#you’re very sweet! thank you 🖤 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 4 months

Note

Hiiiiii!!!!!!! I recently got back into criminal minds and devoured all ur hotch fics like a MANIAC (you write. So unbelievably well. Im also in love w ur tasm peter stuff, you are just such a good writer thru and thru) and that one request where Jack calls reader mom for the first time really stuck w me so I was wondering if maybe I could request smth of the opposite? Like not-so-single mom!reader and hotch have been dating for a while and her lil girl calls him dad for the first time :3 🖤🖤

thank you for requesting! 💌 —your daughter calls Hotch dad for the first time. fem, 2k

“Come in, come in!” Hotch says, the door held ajar by his arm, forcing you to squeeze in and save the heat. “Quickly, honey, please, get out of the rain.”

Sarah bursts in through the door and away from the rain, her vinyl coat covered in raindrops, her boots wet with mud. “Aaron!” she says, pulling it into something softened and excited at once, though her ‘r’s are weak, closer to ‘w’s. “I missed you.” She jumps from one foot to the other.

He makes sure you’re safely inside before he abandons you. It’s not very kind to you, but he can’t help himself. “Sarah,” he says, without your daughter’s sweetness but heavily fond, “I missed you more, honey. How many days has it been?”

“Four!” she says, holding up four fingers as Hotch grabs her by the waist.

He doesn’t mind her wet coat, working an arm around and beneath her to shuck off her muddy shoes. They topple to the ground to unveil damp socks.

“Oh, no, your socks are wet. I did all the laundry while we were waiting, I have some warm ones for you in the dryer. Should we get you out of this coat?”

“Where’s Jack?” you ask.

“Eating. He was starving, couldn’t wait.”

You kick your shoes off and gather them with Sarah’s to line up by the door. Hotch takes off Sarah’s coat with some one-armed manoeuvring, aware of her smiley gaze following his every move.

“I,” you say, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek, cold lips to his rough skin, “am gonna go to the toilet really quickly. Hi, handsome.”

He savours your kiss and watches you go. He owes you a better greeting, he missed you just as much as he missed your girl. For now, he wipes the cold from Sarah’s cheeks and stations her comfortably on his navel.

He loves her like his own. He’s privileged to get the opportunity, and it’s hard not to feel that low level of awe whenever she’s around, because she loves him the same way. Sarah waits for him to smile before she wraps her arms around his neck, long enough to twine her fingers in the short hair she finds there.

It’s funny to love someone you had no hand in bringing into the world, but no less real. He’d do anything for Sarah. I miss you doesn’t cover it, but it’s a start. “I missed you,” he murmurs, not well-versed in baby talk but always willing to try for his kids. “It’s so nice to see you. Jack missed you too, should we go see him? I can change your socks.”

He ushers her back enough to see her. She has such loving eyes, not shy at all as she nods her head. “Can you make crackers?”

He beams. “Oooh, yes. Crackers and cheese and apple slices, I know what you want, honey. It’s ready for you in the kitchen.”

Things weren’t easy at first for either you nor Hotch. He works too much, and you both have priorities that can’t be shifted, but the connection between you was easy. Love, undoubtedly, pretty much the moment you met, even if it scared him. He never thought he’d get a second chance and he’s not sure you thought you’d find yours either, and yet loving you has been as helpless as loving your daughter. He doesn’t have a choice and he doesn’t want one.

In this time, you’ve found routine. He’s introduced the idea of moving in together and you’re excited for it, though concrete plans haven’t been laid. There’s a lot of questions and no need to rush into answering them yet. He has no intentions of letting you go now —Hotch will do anything it takes to keep his small family.

Today, right now, that’s crackers.

“Sarah!” Jack says when he sees them, jumping off of his chair to climb on top of it. He holds his hands out and Hotch leans down with a loving laugh to let his son hug her. “You’re back!”

“I’m back,” she agrees.

“Do you want some of my sandwiches? Daddy made me two.”

“Yes!” she says, wiggling to be put down and given what he’s promising.

Hotch fights to take her to the sink and wash her little hands, to her horror and whining. He says, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you gotta wash your hands before you eat.”

He puts her in her own chair, and it is Sarah’s chair, outfitted with a big pillow so she can see the table and marked by a pink star sticker, putting a placemat in front of her. Jack quickly pushes one of his sandwiches towards her. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Jackers,” she says.

Hotch smiles. Despite their different interests and ages, they’re quick to get along.

He shouldn’t pry while you’re in the bathroom, but he worries about you. “Honey?” he calls up the stairs.

“I’m just changing!”

“Yeah? Can you bring some socks for Sarah, please?”

You shout back something incomprehensible. He returns to the kitchen, where Sarah looks over the chair with pleading eyes and asks, “Crackers?” a piece of lettuce stuck to her chin.

“Ah,” he says showfully, turning to the fridge to grab the plate of crackers, sliced cheese, and apples he’d Saran wrapped an hour ago. He peels off the wrapping and places it in front of her. “Here, sweetheart. Do you want anything else? Maybe some chips?”

She laughs and grabs a piece of apple without answering him.

“What about you, sweetheart? Drink?” he asks Jack.

“Yes please, daddy.”

Hotch makes Jack a cup of orange juice and Sarah a sippy cup, hers diluted some with water. He places them down in front of the kids, crouching between their chairs, intending to stay and chat. “How’s that?” he asks, tilting his head to the side to listen for your light footsteps on the stairs.

“Thanks, daddy,” Jack says.

“Thank you, daddy,” Sarah echoes, reaching for him. Hotch offers his hand, startled, not quick enough to hide it. She doesn’t pay any mind to his expression, pleased to have her hand held and her big plastic plate of crackers to munch on.

“Why’d you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” you ask, passing him Sarah’s socks, and rounding the table to stand by Jack's other side. “Hi,” you add, ruffling Jack’s hair, “look at you, gorgeous, you got your hair cut.”

Hotch rubs Sarah’s knuckles, trying to phrase it, not sure how to tell you with the kids still there. Will Sarah feel embarrassed if he brings it up so swiftly? Will she feel like she’s done something wrong? Will you?

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He decides to present you with the situation. He’s not manipulative, but clever. “Mommy got your socks, too. Can we take these cold ones off, is that okay?”

“Yes, please,” Sarah says.

You watch in confusion. Hotch gives you a quick look. Trust me for a second.

He eases the socks off of her feet, laughs when she laughs at his tickling, even if he’s not quite sure how to feel. Happy, he gives her toes a squeeze and bunches a sock up to pull it over her heel and up to her ankle. “One,” he says, repeating the process with the same tenderness. “Two. There we go, all warm again, Sarah.”

“Thanks, daddy.”

You breathe in.

Sarah puts some cheese on a cracker and offers it to Hotch, who eats it while you summon him away with silent parent talk. He kisses her forehead and wipes it clean as he goes.

“Did she do that when I was upstairs?” you ask quietly.

Hotch knows you. Loves you, but knows you intrinsically. He knows just by looking at you that you’re happy, but you’re worried about something, and it’s not hard to guess what it is: he might not want Sarah to call him daddy, and telling her not to might break her heart, and yours too.

“She did.”

“She’s never… expressed that interest to me.”

“Sometimes they think about things more than we know.” Jack still surprises him as he did when he was a toddler.

“She just loves you,” you say.

“I love her. She can call me whatever she wants to.”

You hold his wrist, taking a step closer to him. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” He murmurs now you’re close, ducking his head to yours, two halves of the same heart looking at one another’s hands. “I love her more than anything in the world. I want to make her crackers for the rest of my life.” Hotch puts his index finger to the soft skin under your chin. “Maybe by tomorrow she’ll forget she called me daddy and she’ll never say it again, but… I want her to. Is that okay?” he asks.

You lean up to kiss him and you nod into his lips, which makes it hard but not impossible to kiss back. “She loves you so much,” you say quietly. You’d only wanted a quick peck.

He might’ve said he loves her more than anything, but there’s a level on which he holds her and Jack where you sit too. He loves you. You made Sarah who she is all by yourself, and you’re so lovable standing in his reach. You’re perfect.

Maybe he’s feeling sweet because Sarah called him daddy.

“I think Jack confused her,” he says.

“Maybe. You are, you know, her dad. You do everything a dad would.”

Hotch slots his leg between yours and leans back to force you into his favourite kind of hug. You laugh slowly, hug the same, your arms sliding up over his shoulders to wrap behind his head, your hand cupping his hair.

He closes his eyes and feels your waist.

“You don’t have to worry,” he says.

“I don’t worry about you and Sarah, I know you love her. I guess I just worry about us. Not that you don’t love me, Aaron.”

“Big changes,” he guesses in a whisper.

“Big changes.”

He encourages you away to hold your face. He hopes that waiting with you in quiet for a while can explain it better than words.

Your shoulders finally relax.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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elllisaaa · 5 months

Note

Hey, how are you? First of all, I just want to say that I'm absolutely in love with your writing 🥹 you make it so fluid and fun to read 🖤

I'd like to ask a scenario/reaction for seventeen (ot13 individually, if possible) in which they have have a crush on reader, and then the reader gets cold and some other member offers them their hoodie, and they get kinda jealous and then might come up with some excuse for the reader to use their hoodie instead or something else of the sort. You can decide what each of them will do on your own, I wanna read it hehe

But just making it obvious they have a crush, even if they think they are not

Thank youuu, hope you have fun 🖤🖤

hiii lovely !! i'm doing good and i hope you are great too ! and thank you so much for these compliments, i'm glad to hear that you like my writing !! this was so fun and adorable to write even if it took me a looot of time but i hope you'll still like it ! thank you for sending in an ask !

seventeen getting jealous of you wearing another member's hoodie

-> pairing : svt × gn!reader

-> words count : 1.6k words

-> genre : fluff

-> sorry if I made any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> masterlist | svt masterlist

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

He truly loves Jeonghan, he really does. But to see him smirk at him while giving you one of his hoodies was not on his bingo card of their friendship. He knew how teasing Jeonghan could get, but to do that when he perfectly knew the fat crush Seungcheol had on you felt wrong. He would get a little pouty, crossing his arms and shooting deadly glares at his friend. Right before you all had to leave for the bar, he told you that the color of Jeonghan’s hoodie was absolutely not fitting with the rest of your outfit and handed you one of his in a color that was going so much better with your other clothes. Cheol is very proud of the annoyed look on his friend’s face, and the sweet smile you give him as thank you.

YOON JEONGHAN

When he gets back from the store and sees you all comfy in Joshua’s hoodie, he’s not having it. He plays it off, asking you who this belongs to since it’s clearly not your usual style. And you give him exactly the answer he was waiting for. Jeonghan gives the piece of clothing a judging look but says nothing and just leaves for a few minutes. When he comes back, he throws another hoodie at you, one of his. And when you ask what was the problem with the one you had on, he argues that it doesn’t fit your aesthetic. You are a little confused but still put on Jeonghan's hoodie. He will spend the rest of the day watching over you with a little smirk on his face, proud of seeing you wear his clothes.

HONG JOSHUA

I feel like Joshua is not so much a jealous guy but more of a possessive person. So he does not feel very jealous at seeing you wearing Jun’s hoodie, but he wants to make it clear that you’re his crush and not anyone else’s. He’s not even trying to hide it, it’s comical at this point. Joshua is straight up telling you that he would like it better if you wore his hoodie instead. He loves how you get a little shy by his bold demand but still agree, immediately taking off Jun’s hoodie and putting on the one Joshua is handing you. He will be so touchy the whole day, making it even more obvious that he wants you to be his.

MOON JUNHUI

He’s so fucking smooth about it. Jun doesn’t want to see you wearing Soonyoung’s hoodie, even if he’s your best friend, but he doesn’t wanna make it too obvious either. He wants to confess properly, not giving it away because he’s jealous. So he will tell you that the hoodie your friend gave you had a stain on it, and that you couldn’t wear it for when you will all go out after lunch. Jun so kindly offered one of his instead, discarding the other boy's clothes and giving you one of his hoodies. He feels a little bad for Soonyoung for one second, and then you flash him your prettiest smile and he doesn’t even know what guilt is anymore.

KWON SOONYOUNG

On the contrary, Soonyoung is so fucking obvious, it’s painful for everyone else watching. As soon as he saw you walking around in Wonwoo’s hoodie, he got pouty, refusing to talk to you. His argument ? It’s a betrayal to your friendship, regarding the fact that he’s your best friend and that Wonwoo is not. He’s such a baby about it, it’s cute. And Soonyong will keep crying about it until you finally give in and accept to take one of his sweaters instead. Except that he completely forgot to do his laundry and there is no more clean hoodie for you. It’s pretty comical to see his face fall and his pout return.

JEON WONWOO

As I’ve already stated, Wonwoo is not a jealous person, especially over his crush that is not even his partner yet. So he will not try to absolutely get you to not wear Jihoon’s hoodie or come up with an excuse like the others, even if he would’ve preferred if you wore his, just so it could smell like you once you give it back. Next time though, he’ll be prepared, either with a spare hoodie, or by wearing an outfit that allows him to give you his hoodie without getting too cold. And to think that Wonwoo does this just for you makes you feel all giddy inside, and when you make sure to acknowledge and appreciate his efforts, it’s his turn to get a little shy and bashful (he’s so cute i’m dying).

LEE JIHOON

I swear he’s stopping it before it even happens. He told you before going to take a spare hoodie or jacket with you because even if the weather was good, it would start to get colder soon. But as usual, you didn’t listen to him because it would’ve ruined your cute little outfit. Jihoon knew that you would end up complaining because you were cold, and that’s why he put on a hoodie himself - just so he could give it to you. But he wasn’t ready for how fast Seokmin offered to take his off and give it to you. But Jihoon is quicker and he is handing you his sweater before you even had the time to respond to his friend. We love a careful king like him.

LEE SEOKMIN

Another who’s a baby about it and so not subtle about it. He sees you laughing about how big Mingyu’s hoodie looks on you. And even though you’re not wrong, Seokmin knows that his sweaters would look big on you too, and that they would even suit you more because the colors he has match your style better than his friend’s. You can see how unhappy he is about the whole thing, and you take this opportunity to tease him a little. Seokmin would not even try to hide it, arguing that if you wanted to wear an oversized hoodie, you could’ve asked for his instead. He will only stop pouting when you agree to wear one of his.

KIM MINGYU

This big bay is sulking, like you had just back-stabbed him. And it’s only because you’re always barging about how big and oversized hoodies are the best ones, and here you are, wearing one of Minghao’s when you could’ve asked Mingyu and it would have been even bigger. He’s not telling you anything though, even if it’s kinda obvious that he’s upset over something. The next time you’re asking Mingyu about his opinion on your outfit, he doesn’t remind you to bring a jacket with you only so he could hand you his sweater and watch you drown into the fabric. Bonus point if you give it back without washing it and it still has your perfume and scent on it.

XU MINGHAO

Minghao would not say anything about the fact that you were currently wearing Seungkwan hoodie’s, but he would still give his member a kind of side eye when he comments on how well the piece of clothing suits you. During dinner, he will unfortunately drop some food on the sweater. Oh no ! But don’t worry, he will give you one of his instead so you can stay warm. Minghao will ignore all night how Seungkwan is sulking and will simply smile at you when you say that his hoodie is very soft. It’s just feeling very right to see you walking around in his clothes, and he definitely wouldn’t mind seeing you wear them more.

BOO SEUNGKWAN

He’s not having it, like at all. Especially since he’s very obvious about his crush on you around his members, and that they all know how much he loves you, he doesn’t like the fact that you’re wearing Hansol’s clothes. Seungkwan is not even really jealous, he’s only mad at his friend for doing this even though he knows everything. He’s giving deadly glares to Hansol all day, as if he really wanted to kill him for handing you his hoodie. He knows that he’s only doing this to tease him, but still. When you ask Seungkwan what’s wrong, he’s only telling you that he’s in a bad mood. But from now on, he will jump in before anyone else if you ever need a hoodie.

CHWE HANSOL

Nobody knows about Hansol’s crush on you, because it is no one else’s business. So he can’t be upset at Chan for giving you his hoodie because you were cold, he just wished he was quicker and gave you his. And it even feels strange that you accepted his friend’s clothing, because Hansol had told you countless times that you could borrow anything from his room, even when he was not there. Later on, he will ask you why you were wearing Chan’s hoodie, thinking that his approach was casual (even when it’s really not). When you explained that you just didn’t want to make him feel bad when he offered, Hansol simply nodded. But his cheeks quickly turned red when you admitted prefering to wear his sweater.

