#Comfort Concentrated Fabric Softener

[bluewxrld07]

Stained Glass

Lando Norris X Painter!Reader

Summary: Y/N has worked so hard to make a name for herself and her work, and she's always been grateful to have Lando by her side through even the hardest of transitions. Until one day she gets back early from the studio, and overhears a conversation he's having with one of his friends.

Warning(s): angst, crying, shouting, cussing

Something wasn't right.

Something looked off.

Y/N sat there and just stared, her eyebrows furrowed as her eyes were squinted. She tapped the edge of her paintbrush on the center of her cheek.

Her eyes glazed over both the gentle and harsh strokes that sat along the canvas in front of her, trying to debate what she needed to finish off her final piece. Then her eyes lit up as she realized what else it needed.

She switched her brushes, finally mixing things together to create what she needed for final accents.

Her tongue stuck out as she glided the brush against the piece of fabric in front of her, her hand steady as she placed intricate portions onto it.

These pieces had been taking her almost three months to complete, as they were going to be for sale at one of the biggest art shows in Europe. Big names would be showing up. Her boss had told her in order for her to even be part of the race, she needed to paint outside of her comfort zones.

Make it stick out. Be different than other artwork amongst the walls.

She had paint all over her in that moment, needing to be sure that she had it perfect. Nothing could look wrong.

There was a sound of knocks behind her, causing her to hum out a 'come in', the door creaking open slowly.

Her boss peeked her head in slowly, not wanting to disturb too much. "How's it looking?" she asks.

Y/N hums out a long note of thought. "I think I'm-" she trails off before finally backing up a few steps to take in the full painting in front of her. "Done." she mumbles out, eyes concentrated on every detail in front of her.

Her boss steps in, taking in the multiple pieces of work that sat around the room.

Y/N standing still in her spot, her hand raised up with a brush in hand as she watched the woman scan over every detail. She watches as she nods slowly.

"Absolutely magnifique, Y/N," she breathes out, making Y/N's body noticeably soften.

"I would absolutely say these will be remarkable pieces for the gala. People will definitely be looking. Tu es un artiste absolu Y/N!" (You are an absolute artist Y/N) she says in awe while taking in the last piece. Y/N's smile widens.

"Yeah? You think people will notice?"

"Notice? My oh my, people aren't going to be able to stop staring at these," she exasperates while turning to face the young girl, a proud expression on her face.

She places her arms on both of Y/N's arms. "Well done. I will see you on Saturday evening? Many guests will be dying to know who made these pieces, chérie."

Y/N nods and laughs lightly. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

With that, her boss leaves the room and shutting the door behind her softly. Y/N breaking out into a small happy dance as she begins to clean up her studio.

Her phone begins to ring, the girl sliding to answer it with her knuckle and pressing speaker.

"Hi baby," she says happily.

"Well someone is in a good mood," Lando chuckles into the phone.

"I've got great news," she sings out.

"Oh? Do tell." he says, his tone just as excited as hers. She presses the FaceTime button to have him answer, the boy doing it instantly.

His face pops up with a cute smile on his lips, his grin booming bigger as he sees her happy face. "So my paintings," she starts, turning him to face all of her newest pieces.

"Yes?" he trails off.

"They're all finished for one," she says while turning him back around to face her, setting him up against one of her ceramic water cups while she cleans up.

"For two, my boss said they're officially going to be apart of the gala this weekend!" she squeals, doing a little happy dance once more as Lando laughs at her excitement.

She hears him applauding for her, so she takes a bow with a giggle. "I'm so proud of you!" he hoots out. "You've been working on those pieces for months. I'm so glad they're going to be getting recognized."

She nods and hums in agreement. "I can finally rest a little bit before then," she sighs, crossing her arms as she leans against the counter to look at him.

Her eyes don't fail to catch his eyes to wander down to where the valley of her breasts, biting his lip. "I think celebration might be in order too, yeah?" he says lowly, making her smirk at him. "We've both got some big weekends ahead of us."

She gasps. "Oh my goodness I totally spaced!" she sputtered out. "Your home race! I can totally come before I need to be there, I will-"

"Sweet girl, I want you to be at your absolute best for this weekend. Don't even sweat it," he assures her with soft eyes. "Let's just celebrate us two tonight, yeah?"

