrusting hard, each thrust of his hips pushing you further into the wall—his fingers digging into the skin of your hips. your hands grabbed at the wall for support, whimpering his name with every thrust.

“take it.” he growled. “always take m’dick so fuckin’ well sweetheart.” your body burned with need—his words making your walls clench around his cock. your legs trembled, you could feel the way they wanted to give out.

and they started to.

so matt let go of your hair, using both of his hands to hold you up so you didn’t fall down fully. your back did arch more, the angle change making you sob as the tip of his cock rammed into you over and over again. your walls were clenching so hard around him that he hissed and slapped your ass.

that sent you over the edge. the pain radiated through your body, red blossoming over the swell of your ass as you shook—your juices dripping down around him as you came. but he didn’t stop.

“is it too much baby? hm?” he mocked. “thought you were tough? what happened huh?” his hips picked up the pace, one of his hands holding you can around, pressing on your lower belly. “o-oh fuck—matt, please..can’t.” you whimpered, the feeling overwhelming as he hummed and pressed on that spot more.

“yes you can. you’ve taken more before baby. know you can take my cock just fine.” and his hips sped up. his pelvis slapping against your ass as he began to chase his own high, your body shaking as small gasps left your lips. you were overstimulated.

“not a fuckin’ liar.” he gritted out as he slammed his hips into you a few times before burying himself inside your wake walls. his grip turned possessive on your hips as he spilled deep inside you, breathing heavy against the back of your neck.

he stayed there for a moment, letting both of you catch your breaths. you weren’t sure how long he was there for, but he was already softening by the time he pulled himself out of you. and when he finally pulled back he whispered. “I didn’t take your fucking panties.”

and that made you snap out of it. you blinked a few times before setting yourself straight—looking over your shoulder at him dazed. “what?” you said. you thought maybe he was fucking you because he was guilty—not because he didn’t have them.

you turned yourself around fully, fixing your clothes as you watched him smirk. one of his hands coming up to wipe under your eye to catch a stray tear. “go check your laundry maybe? you forget shit everywhere.” he said as he tugged his sweats back on like nothing happened.

you stayed there for a moment, sore and stunned before slowly pulling your shorts back up your legs and making your way to his door. you stopped for a moment, looking back at home before opening his door and hobbling down the hallway. your body still tingling from everything he’d just done to you.

so you opened your door and looked looked toward your laundry basket where you swore you checked at least a hundred different times.

and your heart stopped.

sitting right on top of your dirty clothes… were the with panties with the little bow. you stared at them in disbelief—you absolutely swore they weren’t there before. you looked, you know you did, you looked everywhere.

slowly you shut your door behind you, making your way over to your laundry basket. you bent down slowly and picked them up, and turned them over.

they were warm—like they hadn’t been there for long. your eyes noticed how they had little stains on them. and something about them smelled… weird. not just laundry.

like someone else had touched them.

a/n : the stepbrother!matt content i’m giving you guys

[the-void-via]

Coming Home To Your Comfort Blanket

Fluff headcannons/drabble, Mateo Manta (Date Everything!) x reader

Heart divider by @enchanthing , Mateo divider by me!

It was hard finding a new job after getting basically laid off and experiencing a whirlwind of affection and friendship around your own house, with your surprise gift of the Dateviators.

But if things haven't gone that way, you never would've met the absolute love of your life, Mateo.

The personification of your favorite lap blanket, he turned out to be the sweetest man you'd ever met. It was no wonder you'd fallen head over heels for him.

He was almost lonely whenever you went to work after you got your new job, but the inanimals kept him company while you were away

You came home stressed, a lot

And it hurt him to see you that way, so he had an idea for the next time you came home

"Mateo?" Your voice rang out in the foyer, slipping off your coat and hanging it up on the coat rack. You said a quick hello to Dorian as he closed and locked the door behind you, trudging into the living room where your beloved normally was.

"Huh...baby?" You call out again, wandering into the kitchen to see Freddy talking to–

"Betty?" You tilt your head. "I don't wanna sound mean, but, what are you doing down here?"

She turned to you and gave you a soft smile, while Freddy gave you a toothy grin.

"It's alright, sweetie," She chuckled. "Mateo just asked me to watch in inanimals for a while, so I was talking to Freddy for what they eat."

You blink, somewhat surprised. Mateo never wanted to leave his little friends alone, but now he asked Betty to watch over them for a while?