LEE CHAN

Chan really tries hard to not show his crush on you, but the way he looks at you is not as subtle as he thinks and everyone has understood what was going on, even you. Hence why you’re wearing one of Seungcheol hoodie’s right now. Yes, Chan is kinda obvious, but you still want to be 100% sure that he won’t reject you. And what better than jealousy ? Plus, he’s always making a point of giving you his clothes when you’re cold, so he doesn’t understand why you didn’t ask him this time. He’s pouting and sulking for sure, even complaining to his hyung about how he’s trying to steal his crush. Honestly, he’s just very cute and he’s being a baby. The only way to get him to smile again is by agreeing to take his hoodie instead.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.

svt tagglist (fill in this to be added) :

@lil-kpopstan @hann1bee @iraisswiftie @bewoyewo @lichyuu

#eli answering your questions #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seungcheol x reader #jeonghan x reader #joshua x reader #jun x reader #hoshi x reader #wonwoo x reader #woozi x reader #dk x reader #mingyu x reader #minghao x reader #seungkwan x reader #vernon x reader #dino x reader

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alwaysmicado · 7 months

Text

we shouldn’t

2.9k | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | one-shot

Warnings: 18+, no outbreak AU, alcohol, smut (but nothing too graphic), smooching, reader being a menace, fluff & the tiniest bit of angst Summary: Joel holds your hand after a night out. It makes you feel things you don’t want to feel. A/N: This little one-shot was very emotional for me to write, and I hope it’ll make you feel something, too. Can be read alone or as a prequel to part 1 within the fwb!Joel AU. Enjoy and let me know what you think! I love talking to you about these two! 🖤 series masterlist

“If I don’t catch you before the light, I’ll do that little dance you like so much.”

“Naked?” you ask with wide eyes.

He chuckles at your enthusiasm. “Yeah, na–”

Before he can finish his sentence, you’re running—clumsily, but fueled by an eagerness that outshines the haze of your drunkenness.

“–ked.”

– – –

The neon lights of the city blur into a kaleidoscope as Joel and you stroll down the crowded streets, the remnants of laughter and clinking glasses still echoing in your ears from the bar you just left. It’s a beautiful night—alive with a buzz, a mix of the city’s energy and the warmth that comes from a few too many drinks.

You’re giggling uncontrollably at something Joel said, your hands clasped over your belly as your sides hurt from laughing. You don’t even remember what he said that was so funny, but that doesn’t matter.

You’re having fun—as always when you’re with him.

Joel glances over at you with a lopsided grin, his eyes slightly glazed but still sparkling with mischief.

“You’re such a lightweight, darlin’,” he says, his words laced with genuine amusement. He chuckles as you continue to giggle, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “No more Long Island Iced Teas for you.”

You playfully roll your eyes, trying to catch your breath, and delicately wiping away the happy tears spilling over.

“Oh, come on,” you quip, turning to him with an infectious grin. “Could a lightweight do this?”

Determined to prove him wrong, you theatrically hold out your arms and set one foot gracefully in front of the other, your pretend sobriety test turning into a whimsical dance along an invisible line on the floor.

“See?” you say excitedly—and perhaps a tad too loudly—before your own enthusiasm sends you stumbling over your own feet. Lucky for you, Joel’s reflexes kick in, and he effortlessly catches you before you can faceplant and hurt yourself.

“Easy there, baby,” he teases with a grin, his strong arms steadying you before pulling you into a tight embrace. “You’re just having too much fun tonight, huh?”

“S’not fair,” you slur against his chest, giggles bubbling up from deep inside you. “The world is spinning.”

Joel looks at you, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “That’s not–” he begins but stops himself, chuckling. “Well, actually, yes, you’re right. The world is spinning, baby.” He presses a soft kiss against your temple. “I got you though.”

Giggles subside into a contented sigh as you rest against Joel’s broad chest, the fleeting touch of his fingers brushing against your back.

“Thank you,” you murmur, taking in his warmth and his scent. “Mmm, you smell nice. How do you always smell so nice?”

Lifting your head, you gaze into his eyes with honest bewilderment and curiosity, your brow furrowed, as if this is the most perplexing mystery that needs unraveling.

“Reminds me of when we met. My clothes smelled like you when I got home that night.”

Joel’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he looks at you with a genuine sense of adoration, his heart warmed by the sincerity and carefree spirit that your drunken honesty radiates.

He’s obviously not going to tell you that he’s made sure to only ever use the aftershave you complimented him on the first night you spent together, but he’s secretly delighting in the fact that you still like it.

“Well, aren’t you sweet, darlin’,” he coos, an amused smile gracing his lips. “You were such a brat not even twenty minutes ago and now look at you. Tame as a little kitten.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.” You bite your lip and put your hands on his chest, your pupils so dilated your eyes are black.

You can still feel his fingers inside you.

Joel runs his hands up and down your back, a sensation that makes your knees weak. He bores his eyes into you and raises an eyebrow.

“I’m talking about you acting like a whore in that bar just so I’d make you come on my fingers.” His hands wander down to your ass, groping you, pulling you closer against his body. “You knew I’d fuck you when we got to your place, but you just couldn’t wait, huh?”

“Hmm, you love it,” you chuckle, pressing a soft kiss on his warm lips. “Don’t act like you’re not a total perv yourself. ‘Cause, you know, you are, and that’s why you just fingered me in a crowded bar. And that’s why you almost came in your pants. And that’s also why we get along so well.”

Joel grins at you, savoring the lingering sensation of your lips on his. “Touché, you little smartass.”

Your eyes drop to his mustache, perched proudly on his top lip. He’s shaved off the rest of his facial hair, and tonight’s the first time you’ve seen him like this. It suits him.

“You see something you like, baby?”

“I love your mustache. It’ so fucking hot,” you murmur, mesmerized, gently touching the little hairs above Joel’s lip with your fingertips. “Makes you look like an ‘80s pornstar.”

“You’re into that?” he chuckles, noting the particular fixation your inebriated brain has chosen this time—last time, it was the curve of his nose. You’re adorable.

“Fuck yeah. The only thing missing are assless chaps and a tight mesh shirt.” You wrap your arms around him and look into his beautiful brown eyes.

“Mmm, you never cease to surprise me, darlin’,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear before nibbling on your earlobe. “I didn’t realize you were such a fan of my ass.”

You giggle and squeeze his cheeks to make a point, pulling away a bit to lock your lidded eyes on his. “Oh, you have no idea. I’ll tie you to your bed next time and show you if you want. Fair warning, though, I won’t be gentle.”

Joel’s eyes widen, his erection straining against the harsh fabric of his jeans.

“Careful, darlin’,” he growls into your ear, “if you can’t behave yourself, I’ll have to put you in your place. And I promise you, I won’t be gentle either.”

You can’t suppress the little moan that escapes your lips as Joel’s words go straight to your pussy. His scent, his deep voice, his broad body against yours, his dark eyes—it all has you melting in his arms, craving his touch. Badly.

“Can we go, please?” you plead, your tone carrying the unmistakable hint of neediness Joel loves to hear so much.

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” he murmurs, his hands finding your waist, pulling you against his groin with a possessive grip.

You playfully roll your eyes and let out a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, yeah, and I’m a bad, bad girl that needs to be punished—yada yada yada. Can we go now? Please?”

You pull away from his embrace with a cheeky smile and start tugging on his arm, urging him to move. Joel snorts at your impatience, thoroughly entertained by the frustrated little noises you make when he doesn’t budge.

One eyebrow raised and hands on your hips, you glare at him defiantly. You’re swaying a little now that he’s not holding you anymore.

“I’ll fucking run home and get myself off if you don’t get your ass in gear right now.”

“You still haven’t grasped the concept of asking nicely, huh? And after all this time I’ve tried to teach you,” he chuckles, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood and can’t wait to fill up that pretty little pussy of yours.”

He tilts your chin up with his thumb and index finger to search your eyes. To his satisfaction, he finds pure hunger in them. Your brain has completely shut off any and all functions except for imagining Joel taking you roughly in your bed. Or on your sofa. Or on the floor.

“Tell you what, you brat. You get a ten-second head start, and if I catch you before you reach that traffic light over there, you’re not allowed to touch me once you’re naked.”

“And if you don’t catch me?”

Joel needs to hold back his laugh at the ridiculous idea that you’d be faster than him.

“If I don’t catch you before the light, I’ll do that little dance you like so much.”

“Naked?” you ask with wide eyes.

He chuckles at your enthusiasm. “Yeah, na–”

Before he can finish his sentence, you’re running—clumsily, but fueled by a determination that outshines the haze of your drunkenness.

“–ked.”

The night air that envelops you is alive with laughter and the distant hum of the city as you stumble towards the traffic light, your unsteady steps dictated by the alcohol coursing through your veins. Your brain can’t decide between giggling and breathing, so you’re left with a side stitch and gasping for air after a few short seconds.

At least you had enough foresight to choose comfort over sexiness when you put on your sneakers tonight instead of your heels.

Joel’s eyes track you, captivated by the rhythmic sway of your legs beneath the hem of the short dress you’re wearing. Oh, how he can’t wait to feel your naked skin pressed against his. You’re always so soft, so warm, so receptive to his touch…

He snaps out of it, realizing the very real potential for a clumsy misstep, and joins the chase. His steps are more purposeful, not wanting you to trip and hurt yourself, especially not on his watch.

A few meters shy of the traffic light, he catches up, arms wrapping around you from behind. You squeal in surprise, a mixture of laughter and exhilaration bubbling up from deep inside you. Joel joins in, his laughter harmonizing with yours, as he triumphantly murmurs, “Got you” in your ear.

He sets you down gently and pulls you close as your heart is still racing, and presses his lips on yours in a deep, lingering kiss.

“Not fair,” you mumble against his lips with a pout. “And I don’t wanna live in a world where you don’t dance for me.”

Joel sighs deeply, succumbing to the irresistible charm of your big puppy eyes.

“How about this, baby. You’re good and do what I say without talking back, and I’ll dance for you until you’re dizzy. Hm?”

“Okay, sounds fair,” you murmur, wanting nothing more than to get home quickly and rip his clothes off. Riling him up in the bar and coming all over his fingers was nice, but you’ve had far from enough.

“Good girl.”

As the traffic light shifts to green, Joel’s hand instinctively finds yours, not wanting to let you stumble across the street without him holding you. You don’t think too much about it, assuming he’ll let go once you’re on the other side.

Surprisingly, though, his grip persists, and he intertwines his fingers with yours.

It’s a gesture so simple, yet it simultaneously sobers you up and sends a ripple through the carefully constructed walls you’ve built around your emotions. Confusion colors your eyes as you steal a glance at him, and he meets your eyes with a warmth that makes your heart skip a beat.

You don’t like it.

This isn’t the casual arm around the shoulder or the hand on your hip. This feels like…more. Like something you’d only do in a relationship. Joel’s touch is warm and electric, and an unsettling realization dawns—the casual arrangement you’ve shared with him suddenly seems more complicated.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

“What are you doing?” you ask, feigning nonchalance, although your heart is doing somersaults.

“What do you mean?” Joel smirks, giving your hand a playful squeeze. “Just trying to keep you from stumbling into the bushes, baby. I’m a gentleman, you know.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, but the butterflies in your stomach tell a different story. The truth is, you’ve been here before—caught in the crossroads of friendship and something more. It’s a delicate balance, and one you don’t want to upset.

Joel’s the best thing that has happened to you in a long time, and you don’t want to lose what you have. But you also care for him enough that you’d let him go if your arrangement didn’t make him happy anymore.

As you finally reach your apartment building, a nervous flutter sets your heart pounding in your chest. You clear your throat and subtly allow your fingers to slip away from Joel’s, feigning the need for both hands as you rummage through your purse in search of your key.

You follow Joel inside, deliberately averting your gaze, your eyes fixed on the glowing buttons as you summon the elevator. As you step inside the confined space, a wave of memories floods your mind, recalling the last time you’ve given in to your desires when the brief elevator ride felt too long to resist.

Joel knelt in front of you, skillfully drawing an orgasm out of you with his tongue while your fingers were tangled in his dark curls. Once he had his fill, he proceeded to throw you over his shoulder and fuck you in front of your living room mirror. You’ll never forget how he forced you to look at yourself with his hand wrapped around your neck.

You’re abruptly pulled back to the present as you feel Joel’s hand finding yours once again, trying to reassure you that he’s here if you need him. You look at him with a conflicted expression, torn between appreciating his caring gesture and the fear of disappointing him.

As you shuffle to your apartment door, Joel finally breaks the silence, his voice low and soothing, “Are you alright, darlin’? Do you feel sick?” His eyes search your face, concern evident in his furrowed brow.

“Nah, just a bit tipsy,” you reply automatically, your tone light as you lean against the wall.

However, when he starts tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, you’re unable to suppress the growing unease any longer. Tightness settles in your chest, accompanied by a fluttering sensation that dances beneath your ribcage.

“It’s just…I, uh,” you murmur, “I didn’t expect you to hold my hand is all.”

“Oh.” Joel’s gaze softens, and he releases your hand, the connection severed. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, darlin’. I should’ve asked if you were okay with it, I’m sorry.”

You shake your head vehemently. “No, no, it’s not that I didn’t like it. It’s just...it felt–” you cut yourself off and sigh deeply, turning around to open your apartment door. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Joel nods, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I understand, darlin’. Thank you for telling me.”

“I’m sorry,” you switch on the light in your living room and throw your purse onto your sofa. “I know it’s weird, but I really…we–we shouldn’t and I…I can’t–”

“Darlin’, hey,” he steps inside and closes the door behind him. “There’s no need for you to apologize, or explain for that matter.”

You turn around and take him in for a moment. His warm eyes, his soft smile, the cute little movements his hand makes when he’s nervous—he’s just so…sweet. You’re not used to a guy being so considerate of your boundaries, and it’s incredibly hard for you to believe that he actually means it and won’t use them against you once he’s tired of you.

You know it’ll happen at some point, but you’re okay with that. This isn’t meant to last.

“Do you, uh, still wanna stay for a nightcap?” you ask him with a hopeful smile.

“Of course I do, darlin’,” he says, tilting his head and looking at you curiously.

You open your arms, silently inviting him to draw you into a comforting embrace. You’re relieved when his response is immediate and eager.

“We’re on the same page, right?” he asks, a genuine smile on his lips as his dark eyes search yours. “We have fun, and I like spending time with you, but I want you to feel comfortable, too. If this,” he gestures between the two of you, “ever becomes more than you’re comfortable with, we talk about it. No pressure, no expectations. Just us, enjoying each other’s company.”

He pulls back slightly to gauge your reaction, his hand still gently resting on your waist.

“Sounds perfect, Joel,” you coo in response, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Now, would you please shut up and kiss me already.”

“Alright, alright, you brat,” Joel chuckles and cups your cheek with his warm hand, before leaning in and sealing the agreement with a lingering kiss to your lips.

“Mmm, I’m so happy I met you, darlin’,” he whispers. “You’re something else, you know?”

You look into his eyes, and there’s a sincerity in them that catches you off guard. You know you shouldn’t have sex with him right now, you know you should tell him to leave.

And yet, as soon as you feel his lips on yours again, more fervently this time, his hands exploring the contours of your back, drawing you close, the rational part of your mind fades away.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he breathes out before switching to kissing down your neck, the sensation of his soft lips on your sensitive skin making you whimper.

“I want you, Joel. I want you.”

– – –

Thanks for reading, guys!! 🤍

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xzaddyzanakinx · 7 months

Text

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Four: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, one-sided relationship, sexual content, pervy behavior, male masturbation, panty kink, sex daydreams [eventual warning for smut; be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin is doing his very best, he just loves you and wants you to be comfy around him. Just let him worm his way into your heart babe [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. I’m illiterate so apologies in advance MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: July 8th

Mr. Nelson’s funeral was today, it really was a beautiful ceremony as I look back on it. Even more so when my inner self smears the background enough to bring you to the front of the mental image.

You’d spoken to the man a handful of times, but I didn’t expect you to come. When I saw you accept the invite to the event on Facebook I thought surely it was a mistake. That was until you messaged Luke and asked him to accompany you, funerals make you nervous, but feeling obligated to do something and avoiding it makes you more nervous.

So your moral support was happy to attend and fight off dear old Alan’s corpse should he rise from the casket and set his sights on you.

And I though I had irrational fears, geez babydoll, how old were you when you watched Night of The Living Dead for the first time? If I had to guess it was too young. It’s alright though I get it, you know what movie traumatized me? The Mummy. Heebied my fucking Jeebies so bad I avoided the beach on family vacations.

You’re telling me there’s not a sarcophagus under all that sand? There’s at least one under there and you can’t convince me otherwise.

Solid ground for me only, please and thank you.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I had a thought that I initially considered to be a sweet reminder of my dear friend Alan. His obituary was in the newspaper and I happened to swipe one from the guest book table at the viewing as well. Have you ever scrapbooked before? I bet you’ve at least tried it.

Well I thought it would be nice to make him a page in my journal. A little celebration of life for the man who gave me an opportunity to grow and nurture my love for you.

Then I realized mid-glue stick on the newspaper clipping that the idea was something that a clinically insane person would do.

I’m not that guy. That guy’s not me.

But the glue was already on there and it felt wrong to toss Alan’s wrinkly old face into the trash so I pasted him into my journal anyway.

Crazy people don’t know that they’re crazy. I’m well aware that little idea was less than tasteful, just felt like I should mention that.

Date:

July 28th

Anakin Skywalker hadn’t been this happy since… ever. The previous record being his discovery of you, was now toppled into second place and overshadowed by ‘Move In Day’.

He could hardly contain himself. It was a dopamine high that he would ride out until he’d drained every last drop.

The movers lugged in box after box, furniture and books, until finally they dropped off the last load and thanked Anakin for the business. He eagerly shook their hand and shoved them out. He had preparations to make.

He set up his Tv, screen mirroring the live feed of the apartment building entrance to the big screen so that he could easily keep an eye out for you while he unpacked his kitchen.