"Maybe so," she trails off before walking away to wash her hands.

"I also have a fun painting idea I'd want us to try," she states.

"Oh yeah? What are you going to teach me to paint?" he asks, and she turns to him.

"Not teaching, we'd be doing it together." she says. "I've seen it going around on social media."

His eyes squint at her. "And what is it exactly?"

"We get a big canvas," she trails off and gets close to the phone. "And we get paint on one another," she lowers her voice, watching his face contort to all sorts of things. "And then we fuck on the canvas." she finishes, watching his chest freeze while his eyes snap up to her own.

He smirks. "Why haven't I heard of this before?"

She chuckles before going to grab her jacket and shut off the lights. "I didn't think you'd be interested in things like that." she laughs, earning a groan from him.

"Sweet girl if it's anything that includes you, I'm all ears," he says with a smirk on his face. "Especially explicit things like those where we can hang it for everyone to see."

She laughs at his cheeky comments as she walks over to her office.

"Yeah yeah, okay I get it," she chuckles. "I'll add it to the list and pick up stuff after this weekend then." she says and he nods.

"I'll see you when I get home yeah? I have to make a few stops." she says and he hums.

"Better hurry," he says, and she salutes him playfully before they say their 'I love you's and hang up the call. Once she gets her information gathered for the upcoming weekend, she leaves her office for the night.

She hops into her car and begins to drive off into the quiet evening in Monaco, people out and about on the streets as she drove.

Her phone buzzes, seeing her boss' name pop up with a message.

Don't worry about the supplies, I'll take care of it! Focus on mentally prepping for this weekend, cherie!

She sends her a text back before letting out a sigh of relief, turning around at the stoplight to head back towards Lando's place. The music playing softly in the background as she could heard the music outside as she passed by each restaurant or bay filled with boats.

If all things went well with this weekend, she would be able to finally accomplish making a name for herself as she has been trying to do since she picked up a brush.

Being an artist nowadays was so difficult as people didn't understand how big the art world was, or has become. Getting painter's block is as real as writer's block. She remembered the days when her parents and professors would say that painting for a living wasn't truly something real. That it was stupid and a 'fake' job. That most artists paid their way to their rising.

That was all false, and she knew that. Her boss had been the one to keep her grounded while working through the blocks, and Lando had been there especially.

He had sat in there for hours some days helping her break apart her mind to get something flowing. He was always patient and told her to never force the ideas. He helped bring her back, and would even paint lines or something on a canvas to help her get somewhat of a grasp on what she wanted to do.

She was just happy she had the motivation and people next to her that she had. Lando had helped her most of the way when she was lacking inspiration for her pieces, needed to take a step outside of her normal aesthetic for her art.

So now that she was finally going to hopefully get her big break, she couldn't have been happier in that moment.

Once she had parked her car, she made her way into the building and walked up the staircase. Her excitement was buzzing through her veins.

She unlocked and opened Lando's door and shut it behind her, trying to be somewhat quiet as she could hear him talking to someone on the phone down the hall. She set her keys down as she slipped off her shoes, her bare feet padding down the hallway towards his gaming room.

"I don't know man, I just honestly nod and zone out when she talks about it," his voice chuckles, making her slowly come to a halt.

"What makes it such a success? I've never understood that world," one of his friends says on the other side. Lando laughs, and shrugs.

"Seriously couldn't tell ya. I've been with her four years, and still think it's one of those careers that actually has no sense of stability to it," he says back, Y/N feeling her face falter as her chest begins to feel heavy.

"I mean does she actually make money from her work?"

"She makes an okay amount, I truly have no clue how much she makes," he laughs out, his friend joining in. "All she does is paint a few squiggles on some fabric, so it can't be a lot." he says, Y/N's entire demeanor falls and her heart shatters.

She feels her lip quiver as the two boys change the subject shortly after, talking about the next game they were going to play. She conjures with her mind on what she should do, deciding if she should just leave without saying a word or if she should confront him.

It's too late to leave in that moment as the door creaking gives her away, Lando turning around in his chair. His face completely going white while looking at her tearstained one.

"Y/N-"

"Is that what you really think about my work?" she squeaks out in a whisper, watching as he ends the call with his buddy whom was asking was there in the room.