"Oh," You mumbled, rubbing your sore neck. "Well- where is he now?"

"He should be upstairs in the bedroom," Betty twirled a lock of her hair on her finger. "He was gathering a lot of blankets, but he wouldn't tell me why."

"It's gotta be something for you, cool kid," Freddy beamed, patting your shoulder firmly, yet gently. "You've been working super hard lately, it's about time you took a rest."

You sigh a little bit and nod, bidding them goodbye before turning away and trudging upstairs, yawning and running your hand though your hair.

You enter the bedroom to find Mateo setting out blankets and pillows on your bed, too absorbed in his work to notice you entering the room. Until he goes to grab more pillows from the closet to put out, spotting you as he turns around. He suddenly smiles, quickly moving to set down the pillows and nearly run towards you, enveloping you in a soft hug.

"Welcome home, sweetheart," He hums, leaning back to press a kiss to your cheek. "I must've lost track of time, I wasn't ready yet."

You smile softly and tilt your head at the blankets and pillows pilled up on your bed. "What's all this for?" You blink. "Oh- it's not like, an anniversary or something? I-I must've forgotten, been too busy-"

"No, no, nothing like that," Mateo gently cuts you off, gently taking your hands in his. "I just...wanted to give you a little break." He chuckled softly. "You've been working really hard, and according to Betty, you haven't slept well recently."

Your face flushes a little. Damn you, Betty.

"O-oh. Well- I-" You try to speak, but Mateo cuts you off again.

"You need to relax and get some sleep," He says softly, nuzzling his face against your cheek. "You don't have work tomorrow, right? You can afford to get some rest, mi vida."

Your eyebrows furrow, "But- I-"

"Please?" He pulls you into a hug again. "With me? Just for a little while?"

Your hands scramble to grab onto his back, and you let out a soft sigh as you melt into his embrace. His arms tighten just slighrly around you, nuzzling his face into your neck.

He could tell he won you over.

"Alright," You finally sighed out. "I'll lay down and take a nap with you."

"Perfect," Mateo leaned back and kissed your forehead, then grabbed your hands and gently led you over to your bed. "Lay down, I'll go close the door."

You stretched and laid down on the bed, watching Mateo close all the doors and turn the lights off. He smiled as he turned back to you, climbing into bed with you.

You both laid down on your sides, and Mateo practically wrapped you up in blankets, afterwards wrapping his arms around you.

"I love you," He whispered to you, one hand petting your hair. "Sleep well, mi vida."

"Love you too..." You mumbled out before you closed your eyes, drifting off to the sound of Mateo's heartbeat in your ears.

Tags: @fleeting-starshower @blak-ie @blackcat2907 @drowning-in-cabbages @veiled-luminosity @kyl13sm1l3y @darkluminosity @tremendoustragedybard (lmk if you wanna be tagged or not when I post about my oc's!)

[sebsxphia]

shoving your soaked panties in robert reynolds’s mouth to keep him quiet ! 🤭🤭🤭🤭

stay quiet.

robert reynolds x reader.

￫ summary: trying to keep bob quiet is difficult. but you’ve found a solution.

￫ word count: 700.

￫ warnings: handjobs, semi public, nearly getting caught and smut.

￫ authors notes: i didn’t know how to end this. i’m sorry 🥹 my brain can only do so much atm. my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

It was never wildly convenient that the living room space ran parallel to the kitchen area. You had been lying around with Bob all morning on the sofa. It wasn’t different from your shared bed, but you both weren’t quite ready to get up yet, and the couch seemed the next logical move. 

Multiple throws snuggly covered you as you lay beside him on the large sofa. You were curled into his toned chest, and the soft cotton on his sweatshirt provided a comfortable place to rest your head. 

Your leg was hooked around his waist, and without even honestly acknowledging it, you were shifting your hips to grind against him slowly.

“Sweetheart…” Bob croaked out, breaking the comfortable silence between you both.

You cocked your head upwards and blinked at him. “Wha’?”

“You’ve made me hard.” He guided your hand from where it was placed on his chest, down his abdomen and to palm at his sweatpants.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck and stifled out a giggle. 

“Sorry, I was just so cozy.” You gave his hardening cock a light squeeze and bob let out a choked groan. “Do you want me to help?” 