He’d planned your ‘meet-cute’ meticulously, looking to your bookshelf and streaming services to gather intel on your ideal scenario. You were an odd bird, but he liked that about you. It’s part of your charm, it’s part of the challenge. You’re not as predictable in your tastes and interests as others can be.

Anakin formulated the interaction step by step, frame by frame in the storyboard of his imagination until he had the perfect scene. His box office hit that he’d replay over and over again until the next time he stood face to face with you.

It took quite some time and a load of practice. Discarded dialogue, awkward movements that made him feel stiff and less than human when he practiced them in the mirror. Endless options of clothes, shoes, and hair.

Should he get a new piercing? He wanted to. So he did, he knew you’d like it.

It’d match the one he already had on the opposite nostril. It made him feel more complete to add something so permanent to his body, he wished he could do something similar with you. He wanted you to be permanent, so maybe it’s his subconscious’s way of telling him that this was going in the right direction.

He was on the right path. His journey of life alone was coming to a close and a new trail would reveal itself. No more rocky, unsteady tread. No more sharp turns and blind spots, no more impossible inclines.

Scraped knees and bloodied hands would be distant memories. Maybe even distant enough that he could toss them into The Pit.

He would have no need for anger or sorrow anymore.

How could he feel anything but the warm embrace of love as he strolled down the flowered path ahead with you?

Who knew that you could position one box in 83 different ways and hate every single one of them? Anakin was so thankful there weren’t any actual surveillance cameras in the apartment building. It’d be really difficult to explain why he was in the hallway for an hour with his hands on his hips, scooting a box of books a centimeter or two at a time. Turning it sideways and then making sure the book on top was perfectly positioned and would effectively fall to the ground to catch your attention.

He checked his watch nonstop, stared at his Tv screen, willing you to just hurry the fuck up before he vomited from anxiety. He’d waited months for this. If he fucked it up now he’d… well he’d probably keel over on the spot.

Which would promptly traumatize you and not even his ghost would be able to peacefully haunt you. It’s hard to peacefully haunt someone if they watched you die, or at least Anakin assumed it would be difficult. He wasn’t willing to test that theory though.

So, he puffed up his chest and walked back into his apartment and rehearsed the upcoming conversation a few more times. He needed, desperately needed to ensure his facial expressions conveyed what he wanted.

Soft, trustworthy, dependable, safe, caring.

He practiced softening his eyes, knowing sometimes he stared alittle too hard. He worked on his facial fidget; chewing on the inside of his cheek was a quick tell of his nervousness. He didn’t want to be perceived as nervous, he wanted to be confident and sure of himself so that you would be confident in your soon to blossom affection for him.

His eyebrows, that’s a hard one, but he’d meticulously watched bar goers trying to flirt. The successful ones he learned, sometimes use their eyebrows in place of questions or words. A difficult concept, but one he studied until he mastered it.

Now, the other facial expressions and mannerisms… he gathered that information from your watch lists on your streaming services. For the visible examples at least, but your books were just as helpful in describing how he should approach you, speak to you, and simply exist near you.

He hadn’t realized these things were this important until now. Standing and posture was surprisingly very, very important to women. As well as hand movements and subtle glances and minuscule changes of expression.

You were worth the time and effort it took to learn all of it. He’d read and research and practice until he couldn’t stand to look at himself in the mirror any longer. He was determined to make sure you were happy with the results.

He was startled by a loud ping, someone had entered to building and holy shit it was you.

Anakin shook out his hands frantically, remembering the breathing techniques he’d learned as a child, he grounded himself quickly.

It’s okay.

‘She’s gonna love you. She’ll warm up to you quickly, you know everything you need to know about her to make her comfortable and loved.’

‘There’s no way she won’t fall head over heels.’

He smoothed out his band-tee and ran his hands through his hair quickly and headed to his door that was propped open slightly. A few boxes sat in the hall, including the most important one, the one instrumental to his plan.

The apartment hallway was ridiculously tiny, which worked in his favor in this situation.

He heard you come up the stairs, counted your steps until he knew you were almost at the door, 17 and a half steps. Then he swung open the door and bent down to grab one of the boxes.

As expected, he startled you and you dropped your keys. You always wore your backpack on one shoulder, one strap. So when you quickly went to scoop up your keys, your bag swung out of place and toppled a few books from one of the boxes.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Anakin could gloat to himself about his magnificent setup later, right now he needed to woo you with his sweet words.

“Oh, sweetheart I’m sorry.” He said softly, coming over to offer you a hand up.

“It’s okay, my bad.” You laughed, taking his hand.

He managed to keep calm and collected despite his insides boiling him alive at the willing skin contact.

“No, not at all. It’s my fault for startling you like that.” He chuckled, squeezing your upper arm and using his hand already in yours to give you a small handshake. Smooth.

“I’m Anakin.” He said with a bashful smile, dropping your hand and reveling in the lingering warmth your palm left on his.

You introduced yourself in return, gesturing to his apartment door.

“So I take it that you’re my new neighbor huh?” You said, making small talk as you crouched down to pick up the books you’d knocked over.

“No I’m just a one man moving crew.” He grinned.

“Very funny.” You laughed, standing up as you looked through the titles. “Hmm, you’ve got good taste.”

“You think so?” He asked, remembering to make his eyebrows swoop up toward the middle of his forehead to give a quizzical look.

“Oh yeah, this is one of my favorites.” You said, showing him the cover of The Silmarillion by Tolkien.

“Not many people actually read that one, I’m impressed.” He smiled.

“Impressed? Yeah well I’m jealous.” You laughed.

“What?” He chuckled, holding his hands out to take the other books from you.

“This is a really nice edition, it’s similar to mine. I recently lost it.” You sighed. “I think I must’ve left it the park or maybe it fell out of my bag or something.”

“Ah, that sucks… well, I mean I’ve read that one a few times now. It’s been well loved.” He said tipping the books in his arms toward the one you were holding. “Why don’t you keep it?”

He shrugged, acting nonchalant as though this didn’t mean the entire world to him and if you said no he’d sob about it later.

“You’re serious?” You asked in surprise, he was offering you a 50$ special edition book and you’d barely known him for a minute.

“Yeah, ‘course sweetheart.” He said with a cute, crooked smile. “Think of it as a… reverse house warming gift.” He chuckled.

“Thank you, I- this means a lot to me.” You said, grinning widely. “That’s real sweet of you Anakin. I owe you one.”

“No worries.” He chuckled, “I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it even sweetheart.” His gaze flickered quickly from your eyes to your lips, and he turned to go back into his apartment after giving you an almost-missed wink.

You stepped inside your home, and went straight to the bookshelf to put your new-to-you book where it belonged. After the fact you stood there and buffered, just staring at it.

‘There’s no way, this guy has to be too good to be true.’

But he seemed… so genuine. He didn’t ogle you, he didn’t make you feel weird or like he just felt obligated to speak to you.

He seemed to actually, really be a good guy.

Rare. Few and far of those exist in this day and age. It’s uncommon to meet someone who would do something, even as simple as giving you a used book, without expecting anything in return.

But he didn’t seem to expect anything. He didn’t seem to even expect a thank you, it was like he’d already decided he would give it to you before he even offered.

What are the odds that a hot, tattooed and pierced man moves in next door and gifts you an expensive book that just so happens to be an even better replacement for the one that you just lost? That couldn’t happen twice even if you tried to make it happen again.

What kind of second dimension did you step into? The land of dreamy men?

Diary Entry: July 28th

It’s late. But I have to write to you, it can’t wait til tomorrow.

Everything went more perfectly than I could’ve imagined. Thank you so much for being you sweet girl. It made my job of curating the scenery so much easier, you clumsy little thing. I am sorry for having to spook you though, but it worked didn’t it?

Research pays off. Always.

And of course there’s the issue of your book, I hated to see your frustration and your mad scowl when you realized it was missing from your backpack. I really did.

But I’d do it every goddamn day if I knew I’d get the same reaction out of you from giving you that new copy.

Oh god you’re… you’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful. You look angelic when you sleep but you look like competition for Aphrodite when you smile at me.

You smiled, grinned. You smiled all the way up to the corners of your bright and beautiful eyes. For me.

You even laughed for me.

It was so sweet I could taste it. The honey of your voice, I could fucking bathe in it. Just the sound of you speaking, knowing you were speaking to me. Really speaking to me.

In the flesh.

It’s intoxicating. It’s emboldening, it’s dangerous. I’ve never been more worked up in my life. I’m torn all to pieces from at two minute and 6 second conversation.

I think I’ll have to fucking recover from this like a damn hangover.

But what has me so drunk you might ask? Was it your laugh at my stupid jokes? Was it your perfect smile, your radiant glow, your soulful eyes? The softness of your skin or you willingness to let me touch you?

No baby. It’s how you said my name.

I wish I could’ve stayed longer, I wish I could’ve spoken to you more. But it’s so hard to concentrate when my dick is leaking precum down my leg at a rate that should probably be concerning.

The minute you closed that door I shoved those boxes into my apartment and locked the door. Took my elated ass straight to the couch and watched you in your living room, admiring your gift from me while I fucked my fist with a pair of your dirty panties in my mouth.

I couldn’t have your honeyed lips soothing my angry red cock just yet, but I sure as hell could imagine licking your gorgeous little cunt while I tasted you.

I tugged my balls and pumped my cock for over half an hour until I was a fucking mess for you in my new living room’s floor. The cool hardwood letting the heat from my flushed skin seep away from me as I came back down to earth.

I made myself dizzy. Didn’t give myself a break, didn’t slow down, just stroked my cock like the desperate little manwhore that I am for you. The only thing missing was you being there to watch me fall apart.

I think you’d like that wouldn’t you? Watching a man like me get on his knees and beg for you?

Diary Entry: July 29th

I’ve replayed that moment in my head for hours on end. The beginning always stays the same, but the ending… that’s been subject to many changes. It started off simple, we’d chat alittle longer, I’d ask you how your day was; you’d tell me it was ‘fine, thank you’.

Or you’d ask me why I decided to move in, why I chose this side of town, this side of town, this apartment building, across from you. That one always ended questionably and I’d rather not explore that one on paper.

My favorites however were the ones where you’d laugh at a stupid pick-up line and somehow we’d end up in your bed. The bed I’ve sat and watched you sleep in. Those were the best additions.

Now, I’ve been fortunate enough that you’ve been loyal, faithful and devoted to only me since the very beginning. So I don’t really have a clue what you’d actually be like in bed.

But god it’s so fun to imagine it.

You’ve got such pretty, soft skin. You let me mar it up with my teeth and soothe it with my tongue. You let me grip the pillowy flesh of your thighs to spread you open for me. You let me pinch and roll and pull your nipples until they were raw and begging for a break. You let me caress the sensitive slick covered folds between those beautiful pussy lips, plunge my fingers in as far as they’d go.

I took you from behind, watching your perky little ass bounce off my cock while I plowed into you. Your face smushed against the couch cushions and your body folded over the arm rest for me to fuck you like the good little girl that you are.

Against the wall with your arms around my neck while I’ve got my hands holding you spread open and in place by the crook of your knees. You promised you stay real still so that I could drill up into you like you deserved.

God damn. Do you know how good you look like that? Back arched against the wall, tits jiggling in my face with every thrust. Your legs pushed up and back to the sides of your torso, to pin you in place?

It was like a pretty pink flower had bloomed and spread its buttery smooth petals just for me.

Don’t even get me started on how good you suck cock. Have you ever been told you could be mistaken for a warm, wet Hoover? No? Didn’t think so cause that would be rude as hell, but I bet someone’s thought it before.

(Me. It’s me, I thought that.)

Fuck those soft lips. Fuck that smooth snake of a tongue. Fuck that tight, hot throat that just loves to take a beating from my dick.

Can’t wait to prove my imagination right.

Speaking of, my dick has been beat. Like actually. If one didn’t know any better they’d assume it’s on life support, but I’m a freak of nature. Cumming upwards of 16 times in the span of 40ish hours would probably put a weaker man in a hospital bed. Or maybe a psych ward.

But I am not a weak man even if my dick feels raw. I’d still fuck you if you asked.

I’d be curious to know if I’d be able to stave off cumming longer from all the abuse or if I’d be so fucking sensitive that I wouldn’t make it in half an inch.

Probably the latter.

Diary Entry: August 2nd

Being so close to you is killing me. Truly it is.

You’ve sunken your claws so deeply into my very soul and you don’t even realize it. It’s torture. To you, I’m just the new guy, nice dude who gave you a book. But to me? You’re my entire world.

I’ve been told I have the personality of a guard dog. Soft and squishy on the inside, dangerous and fierce on the outside. Which I suppose could be true, but really I think it’s for a different reason. For a human, a dog is one small but very impactful blip in your life. But for the dog? You are it’s life.

Am I comparing myself to a dog right now? Yes I am.

I’ll beg for you to throw me the scraps of your affections until you finally toss me a bone.

Bark.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I’ve been trying my best to give you space. To plan accordingly and in advance. I have our next two interactions simmering on the back burner.

I know that if I go too hard, too fast, you’ll be overwhelmed. That’s the last thing I want. I never want to be the thing that causes you stress, I want to siphon it from you. So, in one week I will set out to help you with a few of your errands and plant a few seeds.

But until then, we have late night snacks and couch chats with Boogie.

I’ve also been doing- you guessed it- more research to do with helpful vitamins and medicines. You’ve responded so well to your SleepyTime tea and since I’ve started making sure your birth control packet is plainly visible in the countertop basket directly beneath that cabinet, you’ve been taking it so well.

I’m so proud of you sweetheart, that’s my girl, look at you taking care of yourself. You’ve done so well in fact, that it’s in my personal opinion that you have earned a very special reward.

Anakin sat on his couch, the live feed of your living room screen mirrored to his Tv. He was watching you cook dinner, he knew you’d be making a stir fry. He’d seen it in your planner, so he’d taken the liberty of ordering himself the same, it’d be here any minute. As would your good friend Sam.

Anakin had originally burned red hot with jealousy at the thought of you inviting a man over to your apartment, that he hadn’t vetted via social media and a quick drop-in. But he was relieved to discover that Sam was just a girl from your book club.

This wasn’t one of his well thought out plans, this was decided upon this morning after you’d returned from book club. So, he was anxious to see if his hunches served him well. Sam seemed like a punctual gal, at least from what he’d seen on social media and the text messages between the two of you from weeks/months before.

Anakin had the wonderful idea to log into your cell service providers website to pull your deleted messages from their data bank. You really should have better passwords.

The thing he was most worried about was his door dasher arriving on time. It was rare that one was too far off on arrival time, but it would be his shit luck and lack of planning that could ruin this little glimpse of you.

The minutes ticked by and he was alerted to the new motion sensors he’d placed near the LED pathway lights on the paved entrance to the apartment building. He quickly switched over to the hallway feed at the front door, seeing that it was his door dasher.

Damn you Trevor. How dare you get there before Sam.

Not to worry, he’d call for the door code and Anakin wouldn’t answer the first time. It wasn’t much but it would buy him a few seconds.

Though it seemed to be that luck was on his side as it often was when it came to you. Sam was so kind, kind enough to let the delivery guy into the building. Which is technically a security concern but Trevor didn’t seem like the type of guy who’d be able to remember a 6 digit door code.

He was too busy staring at your friends ass to pay attention to the numbers she entered anyway.

The footsteps approached your door and his, Anakin waited until he heard Sam knock on your door before he opened his. Trevor stood patiently as Anakin slowly counted out his tip in cash and thankfully you were quick to let your friend inside. After the exchange was complete Anakin gave you a smile and wave.

He could’ve had a heart attack at the response you gave him.

A flirty little finger waggle and smile.

He had to remind himself to breathe and keep his expression a happy-neutral. He’d hate for you to see his blushing cheeks this early on.

“Have a good night girls.” He said as he closed his door and to his surprise you actually answered.

“You too!”

If he weren’t confident that you were a sweet and loving soul, he’d think you were trying to kill him with the siren song of your voice.

Stir fry had never tasted so fucking good.

Diary Entry: July 8th

Grocery day baby, here I come.

I love that you’re so predictable. I love that you’re so fucking cute and always try to strong arm your groceries in one trip. I love that it takes at least two good whacks to the trunk of your shitty old Nissan to properly close it.

It’s cute to watch you struggle with it, the annoyed huffs and angry scowl.

I thought you’d combust on the spot once when your paper grocery bag of flour and sugar ripped open and sent a plume of flour up on your black jeans. The parking lot was very empty and I was very glad because I’d hate for someone to have seen the cursing contest you had with yourself as you picked up your spilled items. Very unladylike you know. But it’s you so I don’t mind, I just like to hear you talk.

It’s almost time. I’ve been sitting in my car for about 10 minutes. Gotta account for the traffic on highway 76. Do you really have to shop all the way out there just because of the Whole Foods? C’mon baby they have the same shit at Kroger.

I’ve been watching your little blue dot on my phone and you’re rounding the corner so I’ll write you later doll.

I love you.

You pulled into the parking lot and sat in your car for a moment. Giving yourself the much need quiet to decompress from your work day and the grocery trip. After you’d checked your messages and scrolled for a moment you decided it was time to head inside before your frozen foods got… not so frozen.

You popped the trunk and fumbled with the faulty latch, your fingers feeling blindly under the metal lip until it finally detached and you were able to open the trunk.