"Y/N I-"

She doesn't even let him finish, turning on her heels and walking quickly back towards the entryway. Y/N ignores the calls and pleads from Lando behind her, slipping on her shoes and grabbing her keys.

"Y/N I'm sorry I didn't mean it like that. I swear I-"

"Then how exactly did you mean it, Lando? There's no other way you could've meant what you said." she snaps, the boy flinching at her sharp tone. A tone he has never heard her use.

He stays silent. She nods to herself and scoffs. "You know exactly what I have had to prove with my career. What I have done to be taken seriously with my work and what I do," she says, her tone slightly shaky as she spoke.

"I know, I'm sorry-"

"That's bullshit, Lando. Fuck your apologies!" she yells, watching him flinch again, tears in his eyes.

"I am sorry, okay? It just slipped out, I don't know why I said it!" he bursts out. "I guess I just never understood your job and why you chose this as your career, and it just came out."

"You're the most inconsiderate person I know right now." She shook her head at him. "How do you think Charles would feel if he heard you say some shit like that? Would you say that about Alexandra's job?"

He shook his head. "So what makes you think it's okay to say that about me? When you know just how hard of a field this is in the first place?"

"I don't know!" He bursts, making her flinch at his tone.

"I guess because I truly never thought your job was that important." he sputters out, making her eyes glare at him in complete heartbreak. Tears strolled down her cheeks before she could control what came off of her lips next.

"Serves you right that you didn't qualify for the race this weekend. Maybe you need to be humbled." she spat, watching his face contort from regret to shock to hurt to betrayal.

Deep down he knew she didn't mean it, but she was hurt. He hurt her and he couldn't take his words back. Instead he stands there and takes her bullets.

"You're a fucking rich and prestigious prick, Lando Norris," she says in between sobs that she was desperately trying to hold in, failing at every word that left her mouth. Lando bit his lip to keep himself from crying.

Once she left and slammed the door harshly shut behind her, that's when Lando absolutely broke down. He fell onto his knees, face falling into his hands.

How the fuck was he going to fix this?

Y/N wiped her tears away fiercely as she got into her car, driving off and down the street as her speed increased.

She shakily dialed in a phone number, pressing speaker as it rang. Not sure of who else to call in that moment. "Hello?" a sweet voice rang out in curiosity.

"Alexandra, I need somewhere to stay."

[andy-15-07]

Infinite Horizons

PAIRING: Reed Richards x reader

WORD COUNT: 1159 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The Baxter Building hummed with the quiet energy of invention. Fluorescent lights cast a cool glow over the laboratory, where papers, holograms, and whiteboards filled with intricate equations surrounded a single figure.

Reed Richards stood before a towering chalkboard, writing with swift, precise strokes, his mind working at a speed no ordinary person could match. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing forearms dusted with chalk. His dark curls were slightly tousled, and his eyes burned with concentration as he scrawled symbols in a methodical yet fluid rhythm.

You leaned against the doorway, watching him. Admiring him.

There was something about seeing his mind at work that left you breathless. The way his brow furrowed, the way he whispered numbers under his breath, the way his fingers absentmindedly tapped against his chin when he hit a snag in his calculations—it was mesmerizing.

And he hadn’t even noticed you yet.

Smirking, you finally spoke. “You know, Reed, most people don’t spend their Friday nights romancing a chalkboard.”

His hand stilled mid-equation. He turned, his sharp eyes softening the moment they landed on you. “Y/N,” he said, and just like that, the tension in his shoulders eased. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

You stepped forward, arms crossed, head tilted in playful scrutiny. “You were too busy proving the meaning of the universe to notice, Professor Richards.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Not quite. Just solving a little problem in quantum instability.”

You raised a brow. “A little problem?”

He turned back to the board and gestured at the dizzying array of symbols. “I’m attempting to stabilize the quantum field distortions in our multiversal gate. Right now, the energy fluctuations are unpredictable. If I can refine the equation, I might be able to prevent spontaneous breaches.”

You stared at the equations, pretending to consider them seriously. “Mmm, yes. Of course. Looks like... numbers.”

Reed laughed—a warm, low sound that made your heart flutter.

“You’re impossible,” he murmured, his fingers brushing over your wrist as he pulled you closer.

