#until I have time to sit down and finish something

[hyunjinsmuze]

A/N it’s not letting me reply to my requests but this is a request!!! so if you have any send them to my inbox 💞

You Can Join

warnings: cock warming, oral (fem receiving) a little m x m, use of ‘good girl’

contains: ⛔️smut, threesome, a little fluff

summary: you were only supposed to be seeing your childhood bestfriend and now your involved in a secret you can’t forget

pairing: leeknow x han jisung x reader

words: 3.8k

You used to think summers lasted forever. Long days, scraped knees, and the sound of Changbin’s laugh ringing through the sticky heat like a bell. Back then, he wasn’t a famous rapper with millions of fans chanting his name. He was just Changbin from two streets over, the loud, scrappy kid who could never win at Mario Kart but insisted on rematches until the sun went down.

You didn’t grow up inseparable. It wasn’t like the dramas made it out to be. There were years when you barely talked, middle school drama, new friends, life. But the bond never really broke. You always came back to each other in the end, like bookmarks in a story neither of you had finished reading.

High school was when things started to shift. He got serious about music. You got serious about... well, trying to survive exams and not lose your mind. You cheered him on from the sidelines, sent him stupid memes at 3 a.m., sometimes didn’t talk for weeks but always picked back up like no time had passed.

Then came his debut.

You were proud — like, beyond proud. But it also meant distance. Not emotional, not really. Just time zones, tour schedules, and a version of him you could only see through screens and stage lights. Still, when he did reach out, it was always genuine.

Which brings you to now.

The friendship isn’t deep in the way some childhood friendships are, but it’s solid. It’s honest. He’s one of the few people who’s seen you ugly cry after failing a test and laugh until you snorted cola out your nose. That counts for something.

And the rest of Stray Kids? You’ve met them. Not in a fangirl way, you made that clear from day one. You weren’t there to drool over their visuals. They were Changbin’s people, and slowly, over a handful of get-togethers, they started to become yours, too.

Lee Know was cool, in that slightly intimidating “I’ll-read-you-in-two-seconds” kind of way. He didn’t talk much to you at first, but when he did, it was sharp, not unkind, just observant.

Jisung? He was chaos personified. Hyper, a little awkward, full of jokes. You liked him. He made you feel like you belonged even when you were just sitting quietly on the edge of a group.

You’d hung out with them a few times, movie nights, random meals when Changbin dragged you along, that one beach trip where you fell asleep with sand in your hair and woke up to Jisung drawing something obscene near your ankle with sunscreen.

Still, you were careful. You never overstayed. You knew their world was hectic, private. You never wanted to be that person , the childhood friend trying to milk clout or cling to old memories.

But when Changbin messaged out of the blue, “Hey, I miss your dumb face. Come hang out this weekend?” you said yes without thinking.

Because some bonds don’t need daily maintenance. They just exist. And sometimes, all it takes is a text to remind you that yeah, he still thinks of you as one of his people.

And you? Well. You missed being around people who knew you before.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

It’s quiet when you arrive — too quiet, considering the chaos that usually defines anything involving Stray Kids. You press the buzzer and wait, your reflection staring back at you in the gloss of the dorm’s front entrance glass. The door clicks open and you step inside, greeted by the soft hum of electronics and the faint smell of ramen and cleaning supplies, someone must’ve just cleaned.

You slip your shoes off and glance around. No one's in the hallway. No laughter. No shouting. You frown a little but shrug it off. Changbin did say they might be out. Still, it’s kind of eerie being in their dorm alone, even though it’s not your first time.

Text from Changbin [4:38 PM]:

"Running late — got caught in traffic. Be there in 45ish. You can chill, everyone else is probably out too 🫠 Don’t eat all the snacks."

You snort. Typical.

You wander in further, your steps light on the polished floor. The living room is the same as you remember, slightly messy, with throw blankets half-folded and a weirdly large collection of remotes that no one ever knows how to use. There’s a hoodie draped over the arm of the couch. You recognize it, it’s Jisung’s. You pick it up, giving it a small shake before tossing it neatly onto the back of the chair.

There’s something a little too domestic about it all.

You flop down on the couch and stare up at the ceiling, letting the silence fill your ears. It’s weird. Not uncomfortable exactly, but unfamiliar. Like you’re sitting inside someone else’s life. You scroll your phone for a bit, switch to some random playlist, and then let your eyes close.

For a moment, you think about Changbin again. It’s always a little bittersweet, seeing him now. You’re proud of him, always, but it’s hard not to notice how different his world is from yours. You’re still you — still figuring things out, still living in the spaces between job applications and late-night cravings. Meanwhile, he’s out here living the kind of life people only dream of.

And yet... he still invites you back.

Maybe that means something.

You sit up, stretching your arms over your head. “Okay,” you mumble to no one. “What now?”

Your eyes wander toward the hallway. A faint sound catches your ear, not music, not talking exactly, but something. A soft thud. Maybe a laugh? You tilt your head. Could be someone’s home after all. You hesitate. You’re not the type to snoop, but boredom’s a dangerous thing.

And maybe… maybe you’re curious.

You make your way down the hall quietly, your bare feet making barely a whisper against the floor. The noise comes from upstairs, the door to the second floor is slightly ajar. That’s when you hear it again.

Voices. Low. Male. A laugh — breathy, almost choked. Then something like…

A kiss?

Your stomach twists strangely, and for a second, you think maybe you misheard. You’re halfway up the stairs before your mind really catches up with your body. You're not trying to spy. You just—

Okay. You kind of are.

Curiosity gets the best of you.

You step carefully up onto the second floor, trying not to breathe too loudly. You follow the sound to one of the bedrooms. The door is cracked open, just enough. You peer through the gap.

And freeze.

There’s Lee Know, sitting back against the headboard. Jisung is half in his lap, straddling his thighs, his hands tangled in Lee Know’s shirt. Their mouths are moving together, slow, deep, like they’ve done this a hundred times before. It’s intimate in a way that feels like a secret and a confession all at once.

You suck in a quiet breath, stepping back. The door creaks just a little under your weight.

Jisung jolts first, wide eyes snapping toward the door. You can see the panic rise in his expression, the way his body goes tense and stiff like someone flipped a switch.

Lee Know’s gaze follows a second later, but his reaction is the complete opposite.

Calm. Composed. Maybe even amused.

“Shit,” Jisung breathes, scrambling a little, pulling at the edge of his shirt.

You’re already raising your hands. “I-I didn’t see anything. I swear. I just heard someone and thought— I’m sorry—”

Lee Know’s voice cuts in. Smooth. Unbothered.

“Don’t go.”

You blink.

He shifts slightly, and Jisung stares at him like he’s grown a second head. “Hyung—?”

“If you don’t tell anyone…” Lee Know’s gaze slides back to you. “You can join us.”

Your brain short-circuits for a second. “W-What?”

His head tilts, dark eyes sharp but unreadable. “I’ve seen how you look at us,” he says casually, like he’s stating the weather. “Especially Jisung.”

Jisung turns red, still trying to process the situation.

You stammer something, probably the beginning of a very weak excuse, but then Lee Know adds, “Come here.”

It’s not a question.

Something about his tone sends a small, electric thrill down your spine. It’s commanding. Teasing. Like he already knows what you’ll choose.

And then he looks to Jisung. “Tell her.”

Jisung licks his lips, eyes flickering nervously between you and Lee Know. “I… We’ve both— kind of— We’ve thought about you. A lot.”

There’s silence. Charged. Breathless.

Your heart is thudding way too fast.

You don’t say anything. Not yet. But you don’t move either.

You’re not leaving.

Not yet.

You should leave.

You should turn around, go downstairs, and pretend you never saw anything.

But you don’t.

You stand there, fingers clenched against your palms, heart racing so fast it drowns out the sound of your own thoughts. Jisung is still flushed, hands halfway tangled in the hem of his shirt, looking between you and Minho like he’s waiting for someone to wake him up.

Minho is steady. Always steady. His gaze stays locked on yours.

“Come here,” he says again, voice lower now, smooth like honey with a dangerous edge.

You step into the room.

Because you’re not pretending you didn’t hear him. You’re not pretending you haven’t thought about it, too — maybe late at night, alone, your thoughts wandering a little too far into dangerous territory. You’ve seen the way Jisung looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. You’ve caught Minho smirking, watching you with those unreadable eyes.

You just never thought they talked about it.

“You’re really not going to tell anyone?” Jisung asks, his voice soft, uncertain.

You shake your head. “I won’t.”

Minho smirks slightly, satisfied. He pats the edge of the bed. “Then sit.”

You do.

Close enough that your knees brush Jisung’s thigh.

He swallows hard.

Minho shifts beside him, draping one arm behind Jisung casually, fingers ghosting over his shoulder. “We’ve thought about you,” he says, the words slow, deliberate. “A lot.”

You exhale slowly, trying to calm your pulse. “Like… thought about…?”

Minho’s eyes flick down your body, then back up, sharp and warm. “Like how you’d sound,” he says, “if we took turns kissing you.”

Jisung lets out a quiet breath, staring at his lap. Minho’s hand moves to his neck, thumb stroking over his pulse.

“Thought about how you’d look,” he continues, “with your head thrown back, mouth open, begging for more.”

Your thighs press together instinctively. He notices. His smirk widens.

“You’ve got no idea how pretty we think you are,” Minho adds, leaning a little closer. “Or how much we talk about you when we’re alone. Isn’t that right, Ji?”

Jisung groans softly, hiding his face for a second. “Hyung…”

“Tell her.”

You glance between them, your skin prickling with heat.

Jisung shifts, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “I—I think about you all the time,” he admits, his voice tight. “Like, fuck, it’s bad. The things I’ve imagined doing to you…”

You shiver.

He looks wrecked just saying it, pink-faced, pupils blown wide, lip caught between his teeth. “I’ve— I’ve jerked off thinking about you,” he blurts out, then immediately covers his face again. “Fuck.”

Minho laughs under his breath. “You’re so shy now, but you’re the one who whines when she texts you at night and you can’t touch yourself.”

You blink. “Wait, what?”

Jisung squeaks. “Hyung!”

“He gets so desperate,” Minho murmurs, leaning in toward your ear. His breath is hot against your skin. “He’ll send me voice notes begging for permission to touch himself. Just because you posted a photo looking too good.”

You don’t know where to look, everything is heat and tension and the sense that a line has already been crossed, and now there’s no going back.

“What about you?” Minho asks, eyes gleaming. “Have you thought about us?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Both of us?”

You glance at Jisung, then back at him. “Yeah. Both.”

There’s a long pause.

Then Minho leans forward and kisses you.

It’s not soft. Not testing. He kisses you like he’s claiming something, like he’s known you’d taste good and now he’s proving it. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, angling your face exactly the way he wants, tongue sliding against yours, hot and sure.

You whimper into his mouth before you even realize you’re doing it.

When he pulls back, Jisung is staring — eyes blown wide, chest heaving.

Minho tilts his head. “You want to kiss her too?”

Jisung nods, almost desperately.

You don’t even have to move — he leans in and captures your lips in a kiss that’s messier, needier, full of shaky breath and whispered sounds. His hands tremble as they cup your waist, thumbs sliding under your shirt just barely.

When you part, you’re breathless, your mouth kiss-swollen, your head spinning.

Minho’s hand slides down your back, warm and confident. “You want to join us, don’t you?”

You nod.

He smirks, pleased. “Good girl.”

Those two words set something off in you, a shudder deep in your gut. You gasp softly, and Minho clearly notices.

“Oh? You like being called that?”

You bite your lip.

Jisung’s hand moves to yours, fingers lacing together. “Can I touch you more?”

Minho hums. “Only if she says yes.”

You nod again. “Yes.”

Jisung shifts forward and places a kiss just below your jaw, sweet and a little clumsy. His hand slides up under your shirt, not rushing, just exploring — fingers brushing your ribs, then higher.

“You’re so soft,” he whispers. “So perfect.”

Minho watches you like a predator. “I want you to take your shirt off.”

You hesitate only a second before pulling it over your head.

Both boys groan at once.

“Fuck,” Jisung breathes, hands now on your waist. “You’re actually— you’re so hot, I don’t even know what to do—”

“Relax,” Minho says, voice low. “We’ll show her everything. She’ll beg for us by the time we’re done.”

He moves behind you, kissing down the curve of your shoulder, slow and sensual, while Jisung presses soft kisses to your stomach. Your skin is hypersensitive now, every brush of breath or fingertips makes you twitch.

“You still sure about this?” Minho murmurs near your ear.

You nod again, breath hitching. “Yes.”

“Say it,” he says, licking the shell of your ear. “Tell us you want us.”

“I want you,” you whisper. “Both of you.”

Minho smiles against your skin. “Good girl.”

He moves to unhook your bra, and the moment it falls, Jisung lets out a shaky groan.

Minho slides his hand over your chest, slow and possessive. “Next part,” he whispers, fingers grazing over one of your nipples, “we make you ours.”

Minho doesn’t give you time to overthink.

He nudges Jisung back with a quiet, firm “lie down,” and the younger boy obeys instantly, scooting back against the pillows with wide, glassy eyes.

Then Minho turns to you.

“Strip,” he says simply, voice cool, controlled.

You obey, slowly, nervously, but already burning up. You feel their eyes on you as you slide your pants down, then your underwear. By the time you’re bare, Jisung is chewing his lip and Minho is watching you like he already owns you.

“Fuck, she’s gorgeous,” Jisung whispers.

Minho doesn’t smile — not exactly. He’s too focused. But there’s satisfaction in the way he looks at you, like he’s seeing a fantasy finally come to life.

“C’mere,” he says, and you climb onto the bed.

He positions you right between them, Jisung beneath you, hard and panting, and Minho behind, still half-clothed but completely in control.

“You’re going to take us both tonight,” Minho murmurs in your ear. “You want that, baby?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Louder.”

“Yes.”