You took a deep breath and scolded yourself for buying the extra few things that could’ve waited till next time. Second trips are for wimps and you weren’t one. So you loaded up your left arm bag by bag until you heard a humored puff of air and the beep of a car locking behind you.

“Need a hand sweetheart?” Anakin grinned, shoving his keys into his front pocket.

He waltzed over and took a few bags off your hands without waiting for a response. It took you aback, not because he hadn’t waited for permission, but because of the way he exuded an odd charm that made you falter.

“Anakin, really it’s alright I can get it.” You said, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion by his kind gesture.

“Mmm no, this seems like a two man mission sweet girl.” He smiled, gathering up a few the last few bags from the trunk and shutting it with one solid push.

“You really don’t have to-“

“I know I don’t have to.” He said tilting his head toward the apartment building to encourage you to walk with him. “I want to.”

“Thank you, that’s… thanks.” You smiled, a light blush creeping across your cheeks.

“Atta girl.” He chuckled, tapping in the door code and holding it open for you despite holding many more bags than you.

Something about the low tone of voice or maybe just the way he looked at you with his icey blue eyes… just sent a chill down your spine. A quick one that was gone in an instant, replaced by a warm glow in the center of your chest.

“Guess chivalry’s not dead.” You joked.

“I’m no knight.” He laughed, “but you’re sure as hell a princess.”

‘Oh that was smooth.’ You thought, trying to ignore the heat at the bottom of your stomach.

What is happening? How on earth can one man be so… everything? Kind, caring, chivalrous and gorgeous to boot.

You felt a wave of embarrassment at the squeaky giggle you let out. He had you tore up from one little comment.

True to the gentleman he seemed to be, he chose not to push it and tease you about your beet red cheeks. He just waited patiently for you as you unlocked your door.

“Do you want me to bring these in for you?” He asked, watching your movements closely.

“Oh that would be great.” You said in relief, leading him into your kitchen.

“Cute little place.” He said, looking around the kitchenette and over to the living room.

He sat down your bags on the counter and started unloading them neatly into rows.

“Oh, you-“

“Mmm mmm.” He shook his head with a smirk, “Just let me help, it’s no big deal.”

You let out a puff of air in an amused sort of amazement and pulled out your little step stool to open up the cabinets. Anakin snickered from behind you as you stepped up and started putting things away.

You shot him a glare over your shoulder and almost said something snarky until you realized he was folding your paper grocery bags in the same way that you always do.

“Huh.” You laughed. “I thought I was the only one who did that.”

“Did what?” He asked, his head cocked to the side.

“Fold the bags.” You said, turning back around to continue placing your things where they belonged.

“Oh,” he chuckled, “I dunno it’s just a habit I guess. Fits better in that stupid slot on the recycling bin this way.”

“Yeah I never really understood why they made them that way? I guess so people don’t just shove other trash in there.” You mused.

“Mmhm probably.” He agreed, stacking them neatly and gathering it in his hands. “Do you want me to take these out back for you?”

“I can do-“ You stopped yourself when Anakin raised his eyebrow and cocked his head to the side with a crooked smirk.

You sighed and gave him a downturned smile. “Yes, I would love for you to take them out back for me.”

“Good girl.” He nodded, clicking his tongue and heading for the door. “See ya princess.”

After he shut the door you let yourself breathe alittle easier, blowing out the air in a short puff through your nose. Maybe even letting a little smile cross your lips before you finished up your task.

You’d be thinking about that low rumble of his voice later. Good girl? Shit.

PART FIVE

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astro-enthusiast · 7 months

Text

I have been resurrected…this time from a new account because in true plutonian fashion I feel the need to combust and start anew far too often.

DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES PLAGIARIZE MY WORK.

thank you for reading you angel of a person! enjoyyy🤍

🖤 The classic Scorpio stereotype of being dark, brooding, and cryptic doesn’t belong to Scorpio suns. It belongs to the risings, moons, and mars. Every Scorpio sun I know is the bubbliest mf to walk the planet.

🤍 It’s well known that personal planets in Virgo can make for a perfectionist, but I’ve also noticed this pattern with Virgo degrees in a chart. Degrees tell a large part of your story as well!

🖤 I’ve said it before and I WILL say it again: I’ve never met an Aries, Gemini, Scorpio, or Sagittarius sun that wasn’t popular, or at the very least: amazing at holding convos with all kinds of people. If you aren’t popular, congrats, you’re a unicorn.

🤍 Piggybacking off of the above observation, these signs aren’t necessarily prone to being buddy-buddy with everyone. But I have noticed they can hold a conversation and have a wide variety of acquaintances at the very least.

🖤 Taurus and Libra suns will never be caught slacking. Their self-esteem and quality of life is tied to their need of a harmonious environment and looking cute 24/7. Also never met a Taurus or Libra sun that wasn’t adored for their beauty.

🤍 Sagittarius placements are both super energetic and super cuddly at the same time. Like they can do both so effortlessly. I see why everyone loves them lol.

🖤 Saturnian moons (Aqua and Cap) go sooo well together. I will forever obsess over this pairing. Aquarius’ analytical nature and expansive thinking combined with Capricorn’s stable nature and diligent care creates such a sweet and enriching element.

🤍 In my humble opinion, Saturnian moons don’t get enough credit for their depth. I’m biased, but having known these signs on a personal level, their depth is beyond what people speak on. Of course, not just anyone is getting in their thoughts though. These signs open up over time. Hence, the Saturnian influence. Being intentional in the sharing of emotions does not equal being emotionally stunted. With that being said, Saturnian moons can most certainly suppress their emotions better than the average person.

🖤 You would think a Sagittarius mars would make for an adventurous person who probably loves nature, but every sag mars I know is deathly afraid of the things that live in nature: i.e. bugs. They will scream their heads off if a bug even looks at them.

🤍 Gemini moons learned how to gossip and keep tabs on people from their mother. They also have great conversational skills that they learned from her. Their mother was likely popular and social. Same goes for Libra moons.

THANK YOU FOR READING. 🫶🏽✨

RIGHTS RESERVED TO MY BLOG astro-enthusiast . DO NOT COPY, REWRITE, OR PLAGIARIZE MY WORK. DO NOT REPOST MY WORK WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.

#astrology #astro #astroblr #astro observations #astro notes #zodiac #aries #taurus #gemini #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius

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blindmagdalena · 11 months

Text

The Cuckoo's Nest

18+ 6.3k siren!homelander x f!reader. dub/noncon, infidelity, mind/emotional manipulation, gaslighting, voice kink, masturbation, penetrative sex, fingering, blood, gore, cannibalism? creampie, stalking, minor character death, praise kink, good girl/pretty girl.

The gentle and pleasing voice of the cuckoo bird has made it a renowned herald of spring, and perhaps one of the most famous of songbirds. One would never guess merely by looking at it that it is a predatory parasite.

What you thought would be a dream job working for Vought as Homelander's very own secretary turns into a surreal waking nightmare as reality and dreams converge in a confusing mess. The only coherent thread that strings it all together is the alluring pull of Homelander's unnatural voice.

written for Monsterlander Mania. fair warning, this fic is fairly dark! thank you so much @anon-nee for this amazing banner art. 🖤

When you were hired as Homelander’s secretary, the gig had been pitched as a cushy desk job. Now that he’s the new face of Vought, and Ashley the company CEO, he needs someone who will keep his day to day affairs in order. Apparently, you’re just the person for that job.

“You probably won’t see much of him,” Ashley tells you distractedly. She rarely ever looks away from her phone for long.

“There are two landlines on your desk. The left one is for general business, and the one on the right, the red one, is exclusively for him. Don’t make calls on it. He has the number memorized, he’s the only one who’ll ever call it, so make sure you always answer it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you say diligently.

Glancing over, Ashley does a double take. “Aren’t you married? Where’s your ring?”

You falter, looking down at your hands. “Oh,” you say, taking said ring out of your pocket. “I put hand cream on earlier, I just forgot to put it back on.”

“Make sure you keep that on,” she says, giving you a critical look before returning her gaze to her phone. “He’s particular.”

What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

Nevertheless, you make sure to always keep your wedding ring on while you’re at work.

True to Ashley’s word, you see neither hide nor hair of Homelander during your first three days. You make his appointments, you take calls on his behalf, and you organize his bookings.

In your office, directly across from your desk, hangs a borderline comically oversized portrait of him that stares relentlessly at you as you work. You often find yourself staring back at it, the back of your neck prickling with the irrational feeling of being watched.

You know that it’s just in your head, but you can’t help but be put off by the feeling. Sometimes you consider covering the portrait, but the last thing you want is for the man to appear out of the blue and see a blanket thrown over his likeness.

Your instinct proves correct.

“Hey you,” comes a voice like silk. You startle, looking up from your desk to find a shock of red, white and blue standing in your doorway, his arms folded casually behind his back.

“Homelander,” you say, nearly choking on the name. “Sir, hello. I’m–”

“I know,” he interjects smoothly, cape swaying behind him as he passes the threshold, making his way over to your desk. That voice. He’s not even said five words to you yet, but it lingers in your ears like warm honey, causing a flush of warmth to roll through you. You convince yourself that you’re just embarrassed to have been caught so thoroughly off guard. “My new secretary. Sorry I couldn’t stop by sooner.”

“Oh, there’s no need to apologize, sir. I know better than most how–” you hesitate, watching as he takes a turn and begins walking directly towards you, circling behind your desk. “–busy you are,” you finish, looking up at him as he looms over you. You wonder if you should stand, but he’s so close to you now, you’d just knock right into him.

He smells good. Earthy and slightly sweet, like vetiver.

“That’s pretty,” he remarks, gesturing to your ring finger. “Sapphire, huh? Unusual choice.”

You swallow, trying desperately to reign in the cadence of your breath. Your heart is pattering as wildly as rain drops. “Thank you. My husband chose it, it’s his birthstone.”

To which Homelander giggles. It’s a delighted, slightly off-putting little noise. “P’wow, he gave you a ring with his birthstone, huh? Really staking his claim,” he says, reaching down to take your hand. He looks at you just before he makes contact. His eyes are even bluer than the stone in your ring. “May I?”

Dumbstruck, you nod, lifting your hand and placing it in his upturned palm. He sits on your desk and turns your hand this way and that, watching the way your ring catches the light. Eventually, his gaze slips back to yours. “Happily married?”

“Very,” you say immediately, your throat suddenly dry.

He smiles, and only then do you notice how unusually sharp his canines are.

“Good. Glad to hear it,” he says, giving your hand a gentle pat before he lets it go. You immediately drop your hand into your lap, touching your ring. You feel strangely lightheaded all of a sudden, unable to look away from his piercing gaze. Even when he isn’t speaking, you can still hear the warmth of his tone echoing all around you.

“Well, it was a pleasure to meet you,” he says, standing from your desk with preternatural elegance, as if he’d floated more than lifted himself.

“Please, the pleasure was all mine,” you say with a smile, somewhat dazed. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

He looks pleased as punch at that. “I’ll try not to be such a stranger, hmm?” he purrs, reaching out to give your shoulder a friendly squeeze. You feel the rumble of his voice roll all the way down your spine and into the core of you, leaving a light throb nestled between your thighs.

“I’d like that. Thank you, sir,” you say, your voice sounding dreamy and distant in your own ears.

Flashing that same toothy grin, he shoots you a wink before he turns face with a slight flourish of his cape, the fabric billowing in his wake as he takes his leave, disappearing down the hall.

The second he’s gone, it’s like the spell of his presence breaks and you come crashing back to yourself, eyes wide. A hot broil of shame rolls through you when you realize how aroused you are, that throb lingering. You’re equal parts shocked and disgusted with yourself, sickened by the hot prickle lingering on every inch of your skin.

Holy shit. What the fuck was that?

You wind up leaving an hour early, eager to be home. The shame makes you desperate to see your husband, as if touching him will erase the residual traces of the effect that Homelander had on your body.

It doesn’t. In fact, that feeling of being watched follows you all the way home, the feel of it becoming a specter haunting your house. When your husband seeks intimacy from you in your bed later that night, you push his hands away.

“Sorry,” you say softly, shaken. “Not tonight.”

Your body still remembers him too viscerally.

That night, you dream of songbirds.

Two days later, the right landline rings for the first time. You stare blankly at it, your stomach immediately twisting into knots. It rings, once, twice, nearly a third time before you hurriedly snatch it up off the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart,” comes Homelander’s familiar drawl. His voice falls over you like a wash of sunlight, warm and heavy. “Thought you might be ignoring me for a second there.”

“No, no, never. Sorry, sir,” you say, reaching for your water. You take a quick sip. “What can I do for you?”

“Nothing too dire, just a little shuffling. Can you bump tomorrow’s 4pm to Thursday for me?” He asks, voice slipping around your throat like a noose. The press of it makes you slightly breathless.

“Of course,” you say, balancing the phone on your shoulder while you manipulate your tablet. “That’s no problem at all, done.”

“That’s my girl,” he says, the phone turning his voice into an intimate rumble in your ear.

You blink, feeling like your mouth is full of cotton. You can’t seem to form a response.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” He asks, and you swear up and down you can hear a smile in his voice. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Was there anything else, sir?” You manage to blurt out, words leaving you in a clumsy spill. You’re breathing shallowly, mouth parched. You snatch up your water and take another quick sip. There’s a long pause on the line, the silence so deafening you think for a moment you must have missed something. “Sir?”

“Touch yourself.”

Your heart falls into your stomach, but that feeling is nothing compared to the unbidden liquid heat that those words erupt throughout your body.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he says patiently. Amused, even. “Touch yourself. Take your hand–no, no, the left one,” he says in response to your right hand drifting down. You weren’t even aware you’d started moving. You swap the phone from your left hand to your right, and grab hold of your thigh with your left hand.

“I don’t understand,” you say, the words feeling as thick as molasses on your tongue. “Why are you–”

“That’s good. Now, move those pretty fingers in. Just like that,” he directs, and to your own distant horror, your hand moves, sliding between your legs and lifting up your skirt, your sparkling ring disappearing beneath it. You press your middle finger directly to your beating clit and let go a shuddering breath, massaging it through your panties.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Show me how you like it, mm? Bet your husband still doesn’t know the first fuckin’ thing about how to make you feel good. He ever watch you do this to yourself, ever bother to learn how you like to be touched?”

Disoriented, you shake your head. Your hips reflexively lift to meet the smooth figure-eights you rub yourself with. You’re sure you’d agree to anything he said so long as he keeps talking.

“Didn’t think so. Don’t you worry your pretty little head, sweetheart. I know exactly what you need.”

The heat of his voice envelops you, makes your whole body feel aflame. You’ve never been so sensitive in your life, already shuddering and squirming in your seat from the intensity of sensation building beneath your fingers.

“Slow down. There’s no rush. You’re as good as mine now.”

His voice is like velvet but his words sting, needling something inside you that squirms. You screw your eyes shut and shake your head more fervently. “No, no, m’not… I don’t…”

“Shhhhh,” he hushes, the hiss of it like a serpent in your ear. “Give it up for me, sweetheart.”

A whimper escapes your throat, the noise all but choked out of you. You can’t move, save for the increasingly frantic stroke of your fingers. His voice is a physical caress that slips down the line of your throat, between your breasts, slinking in serpentine patterns until it spills over your fingers and–

You gasp awake, staring wide-eyed at your blurry ceiling as wave after wave of pure euphoria crashes over you, stealing your capacity for breath. You ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm in a state of delirium, the shadows on your ceiling dancing like a voyeuristic crowd. You��re not sure if it takes seconds, minutes or hours to end, your perception of time distorted by the sheer intensity of sensation.

Looking to your side, panting, you see your husband sleeping soundly beside you. His snores are faint and peaceful. The curtains of your balcony door billow softly with the night’s breeze.

Your day comes back to you in a slow blur. The phone call was real, you’re sure of it… Aren’t you? Reaching for your phone, you hurriedly log into your Vought calendar and check the schedule. Sure enough, in your history, you can see that you bumped his next day R&D meeting to Thursday. That was real.

You wrack your brain for the details of your day, trying to piece together how you got from there to here, and whether or not any of Homelander’s voice cooing lewd commands in your ear was real.

It couldn’t have been.

The more the dream fades from your mind, the more you remember the rest of your day. You remember hanging up the phone, finishing your work day as per usual, and going home to your husband. Though it’s all something of a strange blur, the memories are there.

Even so, the dream somehow feels more real than any of it.

It’s 5am and you doubt you’ll be sleeping again. You get up early, shower, and make breakfast all before your husband even makes it to the kitchen. Your dreams and the haze of yesterday fade with the rising sun, as all dreams and memories often do.

You’re in the process of putting your dishes away when he walks in, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “You got an early start today?” He asks, biting back a yawn.

It’s cute. He’s cute. You feel an irrational spike of guilt.

It was just a dream.

“Didn’t sleep well,” you admit, kissing him on the cheek. You wrinkle your nose. “Oof, morning breath,” you say playfully, but there’s an edge of truth to it. You can’t explain it, but there’s something off about the way your husband smells this morning.

Your mind drifts wistfully to the pleasant memory of sweet vetiver.

By the time you make it to work, your morning is nothing but a distant recollection at the peripheral of your consciousness.