You squeezed again and his eyes fluttered shut. He nodded vigorously and shifted his hips as you slid your hand under the waistband of his underwear.

“So warm, baby. So hard.” You hummed against his neck. You began running your hand in rhythmic motions, up and down his shaft. 

Bob gasped out sweet moans. They were silent enough that they wouldn’t be heard by anyone who came to the kitchen. 

Your pace quickened beneath the pile of blankets, and as you ran your thumb over his tip in teasing circles, a louder moan got caught in his throat.

“Bob!” You giggled against his cheek, kissing his flushed skin softly. 

“I‘m sorry, I can’t help it,” He whimpered. 

You were instinctively moving your hips to grind against him as you matched his pace, and a wicked idea came to your head as his moans were becoming undeniably louder.

“Hold on…” Your hand left his aching cock momentarily and he let out a whine at the loss of contact. You manoeuvred under the blankets to slip off your underwear and bunch them together in your hand. 

“Will this keep you quiet, pretty boy?” Bob’s lips parted as he took your panties into his mouth. 

He let out a groan, which would’ve been loud enough for all to hear, but it came out muffled against your underwear. He could taste your arousal on the material, and his hips were instinctively bucking to feel your touch again. 

Your hand found his cock again and as you ran your hand over the slick shaft, he rolled his head back against the sofa arm, his eyelashes fluttering against his hot cheeks. Muffled whines vibrated against your underwear as they were stuffed into his mouth.

You were caught off guard as Bucky came into the kitchen area, a towel draped around his shoulders from his shower. 

You popped your head up from behind the sofa and smiled innocently.

“Oh, hey, Bucky.”

“Hey.” He murmured back. 

You glanced back down at Bob, whose eyes went wide. He was safely tucked away behind the back of the sofa, but if anyone came closer, they would surely see the sight. Your hand stayed on Bob’s cock, teasingly stroking him. 

“Have you seen Bob? I need to ask him something.” Bucky said, leaning against the counter and sipping his coffee.

“Yeah! He’s snuggling here with me.” You nonchalantly smiled back at Bucky. 

A quiet squeal vibrated through your underwear from Bob. You felt his cock twitch in your hand. 

He wasn’t getting softer. He was enjoying nearly being caught like this. 

Bucky’s eyes narrowed into the sofa. “Okay… I’ll find him later…” He slinked out of the room, not looking back.

You directed your gaze back to Bob, a knowing smile pulling on your lips. 

Bob’s eyes were gazing up at you, pleading and desperate. “You wanted to get caught, didn’t you?”

He nodded and moaned softly against your underwear. 

“My pretty boy,” You cooed. “So pretty like this.”

taglist: @floydsmuse @beachbabey @tallrock35 @unmistakablyunknown @kmc1989

[revelboo]

Can ES Tarantulas sense our cycles or ovulation? Bet his tippy taps would go insane once he sniffs us out

🤣 he’s so fidgety and clingy, he was already touch starved, but now he’s worse 🔞 mass displaced mech 🌶️

Scent

ES Tarantulas x Reader

• Extra limbs nervously tapping, he vents to pull the scent of you deep, almost able to taste that subtle shift in your scent. Heat and need, and he’s reaching up to rub a clawed hand over his helm. Because you’re sprawled on your belly wearing only his silk, the bottom hem riding up to flash the apex of your thighs and the curve of your butt as he shifts uncomfortably. Spike trying to pressurize behind his modesty panel. And you’re not even paying him any attention, reading a book. Teasing him.

• Glancing back at your big spidery mate when he makes a low, hissing growl, one of his extra limbs taps against the outside of your thigh as he straddles your legs. And another limb nervously taps against the berth under you when kneels and cages you with his frame. Limbs hooking under your hips to lift them and pulling you to him before you can try to mark your page. “Sorry,” he growls. “I need you.” Feel his spike pressurize against you as he slides himself against you, the length of his spike stroking back and forth until you heat and your palms slide on the berth. What’s gotten into him? You’re not complaining, but you’re not used to him taking charge. Feel his mouth brush your neck and you grab at one of his spidery limbs for balance.

• Your scent strings him tight, needing to fill you with a desperation he doesn’t understand. Just rut against you until you’re both too exhausted to move. Shuddering with a groan, his mandibles flare slightly as he lines himself up and sinks into your wet heat. Are you slicker than normal? Tighter? Keeping your hips up, he moves against you with a hiss. “Don’t stop,” you moan, a leg sliding against his own as he splays a hand on the berth, hips pumping. Isn’t sure he could stop if he wanted to. “Right there.”