“And yet, here you are, madly in love with me,” you teased.

His lips quirked. “Madly.”

Your heart did an embarrassingly giddy flip, but you disguised it with another playful remark. “So, what happens if you don’t solve this equation?”

Reed sighed, running a hand through his curls. “Worst case scenario? Unstable dimensional rifts. Possibly reality imploding. Best case scenario? I get a headache and need coffee.”

You gasped dramatically. “A headache? We’re doomed.”

His eyes twinkled. “Not if you stay here and keep distracting me.”

You smirked but didn’t move away. Instead, you stepped behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against his back. You felt him exhale, his muscles relaxing under your touch.

“Your brain is my favorite thing,” you murmured. “Well, one of my favorite things.”

His hand covered yours, fingers lacing together. “That’s comforting.”

“What’s the other worst-case scenario?” you asked, tracing lazy circles on the fabric of his shirt.

Reed hesitated, then sighed. “The math isn’t adding up. If I don’t find the missing variable, I can’t stabilize the distortions. Which means—”

“—which means no experimental travel through the multiverse anytime soon,” you finished.

He turned in your arms, facing you fully. “Exactly.”

You studied him for a long moment. “How long have you been at this?”

His silence was telling.

You groaned. “Reed. Have you even eaten today?”

He pressed his lips together in thought. “I had coffee.”

You placed your hands on your hips. “That’s not food.”

He exhaled through his nose, amused. “I was in the zone.”

“You always say that.”

“And it’s always true.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand. “Come on, genius. You’re taking a break.”

He resisted for half a second before relenting. “Fine,” he murmured. “But only because you’re bossy.”

You smirked. “And because you love me.”

He squeezed your hand. “That too.”

You sat cross-legged on the couch in the lounge, watching Reed as he leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee. The kitchen was bathed in warm, golden light, making him look impossibly soft despite the sharpness of his intellect.

“So,” you started, “what’s the missing variable?”

Reed sighed, rubbing his forehead. “That’s the problem—I don’t know. The math should work, but there’s a fluctuation that keeps throwing it off.”

You tapped your chin. “Couldn’t it be an external factor? Something you haven’t accounted for yet?”

He hummed in thought. “Possibly.”

“Have you considered... I don’t know, the energy signature of whoever’s opening the breaches? Maybe the anomaly isn’t in the math but in the source itself.”

Reed’s eyes widened slightly. “You might be onto something.”

You grinned. “Of course I am. I’m brilliant.”

He smirked, setting his mug down before walking over and placing his hands on either side of your head, trapping you in. “You are. And now, I’m going to need your help.”

Your brows lifted. “My help? In quantum physics?”

Reed grinned. “I need a second set of eyes. Even if they’re skeptical ones.”

You sighed dramatically. “I suppose I could lend my expertise.”

He chuckled and kissed your forehead. “Then let’s get back to work.”

Hours passed as you sat together in the lab, Reed scribbling equations while you sat beside him, offering insights where you could. It was a strange dance—you weren’t a scientist, but Reed valued your perspective. He thrived on discussion, on the challenge of explaining concepts in ways you could understand.

And you? You just loved watching him work. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, Reed froze.

Your head shot up from where you’d been resting it on your hand. “What? What is it?”

His eyes flickered with realization. “You were right.”

You blinked. “Obviously. But about what?”

He grabbed your shoulders, excitement radiating off him. “The anomaly wasn’t in the equation itself—it was an external force! If I adjust for the unique energy signature of the breaches, the entire system stabilizes!”

You grinned. “I mean, I did suggest that hours ago.”

He shook his head, grinning. “You did. And I was too busy overcomplicating it to listen.”

You leaned closer, whispering, “Say it.

He narrowed his eyes. “Say what?"

“That I was right.”

He sighed dramatically. “Y/N was right.”

You smirked. “And?”

His lips twitched. “And Reed Richards was wrong.”

You gasped. “A historical moment. I need this on record.”

He kissed you before you could gloat further, his lips warm and insistent. You melted into him, savoring the quiet triumph in his touch. When he pulled away, his voice was soft.

“You’re my favorite variable.”

Your heart clenched in the best way. “And you’re my favorite genius.”