Nonetheless, the sight of that bright red landline still makes you blush.

You don’t see Homelander again for another three days. At least, not at work. In reality, you’re more aware of him than you’ve ever been in your life. His face is everywhere, be it TV or billboards. You see him in the grocery store, the post office, and even the goddamn DMV. You never really noticed until now how inescapable Homelander truly is.

It’s no wonder he continues to appear in your dreams, too. You can’t seem to remember any of them very well, but you know without a doubt each time you wake that you were haunted by sapphire blue eyes and a voice as decadent as sin.

Sometimes you recall a gorgeous view of the city hundreds of feet in the air. Other times you recall a blue bed, but the thing you remember most is mirrors. You see yourself clearly in them. You see him with you.

All the while a budding friction between you and your husband continues to grow. You find yourself telling him more often to brush his teeth, shower, anything to combat this bizarre stink he’s taken on. Some days it’s so bad, you swear you smell rotting meat before you realize it’s him. Even the sound of his voice grates on you, both rough and shrill in a way that agitates you further and further into isolation in the house you once happily shared.

On that third day at work, you’re penciling in a meeting regarding a potential collaboration with Superplastic when a rhythmic knock at the door jostles you from focus. You look up to call them in, but Homelander is already striding inside, stealing the words right off the tip of your tongue.

“Goooood afternoon,” he drawls, the door falling shut behind him. For as much as you’ve continued to see and hear of him, you had forgotten how different he sounds in person, the force of his presence instantly a weight upon your body.

Your brain completely malfunctions. Night after night of erotic whispers suddenly crashes down upon you in visceral detail, how multiple times you woke to the throes of an orgasm with his voice still echoing in your ears. Humiliation and arousal flood you in equal measure, turning your skin hot.

Homelander smiles at you from the other side of your desk all the while.

“Cat got your tongue?” He asks slyly. The question hurdles you backwards in time to the moment you were seated in this exact spot with him whispering downright pornographic filth into your ear, coaxing you into touching yourself into a frenzy.

It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was a dream.

“Good afternoon, sir,” you finally manage to say, wincing internally at the sound of your own voice.

“Don’t be so formal,” he says, giving a dismissive little wave. “C’mon, call me Homelander,” he says, once again circling around behind your desk. Your eyes widen slightly, mouth bone dry when you try to swallow. He sweeps his cape out of the way before taking a leisurely seat on your desk. He lifts his brows, pinning you with an expectant stare. “Go on, try again.”

“Uh, good afternoon, Homelander,” you correct yourself. His proximity to you is making it hard to focus–there it is again, the scent of vetiver. He smells like summer grass warmed by the hot sun, and he has a gravitational pull to him that has you leaning subconsciously towards him.

His smile widens. “Much better.” His eyes narrow a touch, flickering down briefly before snapping back up to meet your gaze.

“So! How’s the office, everything nice and cozy?” He asks, one hand braced next to him on your desk, the other gesturing vaguely about. Before you can even answer, he points to your lap.

“Chair good? I know how important lumbar support is when you’re sitting all day.”

Discussing your lumbar support needs with Homelander certainly had not been on your bingo sheet.

“Uhm, yes, it’s–” Again, before you can get a real answer in, he’s sitting up and making sweeping motions with his hand.

“Let’s see, up, up, lemme take this bad boy for a spin,” he says, making your heart leap up into your throat when he catches you by your waist and effortlessly lifts you up out of your office chair, turning to set you on your feet. With a flourish of his cape, he drops down into your chair, legs spread wide.

You gawk momentarily, watching him spin side to side.

“Oop, there’s that lumbar,” he says, leaning back into it. He’s grinning at you all the while, the moment entirely surreal. You huff an incredulous little laugh, crossing your arms. He’s a little ridiculous, you realize, but personable.

Have you been the problem this whole time, turning him into something he’s not? You’re starting to lose yourself in your thoughts as you watch him.

“How about we test the suspension? C’mere,” he says, giving his thigh a pat. “Sit.”

You snap back to attention, your smile falling away. “Pardon?”

“Sit,” he says again, his smile a predatory curve of his lips. He pats his thigh again “Right here.”

You look down at his lap and then back up, your ears buzzing with the timbre of his voice. Logically, you know that what he’s just demanded is wildly inappropriate, yet the silken tone he said it in leaves you utterly agreeable. Slowly, you lower yourself into his lap, uncertain of why you wouldn’t abide by such a request.

“That’s my pretty girl,” he coos, bracketing your waist with his arms.

”That’s better, isn’t it?” He asks, his hands moving up and down your thighs. You shiver, a chill running down your spine despite the fervid heat of his body pressed along the back of yours.

A distant voice in the back of your mind whispers it wasn’t a dream, though you can barely hear it over the pounding of your own blood in your ears.

“Relax,” he murmurs, the word a warm huff on your neck.

Like a marionette whose strings have been cut, your body goes slack against him. Your heart continues to race even as a wave of calm sweeps through you, the two sensations frantically battling one another. Eventually, however, your pulse succumbs to the warmth seeping from him, and you begin to calm, soothed by the slow sweeps of his palms and the way he’s muttering sweet nothings into your ear.

“Good girl,” he breathes, the smile audible in his voice. “That’s it. Feels good, hmm?” His hands move more firmly on your thighs, closer to a massage.

You make a thin noise of pleasure, tipping your head back to rest on his shoulder.

“When I tell you… that I have been looking forward to this,” he murmurs, lips brushing your neck.

“But I had to be sure you were the one. Most people start to go insane after the first night, maybe the second, but not you.” His teeth, sharp as razors, delicately graze your throat. “You’ve been… perfect.”

“What’re you talking about?” You ask, feeling slightly slow and disoriented.

Homelander chuckles, the rumble of it moving from his chest through your back.

“My voice. It tears apart people's minds… But not yours. Why is that?” His lips are warm on your skin, trailing lower. He lifts a hand to pull your collar askew and kiss at the exposed crook of your neck.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, eyes flickering shut. His mouth feels incredible, the slight dampness that his lips leave behind making you especially sensitive to the air as he exposes you to it. It’s difficult to focus on anything other than the drag of his mouth.

You don’t even realize he’s unbuttoned your shirt and slipped it off of your shoulders until he’s kissing that newly revealed skin, nipping playfully at your bra strap.

“Here I was thinking you were just a pretty, tasty little thing… Turns out you’re so much more,” he purrs between kisses. A jolt of pain makes you gasp and then whimper, the sting of it soothed by the way his tongue drags over the spot afterwards.

It takes you a beat to comprehend that he’s just bitten the junction between your neck and shoulder, sunk his sharp teeth in so deep you smell the faint tang of blood.

“Turns out you were meant for me all along,” he says between slow drags of his tongue, lapping at your soft skin. He moans for the taste of it. “Watching you writhe in your bed, wanting me, touching yourself while your useless husband slept. I thought I was the one going fucking insane.”

Comprehension is a slow, creeping thing to your addled mind. “You were watching me. The dreams, you–”

“Whispered them into your ear while you slept,” he interjects, kissing at the shell of your ear. “You took to ‘em like gasoline takes to a spark,” he says, that voice of his wrapping around your body and limbs like a dozen slithery tendrils.

The touch of his voice is just as tangible as his hands sliding up your thighs, your stomach, cupping your breasts through your bra. You let out a shuddering moan.

“Every night, I was so sure you’d break. But you didn’t. You won’t.”

His confession brings back images in a flood, untangling dreams from memories. You remember a silhouette standing over you, you remember piercing red eyes glowing in the dark, and you remember the filth he spoke over you that made your body twist and sweat and come harder than you ever have.

All of it intertwines with this very moment, with his hands on you, his body against yours. It has you moaning, writhing back against him the same way you did in your bed beneath his gaze.

“Call your husband,” he tells you, hand slipping between your legs, hooking under your skirt.

“What?” You rasp, clutching at his wrists. You shiver at the hot slide of his tongue just behind your ear.

“Call your husband,” he repeats, thick gloved finger rubbing sparks between your thighs. “Tell him you’re coming home early. Tell him to wait for you in the bedroom.”

Leaning forward, Homelander snatches the left landline off the desk and pulls it into your lap, resting it atop his hand while he fingers you in slow, precise circles.

You pick up the receiver and dial unsteadily. It doesn’t sound like something you shouldn’t do. Even as it rings, you feel no dread or apprehension. Just the drive to obey the voice cradling your mind and body so very sweetly.

“Hi,” you exhale when he answers the phone, screwing your eyes shut. It takes everything in you just to focus on speaking.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m coming–” your breath catches as Homelander pushes your panties aside and breaches you with a single finger, sliding into your soaked pussy in one slow, continuous slide.

“I’m coming home early today,” you say, holding both the receiver and Homelander’s wrist in a white-knuckle grip. “Can you wait in the bedroom for me?”

He’s thoroughly confused, but all that does is frustrate you. His voice comes through ugly and nasally over the phone, grating through your nerves instantly. You feel the urge to yell at him, but the breath is stolen from your lungs by the sweet press of Homelander’s thick gloved finger crooking inside you, stroking exactly the right spot to make you see stars.

“Just–just do it, please? Wait in the bedroom, I’ll be–I’ll be home soon.”

You slam down the phone just in time, letting out a cry, lurching forward. The phone tumbles from your lap with a clatter and Homelander catches you with an arm across your chest, pinning you back against his chest.

“Good girl, that’s it. Give it up for me. Lemme feel that pretty pussy come,” he moans, grinding up against you, the sound of his finger pumping into you obscenely loud and wet.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Whet my appetite. Gimme something before it’s time to fucking eat.”

You come loudly, clenching your legs tightly around his hand. He stops just to feel you tighten and convulse through his glove, his lips and teeth and tongue all wreaking havoc at your throat.

“Fuck,” he sighs, followed by the low rumble of a chuckle. Your thighs shake as he pulls his hand away. You can smell the heady smell of your own slick when he brings his finger to his mouth and sucks the taste of you from it, the sound lewd in your ear.

“You even taste pretty,” he hums, voice frayed like a growl. There’s an inhuman split to his voice, like there’s three of them layered over top of each other.

The whole world feels like it’s spinning. You have no center of gravity, just the sensation of movement as Homelander effortlessly maneuvers you up into his arms. Your head lolls against his chest, vision swimming.

Warm lips press sweetly to your forehead. “Rest up, pretty girl,” he murmurs. The words instantly make you drowsy. “I’ll wake you up when I’m done.”

The world slips into darkness. The last thing you’re aware of is the feeling of flying.

When you come back to consciousness, the darkness remains. You recognize your bedroom ceiling above you, familiar shadows dancing across it, beckoning you awake.

A dream…?

Your limbs are leaden, weighed down to the bed. You try desperately to untangle the fantastical from what is real, walking backwards through what you remember. Touch, smell, sound, and pleasure unlike anything you’ve ever known. You remember Homelander’s hands on you, in you, his body and voice all around you, the sound of–

Sound. What is that sound? It’s close to you, but you can’t move your head to see. It’s a series of wet, soft squelching noises akin to someone manipulating piles of drenched laundry. Then you hear a crunch like a tree branch snapping, and you start to recognize another sound; panting breaths followed by an erotic moan of pure indulgence.

You open your mouth to speak, but your throat is too tight, and nothing escapes it. As you come back to yourself more and more, you realize the bed beneath you is warm and wet.

You manage to force a noise from the back of your throat, a strained sound born of the effort to move. Next to you, something shifts.

“There’s my pretty girl,” coos Homelander’s familiar voice. Your heart crashes against your ribcage, the only part of you that can freely move expressing the shock of hearing his voice here in your bed.

“Shhhshhhh, no need for that,” he murmurs, moving into your line of sight, hovering over you. His face is spattered in something dark, but when he smiles his sharp teeth are white and bright, even in the dim moonlight of your bedroom. His voice soothes your frayed nerves almost instantly.

“Take a deep breath,” he says. You do so easily, as if you were never paralyzed. “Good. Perfect timing,” he tells you, his tongue sliding along his teeth, his lips, threads of saliva stretched between his teeth snapping. “I’m still plenty hungry for you.”

He kisses you, swinging his leg over to envelop your body with his. All at once you can move again, your bones no longer weighed down. You relax beneath the press of his lips and the weight of him, exhaling a breath through your nose.

“Kiss me,” he mumbles fervently. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him with everything you have, your lips sliding slickly against one another. He licks the taste of copper into your mouth.

Blood, a distant part of you realizes. Whatever horror you should feel is replaced by building excitement, his touch reigniting heat throughout your body. Like gasoline takes to a spark.

His lips move to the corner of your mouth, your jaw, trailing bloodied kisses down your throat. He has less patience for your clothes now than he did in your office, tearing your shirt and bra from your body with a feral noise. His hands are upon you instantly, spreading the blood on his hands down your chest, massaging your breasts until he works a needy moan out of you.

“Can’t believe I almost ate you, too,” he says with a smile. Before you can respond, he leans down to suck your nipple into his mouth, hands sliding lower. You gasp and push your hands into his hair, slicking it back with what sprayed into it. His mouth is inferno hot on your skin, goosebumps erupting over every inch of you. His tongue is a devilish thing, working your nipple in circles, but it’s the light pinch of his teeth that make your whole body lurch.

He makes quick work of your clothing from the waist down, too, stripping you until there’s nothing left between you and the blood soaked fabric of his suit. His hand disappears from you, and you hear a metallic click followed by the hiss of a zipper. He nudges your legs apart to settle properly between them, pulling off of your breast with a satisfied pop. He licks his lips of the blood he had spread to your breast, eyes wild and glowing faintly red.

“Let’s get rid of this while we’re at it,” he says, lifting your hand. He kisses the tip of your ring finger before taking it into his mouth, gaze flickering up to meet yours as he takes it all the way down past your knuckle, your ring disappearing past his lips. He catches the metal band with his teeth and drags it slowly off, sucking your finger clean of it. A chill runs down your spine at the crunch the metal gives as he effortlessly chews and swallows it.

You stare in numb, abject shock, but even that rapidly fades to the fires rolling through you.

Hands on your thighs, he easily pulls your ass into his lap. You look down to see his cock freed from his suit pants, thick and nicely curved. He bends over you, hitching your legs up over his shoulder, and you feel the flat curve of the bottom of his cock press against your cunt. He grins down at you, rocking his hips to grind through the slick mess he’s made of you.

“Let’s see if you feel as good as you taste,” he says, claiming your lips once more. He pulls his hips back, and you feel the head of his cock drooling precome as it slides over your clit, down to your soaked cunt. The dull stretch of it splitting you open burns, has you keening against his lips. He kisses you again and again and again.

“That’s it, baby. Open up for me. Lemme feel that perfect pussy,” he grits out, voice frayed at the edges like he’s finally beginning to lose that cocky composure of his. Even still, his voice retains that otherworldly aspect to it. He bottoms out with a low moan, hips flush to your body.

“Oh fffffuck,” he groans, cock throbbing against the velvety walls of your cunt. You can feel the pulse of him, even more so when you squeeze. It gives you an unexpected and intoxicating shot of power when doing that makes him gasp. “Perfect. My perfect fuckin’ match, fuck. I knew you would be, I knew you were made for me,” he babbles, bordering on incoherence as he starts to thrust, gripping your ass with one hand while the other goes to the headboard, slamming it against the wall with each snap of his hips.

“H-Homelander,” you moan, tangling both hands in his hair, dragging your nails harshly down his scalp, the back of his neck, throwing your head back against your pillow.

He gives your ass a sharp slap just to feel the way your cunt clenches with it, a growl rolling from his throat.

“Come with me,” he demands, instantly sending the pressure building in you into a soar. He moves faster, deeper, each slam punching out pitchy noises from you. Every drag of his cock feels like a spark inside you, like the strike of a match igniting stars in your peripheral vision. You come with a near scream, nails biting fruitlessly into Homelander’s skin.

He rides your orgasm fiercely, fucking you into the bloody mess of your bed until he, too, succumbs to the clench of your cunt. He lets out a guttural cry, the wood of your headboard snapping in his grasp as his release floods you, so hot that it nearly burns.

You’re both panting into each other's mouths, lips occasionally brushing. There’s a possessive growl to the edge of Homelander’s breaths, as if warning anything that might hear of the danger of approaching.

“You’re mine now, you understand?” He says lowly, his velveteen voice hoarse, almost animalistic. “My match, my mate, mine.”

Deliriously, you nod, mind still lost to the aftershocks of your climax, your pussy quivering around the girth of his cock. It’s not enough for Homelander, who gives another sharp thrust, knocking an overstimulated moan out of you. “Do you understand?”

“I understand,” you gasp, meeting his gaze. His harsh expression softens at that, the crimson glow fading from his eyes, leaving only that familiar ocean blue in its wake. He kisses you leisurely, but with no less hunger. He lets your legs slip carefully from his shoulders, but remains buried deep inside you, staking his claim as thoroughly as possible. He kisses your neck, makes you wince when he sucks at the mark he bit into your skin.

“You got no idea how long I’ve been looking for you,” he mumbles, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You stroke your fingers through his hair, soaking in the feeling of his superhuman body thrumming against yours. You tighten your grip in his hair and lift his head, bringing his gaze up to meet yours. He looks curiously at you until that curiosity flips to surprise as you kiss him, earning a pleased little hum from him.