Minho hums his approval and kisses down your neck, his hands sliding around your waist to grope your chest again, firmer this time, possessive. “You’re already shaking,” he whispers. “And we haven’t even touched you properly.”

Jisung’s hands find your hips, pulling you down over him so you’re straddling his lap. His clothed cock presses against you, desperate and twitching. “C-Can I take mine off?”

But Minho presses his hand flat against your stomach. “Not yet.”

He glances down at Jisung, who’s panting, already bare, his cock twitching in his pants. “You want her mouth first, Ji?”

Jisung’s eyes are huge, pupils blown. “Y-Yes— wait, I mean—”

Minho smirks. “I meant your mouth on her, baby.”

Jisung’s brain visibly short-circuits.

“Oh—fuck, yes. Yes please.”

Minho grips the back of Jisung’s neck and nudges him downward with calm authority. “On your stomach. Face between her legs.”

You lie back, breath caught in your throat, and Jisung slides down the bed like he’s being summoned by gravity, kissing your thighs, trembling with anticipation.

Minho moves behind him, still fully dressed, and leans over to trail kisses down the curve of Jisung’s spine.

“She’s so wet for us already,” he murmurs, and Jisung groans in agreement as he drags his tongue through your folds, slow and reverent.

Your hips jerk.

“Oh my god—” you gasp, fisting the sheets.

Jisung moans against you, messy and needy — tongue swirling over your clit, then dipping inside you with growing urgency. He clutches your thighs, holding you open, face buried in your heat like he can’t get close enough.

Minho watches over his shoulder, one hand gripping Jisung’s hip, the other stroking down his back.

“Good boy,” he says, and leans in to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss between Jisung’s shoulder blades. “Just like that. She loves it, doesn’t she?”

You whimper a moaned “yes,” toes curling.

Jisung licks you faster, lips wrapping around your clit now, sucking gently — making obscene little sounds between desperate breaths. Minho kisses along his spine again, trailing down to the small of his back.

“Such a slut for her,” he murmurs, voice dark with heat. “Bet you’ve dreamed of this. Her thighs around your head. My hands on you. All of us like this.”

Jisung groans into you, the vibration making you gasp, your legs shaking.

“You’re gonna make her come, aren’t you?” Minho growls. “Make her gush all over that pretty mouth.”

You’re already close.

Your hips buck against Jisung’s tongue, and Minho strokes the inside of your thigh, watching your face intently.

“Let go, baby,” he whispers. “Come for us.”

You cry out, hips jerking, back arching, one hand tangling in Jisung’s hair as the orgasm crashes over you. He groans into it, licking you through every wave, hands gripping your thighs tight.

When you finally slump back, panting and trembling, Jisung pulls back, lips shiny, chin soaked.

He looks completely wrecked.

Minho leans down and kisses the back of his neck. “That’s my boy.”

Then he turns to you, eyes dark and hungry. “you wanna ride him now baby?” you nod eagerly

“Wanna let him fuck you while I play with you from behind?”

Your brain short-circuits for a second.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Yes—please.”

He pulls off jisungs pants kissing his tights as the boy underneath him squirms and whimpers.

Jisung lays flat on his back as minho moved me to straddle jisung.

He grabs a condom and tosses it to Jisung. “Be quick. Don’t get sloppy.”

Jisung fumbles a little but gets it on, and Minho pulls you back just slightly, slipping a hand between your legs.

“Oh, fuck—” you gasp, jerking as his fingers slide through your folds.

“So wet,” he mutters. “She’s dripping for you, Ji. You feel that?”

Jisung nods helplessly, eyes glued to where Minho’s fingers are working you open. “I—fuck, I wanna be inside—”

“Then do it.”

Minho helps guide you down — slowly, inch by inch, and both of you moan when he finally fills you. You’re tight, soaked, your walls fluttering around him as you sink fully onto his cock.

“Shit,” Jisung groans, grabbing your hips like he’ll lose control otherwise.

You brace your hands on his chest, panting.

Then Minho wraps one arm around you, pressing his chest to your back. “You don’t move unless I say so.”

You nod.

His free hand travels down, teasing your clit slowly while Jisung twitches inside you, already close from the buildup.

“Look how pretty you are,” Minho whispers. “Both of you. Fucking beautiful.”

You whimper, trying not to buck your hips. Jisung is moaning, every muscle in his body tense.

“Please,” Jisung gasps. “Please let her move—hyung, I can’t—”

Minho’s fingers pinch your clit lightly, making you jolt. “What do you say?”

“Please,” Jisung groans again. “She feels so good, I’ll go crazy if she doesn’t—fuck—please—”

Minho chuckles. “Alright. Move.”

You rock your hips, slowly at first, rolling them just right so that both of you moan again. Jisung bucks up to meet you, nearly sobbing your name under his breath.

Minho bites your shoulder. “That’s it, baby. Ride him. Make him lose it.”

You do, building rhythm, faster, needier, until you’re both falling apart. Jisung grips your ass, thrusting up to meet you, whimpering with every motion.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—” he warns, and Minho grabs your hips, slowing you down.

“Let go,” he says. “She can take it.”

Jisung moans your name as he finishes, trembling beneath you.

You’re still panting when Minho slides away from behind you.

“My turn,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head and shoving his pants down.

You stare.

He’s big.

And he knows it, too, the smug look he gives you as he rolls the condom on is enough to make your stomach flip.

He gently moves you off of Jisung and onto your back. “Open for me.”

You spread your legs and Minho moves between them, stroking himself once, twice, before pushing in, slow, deliberate, making you feel every inch.

You both groan.

“Fucking tight,” he mutters, gripping your thighs. “God, you feel like heaven.”

He starts slow, measured, deep strokes that make your toes curl. His hand slips under your leg, pushing your thigh up to get deeper.

“You’re doing so good,” he says. “Taking me so well. You were made for this, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Please—faster—”

He obliges, snapping his hips harder, your whole body rocking with the force of it.

Jisung moves beside you, kissing your neck, your collarbone, whispering praise.

“You’re so pretty,” he breathes. “So fucking good, so perfect—”

Minho grabs your jaw and turns your face to his. “Eyes on me.”

You moan louder when he starts pounding into you harder, the bed creaking, skin slapping against skin, sweat dripping down his chest. “You love this, don’t you?” he growls. “Being fucked dumb by both of us?”

“Y-Yes—”

He reaches down, fingers circling your clit again, fast and unforgiving. “Then come for me. Come while I fuck this perfect pussy.”

You break.

The orgasm rips through you, sudden and overwhelming, your vision goes white, your body trembling under the force of it.

“Good girl,” Minho groans, thrusting once, twice, then spilling into the condom with a low growl.

You barely register him pulling out, collapsing next to you on the bed.

There’s a long silence.

Just panting.

Sticky skin and tangled limbs.

Then Minho brushes a strand of hair from your face and leans in, kissing your cheek. “You okay?”

You nod weakly, breathless. “Yeah… more than okay.”

Jisung cuddles up against your other side, nuzzling your neck. “That was the best day of my life.”

You laugh, dazed.

Minho smirks. “Guess Changbin’s gonna be real confused when he gets home.”

You all burst into giggles, tangled and happy and sated.

@hwangjoanna @penguins-in-space @sammhisphere

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[bilscherry]

boyfriend

summary - Billie is in a relationship, and you want her desperately. But you can't tell her until she suddenly finds out. 

warnings - cheating & smut

a/n - i was fighting for my life trying to finish this

You were on the way to Quen’s beach house because she invited you and a few others over to just spend time together. Because Billie and her boyfriend would be there, you were a little anxious. You had previously told Quen that you weren't entirely sure about attending, and you were still considering it. You didn't have to be around Billie and her boyfriend, Quen explained. 

You were knocking on the door of Quen's beach house. Suddenly, you hear someone running to the door, and when it opens, you see Odessa and Quen. “Omg, you made it! perfect." Quen opens the door wider for you to enter and says, "Come innnnn."

She closes the door behind you. Odessa hugs you.

“Are you okay, baby?” Odessa says making eye contact with you.

“Yeah, just tired,” you say, trying to make it sound convincing.

They continue to talk to each other while you walk behind them. That’s when you see her and her boyfriend sitting on the couch laughing at whatever he was saying. You felt your stomach twist as you couldn’t bear to see this.

Everyone goes to sit down, leaving only a space right across from Billie available. You made your way across when Billie stopped you from sitting down to give you a hug. You smile weakly at her and her boyfriend. He pulls her closer to him when she sits down.

You mentally roll your eyes at this. Everyone continued to just talk to each other while you looked down at your fingers and played with them. not daring to look at Billie because you knew you would stare. Quen asks you a question, but you don’t answer as you’re too busy in your own mind zoning out.

She then puts her hand on your knee, and it brings you back to reality.

“Come with me,” she says with a concerned look on her face.

She grabs your hand and pulls you with her down the hallway. towards the bedrooms away from everyone else.

“Okay, what is wrong? Is there something bothering you or someone?” she says quietly

“Quen, it’s nothing. I’m just not feeling too well.” You say, looking down.

“Bullshit, I know you. What is truly going on?” She says

“It’s just Billie. I can’t stand to see her with him.” You say quietly while looking up at her.

“Oh, babe... I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you ask me to switch spots with you?”

“It's fine, truly. It’s not like she has feelings for me or anything,” you say.

Just as if she could sense your feelings, Billie approaches from behind and wraps her arms around your waist.

Billie leans in close and whispers into your ear, “You okay, Mama?” After releasing her grip on your waist, she steps in front of you to get a better look at your face.

You nod and look away. She tells Quen that she can handle it from here, leaving you alone with Billie. She grabs your hand and leads you into a guest room. Once inside, she closes the door and locks it behind her. You’re confused as to why she locked the door behind you both. But you didn’t ask.

She leads you towards the bed, and she sits down with her back against the headboard. She then pats down on her lap while looking at you.

“Come sit, Mama,” she says.

You look at her confused and about to protest when she says

“Sit now,” she demands.

You sit on her lap, doing your best to avoid looking at her. She forces you to look at her by softly grabbing your chin. "What's the matter? Since you arrived, you have hardly spoken," she murmurs gently. You simply gaze down at her lips after seeing her dazzling blue eyes. You stare up at her and quietly beg with your eyes as she licks her lips. That was all she needed to lean in and give you a quick kiss. The kiss began slowly and intensely.

She licks your bottom lip, asking for permission to let her tongue in. The kiss starts to get sloppy and messy as you give in. Her hands move slowly down your back till they reach your ass. She runs her hands up and down your ass before giving it a hard squeeze. She giggles and pulls away when you whimper against her lips. The saliva connects as you pull away from each other. She is staring at you as soon as you open your eyes. 

Her hands are still on your ass, and they make their way upwards towards your breasts. Her hands gently massage your breasts as she leans forward and starts kissing your neck. Your eyelids start to close, and you groan softly. Your lips start to form an "o" shape, and your eyebrows furrow. "I need you to look at me, baby. Alright?" She looks at you, moving away from your neck. She's still staring at you and playing with your breasts. You give her statement a nod. She grabs your tank top from underneath and waits for you to say anything. Except you don’t; you only nod your head.

"Baby, I need words. Do you want me to remove this?" She murmurs. “Yes, Billie." You whimper and close your eyes once again. "Fuck, please, Billie, just do something. She giggles as she removes your tank top and places her hands back on your breasts, feeling the fabric of your bathing suit between her fingers. You glance at her, whimper, and bite your lip. Her pupils are already dilated as she gazes at you. The blue hardly appears at all. "Can I remove this, Ma?" As she toys with the top of your bathing suit, she asks. You quickly nod your head. She removes it, and she moans at the sight of your boobs dropping.

She goes down to kiss your breasts and give your left nipple a gentle lick, saying, "You're so sexy, mamas."

She brings her other hand up to play with your other breast. You start to move yourself back and forth against her. Until something hits your clit and you feel her push up. You fall forward and let out a somewhat louder moan. You grip her shoulders, and she shushes you. Then, with a popping sound, she releases your breast. "Mamas, you're doing great for me. Would you like more?" She says while she is sliding her hands back down to your hips. moving you a little faster against her. You plead, "Yes, God, please." She taps your butt and hums.

“Lift yourself up,” she says while grabbing her shorts and sliding them down while you lift yourself up. You notice her strap when you look down. She looks up at you and smirks when you gasp. "Why are you wearing a strap?" Quietly, you ask. She maintains that smirk as she says, "Because, baby, you never know when you might need it."

“Do you want to continue?” She asks to be certain. You give a quick nod and start removing your tiny shorts. You sit back down on her lap, waiting for her to make the next move. She lifts you up by grabbing your ass. Then, removing one of her hands from your ass, she grabs the strap and aligns it with your pussy. You gasp as she gently presses you down on it. you shut your eyes. She keeps pushing you down gently as you hum. "Baby, is this okay?" she asks while the strap presses down onto her own pussy; you let out a loud moan.

"Ma, please keep quiet. We don't want everyone else to hear us, do we?" She lets out a low grunt. You obey right away and start to move on her strap while trying not to moan loudly. You continue to bounce up and down on it. You pause as you give her a terrified look as soon as you hear footsteps in the hallway. When the footsteps stop, Billie grips your ass and raises you up so you can resume your previous activity. A knock on the door is followed by a voice asking if Billie was there. You stare at her, and she just looks at you while still fucking you; it was her boyfriend.

"Yes, I'm here. just helping her feel better," she smirks. She leans down and kisses your neck. continuing to help you reach your high

[abxssalwrites]

sweet like cherry wine

you taste delicious... come...! just a little more...!~

₊˚✩WORD COUNT: 4.3k

₊˚✩ SYNOPSIS: you had a long day at work, but vampire sylus knows just how to fix that.