Reed exhaled, resting his forehead against yours. “Thank you for keeping me grounded.”

You smiled, fingers brushing through his curls. “And thank you for reaching for the stars.”

And in that moment, with the weight of the universe pressing against him, Reed Richards knew—no equation, no discovery, no multiverse could ever mean more than you.

[mikkies]

「 I WANT A PEACEFUL LIFE WITH YOU, AND LOOK AT EVERYONE FROM THE TOP OF THE WORLD. 」

Telamon x GN! Overworked! Reader

warnings: none!

notes: Wrote this really fast (Telamon is my top 3 fav so it was really easy to flow the words a bit) since I know you're having a bad day, it'll be useless if I don't prioritize someone having a really bad day🙇‍♀️ anyways, take care of yourself Illumina!!! I don't want one of my favorite writers burnt out:(

THE GOLDEN GLOW of Robloxia’s sun was dimming, signaling the onset of evening.

Yet, your work was far from over. 

Stacks of reports, code debugging, and tedious administrative duties piled up like an unyielding mountain before you. 

Your eyes burned from staring at the screen for hours, your fingers aching as they moved robotically across the keyboard.

The soft rustle of feathers broke your concentration.

“Do you even remember what the sun looks like?” The familiar, slightly condescending tone of Telamon drifted to your ears. You didn’t bother looking up, your mind too sluggish and your focus too buried in the endless tasks.

“Not now, Telamon,” you mumbled, rubbing your temples. “I’m busy.”

There was a brief silence, and you almost thought he had left until the corner of your vision caught his robe swaying as he approached. 

His large wings were concealed, but the smaller ones on his head twitched in a manner that betrayed his irritation—or concern. It was hard to tell with him sometimes.

“Busy doing what, exactly? Trying to work yourself into the ground?” His voice was sharp, but his gaze softened as he looked at the tired lines on your face. “Even gods don’t push themselves this hard.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came out. Instead, a yawn escaped, betraying your exhaustion. Telamon raised an eyebrow, his golden eyes gleaming with knowing amusement.

“I thought so.”

Before you could protest, Telamon grabbed the chair you were seated on, wheeling you away from your desk effortlessly. Despite your resistance, his actions were deliberate and firm.

“Telamon!” You twisted in your seat, but his grip on the backrest was unyielding. “I don’t have time for this. There’s too much to do!”

He huffed, the sound revealing his irritation. “And you’re doing none of it efficiently in this state. You mortals have an uncanny way of destroying yourselves over trivial tasks.”

“Trivial?” you snapped. “This isn’t—”

“Trivial compared to your health,” he interrupted smoothly. “You’ll be no use to anyone if you collapse.” His tone softened as he added, “Even I know that much.”

Your protests fizzled out as he led you away from your workspace. 

Telamon guided you to a quiet corner of Robloxia, a serene grove nestled between towering trees whose branches glowed faintly in the twilight. 

The gentle rustling of leaves and the soothing hum of birds was the only sound. It was a stark contrast to the chaos you left behind.

“I…” You blinked, suddenly overwhelmed by the tranquility. “I don’t have time for this.”

“You do now,” he said simply, conjuring a blanket from seemingly nowhere. With a deft flick of his wrist, he laid it on the soft grass, then gestured for you to sit. 

His wings shifted beneath his robes, feathers brushing against the fabric as he made himself comfortable beside you.

You hesitated, but the weight of his gaze—and your own fatigue—won out. Sinking onto the blanket, you sighed, your muscles finally relaxing.

Telamon’s small winged ears twitched again, and for a moment, he looked more owl than god. “See? It’s not so hard to rest.”

“I’m not used to it,” you admitted, pulling your knees to your chest. “There’s always something that needs to be done.”

He tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made your cheeks warm. “And yet, here you are. Alive. Functioning. Despite it all.” His tone softened as he added, “You’re stronger than you realize.”

Your heart ached at the unexpected kindness in his words. 

You watched him for a moment, his golden eyes reflecting the gentle glow of the grove around you.

Telamon rarely showed this side of himself—a quieter, softer presence. It was disarming, and yet, comforting all the same.

“Do you ever rest?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Telamon chuckled, a low sound that resonated in the stillness. “I’m a god, remember? Rest comes differently for us. But even gods need a reprieve now and then.” 