• Groaning at the feel of his spike driving into you with wet noises, he’s keeping your hips up and you can feel every ridge on his spike as it strokes inside you. Body heating as your breath hitches. “Now,” he growls, getting rougher. Demanding like you have any control over it. And he’s overloading hard, hips snapping, the feel of his heat filling you dragging you over that edge with him. Whimpering when he lazily begins moving again, you squirm as his extra limbs adjust you slightly. What’s got him so wound up?

• Are you in heat? Is that what that subtle difference is? Do humans do that? Has no idea, but he feels almost overenergized on the scent and feel of you. Hears you whimper his name as he thrusts inside you, head thrown back. “One more,” he growls, shifting against you as his biolights pulse. Knows it’s a lie, though. That he’s going to claim you over and over until he has nothing left to give you. Can feel your weak biofield sinking into him where your skin touches his plating and he feels out of control from it, your need sinking into him. “I’ve got you.” Groaning, he’s trembles as he overloads again and you moan. Head turning to look at him when brushes his face against your cheek and slips out, scooping you up and making for his nest high above, because he’s not done with you yet. Not while you need him.

I always manage to forget about Sky Lynx and then just stare when I see him again and remember he’s a lonely, talkative old bot.

He’s just doing his thing

[alanisstonedd]

singledad!ony x teacher!reader

cw: fluff, single father, profanity, suggestive themes, black!reader, not proofread unfortunately

an: omggg omg. this was so fun yallll i love himmmmmm. i already have fic ideas for them, so so juicy. im so excited to share wit y'all!!! finally!!! enjoy, kisses!!! alsoooo, ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ is y/n just so yall aint confused

₊˚.༄ so y’alls little meet cute starts your second year of teaching. lowkey still fresh out of school, degree acquired, little life set up and ready to inspire the children! you’ve worked at this for so long and you’re buzzing to be able to say that you’re finally where you want to be in life. the kids, the environment, the hours, you just feel so fulfilled… for a single woman, working and living on her own – saturday night’s out with the girls only give you so much.

₊˚.༄ you especially look forward to meet the teacher, just before the first day of school – always excited to get a first look at your students that year and the parents you’ll need keep that right eye out for. howeverrrr, you didn’t expect to have such a good-looking surprise that year. meet the teacher goes off without a hitch ofc, but about an hour before you should start closing up your classroom for the evening, in walks ony… holding the tiny hand of his adorable, bright-eyed daughter amira. 

₊˚.༄ ony steps into the classroom and immediately clocks you – legs crossed at your desk, gloss sparkling, runway-grade teacher fit, and attention currently on some other parent - unfortunately for him. while you’re chatting, he takes a minute to stay stunned, amira running off to play with the few kids left in the classroom. he would’ve bet every penny to his name that love-at-first-sight didn’t exist, but he’d be a broke ass mf today if the feeling spreading through his body is any sign. he's watching your lips while you talk to that other woman like he already knows he wanna kiss them for the rest of his damn life. 

₊˚.༄ “you must be amira’s dad” your warm, bright greeting sounds like seduction to him, having to physically shake his damn head to clear it – you’d been expecting him and amira all day, grateful for the chance to meet them before school starts. ony, on the other hand, thinks he actually might be in a dream – he swears he can see you glowing like an angel, and the sweet, luscious scent invading his senses couldn’t possibly be anyone else in the room. he wants to take you out TONIGHT, but he figures he should probably respond first. “damn… uh–yeah. i mean, yeah. onyankopon. but.. you could just call me ony.” he so outta practice he don’t even know what to say, just grinning in your face really. you’re very professional, and take your place of work very seriously but you definitely notice his nerves – you think it's cute how surprised he is that you’re bad.

₊˚.༄ as soon as he and amira leave the classroom, he’s texting his group chat “yo. i jus met my wife”

₊˚.༄ amira lovesss you off rip. obsessed. right next to you during read aloud, always participating even if her answer is dead wrong, never afraid to ask for extra help, begging you to play with her and her little friends at recess. she’s practically attached at your hip. AND tink got a mouth on her lowkey. always ratting out her daddy like “miss ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧, my daddy says you too pretty to be teaching these bad ass kids” you literally laugh out loud and almost drop your whiteboard marker but it’s not funny “amira! what did i say about quoting your father? and! what i say about cussin?”. you tell him about it when he picks her up and he just looks away smirking like “mm… you mad she being honest?”