₊˚✩PAIRING: vampire!sylus x mc/reader

₊˚✩WARNINGS!: 18+ ONLY MDNI, smut/sex, minimum plot with porn, blood, biting/marking kink, gentle to slightly rough breeding, sylus and his huge cock, stomach bulging because he's so big, missionary, riding, cunilingus (ofc no biting 🐱), but biting your thighs every so often, squirting, consent king, don't worry he closes all bite wounds, possible grammar issues

₊˚✩A/N: tada! my magnus opus! I've been on and off this for what feels like forever. I've been wanting to finish it for a while and I finally did! I REALLY hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! More will be in the future! Enjoy!

₊˚✩ABXSSAL₊˚✩

cherries never tasted so good before. at least, not until he met you.

Like a nightly ritual, you found yourself waltzing into your vampire's room after a long day of work. Your limbs are exhausted, and everything in your mind is telling you to go lay down and rest. But Sylus, he had missed the sweet taste of your blood all day; how could you just leave him without so much as a sip?

Sitting on his luxurious bed, you find him, covered by his crimson and black robe. His eyes dart up from the book he's reading, something akin to desire settling in his chest. He smiles and closes his book, swinging his legs off the bed and standing up, pushing his reading glasses up with a finger. "Kitten," He addresses, the pet name he has always and will forever use for you sounding so sweet in your ears. He closes the distance between you both, his hands moving to snake around your waist.

"You didn't text me you were on the way." He whispers, giving you a gentle hug with his muscular arms, almost as if he can sense your tiredness and need for comfort. "Sorry," you apologize, your head resting against his chest. You can hear his slow heartbeats, a sound that always seemed to ground you and keep you in the moment. A low chuckle emits from his throat, he's not at all upset with you in any way.

"You've had a rough day, I can tell." His hand rubs the small of your back slowly as he glances down at you. "Do you need me to take care of anyone today, sweetie?" He was always willing to "take care" of whoever made your day tougher. You always deny him, since you know how... intense he can be when it comes to you.

You can already tell he's holding himself back from asking for a drink of your blood. He doesn't want to make you faint if you're tired. The look in his red eyes says it all, and you reach up to hold his cheek. "No. I'm okay." You begin, rubbing his cheek with your thumb. "Are you hungry? You didn't have a chance to feed from me today since I left early for work." You ask him, your eyes boring into his.

"I don't want to feed from you if you're tired. That'll only wear you out more, kitten." He says, though he desperately wants some of your blood. Your blood was like liquor to him, easy to get drunk on. You know he wants it. And you know that if you do faint, he'll take care of you properly.

"Sylus, I'd rather faint from exhaustion instead of dealing with you feral." A bit of sass is in your tone, and Sylus can't help but chuckle. He'd prefer that as well. Considering when he's feral... he's... well, that's a story for a different time.

"Go sit on the bed, then. I'll take care of you." Sylus says, leaning down to press a gentle kiss against your forehead before releasing you. His hands linger on your waist before he walks off to prepare a cool head towel and whatnot for you in case you did decide to go unconscious on him.

Your legs suddenly ache as you make to the bed. You lay and sprawl out on the bed and you practically sink into the soft, high-quality mattress. You stare up at the ceiling- your mind reeling with today's events as you awaited Sylus' return. You didn't know why this day was so tiring. It just felt like any other day, but you just seemed so bummed and exhausted.

"You're worrying me, sweetie." Sylus' voice brings you out of your thoughts. You sit up and prop yourself on your elbows as you watch him stride to your side with an ice pack, a towel, and some water. "You can tell me if someone's bothered you. I can deal with them for you." He insists once more, coming to sit by your side on the bed. You can't help but giggle at this. In a way, it's sweet. He's looking out for you. But you'd prefer if he didn't get himself in trouble just for you.

"There's no one you need to take care of, Sylus." You tell him, shifting towards him. "Well. You can take care of me, though."

You find yourself crawling into his lap, sitting and fitting nicely into him. His large body could cover you, smother you, and that honestly didn't seem too bad right about now. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you so you don't move away.

"What do you need, then?" He asked, his voice smooth and bordering the line of seductive. You swear you feel some of your tiredness leave when you realize how good he looks right now. In his robe, his glasses resting on his nose, the dim light shining on his face, his crimson eyes almost seemed to glow. This position didn't help either.

"I need you." You respond almost desperately. "You'll make me feel better, won't you?" Your eyes bore into his, and he smirks, resisting the urge to lick his lips. "Of course I will. But. You promised me a drink first." He whispers, leaning in towards your neck. Your scent alone nearly drives him up a wall. He can hear every pulse that throbs through your neck, your heart beating just a bit quicker than normal. His breath flows against your neck and you shiver, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

Slowly, as if prepping his meal, he carefully presses gentle kisses onto your neck, his lips warm. Then, after finding his favorite spot on your neck, he slowly licks and sucks at the skin, feeling every shiver go down your spine as he sinks his canines into you. You gasp, and as many times as he's done this, it's always surprised you. The feeling of him sucking your blood, the faint groans he releases- it feels like every sense of yours is active. It feels... so damn good. "A-Ah...!" Your back arches a bit, God, you can't help it. He's not drinking fast enough for it to be painful. Sylus was hungry, you knew that. But he was making it enjoyable for you as well- not draining you off jump. He likes to savor your taste.

You find a wave of arousal coursing through you. Your hands grip his shoulders as you struggle to resist the urge to start grinding on him. Your body betrays you, and you mindlessly start to move your hips around, trying to gain some kind of friction to help this ache. Sylus hums lowly when he feels your need go through your body. Your heartbeat drums loudly in his ears, only making him want to drink more from you. But now that he sees he's made you aroused, he wants to make sure you're conscious enough for intimacy.

He slowly pulls his canines from your neck, a shaky breath escaping him. Fuck, he thinks. You taste so good, so sweet. The normally metallic taste of blood tastes like a sweet liquor on his taste buds; it was safe to say he felt a little intoxicated off of it right now. Despite this, he makes sure to close the wound on your neck, licking up all stray blood left behind. Another soft moan leaves you, and you mumble his name quietly.

When Sylus pulls away from your neck, his eyes are lidded behind his glasses. He swipes away some blood left on his lips, licking it off his fingers slowly while maintaining eye contact with you. "Sweet as always," He purrs, his eyes flicking between yours and your lips. He wanted to kiss you. And you wanted to as well. Arousal settled in your core- your panties are steadily getting soaked. You're not even out of your hunter uniform yet. How naughty.

Sylus leans in to push a passionate kiss against your lips. You can taste your blood on his tongue, the metallic taste making this kiss all the more intense. His hands hold you by the waist, and this is when you've noticed his nails are freshly clipped down. Normally you'd feel those small crescents sinking into your hips, but now they feel absent.

"I can feel how aroused you are, kitten. Your little heartbeat... it's so loud. You're practically shaking." Sylus whispers between the kiss, his hands trailing up and down your waist slowly. You pout a little, not actually upset but feigning it. "You only bit me so sensually..." Your response is needy, greedy for more. You needed him, needed him to satiate this arousal. Make you feel better. You knew he would. You just didn't want to be teased much longer.

Sylus seems to understand your quiet plea. He stands up and flips you down onto the bed, laying you on your back. "The day has just been too hard on you," He says, his hands moving to undo your uniform pants, sliding them off with ease to reveal your soaked panties. The sight makes him smirk, and he licks his lips like a predator. He wants all of you bare, so he also takes off your top, leaving you in just your underwear now. Your uniform discarded to the floor, Sylus has all of you now. "Let me make it all better." He spreads your legs and brings you to the edge of the bed, while he kneels down between them. This was his second favorite place to be.

His hands tease your thighs, slow caresses from his fingers making you ache. His lips meet your inner thigh, kisses and soft bites making you tremble. You throw your head back at his actions- and when you look back down at him, he's making eye contact with you, looking so attractive between your legs, biting and worshipping your body. You're sure he's marked up your thighs nearly 10 times already. Your legs feel tender, you feel like this alone could make you come, he's so close to your cunt, but avoiding it so he can see how wet you'll get for him.

"Sy~ fuck... please." You whisper, putting a hand on his head, silver strands of his hair tangling between your fingers. He raises a brow and smirks, a hand moving to rub your pussy through your panties. You're so slick, your juices have already gotten on his fingers. "What a needy little kitten. So wet," His finger hooks and pulls your panties down your shivering legs, his breath hitting your slit and making you gasp. Fuck, don't cum just like this. He hasn't even done anything yet. You just felt so sensitive.

Two of Sylus' fingers rub over your slit, slowly, painfully slow circles that make your legs close around him instinctively. You're going to go insane if he doesn't just eat you out or insert a finger. You can't take any more teasing, you can't take-

Right as your mind thinks he's going to keep on teasing you, you feel his tongue slip inside of you, and you nearly cum on the spot. His mouth is so warm as he sucks and licks on your dripping cunt. "Fuck...!" You cry out, the pleasure wrecking your body. Your grip in his hair tightens, your hips thrusting up a bit as your body refuses to stay still.

The bottom half of Sylus' face is hidden between your legs. You can make out his eyes peering up at you every time you looked down at him. You craved this man as much as he craved you in this moment.

His tongue swirled around your sensitive clit, the squelches reminding you just how fucking hot and wet you were right now. One of his arms is loosely hooked around your legs to keep you somewhat still, but your shaking has already gotten so bad. He loves the sounds of your moans; listening to your sweet noises makes his ears turn a shade of sweet red.

His mouth is destroying you, the pleasure wrecking your body. You knew sucking was.... well, what he did best... but god damn. You can't help but leak, and it's not much longer until you're close to the edge. You lean back against the bed, your back arching up. Your grip tightens once more in his hair, and you guide him in the right spots to bring yourself to orgasm; your legs quiver and you moan. "S-Sy...! F-Fuck! R-Right there!"

You've never been one to squirt. But Sylus would be the one to make you do so. The orgasmic bliss makes you squeeze your legs around his head, trapping him in between. You're dripping so much, but Sylus is drinking it all up. He loves it. His tongue helps you ride that orgasm out, and eventually you finally slow down, your legs and body going limp. You release Sylus from your grip.

With a gasp and a soft chuckle, Sylus rises from his kneeling position. His face is a bit drenched in your fluids, but it's mostly his mouth and lower. He gently caresses your legs, watching your twitching form. He's as hard as a rock; his cock pushing uncomfortably in his boxers.

"Kitten," He calls to you, leaning over onto the bed to get to your face. The corners of his lips curl into a smirk. The man caresses your thigh with one hand while the over comes to hold your cheek. Your face is red, and you're still a bit in a haze. Your high has not come down yet. You need more. You need him.

"Look at the mess you've made on me. Come, taste yourself." He whispers to you, turning your head so you could kiss him. Weakly, you return the kiss, trying to cling onto some form of consciousness. "S-Sy." You whisper between kisses, your hands going to his chest, which was a bit slick from your fluids. You shutter and release a needy moan. "Fuck me, please."

Sylus chuckles, pressing a harder kiss in your mouth just to tease you. "That's what you want, sweetie?" He always asked. That's one of the things you loved the most about him. You could be 100% sure and he'd ask to make sure you were 110% sure.

"Yes," You whine. "I'm...f-fuck...!~ I need you so bad..." Need, you're greedy, is what you think. Sylus is just as, if not more, greedy than you. He chuckles, nearly purring. He can feel that burning need and desire in your chest, in your core, in the depths of your soul. He doesn't need to use any kind of power against you. He knows you desire him, and that alone makes him greedy and hungry for you.

Sylus pulls away and stands up. He makes quick work of his robe, slipping it off along with his boxers. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him, your eyes darting down to his cock. Damn, you think to yourself. Was he always that big?

He's thick, veiny, and leaking ever so slightly. His tip glistening with a bit of precum, a result from eating you out.

"Do you want to use lube?" Sylus asks while moving a hand to gently stroke his length while he maintains eye contact with you. You nearly scoff. "Sylus..." You say breathlessly. "If you don't put your cock inside of me... right now...."

Sylus has to contain himself. He smirks. "I'm so wet right now that I'm sure... you'll just slip right in." You tell him, and he grasp your legs and drags you towards the edge of the bed where he stands. He puts one of your legs over his shoulder, teasing you ever so slightly by seeing just how big he would be inside of you. His cock rests on your lower half; it goes nearly up to your belly button, the tip just a little below it. You shutter, pant, and consciously reach to touch his shaft. Its slick with his fluids, faintly glistening, throbbing at your touch.

"It's been a while since I've been inside of you," Sylus whispers, leaning over top of you to get close to your face, close to you. "I'll have to stretch you to fit my cock all over again, kitten~" While he was talking all low to you, you feel his tip press into your wet pussy. You let out a involuntary moan as he pushes himself into you slowly. He grunts, some of his silver hair covering his eyes, which are watching your every reaction to his cock.

Sylus pushes himself balls deep inside of you, each inch stretching you out once more. He hasn't even started thrusting yet, and you're shaking. Your glance down to see the bulge his shaft has left inside of you, and you can't resist a moan when he finally starts moving.

One of his hands cradles your hip, while the other, your head. Up close and personal while he watches you delve into the depths of pleasure- pleasure he knows only he can bring you. "Taking me so well," He praises, thumb tracing your cheek before moving to your lips. His pace is steady, calculated. Precisely gentle, not missing a beat.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders to steady yourself, ah, but hell. This feels too good for someone being gentle. You attempt to maintain eye contact, but fail as his cock presses against that sweet spot inside of you, making your toes curl and your head press back into the mattress. "F-Fuck... Sy..." you whimper and tighten, causing Sylus to groan a little. He chuckles, speeding up his rhythmic pace just a bit. While your head is back, he leans into your neck. Oh, how he wants to bite you again. Your heartbeat drums in his ears, bringing him such thrill. It's hard to restrain himself when you're like this.

His lips graze your neck as he presses soft kisses against your flushed skin. His hand on your cheek slithers down to your neck to hold you in place. Your nails begin to slightly dig into his back; you can't help but scratch him up. Especially when his cock feels so good. In return, he nips at your neck with his canines, making you gasp in surprise. Grimacing, you move a hand to the back of his head and encourage him to continue. "Don't be...a-ah... shy~ Bite me again... if you want to." You murmur out, your voice slurred with pleasure.