He leaned back, letting his wings shift beneath his robes, a few feathers escaping to catch the faint breeze. “Mortals like you remind us of that.”

You smiled faintly, leaning against him. “So you’re saying I’m helping you, too?”

“Perhaps,” he replied, his tone teasing. Then, more seriously, “You’re a curious thing. Stubborn, driven, but… fragile. It’s admirable and maddening all at once.”

The admission surprised you. Telamon wasn’t one to express his thoughts so openly, and you found yourself touched by his words. 

The fatigue that had weighed so heavily on you felt lighter now, as though his presence had absorbed some of it.

The minutes stretched into hours as the two of you sat together in silence, the grove’s calming ambiance lulling your overworked mind into a rare state of peace.

Telamon was known for his sharp tongue and aloof demeanor, but moments like this revealed the depth of his character—a god who cared, even if he rarely showed it.

“Thank you,” you murmured, leaning slightly against him. His feathers were softer than you expected, and his presence radiated a quiet strength that eased the tension in your chest.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, but the faintest smile tugged at his lips.

For the first time in days, you felt truly at peace. And as the stars began to dot the sky, Telamon stayed by your side, a silent guardian ensuring you found the rest you so desperately needed.

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Heyyy Can you write a Dad!lewis where he’s getting ready for a race, but his little daughter insists on helping him. Maybe she tries to zip up his suit, hands him his helmet, or gives him a “good luck” kiss before he heads to the grid. The team finds it absolutely adorable, and he makes sure to let her know she’s his lucky charm.

Good luck charm

The rain tapped gently against the roof of the Ferrari garage, a soft, rhythmic patter that filled the air while the team bustled around, preparing for the upcoming race. It was one of those unpredictable race weekends where the weather refused to cooperate, but for a three-year-old girl named Yn, it was nothing short of magical.

Yn stood near the edge of the garage, her tiny hands clutching a bright red Ferrari flag that one of the engineers had given her earlier. Her eyes sparkled with wonder as she watched the sleek, red car sitting proudly in the center of the garage. It was her dad’s car, and to her, it was the coolest thing in the whole world.

"Wow," she whispered, as the tires were swapped and checked with impressive speed. Everything felt so big, loud, and important, but Yn wasn’t scared. Not when everyone around her was so kind.

A soft chuckle came from beside her. "Do you like it, Yn?" Angela asked, crouching down to her level. She had a warm smile, the kind that made Yn feel safe and comfortable.

Yn nodded enthusiastically, her curls bouncing with the motion. "It’s so fast!" she exclaimed, making Angela laugh quietly.

Across the garage, Lewis stood in his fireproofs, stretching his arms as he chatted with one of the engineers. Even when he was busy, his eyes would flick over to Yn, making sure she was okay. He loved having her at the track. It was something special, sharing this world with his little girl.

"Daddy is fast," Yn declared proudly, watching as the team moved around him.

"He is," Angela agreed, giving her a little squeeze on the shoulder. "He’s one of the fastest."

The Ferrari crew adored Yn. From the moment she had toddled into the garage with Lewis earlier that morning, she had captured all their hearts. It was impossible not to smile when she was around, especially when she clapped her hands excitedly every time she heard the roar of an engine.

"Yn, bambina!" One of the mechanics called out, holding up a small red cap with the team logo. "Want to try this on?"

Yn's eyes lit up. She let Angela guide her over, and she giggled as the mechanic gently placed the cap on her head. It was a little too big, but she loved it anyway. "Look!" she said, turning toward Angela. "I match Daddy!"

"You do," Angela agreed, brushing a curl out of her face. "You’re his little good luck charm."

Across the garage, Lewis caught sight of his daughter in the oversized cap and smiled to himself. She was having the time of her life, and honestly, it made all the rain and the delays worth it.

"Alright, let’s get started," Angela said softly to Lewis as she walked over. "Race time."

As Angela began to help him with his gear, Yn's curious eyes followed every movement. She watched as Angela picked up the balaclava and handed it to Lewis. Without thinking, Yn rushed over, her little feet tapping against the floor.

"I help!" she announced, her hands outstretched.

Lewis turned, a little surprised but immediately softened when he saw her eager expression. "You want to help me get ready, sweetheart?" he asked gently.