When you part, his surprise has melted away into something dazed and soft. Something like love, or maybe satiation. The two look so very similar.

Homelander kisses you a while longer before he nestles down against you.

Your head lolls to the side for the first time, and only then do you see the full scope of the horror resting next to you; bones jut out from the mess of viscera and meat, shredded clothing thick with blood and innards. It looks like the work of a rabid animal, something vicious and hungry.

You know instantly that the mess is all that remains of your former husband.

It occurs to you that you should feel a dozen different awful things about the pile of gore splayed out on your bed, but ultimately, the only thought that lingers is how he finally suits that rotten meat smell.

Looking back to the ceiling, you continue to comb your fingers through Homelander’s hair. His weight is a comfortable thing upon you, and beneath the smell of gore, you’re soothed by the gentle, warm scent of vetiver. Your eyelids grow heavy, and within minutes, you drift to sleep.

When you wake, there is no tang of blood heavy in the air. You sit up in a bed that is both alien and familiar. It isn’t until you see the mirrors around you that you realize that this is the bed from your dreams.

You feel warm, despite the early morning chill beyond the blankets. You feel a tug, and as you look down, Homelander pulls you back down into his arms.

“Mornin’, pretty girl.”

“Morning,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him. He hums pleasantly as you touch him, your hands roaming the naked scape of his body, testing that he’s real. You draw back, brows furrowed.

“Everything alright?” He asks, his voice as rich and creamy as ever.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, a touch uncertain. “Weird dreams.”

He smiles, bringing your hand up to kiss. “Well, you’re awake now.”

Somehow, you’re not so certain.

Regardless, you huff a little laugh and snuggle back into his arms.

“Love you,” you say, losing yourself to the familiar comfort of a partner in your arms, in your bed, in your heart. The longer you’re there, the more the dreams fade away, replaced with the reality of your waking world and the sweet smell of vetiver.

Homelander squeezes you to his chest, stroking idly up and down your back with his knuckles. You can hear the smile in his voice as he returns, “I love you, too.”

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #terato #monster x human #monster romance #monsterlander mania #my writing #Y'ALL THIS KNOCKED ME ON MY ASS LOL #dark fic

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starlightguh · 22 days

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Pampering Present

Word Count: 3,572

Tags: NSFW, Bday Sex, Lapdance, Thigh ridding, Dry humping

AN: Happy bday Zayne 🖤 my first time posting on here so bear with me! You can also find this fic posted on my AO3. This is a NSFW bday one shot, so MDNI! Hope everyone enjoys this bday treat!!

Of course Zayne had to work on his birthday. It was no surprise to me when I tried to plan something special for him and he instantly refused since he had scheduled surgeries.

I was a bit used to him being a workaholic, but as his girlfriend, it nagged at me constantly that I had to do something special for him. Zayne was always so reserved and bashful, so when a certain idea popped in my head, I suddenly didn’t mind that our celebration would be so short and sweet.

The first thing I had to do was bring him flowers and macarons on his lunch break. I walked into Akso hospital with a smile as the receptionist paiged me into his office.

“Happy birthday babe!”

He turned his sharp green eyes toward me with a small smile on his lips, “Oh? Is that today? I must’ve forgotten…”

“I know you’re trying to get out of celebrating your birthday, but I won’t allow it,” I shake my head cutely at him.

I handed him his flowers and sweets and as I towered above his sitting form, I leaned down and gave him a chaste kiss. “Your birth is important to me so let me spoil you…”

He lets out a huff of a chuckle and his eyes linger on my lips as he replies a bit breathlessly, “And what did you have in mind to celebrate?”

I tsk, tsk, tsk, at him and pull away with a confident and smug expression, “It's a surprise, but I will be at your place tonight to make you dinner, so don’t eat too many sweets before then.”

He has a small blush painted on his cheeks as his expression was soft and warm, “Alright. I have more work to finish up here, I’ll be here awhile so you should have plenty of time to prepare.”

He stands from his desk and now towers over me as he comes closer to my vicinity and grabs my waist. It’s quiet for a moment as Zayne’s eyes dart all around my face. He leans in and his soft lips filled with a silent need capture mine.

“Thank you,” he whispers as his lips pull away, still slightly connected to mine by a thin strand of our saliva.

I blink to try and clear the daze that filled my head and my voice squeaks a bit and betrays me as I respond, “I’ll see you tonight! Love you!”

I turn without another glance to leave the hospital and focus on my mission to make sure Zayne has an unforgettable birthday.

I ran to my apartment to gather my things, but most importantly I had a few hours to practice.

For three weeks now I have been practicing lap dancing at a local dance studio. I booked a private lesson to help develop something simple but sensual enough to help Zayne relax.

I had already got him a simple present of a watch that had a constellation of our birthdays etched in the back, and that was all fine and sappy, but I had wanted to do something more special as a way to pamper him.

I loved Zayne to pieces, but he was terrible at unwinding or relaxing from his very stressful life. Only in our most intimate moments did I ever see his shoulders, face, and body go slack in relaxation.

So, here I was slinking my body around an office chair in my room trying to mentally and physically prepare for showcasing this to my lovely doctor.

I was just silently praying to whatever gods existed that when I see him tonight he isn’t too exhausted to enjoy his gift.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Packing a cute little babydoll lingerie set and other essentials for our alone time, and making sure the small cake I made was secured, I headed over to Zayne’s condo with my spare key and get to work on making everything special. While I was fibbing a bit on actually cooking, I had already made a simple stew that would just needed to be reheated, so while that was on the stove, I set up decorations. Hanging up a happy birthday banner and setting rose petals all over his neat and tiddy space made me giggle a bit.

Zayne’s place was always so neat and proper, it made me giddy to see my touch of extra care in decorating for his celebration. After scattering red roses that now littered his sterile white space, I went to place my outfit change in his room in addition to setting up the sound system I would need on his fancy in home surround sound.

For someone who worked all the time, it was always a shame he never sat down and enjoyed the things in his home. Of course as a couple we enjoyed them together in those rare moments where we both had down time, but I always just wished he can enjoy some of these nice things he has for himself.

Glancing at the clock and seeing the sun has finally set, I start lighting candles and patiently wait and wait for him to walk through the doors. Finally, I get a text from him.

Thankfully I was ahead of schedule and smiled as I sent a simple reply back to him.

Those 20 minutes of waiting for him felt like a torcherous hour as I plated our dinner and started feeling nervous. An anxiousness clawed at my stomach as I was worried about my little surprise not working out, but as soon as the front door opened and I saw the usual stiff expression of Zayne walk in, all my nervous melted away.

His green eyes lit up in surprise as he took in the sight of his decorated space.

“Surprise! Happy birthday once again babe,” I giggle at his usual expression being shaken with awe, and I walk over to hug his taller and bulky frame. His chest reverberates with a deep laugh.

“I don’t know why I’m so surprised by you, but you never cease to stop amusing me.” Zayne leans down to capture my lips. His plush mouth meets me with such a sweetness that I swear I can feel my teeth rattle. I

Before he gets ahead of himself and my secret plans, I pull away and gester to the dinner table set up with food and his wrapped present. “I’m sure you’re starved let’s go eat..”

He frowns abit at me pulling away from him but he just hums and goes along with my antics, “You didn’t have to go to such trouble…” he says while putting his coat away.

“You’re worth it and I wanted too…” I watch him sit down as I make his plate and set his food and present in front of him.

There was a faint blush on his face as he accepted my present, “I must admit, I’m not used to such pampering…But I don’t dislike it.”

Oh you ain’t seen nothing yet, I try not to let my expression give away my mischievous intentions.

I sit across from him as he opens his gift and admires his new watch, he flips it over and notices the etching, “What constellations are these?”

“It’s a constellation from the days we were born…Pretty right?”

A loving look paints his face as he smiles and traces his thumbs across the back of the watch, “Very…Thank you, I appreciate the fact you added such a personal touch to a practical present.”

“Well, I know you well enough to know that you prefer more practical presents, but you know me, I’m pretty sappy.”

He grabs my hand from across the table and his thumb softly traces my knuckles, “I love any and everything you give me, practical or not…Your gifts are special to me.”

Now it was my turn to blush as his gaze was intense, his eyes always made me weak in the knees as the viridescent color seemed to shift into such as passionate expression that was such a contrast from the usual cold and closed off Dr. Zayne that everyone knows.

I bite my lip and he quirks his brow before I shake my head and start to eat my meal, “I know it’s not a fancy dinner but I hope you enjoy.” I can’t let him rattle me before I give him his other present, but his charm made it really hard.

He smirked a bit and began to eat as well, “My sincerest complements to the chef, it’s delicious.”

As we ate, we chatted about his chaotic day, it made me feel cozy and warm to share a sliver of domestic bliss. As we finished eating I ran over to the fridge and pulled out his birthday cake, I placed candles on the top and lit them as I slowly walked over back to his smiling face at the dining table.

“Happy birthday to you~ Happy birthday to you~ Happy birthday dear Zaynee,” I sing as best as I can to him and place the fancy white and blue cake in front of him. I made sure to get his favorite macaroons to decorate with and I did my best to draw cute little seals on top next to my sloppy ‘Happy Birthday Zayne’ written in blue frosting. “Well, go on, make your wish,” I encourage him.

As I stand next to his sitting form, he just grabs my waist closer to his and wraps his hand around mine unexpectedly. With a smile he looks up at me with loving gaze and then turns to softly blow out the candles on the cake. His large fingers fiddle with my hand as he turns to look at me once more.

“Thank you…” his deepvoice is heavy with abit of melancholy as his lips twist in a face that tries to conceal his emotions. I place the hand he isn’t holding onto his warm cheek and softly caress it.

“I know birthdays can be hard, but I’m so grateful to celebrate the man I love’s birth,” I place a kiss on his cheek, leaving a small imprint from my lipgloss on his face.

“Well you do an amazing job at making me feel loved,” he brings my hand to his face and kisses it, “and words cannot express how much I appreciate it.”

Now was usually the time I would flirt back with him, but I had to stay focused, I had a mission and I wouldn’t be shaken by Zayne’s loverboy-ness.

I clear my throat and turn my attention to his cake, “Do you want a big piece or a little piece?”

“I might be in the mood for something sweeter,” he says with a purr as his hand crawls up my arm.

Oh no, now he’s horny.

“But I worked so hard on this cake,” I pout, “It’s rude to not even have a piece.”

My pouting works because he quickly concedes with a laugh, “You’re right, I don’t want your efforts to go to waste.”

After I cut him a slice and hand it to him, is when I decide to put things in motion, “Hey I have to use your bathroom really quick, why do you sit on the rocking chair and we can cuddle and watch a movie?”

His facelights up with excitement, “Sure thing, but don’t keep me waiting too long,” he smiles and squeezes my waist before I go to walk into his bedroom.

“I’m worth the wait,” I say with some fake sass in my voice as I flip my hair and close the door behind me. I immediately lock it and hurriedly change into the lingerie I brought. I glance in the mirror to refresh my makeup as well, after reapplying my tinted lip gloss I let out a nervous breath. Okay let’s do this…

I tap his smart home tablet to dim the living room lights and turn on the music. When I open the door to leave the bedroom, Zayne’s eyes go wide as he was sitting in the chair on his phone.

He calls out my name in a flustered fit and immediately puts his phone away as I saunter over to him. In my classes, they told me to make sure I walk with a sway in my hips and a slight drag of my feet to accentuate my body. When I come up to the chair I put both hands on the sides of the armrest, caging him in. “Shhhh, just relax,” I whisper as I place my index finger on his lips and drag it down to his exposed collar.

I then slide both of my hands down his chest to his knees and I spread them apart as I drop my body into a half squat to the floor. I gyrate my hips as I bring myself up out off the squat, face down ass up, I can hear my instructor’s voice in my head as I move.

I turn around in a slow sway and with a dramatic tease of shaking my booty, I sit on his lap and reach my arms behind me to wrap around his neck. I hear the hiss of his voice as he places his hands at my sides.

I grab on to both of his hands with mine and place them on my chest as I whisper, “You can touch me baby, this is another gift.”

After a beat I take his hands off of me and stand to flip myself around to see his expression. His green eyes were now dripping in lust as he drank in the sight of my body covered in barley there blue lace.

I straddle his lap to where my thinly covered heat was grinding against his leg. His hand instantly lands on my ass as he squeezes it and encourages me to continue as he pushes my body forward. I let out soft whimpers as my hands unbutton his white shirt.

Zayne leans forward and hungrily kisses and nips at my neck, his lips leave a trail up to my ear as his voice speaks breathlessly, “Now this is the sweetest desert…”

I lean my head back to give him more access to my neck, “Go ahead…Take a bite then.”

And he does, his lips nip and suckle at my throat as I can feel my body dampen at the friction his leg is giving me, “Zayne,” I whisper and dig my nails into the nape of his neck.

“Well, go on, I wouldn’t want to interrupt you,” I can feel his smirk as his face trailed down to the opening of my cleavage that this particular lingerie set had. Both of his big hands were on my ass as he gave an encouraging squeeze.

“B-But this is suppose to be a gift for you, not me,” I breathe out as I keep moving my hips, chasing that friction.

One of his hands slides up my arm to undo the strap of the babydoll dress, “Your satisfaction is the greatest gift I could ever wish for.”

Zayne’s voice is dripping with desire as it rumbles sweetly in my ear. I shiver and move my hands away from his chest to help take off the babydoll dress, leaving me grinding against him in nothing but a lacy thong.

His hands circle my hips as I return back to my previous motions, he leans his body up more to kiss me deeply.

My eyes roll back in pleasure as his tongue dances with mine, my nails drag on chest a bit as my hip’s movements become more frantic.

With a deep chuckle tickling my lips, he slams my hips to dig into his knee a bit harder. I whimper into his mouth and he pulls away from my lips with a devilish grin.

“Someone needs to practice more,” he says in a mocking tone as he bounces his leg a bit.

“Ah~Ha,” I cry out and bite my lip to compose myself a bit, “It’s hard when my subject is very mischievous…”

“Mmm, but it is this ‘subject’s’ birthday, so you should work hard to please him,” Zayne says as he leans back in the chair and he jerks his legs and hips in a rocking motion that causes the chair to move.

My hands are gripping his shoulders for dear life as I’m following the sway of the chair and Zayne’s legs as my body feels like its on fire.

More and more, I grind my dripping heat into his clothed leg and I lose all abandon as I chase this high.

“Thatta girl,” he praises me as his hands are all over me, gripping my chest and my backside as I drown in my senses being full of him. His touch, the scent of his metallic cologne, the feel of the baritone rumble of his pleased voice, he’s all I could ever want, and in this moment he was the only thing that existed in the whole universe.

With another brunt jerk of his knee against my pleasantly teased center I cry out his name and arch my body back. My empty core flutters and pulsates against nothing as Zayne then leans forward with a growl and takes one of my breasts in his mouth.

Both of his hands reach forward to lift my ass up and he places it directly on the needy tent now pitched in his pants. In the same haste as his tongue is lapping against one of my nipples, my hand undoes his belt and slides it out of all its loops as I throw it somewhere away from us.

“Zayne…Need you,” I whisper as I unzip his fly and my hands dig into the cloth beneath his dress pants to get what I want.

He pulls away from my chest with a flushed and dazed look on his face, “Who am I to stop you? Take what you need love,” he kisses me as I finally free his hardened member.

I chase his lips as he leans back again and I lean forward and grind myself against him, he hisses and brings a hand down inbetween my legs to pull my thong to the side. We part lips and I moan loudly as I grab his dick and slowly insert him into my needy body.

His nose is smushed against my cheek as he lets out a gasp at feeling me on top of him. “Zayne…Zaynee~” I sigh and whimper as I lower myself more and more before he’s fully seated inside me.

I rock back and forth, drowning in the pleasure as I can feel the tip of him hit a spot inside me that made my thighs shake uncontrollably. With the help of his palms gripping the sides of my hips and helping me ride up and down, me and Zayne made the chair bounce with our passionate rhythm.

The stoic doctor was a complete mess underneath me as his face was contourted with pleasure, his mouth breathing heavily and permanently agape as he breathed in my moans. I could tell he was getting close as he gained more control, my movements were all but ceased as he lifted his hips to thrust harder and faster into me.

“Zayne…” I cried as my eyes met his hazy ones.

“Let go…” he growled, “just let go for me baby.”

With another thrust hitting that spot I did exactly that, my hands reaching behind me to his currently wet and sticky knee as I leaned back arching my body behind me. I whimpered his name in bliss as my body was gripping him, “come in me, please…”

“Ah fuck,” he hissed out with a final thrust as his arms reached to wrap around my back and pull me to his chest. I felt the warm liquid flow into me with a pleased hum.

“I swear this poor chair has seen some things,” I tease and laugh against his chest as he comes down from his orgasm.

“I don’t know if I can ever get rid of this thing with you around,” he jokes back to me.

“For your next birthday I’ll just get you a new one,” I sigh and snuggle my face into his neck.

He moves my hair away from my neck and kisses me softly, “Oh? But this one has so many fond memories for me..”

“By your next birthday, I’m afraid it’ll have too many fond memories for it to be functional.”

His hands are rubbing up and down my back, his soft fingers creating gooseflesh on my skin, “Hmm you’re right…Might as well make the most of it while we can then, hmm?”