Sylus grumbles, sinking his fangs into you once more. He told himself he wasn't going to bite you anymore. You were too irresistible, telling him to do it anyways. How could you.

The crimson liquid floats his mouth, making him growl faintly. As you feel your blood being drunk again, you're faintly surprised to notice how tame his pace is still. Even though it's wrecking you, he hasn't sped up. You know his growls say otherwise. He wants to... but he's doing this all for your sake... at least he has to remember that constantly.

"Faster," You whisper in his ear.

Sylus raises his head from your neck. Some sweat beats on his forehead, his hair sticking a little. His ruby reds are lidded, his mouth open in a slight pant. Some blood trails down his chin. "...are you sure, sweetie?" He tilts his head faintly.

"Sylus.... fuck me like you mean it."

And he did.

With a darkened gaze, he props himself on his hands and begins to thrust into you harder, faster. You gasp and moan, shuttering at the chance of pace, even though you asked for it. You're tightening, making him moan. "Stay tight... just like that," He murmurs, grabbing your hips and slamming his hips against your legs. His pace is getting sloppy; you can tell he's losing control of himself just a bit. "F-Fuck...." He refuses to stop watching your face, refuses to stop watching his desirable kitten.

Except when he can't help himself and he decides to make up the other side of your neck he hasn't gotten to yet. With nearly an animalistic hiss, his head dives down to the side of your neck he left untouched. You lean your head to the side and feel him biting, marking, and claiming you. The overwhelming sensations make your legs shake and try and wrap around his middle, but you can't take it. He's hit your prostate so much. You've just realized how close you are. "Fuckfuckfuck, Sy...!"

You're finally able to get your legs closed around him as you come, your body trembling with recoil. Sylus' pace slows a bit, a low hum rumbling from his chest. Feeling your pleasure, hearing it, the pride he gets from it. He licks and sucks at the bite wounds he's left on your neck, raising to meet your eyes again. That signature smirk is on his face. He's nearly drunk off your blood now.

"Ha... that's all you could handle, kitten?" He teases, slowing his pace to a painfully slow rhythm. You huff, trying to catch your breath. You stare up at him and pout, feeling his words as a challenge. The sudden need to prove that you can handle more surges within you.

With all your strength, you switch the position. You force Sylus onto his back on the bed, his red eyes wide for a moment before he realizes what you're about to do. You're about to ride him.

"I can handle... whatever... you give me and more..." You mumble, straddling on top of him. Your hands against his bare chest as you sit on his lap. He licks his lips hungrily, hands going to your waist to hold you steady. "Then show me, kitten. Show me you're not as tired as you say you are."

You reach down and guide Sylus' cock back inside of you. It's still slick, still hard as ever. He hasn't cum yet, you want to make him. Show him what HE can't handle.

You moan and steady yourself with your hands on his chest, while you begin to bounce steadily on his hard shaft. Sylus doesn't even have to do anything to guide you; you're so eager to prove you can handle him. He smirks, his eyes darting from your eyes, to your bouncing tits, and down to where the two of you connect. He can't help but admire your body.

His large hands trail up your waist and to your breasts. With a chuckle, he starts to tease and pinch your nipples, those mounds of flesh easily fit for his large hands. "You're so eager to p-please, kitten." He stutters for a second, throwing his his head back for a moment. You're not giving up, you're riding him like he's a toy meant for your pleasure. The skin on skin noise is so lewd and wet.

"I'll... show you... what you can't handle." You press down on his chest, which you've learned is incredibly sensitive, and attempt to smirk and tease him, but he moves his arms around you instead, pulling you to his chest. His breath is heavier, and you once again feel yourself being bitten. You know for a fact there has to be so many bite marks on your neck. He's moved to your shoulder now, nibbling, biting and sucking with the intent to leave you marked for at least a few days. Your movement becomes fervent, quickly and sloppy. Your legs are already going numb but you can't stop. You're chasing another orgasm and you want Sylus to cum too.

"You'll... cum i-inside me, right?" You mumble into his neck, your body going slightly slack from exhaustion. "Co-Come on... w-want you....to..." Sylus takes control, starting to thrust up into you. His arms around your waist keep you in place, each stroke deep as he pounded you relentlessly as he neared his orgasm. "You want to be full so badly... ha.... I'm starting to believe this was.... all a facade." He grunts and bites down on your mark-ridden shoulder, sinking his canines into you by accident. He was close, you could tell. Sloppy thrusts make you go limp against him, and once you hear him groan and feel his pace slow, you know he finally finished.

You feel him thrust as deep as he can, several, thick ropes of cum flooding your cunt and filling you properly to the brim. It makes you slightly wonder how long he's been pent up. Slightly. Your mind his hazy, and you feel so perfectly used and fucked out. Blood trickles slowly down your shoulder and a bit down your back. You pant slowly in his ear, coming down from your blissful high. You're slowly going to sleep in his embrace.

You feel Sylus licking the wound he just inflicted on your shoulder, the small holes healing nearly instantly. Your eyes flutter and before you know it, you're fast asleep.

By the time you wake up, you're groggy and sore. Though you feel warm; the blanket you're under is... no, it's not just the blanket. Sylus is spooning you from behind, one arm wrapped around your middle. Your legs are mingled with his.

He's fast asleep, his breath slow and steady against your neck. It makes you shiver for a second when you remember what occurred hours earlier. You know he has you marked up, but any major bite wounds feel nearly non-existent now; they've healed, he's made sure of it. There seems to be a slightly damp towel laying next to your head that must've slipped down. The cold towel to help if you fainted from blood loss, he used it anyways. He made sure you were alright‐ cleaned you up and took care of you while you were asleep. How sweet. You never had to doubt if Sylus loved you.

With blood as sweet as the finest cherry wine, you were his love in the perfect flesh.

[dudududuumaxverstappen]

Doubts. - Lando Norris x fem. Reader

You try your best not letting hate comments affect you, but sometimes they just get too much.

"She doesn’t even love him."

"I know it‘s only for PR."

"She‘s so ugly, what does he even want from her?"

“How can he love someone like her?”

“He could do so much better…”

It shouldn’t bother you. It‘s just people on the internet. People that think you deserve to be happy with Lando. People that are jealous.

You should simply ignore them. Close your phone, put it away and spend time with your boyfriend.

And yet, despite knowing the rational thing to do right now, your thumb keeps flicking over the screen, absentmindedly scrolling through Instagram and the comments about you and Lando.

You’re so caught up in your own thoughts that you don’t even realise that the water in the bathroom has been turned off. And the bathroom is now open.

"I hope it‘s pictures of me that got you so focused on your screen."

Your head whips up, your eyes darting to Lando and the small smirk on his lips falters in an instant.

He knows something is wrong, his whole posture, despite casually leaning against the doorframe with just a towel around his middle, crumbles. And worry flickers in his eyes.

Seeing his reaction, you force a small smile onto your lips and laugh. But he knows you to well. Obviously he does. It‘s Lando.

"What’s going on?" he pushes off the doorframe and walks over to you, sitting down opposite you on the bed.

"Nothing."

He frowns and reaches for your hand, the one not holding the phone. "Tell me."

You roll your lips together, meet his gaze and sigh. "People on the internet are being mean."

Lando squeezes your hand and his eyes deop to your phone. He stays silent for a moment and then looks up, meeting your gaze again. "They are. I‘m sorry you had to see this."

"You’re not mad that I looked at the comments? You made me promise I won’t do it."

Lando gives his head a little shake. "No, no, I‘m not. Of course not, I can’t tell you what to do or not. I just wanted to protect you."

You find yourself shrugging. "They talk like they know me. Like they know us and everything about our relationship." A frown appears on your lips. "When they know nothing."

Lando‘s jaw tightens. "Exactly, they don’t know us. Let them talk until their mouths are fussy, but don’t care about their bullshit."

You want to believe his words, imprint them on your mind and think about them whenever you read bad comments. But sometimes, especially in times where your self-esteem isn’t the greatest, you find yourself struggling. Like right now. Because what if … what if they are correct. And you are not—

You don’t want to finish this thought, but you know you have to talk about it with him, otherwise it will eat you up.

"Sometimes I wonder if they’re right. What if I’m just… not enough.”

"What?" Lando‘s eyes widen in shock. He immediately shifts closer, placing his other hand on your knee. "Y/N, don’t say that. Don’t ever say something like that. You’re more than enough. For me. For anyone. You are perfect and I couldn’t love you any more."

He takes the phone gently, sets it aside. "They know nothing. They have no idea how amazing you are. They are just jealous because you are so amazing, They don’t see what I see. They don’t know how much you mean to me." His throat works on a swallow and you can see the honesty in his eyes.

You nod a little but then lower your chin, looking at your intertwined hands. "I want to believe that."

Tenderly, Lando reaches out and lifts your chin, "Please believe me. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. No comment changes that."

His words make a small tear slip out the corner of your eye. Lando is quick to catch it, wiping his thumb across your cheek with a soft smile on his lips. "I mean it. But for now …" He glances at your phone. "Let’s just turn our phones off and focus on each other. Just you and me."

"That sounds good. I just hate that it gets to me to me that much." You meet his gaze again.

"Well, sometimes we can’t control what we feel." He leans in and kisses your cheek. "But I love you, and none of these comments will ever change my mind about you." He pulls you into his arms, and makes you both lie back on the bed, your head and hand resting on his chest, righg above his heart.

"You’re not alone in this. I’m here. Always. I know what comments like these can do to you, but we are stronger than them. Stronger than their opinions."

"Thank you," you whisper against his skin. "Thank you for being you and the best boyfriend one could ever hope for."

Lando softly kisses the top of your head. "I‘m trying my best, afterall I date the most perfect girl in the world. I love you."

[captain-huggy-bear]

Sick and clingy Clayton

Requests are currently closed while I work through current ones <3 (We're nearly at request reopening time though) Writing Masterlist

He's got you around the waist, arms wrapped tight around you while you try and get up from the bed. Each time you try to leave Clay tugs you back down, a groaning unhappy, uncomfortable mess of a man whose clammy face keeps pressing against you like you have some miracle cure.

"Clay, you need to let go so I can go get you something to eat..." You've been trying for 2 minutes to convince him to get you up. He hadn't eaten for hours, whatever bug he had completely ruining his appetite and as the responsible girlfriend you weren't about to let him starve. You already have some soup from last night in the fridge, ready to be reheated, fresh bread on the side and enough butter to make it taste like something given his taste buds were gone at the moment.

"No...please, don't go." Clay's whiny, pouty, arms tightening, legs wrapping around you to stop you leaving. It would be cute if you didn't need to get him something to eat, if he wasn't definitely giving you all his germs and most likely making you sick.

"Clay. You'll be fine, i'll be gone 10 minutes max."

"No." It's like dealing with an overgrown toddler as you pry his legs off of you, forcing his arms from around you. Only able to because he's a little weak from his sickness, skin pasty and clammy, big dark circles under his eyes as he reaches for you as soon as you're off the bed. He looks like a sickly Victorian child, clutching at your hands, begging you not to leave him.

"Clayton Keller. You need to eat." Your voice softens at his obvious distress, palm smoothing over his forehead and pushing back his hair. He's uncomfortably sweaty and if you didn't love him so much you might not want to be near him.

"You promise to stay after?" His voice is horse, rough from all the coughing he's been doing, a hint of whiny despair in his voice because you're leaving him and he feels horrible. He just wants to curl around you and sleep, cuddle until his body works through whatever plague he picked up in the locker room.

"I promise we can cuddle until you fall asleep after you've eaten." Your promise is the only thing that has him letting you go, pathetically falling back into the pillows and whining like a sad puppy dog.

You can't get the image of him all pathetically clingy and desperate for comfort out of your mind, it has you trying to head up soup quickly, buttering fresh bread, assembling it all onto a tray along with a new dose of cold and flu meds.

When you come back in Clayton is right where you left him, groaning in bed, head thrown back against the pillows, eyes half-lidded and tired. The moment he sees you his arms are up, hands reaching out to make grabby motions at you.

"Sit up, Clay..." He does slowly, shifting until he's sat against the headboard, but it's slow in that way that everything with him is at the moment. Limbs heavy.

"Here." The tray is placed on his lap, "Once you eat and take your meds we can cuddle." It's all your need to say to him before he's downing cold and flu pills and forcing a spoonful of soup down his throat. It's the bread and butter that really kick starts his appetite again though. Buttery bread dipped into hot soup has him groaning like you've given him a five course meal covered in gold.

You take it as a good sign that he's eating again, moving the tray away once he's finished before settling to lie down on the bed next to him.

"C'mere you big baby..." You tug him towards you until he's on top of you, cheek pressed to your chest, arms around your back, lying between your legs. Truth is Clay doesn't let you baby him often, he's more likely to do the babying and you're more likely to be the one on top of him or acting as little spoon. The exception is when he's ill or having a really tough time, then he'll let you baby him, then he'll seek you out, clinging to you like a limpet on a rock. It's nice to feel needed in this way, it's nice to see him let down those walls sometimes, to know he's not quite as aloof as he sometimes seems.

"You're being mean." He mumbles against your t-shirt, eyes already closing as you stroke his hair away from his face. His eye lashes flutter at each pass of your fingers, lips pursing, content, comforted.

"If I was being mean I wouldn't be stroking your hair like you're a cat right now."

He just huffs out a sigh, face nuzzling into your chest, boobs becoming helpful cushions for him to rest on. His breathing is laboured, the effects of whatever virus he'd picked up but it eases a little more as you hold him. One of your hands rubbing slowly up and down his back, between his shoulders, the other carding through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp with each pass.

You watch him like that for ages, just holding him, loving on him while he clings to you, until his breathing evens out, mouth opening, drool (not that he'd ever admit it) wetting your t-shirt as he falls asleep.