Yn nodded, her face serious with concentration. "I do it," she said firmly.

Angela laughed softly and handed YN the balaclava. "Alright, you can help."

Yn clutched the soft fabric and held it up to her dad. "Here, Daddy. You need this."

Lewis knelt down slightly so she could reach him easier. "Thank you, baby girl," he said, letting her place it in his hands. "You’re so helpful."

Her chest puffed out with pride as she returned to Angela, her eyes scanning the equipment. Next were the gloves, which Angela passed to her with a knowing smile. Yn took her job very seriously, toddling back to her father and handing him each glove carefully.

"Gloves, Daddy," she announced, watching as he pulled them on.

"I don’t know what I’d do without you," Lewis said playfully, wiggling his fingers in the gloves.

When Angela picked up the earpiece, Yn held her hands out again. She carried it carefully to her dad, who crouched down in front of her. "This too," she said, her voice soft but confident.

"You’re amazing," Lewis told her, letting her tuck a braid behind his ear as she handed it over.

Finally, Angela handed her his helmet, but Yn knew it was heavy, so she carried it slowly to him, setting it down gently on the floor. She stood back, tapping her chin as if she was thinking very hard.

"Daddy, you need to kneel," she instructed seriously.

Lewis blinked in surprise, exchanging a curious glance with Angela, who only shrugged with amusement. "Okay," he said, lowering himself down onto one knee. "Like this?"

Yn nodded decisively before stepping forward and placing a soft, warm kiss on his cheek. "Good luck kiss," she whispered, her voice as sweet as honey.

For a moment, Lewis forgot all about the race. His heart melted at the gesture, and he couldn’t stop the wide smile spreading across his face. "Thank you, baby," he murmured, pulling her into a hug. " You are the best good luck charm ever."

She giggled softly, and as he released her, she picked up his helmet and handed it to him. "Now you ready," she declared.

"I am now," Lewis agreed, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead. "You did such a good job helping."

The Ferrari crew, who had been quietly watching the whole interaction, exchanged smiles and soft chuckles. The sight of their star driver being so soft with his little girl was almost too much. Even in the chaos of a race weekend, moments like this felt like magic.

Angela scooped Yn up into her arms, rocking her gently as Lewis stood up and adjusted his helmet. "You were amazing, Yn," Angela whispered. "Dad’s going to win with your good luck."

"He will?" Yn asked, eyes wide with wonder.

"Of course," Angela assured her. "Because you helped."

Before climbing into the car, Lewis turned back toward them. With a smile, he sent Yn a playful blow kiss.

YN's eyes lit up, and with a delighted giggle, she clapped her hands together, catching the invisible kiss. She held her closed fist to her heart, looking up at Angela proudly. "I caught it!"

Angela kissed the top of her head, swaying gently. "You did so good today, sweetheart."

The engines roared to life, the vibrations filling the garage as Lewis rolled out onto the wet track. But for Yn, the loud noises didn’t matter. She was too busy watching her dad, knowing deep down that he would win, because her good luck kiss was the most powerful thing in the world.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: I hope you all enjoyed this little piece. My requests are always open for you.

-💙🦋

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hello!

If possible could you write a fic with reader and matt in an established relationship and he hears something when he's around them and it starts driving him nuts and then he finally realizes is a tiny heartbeat bc reader is pregnant but doesn't realize it, and he's like overjoyed?

sorry this is my first time requesting lmao

hii!! this is very cute :( very happy to be first to write one of your requests☺️ thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

HEARTBEATS.

matt murdock x fem!reader

word count. 481

Recently, whenever Matt was near, he wore an expression you couldn't quite place, looking as though he was concentrating - like his brain was preoccupied. You knew he often had a lot on his mind, so you waited the questioning - wanting him to come to you when he was ready, though he never did. 

Another week had passed, and he continued to model that same sceptical face around you, still no closer to the route of his confusion.

-

You're lying on the sofa, basking in the early evening sunset, nursing your nausea and awaiting Matt to return home from the store. He told you he'd briefly pop out to pick up some things for dinner - that he'd get something to help with your sickness bug, something to ease the upset in your aching body.

You hear the keys jingle in the door, indicating Matt's return home.