“Yeah, I still need to show you the whole routine I learned eventually,” I tiredly laughed, “Tonight was just the preview.”

“Well… It’s still my birthday…” he kisses me again with a gentle hint of playfulness in his lips, “why don’t you put on another show?”

I sit up and look down at him, “Well…Since it’s your birthday, I think I can encline an encore…”

Needless to say, Zayne thoroughly enjoyed his present over and over as the squeaking of the chair became the only background music throughout the rest of the night.

~fin~

#love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #lads zayne #zayne x mc #zayne x y/n #zayne x you #lads smut #lads x reader #lads fanfic

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so-much-for-the-seashells · 3 months

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Movie Nights Headcanons With BF!Dean

✨ Dean Winchester x fellowhunter!Reader ✨

Minors! Get out of here! Please and thank you!

COOOOONTENT: definitely 18+ (a tiddly bit of spice) but very cute

A/N: reader’s supposed to be cis/fem BUUUT headcanons only mention “girl” a few times? I’m working on my spicy gender neutral skills I’ll get there I swear

Oh also!!! I made my own icons, super proud 😌

And please! Feel free to leave notes! They literally make my day!

Anyway, let’s get this party started!

( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

-movie nights at the bunker are few and far between, because, you know, hunting is exhausting

-however, when they do happen, they’re the best thing in the whole wide world

-let me explain

-once you started dating Dean and moved into the bunker, some changes had to be made

-you had gotten a cute sofa for the Dean cave, somewhere for the both of you to sit because all that had been in there before you moved in was two dingy chairs

-at first Dean had protested in the sofa saying that it was “too girly”

-but you know how dads are with the pet that they never wanted??

-that’s Dean and the sofa

-so once you guys get comfy with your favorite snacks and drinks, you snuggled up sitting crisscross in the corner

-he’ll lay with his head in your lap, letting his bow legs rest on the opposite arm rest.

-he really loves laying on your thighs. This can be taken as you want it to.

-they really are his favorite pillows

-they’re just so squishyyy

-anyway

-he loves when you play with his short hair. It’s really comforting to him, and he really enjoys it

-this may or may not come from his love of you pulling it when he’s being a munch

-rom coms are his guilty pleasure. He’s a sucker for Rambo and Top Gun. Also Back To The Future. Ofc he likes his horror movies too. Won’t make you watch anything you are uncomfortable with.

-might try to grumble when you pick, but if you give him some puppy dog eyes he’ll shut up real quick

-he’s sugar sweet when he’s sleepy. No more defenses or cool guy wit, just Dean saying a lot of I love yous and being the fluffiest biggest stuffed animal of a man

-tends to fall asleep in your lap

-if he doesn’t fall asleep he’s always chatting with you about literally whatever shows up in his pretty little head or talking to the movie

-“who fumbles reese witherspoon?” said with full indignation (about legally blonde)

-“I think my man Freddie is blind” (about Lainey in she’s all that)

-it’s super cute, especially if it’s after he’s grumbled about watching the movie he’s commenting about

-now (nsfw ahead)

-the thing is

-sometimes this dude wants to watch a movie, but he also wants a specific kind of snack

-yk, one that’s typically… white and sticky? And no I’m not talking about sticky rice

-so if you’re wearing only one of his shirts and your underwear

-and he’s in a mood

-uhhh let’s just say he really gets the munchies

-his legs’ll fall off of the sofa and magically his ass’ll land on top of them

-and oh em gee suddenly he’ll be eating that pussy like he didn’t just take down a whole bowl of popcorn

-and let me tell you, your hands aren’t ever gonna even bother leaving that hair, cause you’re gonna need to hooooold tight

-other times it’s a little different

-maybe you’re being needy while you both want to watch the movie

-so he’ll sit up, take down his pants just a little bit, move your underwear to the side and just sit you there. Keeping his cock nice and warm until the credits.

-cause you wouldn’t wanna be a bad girl (cue jojo siwa) and move on him!

-but sometimes you just can’t help it…

-so he’ll sigh heavily and pause the tv lethargically with great dramatics

-and then he’ll rail you within an inch of your life, as he does (has to make sure his girl is sated and then some 🖤 🎀)

-and hit play like nothing happened, keeping you sat right where you were

-honestly it’s a great time

-oh, also, blankets

-he loves blankets

-it’s his guilty pleasure, he buys them whenever he has some extra (stolen) cash and isn’t with his brother or Cas

-cause obviously they can’t know about his “girly” habits

-but he has so many. Some of them have flannel prints, there’s one with a bunch of Patrick Swayzes, one for every season, fluffy ones, scratchy ones, hand crocheted ones (major brownie points if you can somehow make him one)

-oh and back to snacks

-listen. You can tell him all about how much of a good idea it would be to eat healthy. Bring up all the stats and one of Sam’s famous guilt trips too.

-but all it takes is a pout with those sparkly, gorgeous, mountain-ass green eyes

-and all of a sudden you’re baking brownies together, just because you actually have a second to do normal couple things

-and anyway, brownie batter kisses?? Worth it.

-oh

-and it’s not just movies, sometimes it’s shows

-and I mention this because sometimes those shows are the wiggles. And you know why they’re the wiggles? Cause you two’ll sometimes sneak just a little bit of fun time grass into the brownies

-and the wiggles is just too much fun to watch when you’re uh… seeing sounds and hearing colors

-oh and also giggly high fun time sometimes ensues (WITH THE WIGGLES TURNED O F F you are NOT that blasphemous) (I hope)

-another one of the shows you get him to watch is Gilmore girls.

-he got hooked for three reasons:

1. he loves Luke (and no we don’t know if he loves him or LOVES him) oh and Kirk. He wants to be best friends with Kirk.

2. he’s a sucker for fall vibes. Including pumpkin spice and Halloween, apple cider and ofc his flannels- so naturally stars hollow visually floats his boat

3. he thinks it’s hilarious that some dude named Dean looks exactly like Sam ( 😏)

-oh and bonus- he’s really just a messy bitch who loves the drama and wants Lorelei to be happy

-ofc you two don’t watch your shows as much, movies take priority, but when you do you binge them. Cause who knows when the next time you’ll have time to see them is

-stupid supernatural warfare

-oh and he will always convince you to make a pie with him (NOT the sexual kind) (…sometimes the sexual kind) (🤤)

-sometimes you’ll host family movie nights, have Sam and Charlie and Cas and whoever else is hanging out around the bunker come

-most of the time a movie doesn’t even get chosen but that’s okay cause it’s still fun

-anyway, Dean is a cutie patootie sweetie sugar pie

-oh, and a munch

-I rest my case

-yeah that’s basically it

If you have any ideas for headcanons, send a request! My box is always open!

#dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #Dean Winchester is a munch #dean winchester headcanon #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #dean winchester smut

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fanaticsnail · 2 months

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Hey! Hope you’re doing well this fine day~ I had a cute idea if u just wanna hear me rant about it.

So imagine teaching Killer a new pasta recipe whether that is a new sauce or new way to cook it and making it for him and watching him literally LIGHT UP with pure glee over how good it is. I say this as I’ve made my grandma’s spaghetti sauce which is STRAIGHT UP ADDICTING every time I make it and gobble it all up. Like the reader can be like a straw hat or kid pirate who is like hey I have this really yummy pasta recipe if you wanna try and afterwards she keeps on exchanging recipes with Killer and lowkey he in love with her mwahahaha (cause as they say in Princess and the Frog “the quickest way to a man’s heart, is through his stomach”). And she cooks it for him since he is always cooking 🥹🥹🥹

Also! I do have to add how much IM OBSESSED with the recent Hey Doc Drabble. Idk if you saw my tags but man I was GOING THROUGH IT. All the sweet nicknames and just the pure desperation for doc to be okay like 😭😭😭 and POOR HEAT AND BUBBLEGUM LIKE AWWWW I need a part 2 to that or SOMETHING just to see an aftermath if you will. Wire calling them “honey” had me WEAK.

Alright imma head out now, have a marvelous day/night 🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️

How did I miss this 😭. Thank you for your beautiful compliments on the 'Hey Doc' series. It's been an absolute joy to write. Reading through tags and reblogs are my favourite: especially when it's as enthusiastic as yours has been. You're so much fun, and I very much appreciate the time you take to read and go through my silly things. I can't write a full fic, but I hope this little drabble satiates the need of cooking with Killer 🖤.

Pasta

Masterlist Here

Word Count: mini-fic, just a little one.

Themes: Killer x reader, fluff, cooking, food, Killer is in awe, you are cooking, and I am hungry.

The one thing he hasn't managed to perfect is a pure, unadulterated Marinara. Anything to do with crushed tomato he finds too acidic, and over compensates with far too much salt to cut the tannins. He's tried everything: more onion, less herbs, malted brown sugar, refining his own salt by storing sea water on the oven, everything. He just can't seem to get it right.

Killer and pasta: his one weakness.

He would never admit it, but he has been attempting to perfect each recipe he comes upon. Pesto is all made from scratch: crushed fresh basil, the purest of virgin olive oils, a parmesan wheel with crispy salt crystals, oven toasted pine nuts, cloves of bulbed garlic, everything perfected by his skill in his kitchen. His pesto pasta is better than Sanji's, and the curly-browed chef is both impressed and intimidated by it.

Watching from a safe distance as you bounce gleefully within the dominion of the kitchen, he hunches his back and places his whiskered chin over his laced fingertips. He was unsure as to why you offered to cook for the crew, but your enthusiasm had him step aside to watch you work. It was the initial confession of homesickness that did it for him. Knowing food can aid in emotional regulation and comfort, he was more than happy to watch from his position sitting at the kitchen island.

And then the smell hit him.

The sweetness of roasting tomatoes, onion, garlic, and the herbal aromatics of thyme, rosemary and sage. The soft waft had his heart swell and beat in his chest and eyes twinkle in curiousity. Stirring the rotund vegetables in the pot and expertly crushing them with the blunt tip of the wooden spoon had him sit up attentively in his seat, watching you as you attend to the sauce from muscle memory alone.

He was in awe, perplexed, and intrigued.

Each time you would move on to another element of the dish, Killer would move a little closer. Each time your back was turned, he would perch himself just a little more towards the simmering pot. When you moved to the pantry to decide which shape of pasta to begin to boil, you could barely make out the shape of Killer's mask being partially elevated over his lips and nose by one large hand. Using a fresh spoon, he dips it into the sauce and puckers his purple-tinted lips and extends a breath of cool air to stifle the heat.

As soon as the first drops meet his tongue, he can't help the soft moan that escapes him at the flavor. Upon your return with a bag of penne in hand, you are immediately hoisted into the air with Killer's hands beneath your arms. Gently spinning you before placing you on the ground, he claps his arms over your shoulders and leans down closer. The purple hue of his lips is stretched up in a smile, his joy at your sauce immediately having him taken aback and fullfilled in the knowledge that he now has the answer he desperately seeks.

"Teach me. Please."

And who were you to deny him? It was a family recipe, and this crew aboard the Victoria Punk was your new family. Gently raising one of your hands to cup over his on your shoulder, you crinkle your nose at him and nod with a smile to match his own.

"Yes, chef."

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady

#one piece #x reader #ask snail #snail answers #massacre soldier killer #killer x reader #op killer #kid pirates #one piece mini fic #gn!reader #one piece fluff #one piece x reader #massacre soldier killer x reader

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sanspuppet · 10 months

Note

Dom husband San x y/n?? 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

W/T: smut‼️

| thank you for your request anon! <3 sorry if the end kinda sucks because headache suddenly hit me, but i still wanted to get it finished

“Don’t hold back, darling.” San’s pelvis is slamming against your ass rhythmically. Erotic sounds filling the room, as you were once again supporting yourself on your wrists and knees, with your husband pounding joyfully into you from the back. Your face is buried in the pillow, your fingers hurting from how tightly your grip is on the sheets beneath you. You feel his hand caressing softly your hair, unlike the roughly way he was fucking you. “Come on… let me hear your pretty sounds.” you know that not listening to him would get his pace even worse. “Fuck— San” you try to appeal something but nothing comes out of your mouth but a loud, half broken moan. “Yes, babe?” you can’t see him but he clearly smirks, enjoying how fucked out his wife seems every time he takes the lead. San drags his gaze down, gluing it to the way his hard dick flowed easily inside you at every thrust. “Do you feel it?” he asks you, even though he knows very well that you aren’t capable of formulate any phrases at the moment. “How perfectly your pussy takes my cock?” you can only mewl back, making him chuckle: “I’ve fucked you dumb so many times, that now only my dick would fit your tight cunt.” the heat between you grows desperately as San starts to fuck you deeper, the pleasure that runs down his spine forces him to suck in a deep breath. The feeling of your creamy folds squeezing his dick makes his mind go blank, he slows his pace, his pumps inside your cunt getting sloppy. “Fuck”

You almost cry out when you feel emptiness as he pulls out, but you don’t have to wait too much before San flips you around, making eye contact with your hazed eyes.

“Sorry baby, just want to see your face when i’ll make you reach your orgasm.” he cooes innocently, as if he wasn’t standing in front of you naked, after almost splitting you in half with his rough pumps. San leans over you, lifting your chin with his fingers, attaching his lips to yours, biting and sucking on them as he was starving from days. “Wanna keep being a good wife and take the dick you’re married with?” you nod instinctively, sucking in your lower lip to repress the moan you’ll emit as soon as San’s cock will be buried inside your pussy, hitting all your sweet spots at the first push. “Y-yeah”

San stars to move again, the contact between his cockhead and your g-spot fulfills your mind, now incapable make any coherent thought. You trail your eyes down his chest, his abs flexing as he was breathing heavily to hold back any noises. You seem lost, watching his lower abdomen slapping against your thighs, his length quickly appearing and disappearing into your soaking entrance. You can’t believe how you lost your mind because you haven’t noticed that San has already reached his orgasm, a white ring around his cock as he was pushing his seeds further into you. More embarrassing’s the fact that after you realized it, realized how his cock can drive you nuts, it gets you so suddenly to your climax. You roll your eyes back, your mouth hangs open, but you let out nothing.

“Enjoying the view darling?” he smirks at you, his palm running up your body, wrapping it around your neck. “Aren’t we perfect, love?” He pulls away, staring at your red, puffed pussy, before making again eye contact with you.

“I fucking love you y/n”

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world0fmadness · 3 months

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⋆ ˚｡⋆ ✩ ˚ OPPOSITES ATTRACT

oscar piastri x extreme / black metal vocalist! reader

faceclaim: assorted but mainly hulder and gen vincent

୨୧ for my fellow metalhead f1 fans <3 i recommend listening to hulder and mythic while reading, that’s the type of vocalist i had in mind while writing! tiny metalocalypse reference included because i can

reading music recommendations: winter solstice by mythic - upon frigid winds by hulder - lament configuration by mythic

ynln: took some more pictures for the upcoming album tonight! can’t wait for guys to hear it 🗡

oscarpiastri ✔️: looking beautiful as always my love, these are my new favourite pictures of you ❤️

> ynln ✔️: because you took them?

> oscarpiastri ✔️: yes… but also just because you look amazing

oscarpastrylover: whenever her pictures pop up i just get reminded of how funny her and oscar are as a couple… like oh yeah this is oscar piastri, golden retriever innocent baby of the grid and this is his girlfriend yn, a blunt black metal artist known for throwing buckets of pigs blood at people in the crowd of her concerts!

> oscyn: she’s just a girl <3

> ynln ✔️: i can assure you oscar is everything but innocent

> oscarpiastri ✔️: yn… we talked about this… my pr agent is going to ring my neck :(

> ynln ✔️: i’ll ring his neck first

lewishamilton ✔️: incredible pictures yn! can’t wait to hear the album, i expect nothing but greatness from the likes of you 🖤

❤️ liked by oscarpiastri and ynln

> ynln ✔️: thank you lewis! i can’t wait for you to hear it

landoontop: this is oscar’s girlfriend?

> oscyn: yep! they’ve been dating for a year now

> landoontop: holy shit lmao 😭 i wonder how they met…

landonorris ✔️: strange looking woman

> ynln ✔️: strange looking woman that’s going to gut you

❤️ liked by oscarpiastri

> landonorris ✔️: 😟

oldf1lvr: oscar piastri can you fight?

kerrangmagazine: we had the opportunity to interview and photograph the one and only yn of mythic today! fans of black metal will immediately recognise her as she’s being hailed as the next household name in the black metal world and if you’re not a big fan you might know her from somewhere (or someone) quite different! pick up our latest issue to read all about it

oldf1lvr: OSCAR. PIASTRI. CAN. YOU. FIGHT?

ynln ✔️: it was an honour, thanks for having me in 🖤

oscarynlove: her tattoos are so cool… everything about her is so cool… i have a major girl crush me thinks 😩

oscarpiastri ✔️: great interview love ❤️

> ynln ✔️: thank you my sun 🖤

> landonorris ✔️: yeah, he only bought 10 copies of the magazine

> oscarpiastri ✔️: is there something wrong with supporting my beautiful, lovely, taltented, gorgeous girlfriend? and i have to give some to people on the grid

oscyn: she talks about oscar in the interview! more oscyn content 🥳

ynln: mythic had our very first concert in australia today! this show was extra special to me as it’s my lovely boyfriends homeland 🖤 i hope everyone who attended had a great time, osc sure did and he was sweet enough to surprise the band with pizza afterwards… cut into a pentagram… how cute is that? also featured is a picture of our guitarist, toki, in a trash can, where he belongs <3

oscarpastrylover: oscar just constantly being a supportive boyfriend makes my heart hurt, when will it be my turn?

oscarpiastri ✔️: amazing show love! i’m forever mesmerised by your performance ❤️

> ynln ✔️: thank you osc, i’m glad you had a good time, you looked hot in the paint

> landonorris ✔️: why are we allowing this woman to have access to social media when she says things like that?