[randominchident]

how f1 boys would react

if they found out girlfriend!reader wasn’t eating enough

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. drivers included⋆ 𐙚 ̊. MV33, LN4, OP81, CL16, CS55, AA23, LH44

max verstappen

does not take it lightly

when he realizes he doesn’t get angry, but he gets very quiet—which is somehow worse

stares at you for a second after you offhandedly mention "forgetting" lunch again, trying to brush off his offer to go out to eat

“You didn’t eat. Again?”

starts watching you more closely—asking what you had, when, how much

blunt and direct, not because he’s mad at you but because he’s worried for you

starts making you food without asking, silently putting it next to you at your desk or on the coffee table when you're watching tv

“just eat half, okay? I’ll finish the rest”

if you so much as hesitate, he nudges the plate closer and says, “I’m serious. You need to eat, schat.”

looks at you with those serious blue eyes like he’s silently begging you to take care of yourself

lando norris

probably tries to keep it lighthearted at first—“wait, you skipped lunch? that’s illegal”

but when he realizes it’s a pattern, the joking stops

suddenly he’s serious, soft voice, hand holding and all: “Hey. You can tell me if something’s going on.”

he would be desperate to do anything that could help: offers to cook, order food, literally feed you himself if it’ll help

gives you that worried look with the furrowed brows and pouty mouth that makes your heart ache

“I’m not gonna let you skip meals, love. No way.”

sends “have you eaten?” texts constantly, even when he’s halfway across the world, with photos of his own lunch attached

extra cuddly on days he notices you struggling—like feeding you bites from his own plate and pressing kisses to your cheek

he will FaceTime you mid-day just to make sure you’ve eaten, don’t test him

oscar piastri

soft but firm

he notices the signs quickly and gets this quiet crease between his brows

“When’s the last time you ate?” he asks, glancing at you, and the look in his eye makes it impossible to lie to him

he becomes the king of cozy, nourshing meals: soups, pasta, noodle soups

“Here. Just a little bit, please.”

when you hesitate, he offers quietly, “We can talk about it if you want. I’m not upset, I just want to understand.”

never pressures, but gently insists on shared meals after that—“if I’m eating, you’re eating” becomes the rule

“We’ll eat together, okay? I’ll make something simple.”

looks out for you in such a calm and steady way it breaks you a little

gives the warmest hugs after meals, like you just did something incredibly important (because you did)

charles leclerc

you bring it up to him that you're been stuggling with meals again

panics slightly inside but tries to stay composed

“Mon amour… why didn’t you say anything before?”

very affectionate and worried, constantly touching your arm or brushing your hair back

drops everything else he needs to do that day and asks, “What would make it easier?”

“You need to take care of yourself… It hurts me to see you like this.”

sends you random texts like “Have you eaten, ma belle?”

starts cooking at home more often even if he’s bad at it—knowing going out to eat would be more stress inducing

lots of soft forehead kisses, long hugs from behind, and quiet “I love you”s while you eat

carlos sainz

goes full nurturing boyfriend mode

“No, no, no. This is not okay. You need to eat, mi amor. No excuses.”

pulls you into the kitchen and starts chopping veggies like he’s in a cooking show and narrating everything... this is to keep you strong, this will make it taste extra good, this will keep you healthy

insists you sit down while he makes something—“Relax, I’ll take care of you”

gets very serious if he suspects it’s more than just stress or forgetfulness

checks in more often after that, makes sure you have snacks, even carries some around for you (just incase)

“You take care of me all the time. Let me take care of you now.”

will absolutely feed you bites of food and won’t stop until he sees you smile

alex albon

his face drops the first time he realizes you’re not eating enough

goes from sunshine to serious in half a second

“Babe… that’s not good. Like, really not good.”

will wrap his arms around you and just hold you for a moment before saying anything else

“You don’t have to go through this by yourself, you know?”

super gentle about it, but clearly worried

will cook everything with you—like, “let’s make lunch together” becomes a daily ritual

tries to make it fun and lighthearted but also builds routines that help you without overwhelming you

“You deserve to feel good. You deserve to eat. You deserve to take up space.”

lewis hamilton

absolutely heartbroken when he finds out

you don’t even have to explain—he knows something’s off

sits you down and speaks with that soft, soothing voice

“Your body deserves nourishment. You deserve love—from yourself, too.”

He never demands answers. Just opens space: “If something’s going on, I want to understand. But we don’t have to rush that conversation.”

offers to meditate or journal with you, knowing it’s not just about food but your mental health too

incredibly nurturing but never patronizing—treats you like someone who needs support, not fixing

“We’re in this together, always. I’ve got you.”

[salmoninnit]

Back To Friends

Summary: Reader is at a bar after agreeing to meet Satoru Gojo, who she was previously in a situationship with but he ghosted her. Ends up meeting someone new instead, she ends the night dealing with fresh wounds.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Cold. Alone. Angry.

Is what you feel as you sit at the bar drinking a stupid beer you didn’t even want. Coming here was so stupid, responding to that text made you giddy but as soon as you arrived, all it left was the bitter taste of anger in your mouth. 

meet me at the bar ;)

How stupid could you have been? Thinking he actually wanted to see you again after everything? After six months of being stuck in a situationship with Satoru Gojo. Feeling things that you’ve never felt before, just for him to one day stop responding, to stop coming to see you at work, to just stop. 

But receiving that text after doing nothing but work and school for three weeks; you felt a pounding in your chest, you missed the intense feeling. You felt the stupid feelings of being angry going out the window as you responded.

okay :) 

Once you arrived you couldn’t find him anywhere, so you opted to sit at the bar and order a shot, then another, then another, until you settled on a beer to hopefully feel a little more than the burning of your throat. To feel something more than the bitterness and heartache for a man who was scum. Who treated you as scum and walked all over your kindness and willingness, to crave him and his stupid attractiveness, to just lead you to this. 

Heartbroken, angry, bitter, and wanting to make him feel just the same as you.

That is, if you could ever find him. 

Despite him always standing out, he wasn’t anywhere to stand. You’d given up and decided tonight, it will be yours. Drunk and stupid, drunk and bitter, drunk and willing. You lifted your gaze off the drink and turned to look around, college bars filled with college people, not too busy but not necessarily empty. Turning back and looking the other way, a set of eyes caught yours. Striking and sending a shiver down your spine. He adorned pink hair that was spiked up, tattoos askew his face and his arms, pretty sure they were elsewhere too. 

A smile on your face as you look back up to meet his eyes. His face holds a smirk as he brings his cup up to his lips and takes a sip. Eying his adams apple bobbing as he drinks, you gulped and brought your drink to yours. Looking away, you flag down a bartender for another drink and finish off yours. 

“Hey can I get Mojito please?” You say as you reach for your wallet, but before you have time to take out cash, a larger hand reaches over your shoulder and hands the bartender cash. 

“Add a beer to that as well”, a gruff voice says as the bartender takes it and starts making your drink. 

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that”, you say as you slowly turn in your seat, looking up at the man you were just admiring moments ago. His hand now resting on the bar counter as he looks down at you. He’s even more handsome up close and that’s not the drunk talk speaking. 

“Can’t let a pretty girl pay for a drink when she’s all alone, cruel of me to do such a thing”, he teases as he takes his hand off the bar and sits in the empty seat on your left. 

“Oh really now? Gonna pay for the rest too or not now since I’m not so alone anymore?” You tease back as you lean on the counter, propping your cheek on your right hand. 

“Oh you bet I will, anything for such a sweet lil’ thing”, he smirks as he mirrors your actions. “My name is Ryomen Sukuna”.

“Y/N L/N, pleasure to meet you Mister Sukuna”, you tease lightly as the bartender places your drinks in front of you two. Muttering a small thank you as you proceed to drink from it, unsure why you didn’t just order these from the start. 

“So here all alone brat?” He says as he takes a drink from his, you nod lightly.

“Was s’pposed to meet someone, but think they bailed on me before I could make it here”, you shrug as you swirl the straw in your drink. Gojo’s face flashing in your head like a bitter reminder as to why you were here. 

“Stood up? What sort of idiot would do that to you?” He utters and looks as displeased as you feel. 

“The biggest idiot I know, can’t believe I actually came though. I feel like the bigger idiot here”, you sigh as you finish off your drink. Another mojito placed in front of you, you look up confused. 

“I didn’t order-”

“It was sent from the table behind you”, the bartender says as you furrow your eyebrows. Glancing back and scanning the room, eyes landing on blue. He adorns a smile but it doesn't reach his eyes, you can’t even make a face to him, you can’t smile, you can’t frown, you just freeze. You feel your chair swivel and you're facing back to Sukuna. 

“I take it he’s the one”, he whispers as his face is inches away, you feel goosebumps on your arm as you nod. “Good I’ll take your drink then”. He signals the bartender over for another mojito and picks your-his drink up off the counter and starts drinking from it. Your eyes follow his every movement, sticking to his face as his eyes are looking behind you. 

“He’s not worth the trouble Sukuna, I shouldn’t have entertained it by coming”, you sigh as you watch him finish off the drink and place it down. 

“He’s not, but you are”, Sukuna says with a playful tone, making you smile and lean towards him.

“Oh yea? Worth dealing with my annoying bullshit for the night?”

“I’d deal with it tonight and every other night after if you let me”, his tone playful under the gruffness but you feel as if he meant it seriously. 

“Take me on a proper date first, then we can discuss that”, you say as you pick up your mojito bought by Sukuna. Eyeing him as you drink from it. 

“Deal, gimme your phone”, his hand outstretched as you reach for your phone. Opening the contacts app and handing it to him, watching his big hands type so meticulously on your much smaller phone. You stifle a laugh and tilt your head. He hands it back to you and you see he shot himself a text from yours. 

“I got to head out right now, do you have a way home?” He says as he eyes your face. 

“No but I live 5 minutes from here walking, I’ll be okay”, you smile at him. “Thanks for talking to me Sukuna, send me a message about that date when you’ve got it planned”.

“Deal sweets”, he places a hand on your left cheek and kisses your right cheek making you flush. He pulls back and smirks down at you, “See you this week”. He gets up and you watch him leave the bar, you look back at your drink, flushed and see he left money in your purse. Idiot. 

“So sweets, who was that?” An irritating, grating voice to your right spoke. 

“A man who doesn’t concern you Gojo”, you utter as you take your drink to your lips. 

“Gojo now? Weren’t saying that when you were-” He starts and you place a hand over his mouth as you glare at him. You feel his smile under your hand as his eyes crinkle up, you pull your hand away with a scowl.

“Shut up, don’t even talk about that. It’s not like we were together”, you scrunch your face in disgust even though you feel your heart breaking beneath you. You see him freeze in your peripheral, “What? We weren’t right? You wouldn’t have ghosted me for weeks if we were actually serious?”

“I-I. We weren’t but I thought-” 

“Thought what? The great Satoru Gojo actually has a brain all of a sudden? Yea spare me”, you sigh as you finish off your drink. Slowly standing up as you dust off your dress, a dress you know he likes, one he bought for you, one now stained with every memory of the two of you. 

“Wait y/n please”, he grabs your arm and you stop. 

“What Gojo?” You spit as you blink away tears you know all too well will drop. Turning back to face him, his stupidly attractive face, his stupidly attractive personality, so him. But all you can see is a wounded puppy, looking so sweet you want to coddle him. You want him to beg, you want him to feel how you feel. 

“Please can we just..start over? Be friends?” Gojo says as he looks at you with those eyes you’ve never said no to.

“Friends? Back to being friends? After nights of laying with you as we spoke about nothing and everything? After celebrating holidays and birthdays? After falling in love with you? Fuck no, you must think I like being tortured by you and maybe at one point I did. Maybe a part of me before would’ve done anything to hear you say that, but not now” you spit as you yank your hand away. “I hope you regret this, I hope you know I would’ve done too much to be with you. I hope you rot in the bed you made, goodbye Gojo”. 

You turn and speed walk out the bar, hyperventilating as you make it out the doors. The breeze fills your lungs as you turn and make your way home. Fuck you should’ve been more drunk. 

You can’t bother to turn around, to hear his stupid voice from the bars doors was enough. You can’t because if you do, you know you’ll hear him out. You know you’ll somehow forgive him, you’ll want to see him. You’ll invite him up, you’ll love every second of it and forget how much pain you’ve been through for hours of bliss and contentment by laying with him. 

As you go to turn the corner, you do look. He’s stopped calling out to you but you see him. You see his face, displaying too many emotions to decipher at once. With you staring back his eyes widen and he starts to open his mouth, but before he gets the chance to, you disappear behind the corner. You feel the tears falling before you can stop them, you continue walking as if you had somewhere to be, someone to come home to, somewhere that needed you. 

You make it to your apartment and let yourself into darkness and silence but it feels more deafening than usual. The sound of your heart breaking as you slid down against the door. You let out sobs, can’t help them flowing as you gasp to breathe in between them. 

You’re not sure how long you’ve sat there but by the time you get up and move to the kitchen, your body feels like you’ve run miles. Downing two cups of water and as you make your way to wash your face off, a buzz is heard.

You glance to your purse laying on the floor of the entryway, you sigh as you pick it up, digging for your phone. 

Sukuna: Hey, hope you made it home safe. Busy on Thursday night? 

You smile and forget about every problem Satoru has brought into your life and accept the one good thing he brought into it. 

You: Yea I made it a bit ago, thanks for asking. Hope the same for you and nope all open for you :) 

Sukuna: Perfect, I’ll tell you more tomorrow, Get some rest sweets 

You: You as well Sukuna :) 

You smile lightly and before you can make it to the bathroom, your phone buzzes again. Then again, and again. 

Satoru <3: Y/n Im sorry please hear me out

Satoru <3: I shouldn’t have ghosted you, fuck I really mean it I’m sorry

Satoru <3: I don’t want you seeing that man, fuck I don’t want you seeing anyone

Satoru <3: I love you too y/n

You stiffen as you read them, swallowing down the sobs you know won’t stop once you start again. You type back, for the last time. 