₊˚.༄ amira draws one of ony’s hoodies for a “favorite things” activity because “he wears it all the time. he thinks miss ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ likes when he wears it.”

₊˚.༄ at first you only see him at morning drop-offs through the open window of his truck, just a lil smile when he winks at you before you both get on with your lives. but best believe he's got a plan – he gon make sure you see him dammit, and you start seeing LOTS more of him. you head outside for morning drop-off? he parked first in line, leaning against the front side of the sparkling truck, waving you over with that sneaky ass smirk that's saying “c’mere. i know you wanna”. so you decide to chop it up with him – innocently OFC - while you wait for your signal to start letting kids in. y’all try to make small talk but ony gets bored of that with a quickness. this is all he gets to see of you - ofc he's making the most of it. yall talk about everything under the sun in that drop-off line – work, young parenthood, goals. but that deep, rough voice like a hot kiss on your neck… he could get your social security number out of you if he wanted to. he doesn’t though, he wants your favorite meal so he can learn it like the back of his hand. he wants your hobbies and what you do with your freetime so he can plan the PERFECT date for y’all. he wants your family plans, so he’ll know if he can turn you out like he's planned since meet the teacher.

₊˚.༄ that's really not enough for ony though. how else is he supposed to be blessed with your presence? everytime he even gets close to bringing up a date, you curve him on some professional shit. he decides it's time to amp up the pressure, because you’re clearly not understanding how serious he is. soon enough, he's first in line at pick-up too – waiting against his truck for baby girl to come running out yelling “daddyyyyy!!!”, with you trailing right behind her, smirking at his persistence.

₊˚.༄ then he's dropping her off and picking her up early so he gets to see you without all them other eyes, walking all the way into the building just for a few minutes of alone time with you. stays working you up just cuz he likes to see you sweat him a lil, looking you up and down, fingers brushing your side like he can’t stop himself from touching you. “when you gon let me take you out…” he mumbles softly like he’d spend all day in this classroom with these snotty ass kids if it meant he could be next to you. “when you gon quit showing up here like my landlord on the first, mr. ony?” you smile up at him like you want them juicy lips on yours right tf now, but your professionalism keeps him at arm's length - he’s a parent of a student! telling yourself you just need to be cautious until you know how serious he is.

₊˚.༄ he always got some excuse to come into the classroom midday and be sneaky while the kids aren’t watching - “she forgot her snack, i swear”, “i just wanted to say hey, you look real pretty today miss ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ...”, “oh, i just forgot to give her a jacket this morning, it's too damn cold. you warm enough miss ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧?” he’d give you the hoodie off his back if you said yes. neverrr misses a parent teacher conference, always on time with some beverage for you and a whole damn folder of shit. obviously he's tryna impress but you have no clue what could possibly be in there??

₊˚.༄ what gets you the most? hes such a good dad and its sexy as hell. patience like a saint, makes her laugh nonstop, gentle giant but the protective dad instincts are always on ten. plus, amira’s hair is always laid - cute baubles and bows, slick back styles, braids, twist outs… he does it all!! and does it very very well. you see the adorable lunches he packs her, flower shaped fruit, heart shaped sandwiches, cute little notes that sometimes include a little message for her to pass along to you - she’ll jump at any excuse to skip up to your desk and yap. 

₊˚.༄ every time he shows up, you swear he got finer. soft hoodie, grey sweats, clean sneakers, and the most delicious cologne you’ve ever smelled in your life. your professional act crumbling more and more every time you see him, all he has to do is bend over to tie her little crisp ass dunks, and let that hoodie ride up a lil bit exposing them thick ass chocolate abs, that v-line? you have to remind yourself that you’re at work all damn day, getting flashbacks to that flash of skin like it's the victorian era.

₊˚.༄ he starts volunteering for school events and chaperoning… coming around all fine and big, just for the wasp moms to absolutely swarm him, all while he's undressing you from across the room - that lip bite was NOT for them! haha!

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hope y'all liked this! comments, likes, reblogs and all the rest are much appreciated!!!

xoxo, lani 💋💋💋

tags: @lovey-3 @bxrbie1