> oscarpiastri ✔️: don’t be jealous now lando

iluvf1: the hand pic… yn ln you know exactly what you’re doing and i love it

danielricciardo ✔️: and i didn’t get an invite why?

> oscarpiastri ✔️: you did, but when yn mentioned the pigs blood to went pale and said you were actually busy that day

> danielricciardo ✔️: oh yeah, i was actually, my pet frog died and that was the day of the funeral, very unfortunate timing…

> oscarpiastri ✔️: 🙄

oscyn: yn being so soft with oscar is what makes me love her even more 💔

oscarpiastri: girlfriend appreciation post ❤️ a lot of people think you’re a little freaky and creepy but i think you’re just perfect, love you lots yn

ynln ✔️: thank you osc… love you more satan 🖤 but don’t worry, i am a little creepy

> oscarpiastri ✔️: well then i think creepy and freaky is just perfect ❤️ by the way my mum wants to have you over for dinner again soon

> ynln ✔️: anything for mama piastri 🖤

> oldf1lvr: oscar’s mom being the #1 oscyn shipper will always be absolutely adorable to me

lewishamilton ✔️: young love… you two never fail to make me feel old

> oscarpiastri ✔️: sorry not sorry mate!

oscyn: how anyone can say they aren’t the cutest couple on the grid is beyond me, they’re SO mismatched it’s adorable

landonorris ✔️: simp

> oscarpiastri ✔️: i’m not entertaining this 🙄

> ynln ✔️: can i gut him yet?

> oscarpiastri ✔️: i’m really considering letting you at this point…

> landonorris ✔️: i don’t fear your threats anymore, i saw you cuddling that stray cat that appeared on the grid

oscarpastrylove: this is so cute… she’s so cute… he’s so cute… they’re so cute 💔

charlesleclerc ✔️: perhaps it’s time to meet my future daughter in law…

❤️ liked by ynln and oscarpiastri

> iluvf1: charles hasn’t met her yet? lmao 😭

> landonorris ✔️: he’s scared of her

> charlesleclerc ✔️: i’m not scared of her… just cautious

oldf1lvr: my new favourite couple on the grid, i’m obsessed with them

ynln: boyfriend appreciation post 🖤 my sun, i never believed that opposites attract but here we are, i’ll love you for eternity

oscyn: *sigh* i don’t think i’ll ever find a love like theirs…

oscarpiastri ✔️: i’ll love you for longer ❤️

> ynln ✔️: impossible 🖤

loveuyn: so funny seeing all of yn’s past partners being the same style as her and now she’s dating the human equivalent of a golden retriever and she’s happier than ever

❤️ liked by ynln

landonorris ✔️: you guys make me SICK

> oscarpiastri ✔️: jealousy jealousy…

#oscar piastri x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 smau

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chvoswxtch · 2 years

Note

Hey, got a Matt y/n request.

You go off your pill without Matt knowing because you want to have a family with Matt. Matt notices you're ovulating because you smell different and tries to get you pregnant.

#daddy and mommy kink

#cumpi€

#Matt the animal in bed

nonnie, you summoned my inner whore, and she has answered.

this is absolute filth with bits of angst and fluff sprinkled in. please enjoy (& thank you). 🖤

warning: contains explicit sexual content (minors please dni), swearing, and mentions of pregnancy word count: 3k

ours.

There was something different about you and it was driving Matt absolutely fucking insane. From the second he woke up this morning, he had this carnal desire for you that he couldn’t seem to tame. Your scent lingered on your pillow and Matt found himself burying his face into it as his hand searched for the softness of your skin, but all he found was the absence of warmth on his fingertips. He couldn’t hardly focus as he got ready for work, and it only got worse throughout the day.

As noon rolled around, he was elbow deep in case work and in the middle of going over a document with Foggy when he caught wind of your scent on the street. He immediately paused, cocking his head to the side slightly as he tracked your path from two blocks away to their office. By the time you had reached their floor and before you could even knock, Matt was swinging the door open and pulling you in so quickly, it made you dizzy.

“Matt! I almost dropped everything!”

You giggled softly as you readjusted your grip on the carryout bag containing all your orders and the tray of drinks. Matt’s tongue darted out to lick his lips as his hands remained firmly gripped on your hips, forcing a tight lipped smile on his mouth.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Heard you coming. What’s all this?”

“Well I figured you guys were swamped and hadn’t eaten yet so I brought lunch.”

Matt’s heart should’ve swelled with adoration and gratitude at the sweet gesture. But instead, a very different part of his body was swelling and he was struggling to retain his composure.

“Y/N Murdock you are a goddamn saint.”

Another giggle escaped your mouth at Foggy’s comment, and Matt squeezed his eyes shut behind his crimson glasses as he did his best to swallow back a moan.

“Matt? You alright?”

Matt turned his head slightly in Karen’s direction, a slight panic rising up in his chest as he stumbled over his words.

“Uh y-yeah, why?”

“Because you’ve got a death grip on Y/N/N, and you look like you’re in pain.”

Matt could feel everyone’s eyes on him, including you, and he all of a sudden realized just how tight his hold was on you. He cleared his throat as he released you, taking half a step back as he tried to fix his features into an expression of nonchalance.

“I’m alright, city's just a bit loud today. That’s all.”

Thirty minutes had never felt so fucking long in his entire life. Matt’s knee bounced uncontrollably underneath the table as you laughed and caught up with Foggy and Karen. Everytime a breeze blew through the open window, more of your scent wrapped around Matt like a decadent haze, and he had to stuff his mouth full of food to mask the reaction it was pulling out of him. He could feel sweat forming along his hairline the longer he sat next to you. Matt had always found you desirable, but there was something different about you today that had his half hard cock aching with need.

He racked his brain for any kind of excuse to get Foggy and Karen to leave, even just for five minutes so he could take you in his office and fuck you over his desk. Matt had to physically stop himself from shuddering as you leaned over to press a soft kiss to his jawline, digging his blunt nails into his own palm as he fought back the urge to slip his hand beneath the dress you were wearing. His head was so clouded with lust he hadn’t heard a word you’d said, and his eyebrows suddenly knit in confusion as he noticed your presence by the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to work. I just told you I have a meeting in fifteen minutes?”

“You did?”

A slight pout formed on your lips as you made your way back over to Matt, placing your hand gently on his cheek and letting out a soft noise as his burning skin touched your palm.

“Baby, are you sure you’re alright? You’re really warm.”

“I’m always warm.”

“Yeah, but you’re like extra warm right now, and you’re sweating.”

“It’s just…hot.”

Matt tried his hardest to appear normal, flashing you a half smile as he turned his head to gently press a kiss to your wrist.

Fuck. That made it worse.

“Okay…well, if you do start to feel bad, please go home.”

“I will.”

Matt could feel your attention directly on him and the roll of your eyes before you turned to Foggy and Karen with a playful smile on your lips.

“Will one of you please send my stubborn husband home if he gets worse?”

“You got it, Y/N/N.”

Matt swallowed thickly as you gave Foggy a grateful smile before bending down to press a soft kiss to his lips. He figured once you left, he would finally be able to breathe again. All he had to do was focus back on the case, and the rest of the day would fly by so he could go home to you; so he could finally have you. He just had to make it a few more hours. He could do that. Right?

Wrong. Very fucking wrong. The sound of the clock ticking through the office seemed to taunt him about how much time wasn’t moving as fast as he wanted it to. He couldn’t focus at all. His fingers trailed over the same rows of braille repeatedly, until his fingertips almost felt raw, but he still couldn’t decipher a fucking letter. He couldn’t put them together in his brain. All he could think about was you and burying himself inside you. He made it two hours after you left before he was bolting out of the office with a half assed excuse about being sick, frantically calling you on the way out and begging for you to meet him at home.

The second you stepped through the door, Matt was on you. The front door slammed shut as he pinned you against it, ripping your keys and purse out of your hands to toss them carelessly aside. His hands roamed everywhere, gripping and kneading every bit of you they could find. Eventually you were able to break apart from him, pressing your palms firmly against his chest as his mouth eagerly sought you out again.

“Matthew Murdock, what has gotten into you?”

“I…I don’t know.”

Matt panted heavily as he licked his lips, blank eyes darting back and forth in a frenzied manner. You brought one of your hands up to cup his jaw gently and he instantly leaned into your touch, a soft whine sounding in the back of his throat.

“I thought you were sick?”

“Not sick. Just need you. Needed you all day, sweetheart. Please.”

It was then that you noticed Matt’s pupils were blown wide open, and felt the evidence of his need against your lower stomach. Your lips parted slightly in an ‘o’ shape, finally putting all of the pieces of his odd behavior together in your head.

“Oh.”

“Please, sweetheart. I need you so fucking badly.”

“I…um…we…we can’t right now, Matty. But I can-”

“Why?”

Matt almost sounded like he was in pain as he tilted his head to the side to stare at you, and the anguish was plastered clear over his face. It made you feel guilty to see him this way, and you were worried how he would react to what you had been keeping from him.

“Because…I…I went off the pill. And we don’t…we don’t have anything.”

Matt’s face instantly contorted in confusion, placing his palm on the door by the side of your head as he tried to process your words.

“What? When?”

“A month ago.”

“Why?”

“Because…I just…didn’t like what it was doing to my body.”

You were hoping that Matt was so far gone he wouldn’t notice your lie, but the disappointed look on his features made your heart start to pound uncontrollably.

“Can you answer my question without lying to me.”

You internally winced at the edge in his voice. You had never lied to him before, and when he had told you the truth about being the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, you both made a promise to never lie to one another about anything. Part of your vows were to always be honest, and you felt guilty that you had messed that one up.

“That wasn’t a lie. I don’t like what it’s doing to my body. That’s just…not the main reason.”

“And what is?”

“I want a family, Matt. I know we’ve talked about it briefly, and you said you wanted one too, but I wasn’t sure if you were ever gonna slow down enough to focus on starting one with me. I just thought…I thought if it happened, you’d be so happy you wouldn’t be mad that I didn’t tell you. I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you. I should have told you what I was doing. I just…I want this so badly, Matty. I keep having dreams about it, it’s all I can think about lately, it’s just…like this need that’s taken over. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Matt could hear the sincerity in your voice and in your heart’s rhythm. His face softened as he listened to you, and a feeling of guilt crept up on him. He had promised you a family once the two of you got married. He did want that. There had just been so much going on lately, the idea of starting one hadn’t occurred to him.

As he opened his mouth to speak, he caught a taste of your arousal on his tongue, and suddenly realization struck him like fucking lightning.

You were ovulating.

That’s what this was. You had been on birth control the entire time you’d known Matt, so he’d never experienced this with you before. This is what was driving him fucking insane. Your body was practically screaming at him, begging him for a baby, and fuck if his body wasn’t listening. A quiet gasp left your mouth when you noticed the darkened look in Matt’s eyes. You knew that look; you saw it when the Devil came home and wanted to play.

“Matty-”

Matt ignored the warning in your voice as he crashed his lips into yours, grabbing onto the back of your head to hold you in place as he nipped at your bottom lip and soothed the sting with his tongue. In a flash he’d ripped your dress over your head and attached his lips to your neck, licking, sucking, and biting his way down to your collarbones. His fingers deftly unhooked the clasp of your bra and tugged it down your shoulders, pulling a surprised gasp from your mouth as the soft fabric of his shirt brushed over your sensitive nipples.

“Matty…what ah…what are you doing?”

Matt’s voice was dangerously low as he moved his lips up to nibble on the shell of your ear, the warmth of his breath causing a shiver to cascade down your spine.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you’re pregnant.”

An obscene moan left your lips and shot straight down to Matt’s cock. A quiet growl sounded in your ear as he lifted you up and trapped you against the door with his hips, rutting into you as his cock strained painfully against the fabric of his pants. He could feel some of your arousal seep through the material from your soaked panties, and you moaned loudly when he rubbed against you just right.

Your fingers were frantic as they clawed at his tie, nearly tearing half the buttons off his shirt as you practically ripped it off his chest. Reaching down between your bodies, you swiftly pulled the leather from Matt’s belt, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants as you fervently shoved them down his thighs along with his briefs just enough to free him. Matt groaned loudly as the cool air met his weeping tip, using his legs to support you as his hands completely tore your panties off your hips.

Matt didn’t waste a second, immediately penetrating the warmth of your slick walls with his thick cock. A loud moan tore through each of you, echoing throughout the entire apartment.

“Hang on.”

Matt’s voice was rough and gravely as he ordered you, and you whimpered in response as you locked your legs around his waist and gripped onto his shoulders tightly. Everytime he was inside you felt euphoric, but God this time felt different. He couldn’t pinpoint if it was because he was extra sensitive from being so turned on all day, knowing what he was about to do to you, the idea of how much everything was about to change for the two of you, or what, but it unlocked something inside him that had Matt fucking you savagely against the front door.

A tiny piece of him felt guilty for taking you like this, knowing this could be the time that resulted in the creation of your child. The good Catholic boy in him knew he should’ve made this special and been more romantic, taken his time to savor every second of this beautiful moment. But the Devil in him wanted you and wanted you now. He wanted to plant himself in the deepest part of you, claim your womb for everyone to see, because sometimes that ring wasn’t fucking enough.

Everyone would know that you were his. They wouldn’t be able to miss your swollen belly that carried his child.

As Matt’s grunts and moans in your ear became more feral, his pace got impossibly faster and brutal. He was practically slamming you into the door with each precise snap of his hips, reaching that spot inside you only he could find, tearing the loudest cries of his name from your chest. The only other thing he could hear besides your pretty sounds were the echoes of your skin slapping together and your heart thundering in his ears.

“You gonna make me a daddy, sweetheart? Gonna be a good girl and do that for me?”

“Y-yes…”

“Yes you are. Because I’m gonna come so deep in this tight little cunt of yours, over and over and over-“

Matt accentuated each of his words with powerful, quick snaps of his hips into yours.

“And I’m not letting you leave this apartment until I know for sure that it took. You understand, pretty girl?”

All you could do was moan in response as you dug your nails into Matt’s broad shoulders, letting your head fall back against the door as he fucked you how he wanted. You were completely at his mercy like this, all you could do was take it, but God it had been so long since you’d had him like this.

“You want me to make you a mommy, sweetheart? Hm?”

“Yes! Please, Matty…please.”

“Beg for it.”

Matt bared his teeth in a snarl as he dug his fingertips roughly into the flesh of your hips, marking you just as much on the outside as he planned to do on the inside. You could hardly form a coherent thought from the way he was fucking you. You were getting dangerously close to falling over that edge, and you desperately wanted him to jump with you.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let me hear it. Beg me. Beg me for a baby.”

“God…please…”

“No. Not him, me.”

“Fuck Matty-I…please…please, I want it. I want you to…g-give me a baby, please.”

“My baby. Tell me you want my baby. Let me hear it.”

You could tell Matt was close based on his falter in rhythm. His thrusts were getting sloppy, and the devil’s edge to his voice was slipping away into a needy whine. He was begging you to beg him.

“Want your baby, Matty. Just yours. Ours. Please, baby. Please give it to me.”

You gripped onto the back of Matt’s neck, pulling him in for a searing passionate kiss. Matt let out a loud yell as he finally spilled inside you, his hips stuttering as he fucked his seed as deep into you as he could, whimpering breathlessly at the way you clenched around his sensitive cock.

Both of you were sweaty, panting messes as you came down from your collective highs. Matt kept a tight grip on your hips, stumbling backwards until his back hit the wall, sliding down slowly until he let himself fall onto the floor with you on his lap. He rested his forehead against your shoulder, closing his eyes as the haze he had been in all day seemed to slowly disappear, allowing his senses to finally clear.

“Matty?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

A smile stretched across his mouth as he pulled back slightly, staring blankly at you in pure adoration.

“I love you.”

He closed his eyes as he leaned into your palm that cradled his jaw, letting out a deep exhale through his nose as the guilt started to set in.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“That. I…I should’ve made that more special.”

“Matty-“

“I fucked your mom against the front door is not exactly how I want to tell our kid they were created.”

Smacking your palm against his chest, you immediately erupted into a fit of giggles that Matt couldn’t help joining.

“Matthew! First of all, our child is never going to want to know how they were created. Second of all, you have nothing to be sorry for. I love you, and I know you love me. And we love each other so much, we decided to create a life together made up of both of us. Don’t you think that’s special?”

Matt took a deep breath as his tongue quickly wet his lips, nodding his head slowly as he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Good. So do I. Now, if you really feel the need to redeem that Catholic guilt of yours, we can increase our chances in bed and be as sappy as you want.”

Matt rolled his eyes as a playful smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours.

“Heaven forbid I try to show my wife a little romance.”

“Romance away, Murdock. Take me to bed and put a baby in me.”

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