You: Forget me like you’ve already been doing for three weeks, shouldn’t be too hard since I’m easily forgettable apparently. Hope the next girl of yours doesn’t fall in love like I did, you're cruel and no one should experience that. Bye Gojo, reap what you sow. 

You sent it and hesitated to block him, wanting him to ache and yearn for you back, wanting him to try and try, see him drown in sorrow through drunk texts you know he’ll send in a week, groveling and aching how you feel. 

But you don’t hesitate, you block him. 

Back being friends? 

No.

Back to being strangers. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

[sturniolobliss]

⌗ . . . ❛ 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫 ❜ matthew sturniolo.

warnings ◞ ˚˖ ࣪ sub!bsf!matt, softdom!reader, phone sex, masturbation (m receiving), voice kink, light teasing, orgasm denial . . . etc.

note ◞ ˚˖ ࣪ bow divider by @/bernardsbendystraws · · ୨୧

your phone buzzes in your hand again—matt, for the third time in five minutes. you glance toward the crowd, lights flashing over unfamiliar faces, bass thumping under your feet. the noise makes your head spin.

you don't answer. again.

instead, you send another text:

you good? i told you i'm at a party. can't hear shit in here.

his reply comes almost instantly.

can you call me? please?

something in your chest stutters.

you duck out without another thought.

the hallway you find is dim and mostly empty. there's an empty bedroom near the end of it, door already cracked. you slip inside, lock it behind you, and call him.

he picks up before the first ring finishes.

"hi," he says, breathless. not in the casual way. not in the hey-what's-up way. it's strained. tight. low.

"matt? what's going on?"

there's a pause. then a shaky inhale.

"m'sorry," he says. "i jus'—i need your voice right now."

your stomach flips. "what?"

"i was tryin' to—fuck, i was tryin' to get off, and s'not workin'. and i don’t know. i jus'—thought of you.”

you freeze.

"i shouldn't have called, i know. you're busy, i jus'—fuck."

he sounds desperate. he's talking fast, like if he stops he'll fall apart.

you sit down slowly on the edge of the bed, heart thudding.

"matt… are you touching yourself right now?"

he makes a sound—soft, embarrassed. "not anymore. i stopped when you didn't answer."

"but you want to?"

"…yeah."

your mouth goes dry. "and you want me to… talk you through it?"

he doesn't say anything, but you hear him breathe in again. shaky. nervous.

"yeah," he finally whispers. "please."

you exhale, slow and steady, trying to keep your own pulse calm. you've never done this with matt before—not like this. you're best friends. best friends who sometimes flirt too long. who've slept too close on hotel beds and shared late-night confessions. but never crossed this line.

until now.

"okay," you say softly. "take your pants off."

he does—quietly, breath hissing in your ear. "done."

"lay back."

you hear the faint rustle of fabric, the creak of his mattress.

"okay," he says, voice thinner now. "okay, i'm—fuck, i'm hard already.

your thighs clench.

"good," you murmur. "take your dick in your hand. slow. i want you to stroke it, but not too fast yet."

his breath catches.

"yeah?" you ask.

"yeah," he groans. "feels better already. fuck—your voice, it's…"

he trails off, and you picture it—his head tipped back, lashes low, mouth parted. his hand working slow over his cock, finally easing into it because you're in his ear telling him how.

"you still so worked up, baby?" the word slips out before you think it through.

matt whimpers.

"yes. i couldn't stop thinking about you. your hands, your voice. i couldn't even finish, i jus'—i needed you.”

you press your knees together, heat blooming low in your belly.

"faster now," you tell him. "get yourself nice and wet. spit on your hand if you need to."

there's the faintest slick sound through the phone. then a soft moan.

"shit. i missed this. even if we never—i jus' wanted you like this, talkin' to me. tellin' me what to do.”

your chest tightens.

"i didn't know you thought about me like that," you say.

he laughs, breathless. "bullshit. you had to know."

"how often do you do this?" you ask.

"with you in mind?"

"yeah."

he groans again. "too often."

"tell me how it feels now."

his voice comes out choked. "good. so good. better with you here. m'not gonna last."

you smile, wicked and sweet. "don't cum yet."

"please—"

"no," you whisper. "not until i say so. want you to stay on the edge f'me."

he lets out the softest, neediest sound—half whine, half sob.

"your hand still moving?"

"yeah."

"you gonna be a good boy and keep it slow for me?"

he moans—guttural, desperate. "yes. anything."

your thighs squeeze tighter.

"good. i want you shaking for me when i let you finish. want you to cum hard, thinking about me, how i'd touch you if i were there."

"i wish you were here," he gasps. "wish i could fuck your hand, your mouth—anything."

your breath hitches.

"i'd take such good care of you," you murmur. "you wouldn't have t'beg."

"but i like begging," he pants. "fuck, please—can i cum? m'so close."

you bite your lip.

"you've been good," you whisper. "you can cum for me now, baby."

he falls apart fast. messy, high-pitched, broken. moaning your name into the phone, hips jerking, breath catching on every stroke.

you wait until he's quiet, until all you can hear is the sound of his breathing and the soft creak of his mattress as he melts into it.

"thank you," he whispers. "jesus. that was—fuck."

you're quiet.

"you okay?" he asks after a beat.

you nod, even though he can’t see. "yeah. are you okay?"

"i am now," he says. "jus'… wish you weren't at some party. wish you were here. with me."

your throat goes tight.

"maybe next time," you say.

he hums. "don't tease me."

"i'm not."

he's quiet again. then: "you gonna think about me tonight?"

your whole body heats. "matt—"

"you are," he says, smug now. softer.

you let him have it.

because he's right.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ : @sturniolo-szn2 / @mattscoquette / @sturnsflirt / @tezzzzzzzz . . . .ᐟ

comment or message to get added · · ୨୧

[selineram3421]

*sips chocolate milk*

My Baby

Part 1

Prologue Alastor X Fem Reader Warnings ⚠ ⚠ reader is a mother, gn child is around 5-6 years old, protective/soft Alastor, food mention-breakfast food, cussing, oop- 👀. ⚠

Your little one was still sleepy but curious, looking at everything around them.

Currently, you both were in the hotel room.

You woke up early and found your hotel key on the dresser, not entirely remembering if Alastor left it there before he left the room or not.

But instead of worrying over it, you pocketed the key after getting ready for the day. Then you opened the door to a cat demon, who told you that your stuff had arrived.

It didn't take long for you to unpack and set up things as you liked.

"Mama, where are we?", your baby asked.

"We're at a fancy hotel!", you smiled, folding some of the clothes and placing them in the dresser. "We'll go downstairs after you get dressed. Do you want to pick what you wear today?"

They nodded and yawned, crawling out of the blankets and sliding off the bed carefully until their little feet reached the floor.

Finishing up, you closed the drawer and opened the bottom one. Their clothes were all neatly folded and organized, colors starting at warm shades to cool colors.

"Mama! You made a rainbow!", they gasped.

You laughed. "Yes honey. I like when clothes make rainbows.", you ruffled their hair with your hand. "Now, pick out what you want to wear. Warm or cold colors?", you asked.

"Warm!", they decided.

"Ok.", you kneeled down and pointed at the shirts. "Red is hot, orange is toasty, and yellow is warm. Pink is a soft warm."

"Hm.. I wanna be soft warm, but I also wanna be super hot! Like fire!", they lifted their arms. "Like whoosh!"

"Well, it's a good thing we also have accessories.", you said.

"Access-ories?", they repeated as best as they could.

You nodded and gestured to the few that you were wearing.

"See how Mama has these?", you asked and earned a nod. "I have some colors to match my clothes sometimes, or they are different colors that compliment my clothes."

"Oh! Ok.", they said and pointed at a coral colored shirt. "Can I wear that one?"

"Yes baby.", you took the shirt out and held it. "Do you want pants or shorts?"

"Shorts! The-the pumpkin ones!", they said.

"Ok. But if it looks too silly, I'll get another pair, ok?"

They nodded.

It didn't take long for you to get them ready and you carried them downstairs.

.

Alastor was..well he wasn't sure what to call what he was feeling.

He made breakfast. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, coffee, hash browns, grits, and sausages. He even cut up some fruit and laid everything out on the dining table.

Nifty had run in, swiping some coffee and stuffing some food in her mouth before running out. Possibly to go kill some bugs.

Then Angel walked in, surprisingly awake this early in the morning.

"Oh~ Are we gonna celebrate somethin'? Or did you finally get laid?", the spider demon laughed and sat down, getting a plate and serving himself.

Before Angel could say something else, the fluffy demon took a bite of the food and melted in his chair, and it seemed like he decided the food was too good to waste time to talk.

"Wow. Who died?", Vaggie walked into the dining room, the Princess following behind not a second later.

"No one of importance!", Alastor grinned.

"This looks so nice!", Charlie said and pulled a chair.

Almost everyone was in the dining room and that's when he noticed her standing in the doorway.

"Mama! Look! Look! Pancakes!", her child said excitedly and pointed at the food.

"I see them. They look really fluffy.", she smiled and took a step into the dining room. "Hello?"

"Good morning dear!", Alastor pulled out a chair for her to sit and summoned a cushion in his hands. "I hope your first night was pleasant?", he pulled out another and placed the cushion on it.

"It was comfortable, thank you.", she nodded and walked over, sitting her little one on the chair with the cushion.

"Who the fu-?"

"Ahem!", the deer demon glared at Angel, glancing at the child to give him a message.

"Smiles, it's Hell! I'm pretty sure that kid has heard more fucking curse words out there than they will in here.", the spider huffed. "Also, who's the Mommy?"

The Radio Demon was annoyed, but focused his attention on how she cut up the pancakes for her child.

"She's a new guest!", Charlie said happily. "Both of them came in last night."

As the others talked, he took a seat at the end of the table, which was close to the newest hotel resident. Did he do that on purpose? Yes, but he didn't linger on the thought for too long and summoned his cup of coffee to take a sip.

"Careful honey, you need to eat slower.", she fussed over her little demon.

"But it's good! It's better than Dad's!", the little one responded.

A record scratch from Alastor.

"Still-", she tried to say.

"Try it Mama!", the child held up their fork, syrup dripping down.

She sighed, as if knowing she couldn't win and ate the pancake off the fork.

"Holy shit-", she covered her mouth and chewed.

"See! Even the Momma is cussing!", Angel shouted out.

But he ignored the arachnid. That buzz came back and he felt proud at the fact that she enjoyed the food he made.

Placing his coffee cup down, he stood and served a plate. Then placed it down on the table, in front of her.

"Here darling, you must eat as well.", he smiled a little softer. "Would you like coffee?", he asked.

"Oh, thank you Alastor. I'll get my drink soon, you don't have to-", she looked up at him from her seat.

"Nonsense! Enjoy your food and I'm sure the little one would also like a drink?", he tilted his head slightly to look at the child.

"Can I have juice?", they asked.

"Of course.", he grabbed a cup and placed it down in front of them. "But what kind of juice?"

"Apple!", the little one smiled.

When they finished, he watched as she cleaned her child's face with a napkin.

Charlie walked over with a friendly smile. "So, I know we didn't get to do anything yesterday but I was wondering if you'd like to join an activity or something else?"

"Oh, sure. What exactly do I have to do to stay in the hotel?", she asked.

"I'll fill you in my dear!", Alastor stepped in and held his hand out. "Of course, there's something I must discuss with you in private. I hope you don't mind?"

"Is it serious or..?", she trailed off.

"Well, it has to do with your personal belongings. But it is something a bit concerning."

She stood and picked up her child, nodding at him. He lead her out of the dining room.

"Charlie, I hope you don't mind but I will go over the basics.", he said over his shoulder.

"Shit, he's down bad.", Angel said with a laugh.

"I'll check in with you later!", the Princess said to the new guest.

Ignoring the spider's comment, he started to walk down the hallway.

"What was concerning about my things?", she asked, and walking next to him.

"Ah, yes.", his smile strained a bit. "When I went to retrieve your things, I found a demon in your apartment with what I'm assuming was your..undergarments."

She made a face of fear and disgust.

"I got rid of them and the fabric they were holding but I would advise to get some new ones.", he finished.

"Ok.. um. Thank you for letting me know.", she cleared her throat, shifting her child in her hold. "What are the activities that the Princess mentioned?"

"Active-ity? Like games?", the child asked.

"The usual activities are for bonding. Some times there are games, trust exercises, and-", he began listing off.

As she talked with him, he wondered if she knew who he was and if she did, why did she not run at the sight of him?

*slams fic onto table and runs off* Cookies!

~Seline, the person.

Part 2 Taglist@ @boogiemansbitch @+? @+more in the comments+

ML II Alastor 🎙️ | MB 🚼

HH🗝️

[riqomi]

RAMEN DATES ──── 西村力

西村力 ˖ 𝑓em!r .. g. fluff. suggestive ──── BOOKSHELF ( O.832 ) tw: kissing. lmk if there's more.

7:03 p.m. – ramen shop ⠀ the booth is cramped. cozy. you’re sitting across from each other, knees bumping under the table, and he’s messing with his chopsticks like he's been nervous since you walked in. ⠀ you were late. he didn’t mind. said “you’re lucky you’re cute” instead of teasing you for it. he’s not shy, not exactly — but tonight he’s a little different. calmer. still funny, still himself, but it feels like he’s trying to say something without saying it. ⠀ he nudges his bowl toward you. “try mine.” “i already have my own.” “but mine’s better,” he insists, lifting some noodles to your mouth like it’s a challenge. you lean in. take a bite. he watches you the entire time, like he’s waiting to see your reaction and memorize it. ⠀ “okay,” you admit, swallowing. “yours is better.” “told you.” ⠀ he grins, but doesn’t pull the bowl back right away. you’re still leaning in, and he’s still watching you — this time longer, quieter. you blink. “what?” “nothing.” he finally looks away. “just… i like seeing you like this.” ⠀ you pause. “like what?” “in real life.” he says it like it’s a secret. “with me.” your heart stutters. then you smile. “you’re ridiculous.” ⠀ “maybe,” he shrugs, “but i’ve been thinking about this date since the second i asked you out.” and just like that — the night starts to change. ⠀ 9:11 p.m. – wandering the city ⠀ after dinner, neither of you suggests going home. you just… keep walking. the city’s quieter now. streets wet from a passing drizzle, neon signs reflecting in puddles. he keeps glancing over at you, like he can’t quite believe you’re still beside him. “cold?” he asks as you shiver. you nod a little. he shrugs off his hoodie without hesitation and drapes it over your shoulders. ⠀ “but—” ⠀ “i’m fine,” he says, even though his t-shirt’s paper-thin. “you look cuter in it anyway.” you roll your eyes. “you’re so annoying.” he grins. “but you’re smiling.” ⠀ you walk in step after that. not talking much. just taking it in — the lights, the breeze, the way his hand brushes yours more and more deliberately until finally, finally, he laces his fingers through yours. when you look up at him, he’s already looking down at you. ⠀ “stop staring,” you murmur. “can’t help it.” Your heart’s doing something weird in your chest. something big. something terrifying. you don’t let go of his hand. ⠀ ⠀ 12:02 a.m. – his car, outside your apartment ⠀ the windows are fogged slightly from the heat still in the air. the radio’s low, playing some quiet r&b track you don’t recognize, and riki’s parked under the streetlight, arms resting on the steering wheel. neither of you’s moved in five minutes. ⠀ “i should go up,” you finally say. “yeah,” he replies. but doesn’t unbuckle. doesn’t even blink. you hesitate. then glance at him. “what?” he’s already looking at you. you raise an eyebrow. “i just don’t want tonight to end yet.” your voice softens. “it doesn’t have to. walk me up?” he’s out of the car before you even finish the sentence. ⠀ ⠀ 12:07 a.m. – your hallway

you lead him up the stairs, keys clutched loosely in your hand.

outside your door, the hallway’s quiet. dimly lit. he stops behind you, close — too close — and you can feel the heat of him before he even touches you.

you unlock the door. don’t open it yet. just stand there.

waiting.

he steps closer. “you gonna kiss me goodnight?”you turn around, breath caught somewhere between your throat and your chest. “i was waiting for you to do it.” his hand finds your waist. gently. pulls you toward him until you’re back against your apartment door, chest to chest. he tilts his head, gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips.

and then he kisses you.

slow at first — like he’s still asking if it’s okay. still savoring. still feeling it all.

but then it deepens.

your hands slide up under his hoodie, resting against his sides. his fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt. the kiss turns open-mouthed, breathy, like goodbye tastes a little too much like don’t go. you sigh into it. he groans — soft, low, like you’re pulling something out of him he wasn’t ready to give. when he pulls back — barely, lips still brushing yours — he whispers, “that’s gonna keep me up all night.”

you smile. “good.” he laughs against your mouth. “you’re evil.”

you kiss him once more, gently. “i know.”he backs away slowly, reluctantly, like leaving you feels wrong. “you gonna be okay getting inside?” “i might need one more kiss for strength.”he smirks. “you’re dangerous.” you wink. “and you love it.”

then — finally — you slip inside, heart racing, fingers tingling, breath still uneven.

and outside, riki stands there for a long, long moment, smiling like a complete idiot at your closed door. he whispers, to no one in particular,

“i’m so screwed.”

lmfao i feel like ashton hall, puttin all these timestamps in here. likes, feedback and reblogs much appreciated. remember requests are open !!

[sweetdispatch]

Could I please get 5 pieces of cheesecake with honey and mint leaves?

Final moments - N. Hischier

v' bakery pairing: Nico Hischier x fem!reader summary: Nico was a loving partner for the whole pregnancy and you thought you can't love him more until you saw him for the first time with kid in his arm warning: mentions of sex

At the end of your pregnancy, you felt done and tired. You wanted to give birth as fast as you could. You loved how you were blooming throughout the whole pregnancy but you missed your true self. You missed your flat stomach, not having back pain and being capable of walking without a swollen feet. 

Nico was sweet and supportive to you for the whole time. He didn’t want you to feel like you’re alone in this. Every morning he was preparing you breakfast with a glass of water and lime. If he had an optional morning skate, he was skipping it to spend the time with you. He stopped having naps before games because he wanted to be around you if you ever needed something. 

Before Nico was leaving you for roadie, he always made sure that all you needed was in the fridge and your cabinets so you don’t have to leave the house to buy groceries. The last thing he wanted was for you to carry heavy things when he’s not around you. 

You heard stories from your friends that their partners weren’t supportive during the pregnancy but from Nico, you could feel love in those gestures. Nico was always reminding you that this is the least he can do. You felt special, you felt that you’re not alone and have support in him and that made you sure that he’s the perfect guy. 

Your due date was in July which meant that you will have Nico by your side. This made you feel that the labour will go without any problems with his support. Right after the season was done, you and Nico focused on finishing the nursery. Since you were expecting a boy, you made the whole room in blue colors. 

Yours and Nico’ family flew over to New Jersey to be with the two of you when the baby was born. It was tight in the apartment with everyone around but this is exactly what you needed. You felt the love and support from every side and it was more than you could ever dream of. 

Your water broke when you were sitting in the kitchen and Nico was making you a cup of tea. Both of you watched each other with panic. You tried to stand up and go to the door but he froze on the spot. You mum saw what’s happening and brought him back to reality when his mum tried to help you go to the car. At this moment, you were thankful that your bag was already packed and was laying in the car. 

In the hospital, labour went without any problems. Everything went quickly and an hour later, you were holding your baby boy in your arms. Tears were spilling from your eyes. You couldn’t believe that the baby you were carrying in you for the past nine months was now in your arms. 

Nico felt overwhelmed by all the emotions. He was carefully watching you and his son in your arms. He could feel the love radiating from his body and even if it’s only been a couple minutes, he knew that you’re gonna be a great mother. But he was scared. He was scared that he'd miss his first steps, his first words. 

“Do you want to hold him?” You asked Nico when you noticed that his head was somewhere else. 

“Yes, please” Nico reached out his hands to you but you stopped him. 

“It’s important to do skin to skin so take off your shirt” You told him. 

Nico quickly took off the shirt and you handed him your son. He kept him close to his chest while staring down at him. For Nico, it was bizarre to hold the baby. He couldn’t believe that he was born and now, he can have him in his arms. He sat down on the chair with the baby and you were looking at them. You were sure Nico is gonna be a great father. 

“I’m looking at you with our baby boy and I want another one” You told Nico with a smile.

“You just gave birth and you want another?” Nico chuckled. 

“You have magic dick. I could give you as many kids as you want. Sex with you is a pleasure and seeing you with a kid in your arms is even better. As soon as we get the green light to have sex, we’re trying for another one” You said and heard Nico’ laugh.

“It’s so hot when you talk like that but I think we need a break before we’ll be trying for another. Although when the doctor gives you a green light, I’ll give you the best sex in your life. It’s been too long” Nico said and now you laughed. 

“Sounds fair” You told him and closed your eyes to get a rest before the baby would wake up.

[weeping-treee]

A Desperate Man

Simon is so desperate for you, and he can't bring himself to care.

(Also idk if this will get anywhere, but it's my first time writing. Advice and criticism is greatly appreciated)

Simon’s never noticed women. Even with the way they flaunt and throw themselves at him, he’s never given them the time of day. In his mind, it’s just the job— and getting it finished. When he needs to loosen up? His hand works perfectly fine.

Until you show up. The perky new trauma surgeon he first noticed in the base medbay.

It started a month ago. Thirty whole days. God, only thirty days—and he feels like a teenager.

He hears your voice as he’s sitting with Soap, waiting for him to get patched up after a mission. Something about the soft, reassuring sound makes his head turn. It almost reminds him of his mother..

Maybe that’s why he noticed.

Maybe that’s why he looked.

But he froze when he saw your face, dark eyes were staring— trailing your every move, for reasons he didn’t yet understand.

But god help him, the one thing he knew in that moment was that he wanted you to speak to him like that.

Soap's voice snapped him out of it, the Scot chuckling and shaking his head.

“See somethin' ya like, Lt?”

The Scot's tease is only met with narrowed eyes as he stares back down at the knife in his hands.

Over the next few months, Ghost goes out of his way to be noticed by you. To really meet you.

Even managing to "accidentally" get a knife to the shoulder on the most recent mission.

It’s not his first stab wound, and it won’t be the last. In his head, the pain was worth it— worth being close to you. Worth having a reason to stare. To hear your voice as you reassured him.

So there he sits, arms crossed against his chest. Silent. Brooding. Waiting for his name to be called—to be noticed. There are men who have worse injuries, so he'll wait hours if it means he'll feel your soft hands on him, with your softer voice to top it off. Even if the smell of blood and antiseptic mixing assaults his sinuses.

That’s when he hears it. Your voice—sharp but solicitous—calling out his name. His real name.

“Riley? Simon Riley?” you say, checking over the clipboard, then looking up from it.

He shot to his feet—too fast. Like a rookie—making him look like an eager puppy. But fuck it, he’s waited long enough.

“It’s Ghost.“ he corrects. Plain and simple.

“Noted.” You smile softly, nodding as you jot it down on the chart.

That smile. His fingers twitch against his thigh. His shoulders tense. He's gone, and he knows it.

He’s nervous...

Actually nervous.

He’s sitting on the bed, watching you prep the tools and bandages before he manages to say something.

“You’re new.” He grumbles—it’s more of a statement than a question. He mentally grimaces at how much of a jerk he probably sounds like.

“Mhm, I am. Been here about a month now... you?” You retort sweetly, slipping on latex gloves and setting up the suture kit.

If he weren’t sitting, he’s sure his knees would give out. God, that voice. He could get drunk on it.

“Years now. You lose track when you’re facing death every other day,” He manages to joke—and you laugh. You actually laugh, and his heart skips a beat.

He made you laugh.

“I bet,” you say with a chuckle, gently examining his shoulder, fingers lightly pressing around the wound.

His heart races as you touch him. Your hands are warm. Careful. Gentle.

God, he’s falling, and he doesn’t care if anything catches him.

“It’s superficial.. I take it this isn’t your first rodeo with a stab wound?” You ask, applying antiseptic around the area.

He lets out a low chuckle—that raspy sound that makes you glance up at him.

“No. Not my first rodeo. Don’t be afraid to hurt me, love.”

The endearment rolls off his tongue so smoothly, and you blush—just a little. He sees it. He takes it as a win.

“I vowed to do no harm, Ghost.” You chuckle softly, irrigating the wound with saline..

“But I will give you the choice.. numbing or no numbing?” You ask, your eyes meet his, steady and professional.

“Don’t need numbing for a few stitches.” He says without hesitation, which makes your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Got it. I’ve got a tough guy on my table.” You tease, wiping saline away and rinsing your hands of it.

He shakes his head, eyes crinkling at the corners. There's a subtle shift beneath the balaclava—just enough to know he's smiling.

You know he’s smiling behind the mask—and he knows that you know.

[rafeys-angel13]

rafe when he’s ill

warnings: none

writers notes: i feel like sick rafe is the whiniest person you’ll ever meet. also i couldn’t be bothered to proofread so i pray i am having a good spelling day 😘

you walk into his room to find him buried under his covers and pillows.

“rafe? you okay? when you were sick i didn’t think you meant on the verge of death…” you walk over to the side of the bed and push the hair out of his face, checking his temperature. he’s red hot.

“mm i have the flu…” he grumbles, nuzzling his head against your touch.

“man flu or actual flu?” you smile and kiss his head.

“actual flu… i swear im not being dramatic…” he frowns and sits up slowly.

you climb into the bed next to him and he lays against you. you rub his clammy back as he grumbles something about feeling shitty into your chest.

“you’ll feel better before you know it…” you reassure and he grumbles again.

after sitting in silence for a while, rubbing his back and playing with his hair while he coughs and sneezes over and over again, you get up to make him some soup and find some medicine.

you head downstairs and look around the kitchen, finding a medicine for the sweats and aches and another for his cough. you also make some chicken noodle soup and grab some water.

you push his bedroom door open to find him laying in bed asleep. you chuckle and walk over to the bed, setting the things down and then running your fingers through his hair.

“baby… wake up… i have food~” you whisper gently, he frowns and opens his eyes, rolling onto his back and looking up at you.

“hello…” you smile and kiss his warm forehead.

“hi…” he responds with a gravelly voice.

you help him sit up against the headboard, surrounding him with pillows so he doesn’t have to hold himself up.

“you want some soup?” you show him the soup and he scrunches his nose up.

“not really…” he replies with a disgusted look on his face fave.

“okay, at least have some medicine…” you take the lids off both of them, measure them then give it to him. he looks almost childlike when you give him the spoons of medicine, watching as you close the lids again.

“you’re so cute when you’re sick…” you kiss his head and sit down next to him.

“this is humiliating…” he mumbles and buries his face in your chest.

“there’s nothing humiliating about needing taken care of, babe… i’m happy to take care of you anyway…” you kiss his head and rub his bare back.

a little later, you eventually convince him to eat some of the soup. you’re scooping spoonfuls of it into his mouth for him and he’s complaining, something about being held against his will.

“stop using what’s left of your voice to bitch about soup you can’t even taste…” you sigh as you feed him a spoonful. he rolls his eyes and huffs.

“i’m just saying im not hungry and you’re forcing it down my throat…” he grumbles

“no… i’m offering you soup and you’re gladly eating it” you put the spoon to his mouth again and he opens it, letting you feed him. “exactly… like a little baby bird…” you chuckle and kiss his cheek, putting the bowl back down.

“i’m not a baby bird…” he grumbles and buries your face back in your chest.

you kiss his head and rub his back, you don’t really know if there’s any more you can do other than let him get over it naturally.

“you need anything, or are you okay?” you whisper and kiss his ear.

“ ‘m okay…” he nods slightly and wraps his arm tighter around you, “just want you…” you mumbles.

“i don’t know how you’re still so cute when you look and sound like a walking germ…” you sigh

he soon drifts off to sleep and you tidy his room up for him, opening a window to let some air into the stuffy room. his temperature doesn’t seem to get higher or lower…

when you’re finished cleaning you watch tv for a bit until it’s time for more medicine. you turn to face rafe, rubbing his back gently.

“baby… wake up…” you whisper softly and he opens his eyes, immediately holding his head and frowning.

“hm?”

“i know baby, im sorry. i’ve got some more medicine for you…” you smile slightly, praying he’s not grumpy.

he reluctantly sits up to take it then lays back down again.

“i’m sleeping again…” he mumbles gravelly and you pull the covers over him up to his shoulders and kiss his head.

“sweet dreams, my love…” you press a kiss to his head and rub his back until he falls asleep again.

-

[moonstruckme]

face masks - send me a character + an au for a drabble

I'd LOVE to see your take on a college AU - maybe a meet cute? - with Lily?? no pressure at all, I just love your style and scenery so it feels like a cozy prompt! congratulations on 10k - I'm NOT surprised at all!

Thank you so much angel <3

Lily Evans x fem!reader ♡ 526 words

The pretty redhead who sits in front of you is wilting over her desk. Her cheek lays atop her notebook, uncapped pen still in hand and eyes closed. It’s the day of your exam review, but you don’t blame her for falling asleep when she did. Conjugating in the pluperfect is dreadfully boring. 

She doesn’t wake until class is dismissed and the students around her stand, all in a hurry to get to their next class or to the library to study or outside to enjoy the sunny day. She sits up with smudged ink on her cheek (adorable) and a dazed look that quickly turns to alarm as she realizes what’s happened. 

“Bollocks,” you hear her whisper. You have to bite down on a smile as you lean forward to tap her shoulder. 

“Hi,” you say, your voice softening with apology. Her eyes landing on yours feels like pop rocks fizzling in your middle. You rip a page from your notebook and hold it out to her. “Here. I made a copy.” 

Those eyes, still bleary but sharpening down by the second, fall to your notebook. “You…took two sets of notes?” she asks. 

“He speaks so slowly.” You give an awkward little laugh. “Leaves lots of time for writing, and I know you’d usually take your own, but…” 

“Thank you.” The girl finally grasps your outheld page. Her gaze lifts to yours again, brilliant green eyes framed by lashes tinted auburn. Her lips tilt in a tentative smile. “That’s really kind. I don’t know what happened, honestly, I’ve never napped in class before. I knew I should have stopped for coffee.” 

“I still have some left,” you say, before realizing how ridiculous this is. Why on earth would your pretty classmate want the watered-down dregs of your half finished iced latte? But you offered it to her without thinking, because you really don’t think there’s anything you wouldn’t gift her to keep her looking at you like that. 

And maybe it’s charity in the face of your heart-shuddering awkwardness, but she takes the cup you hold out, sipping from the same straw your lips had touched. 

She sighs in blissful relief. “I have to be going through withdrawal or something. This is so good. Thank you, really.” 

The smile she sends you now is bigger than the last, more awake and more sure and all the lovelier for it. Your cheeks tingle warmly. “It’s no problem,” you say. 

“No, you’ve given me your notes and now I’ve just stolen your coffee,” she laughs. “You have to let me pay you back. Can I buy you another?” 

You blink. “Oh, you really don’t have to—” 

“No, I want to, please. Unless you have another class?” 

You press your lips together, shaking your head. She smiles. 

“Perfect. I know a place just around the corner.” 

While you start to gather your things, she turns your cup in her hand, reading the scrawl of black sharpie on the side. “Y/n?” She says your name like she’s testing the feel of it in her mouth, giving it a taste. Her eyes flit up to yours again. “I’m Lily.”

[bard-doe]

MINORS, GO AWAY

I'm gonna be legit right now. I have no clue what the tf-141 would be like in bed. Not because I can't come up with anything, but because it fully depends on you. They just wouldn't do anything you dislike.

I think that Simon would be hella carefully with you. He wouldn't be too rough and wouldn't call you names (let's all remember his trauma, yeah?). Would absolutely tease, though. But if you asked him to be rough? Be fucking ready. Still don't think he would degrade you, doesn't sit right with him.

I think Kyle would be a gentleman. Your pleasure will always be more important than his. That's why you are going to cum 8 times or so. Totally into overstimulation and a combo of teasing and sweet talking. Aw, are you tired? Yeah, poor baby. It's okay, you don't have to do anything, just relax and cum once more. But would totally stop and apologize if you were getting overwhelmed and started crying. (no, I'm not projecting)

I see John as a gentle dom. But sometimes his breeding kink can get over the top and you are getting fucked on every surface of the house. Also, PLEASE HEAR ME, he loves cockwarming. It doesn't even have to be sexual! Just sit on his lap while he does some paperwork, his soft dick enveloped in your warmth. If you suddenly tell him that you are tired of feeling his cum inside, that it makes you icky? Should have told him sooner, sugar. He's either using condoms or finishing on you until you let him breed you again.

And last but not least, Johnny.

...

...What? This man tried everything at least twice. For good measure. I can tell you that he has insane stamina, loves going down on you sloppily and fucking you and himself into overstimulation. He just can't stop. Bites and licks, growls and coos and whines. But the second you tell him to stop he immediately pulls out and checks on you. After you are 100% calm and comfy, he will carefully ask if he can use your thighs or something. What? He needs to get the boner down.

[glamourscat]

TAKE TWO | actor au! tim drake x reader

part one | 1753 words | rivals to…?

“I let you in my trailer once and now it’s like you’re a pest I can’t get rid of.” Tim rolled his eyes dramatically as he walked into his trailer on set, only to find you, once again, sitting on his couch, reading the manuscript.

“Blame the crew. My trailer broke down.”

“Again?” His voice held disbelief, borderline annoyance with a dash of exhaustion.

“Yeah, another water leak. They didn’t fix the bathroom situation properly.” Your voice was too calm for Tim’s liking. Like you were used to this. Too used to this.

“Whatever,” he sighed, flopping into an armchair nearby to rest his legs. Then, after a beat, he let himself look at you.

“I thought you’d be getting ready by now. For the cast party,” he yawned. “It’s in, what, four hours? You take forever to get ready.”

“I’m not coming,” you said, too fast, too easily. Too unbothered, still flipping through the manuscript.

“Bullshit.” His tone was sharper than he meant it to be. “You? Not coming to a cast party? Sure. Then I’m the King of England. Stop messing around.”

“I’m not messing around,” you said, finally lifting your eyes to meet his.

“I’m serious. I’m not interested. I can’t be asked.”

“You can’t be asked?” he repeated, mocking just a bit too hard. “What are you, twelve? It’s a cast party. It’s about publicity and celebration we’re almost do—”

“I. Do. Not. Care.” Each word meant to land stronger and heavier than the last.

“Stop being stubborn. You’re coming. End of story,” he snapped, arms crossed, eyes locked on yours.

“What are you, my mum?” You scoffed. “Why are you getting so worked up? We always fight at these things. So why do you even care?”

He glared, jaw tight. You weren’t wrong. And he hated that. Smartass. He hated when you were right and he had no comeback.

“You have to come.”

“I don’t even have a dress,” you huffed, finally looking at him properly. “I wasn’t planning to go, so I didn’t bring one.”

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying.” He stomped over and flicked your forehead and you shoved him right back. “You’re going to the party, and I…” He hesitated, groaning. “I’ll find you something to wear, alright? Do you promise you’ll go if I get you something?”

“You have three hours, it’s a Sunday, and we’re in the middle of nowhere. Where are you even—”

“Do you promise me?” he asked again, firmer this time.

You sighed and nodded, not at all convinced, but anything just to shut his mouth up was worth it.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Time passed. Your eyes kept drifting to the trailer door. Eventually they slipped half closed, not fully asleep, just resting, until something heavy landed on your stomach and nearly gave you a heart attack.

“What the fuck—you!” You clutched your chest, heart racing, glaring at Tim, who looked way too smug for someone who had, almost, just gave you a heart attack thanks to a shopping bag.

“What? I did my part. You do yours now. Go change,” he said with a shrug, trying to hide the smirk that always got under your skin. Turning his back at you, as he prepared his own clothes.

Where did he even find this? That was your first thought when you saw the dress. A perfect copy, no, it couldn’t be a copy of Chanel’s 1992 black chain dress, accessories and all. The fabric felt like real silk. The size? A true fit. You were flabbergasted.

“How did y—” you almost called from the bathroom, but he stopped you.

“Try the goddamn dress on!” he yelled from the other side of the trailer, not letting you finish. A thump and a curse followed, probably him tripping over his own pants. Karma.

He was stupid. That’s what you’d call him if you knew the truth. Because that dress wasn’t a knockoff. It was the real thing. Perks of being an actor with ridiculous connections. “I have friends in high places,” what he would say if you asked.

What he wouldn’t, though, was how his friends called him out for this insane purchase he did. “You’re insane. For her? The one who drives you up a wall? So last minute? And expensive?” He heard it all. But they didn’t get it. Not like he did. Or so he thinks.

Because the second you called out his name, asking him to help zip up the dress, and he turned and saw you standing there with your hair undone, back bare, eyes unsure, he stopped thinking. The dress hugged every part of you, sure, but that wasn’t it. That wasn’t why his fingers stalled halfway up the zipper. Why he felt the need to trace your spine or spent hours doing nothing but trace gentle and soft circles on your back.

It was everything else. The way you rolled your eyes when he was being dramatic. The way you two argued like it was a sport. The way you cared less about appearances and more about staying true to yourself. You weren’t easy. You were complicated, intense, kind when no one was looking and so damn real. And in that second, as he stood behind you with his hand on your back, he realized it.

Fuck. No, no, no.

You should be his rival. That itch he can’t quite scratch away. Because that’s what you have always been. Someone who’s always been around, in the most absurd, loud, quiet ways. You’re an oxymoron as they come. You, who stole roles and awards from him. You, who are too much and too little at the same time. He refuses to even think about it, because thinking about it means that he has accepted it. And he is not ready for that realisation just yet.

You look like a dream in that dress. And he can’t get his eyes off of you. But at the end of the day, it’s because even at your worst, even when you were difficult and defensive and tired of everything, you were you. And that was the part he couldn’t get rid of. Not even if he tried.

His mind brings him back to the present, fingers still halfway up the zipper, heart thudding in his throat. What in the world is he doing?

“Everything okay back there?”he blinked, as if he was surly to hear your voice.

“Yeah.” His voice came out rougher than expected. He cleared his throat, trying again. “Yeah. All good.”

He zipped the dress the rest of the way, stepping back like the cold metal had burned his fingers. You turned around, lips parted like you might say something, but didn’t. You just gave him a look, curious, maybe a little confused. He didn’t meet your eyes. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair and muttered something about needing to change. The silence lingered, stretched, but neither of you addressed it.

You didn’t ask why he was quiet when you got in the car. Tim, normally would have already half complained about the long car ride, and yet he sat still beside you. Too still. Too quiet. His knee was almost touching yours, barely a brush of distance and you noticed. Of course you noticed. But you didn’t say anything.

Instead, you looked out the window. Watched the trees blur past the glass, eyes following the sun slowly setting leaving dust of purples and pinks in the sky.

And despite it all, your mind struggled to clear itself. Like you hadn’t spent the last twenty minutes in his trailer wondering if the air had actually shifted or if you were imagining it. Like your skin hadn’t prickled when his fingers lingered on your back, a little too long, a little too soft.

He was acting weird. Not bad, weird, just…different. And for the first time since knowing him you realise that, no, you don’t like this. This version of him is unsettling. As by appearance, he sits so calmly, but you know him and his jaw is too tight. As if something had happened and he wasn’t quite ready to admit it. You knew the feeling.

Because if you turned to look at him, really look, you were afraid you’d see it in his face. That same spark you’d been pushing down for months. That flicker of something that didn’t belong in the middle of fake Hollywood banter and petty bickering and long, stupid nights on set. That something that felt real.

You dropped your gaze to where your knees almost touched. Not quite. Close enough to notice, too far to do anything about it. You exhaled quietly. Looked back out the window. Neither of you said a word. But both of you felt it.

The driver pulled up to the venue, all fake smiles and flashing lights. You didn’t move right away. Neither did he.

“I hate these things,” you muttered, mostly to yourself.

“I know,” Tim said. And for once, there was no sarcasm in it. Just knowing.

Yet you forced me to come, you almost said. But you didn’t because you allowed yourself to really look at him since setting foot in the car. His tie was loose, hair messier than usual. But it wasn’t just that. He looked guarded. Like something was troubling him and he was doing everything he could to keep it from getting out.

“You good?” you asked.

He blinked, clearly not expecting the question. “Yeah. Why?”

You shrugged, opening the door. “You’re quiet.”

He followed you out without answering.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Inside it was loud. The kind of loud that pretends to be fun but wears thin quickly. Music, laughter, way too many sequins. People came up to say hi, offer drinks, compliment your dress. You smiled, said thanks, played the part. Usual standard actor business.

You caught Tim’s eyes once across the room. He was talking to someone, nodding along to whatever was being said, but he wasn’t really listening. His eyes kept drifting. To you. And you looked away first.Because it was easier than dealing with whatever that was. The thing pressing up against the edge of your chest, the thing that made your skin feel warm even now, surrounded by dozens of people.

You were going to have to face it at some point. Whatever this was. This thing you refused to name.But not tonight. Tonight, you just needed to breathe. And pretend nothing had changed.

Even though you both knew better.

apologies for how long it took me to write pt2, I truly had no inspiration 😞 i hope you like it <3 likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated always and welcomed. <3