"Hey, sweetheart," he calls out, closing the door behind himself. "Sorry about the wait. Was so busy out there," he continues, placing the bags on the counter. He makes his way to you on the couch and takes a seat on his knees in front of you. "How you feeling?" he asks, slipping his hand into yours.

"Gross," you simply reply between a soft breath, closing your eyes. You were starting to feel it again - like the room was spinning. 

His thumb circles over your skin, attempting to ease you. "I'm sorry, angel," he coos, speaking gently. 

Matt props himself higher on his knees, extending to reach himself over your middle. He places a light kiss to your stomach over the fabric of your top and then carefully rests the side of his head in that spot - trying to comfort you. He keeps hold of your hand and laces his fingers between yours, playing with your hand as if to distract you. 

You peek down at Matt on your stomach, watching his brows furrow, seeming like he was focusing - that same darned face again. You extend your spare hand towards his head and nestle your fingers in his hair, soothingly stroking over his scalp. "What is it?" you ask, your confusion mirroring his.

He faintly shakes his head and shushes you softly, a smile growing. 

"Matt?" 

"It's not the flu, honey," he beams at you, lifting his head from your stomach abruptly. "It's not the flu," he repeats, the words almost catching in his throat.

"What do you mean?" you question, following his movements.

"Sweetheart," he coos, drawing out the petname with a gentle nod - like he was trying to prompt you.

"No?" you whisper, speaking in disbelief.

He nods once more, his features softening and melting upon hearing the news. His grip tightens in your hand, and he brings it to his lips, placing another kiss where the last one dried. 

"We're going to have a baby?"

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

some reason when I was writing this it reminded me of when vision said “yes, my love,” to wanda when she got her baby bump🥲 now im sad

[quandledlngle69]

pretty please with whipped cream, a cherry ontop and rainbow sprinkles make me a kasier x reader where hes just totally whipped for the reader no explanation needed he just has his head on readers lap while looking up at them with humenigimornous giant puppy eyes and love hdhsksmhdkdhzhs

ur writing is so fire also pls dont explode

・. ★ Yes anon with whipped cream, a cherry ontop and rainbow sprinkles, i will do this for you :3 I promise i won't explode LMFAOOOOO

☆ CONTENT: domestic moments with Kaiser <3 ☆ GENRE/THEMES/WARNING: Just fluff and Kaiser daydreaming about you, and mentions of kaisers vulnerability. 'schatzi' – Sweetheart / darling. ☆ W.C. 0.7K

Kaiser will never admit it verbally, but he craves the small, domestic moments that he has reserved with you.

And every single time, he’d grasp the moment like a thread of a ribbon weaving through his fingers, soaking everything in like a sponge in water, his eyes forcing his mind to remember every visual detail, for his body to memorise every touch, and for his nose to tie a certain scent that grounds him so much–into something familiar, that reminds him of the home he never had. 

The early morning sun poured itself directly on the end of the couch, a random German host show in the background, almost white noise to him. His glasses were boxed up neatly on the round wooden table next to the arm of the couch, a pink steaming coffee mug next to it. 

He memorised it all–the way your manicured nails scratched his scalp that made euphoric goosebumps break out on the surface of his skin, the way he would always groan quietly when your thumbs danced themselves behind his ears, massaging an invisible pattern of circles. His head was laid on your bare thighs, turned away from the TV, his nose barely brushing where your belly button would be. He was only in sweatpants, his legs stretched out and hanging over the other arm of the couch, the warmth of the sun melting into the bare skin of his upper body. His hands clung fistfuls of fabric of the oversized shirt you wore–his shirt. Your mind seemed so invested in what was on the TV, he could see it on your sun–kissed features, your squinted eyes studying the pixelated screen, your eyebrows furrowed just a little, and your lips parted in concentration.

His eyes always softened when gazing at you, you noticed. 

To others, they were a storm of cerulean, a swirling tropical cyclone no one could control. But you–you were the moon to his dark sea, the one that guided him, that made sure the baby waves never grew bigger than that when you were around.

The smell of freshly baked pastries wafted in the air, the tray settled nicely on the open window ledge to cool down, the open air leaving a simmering sound of the city of Berlin below. There was always a twinkle in your eyes, qualified and restricted just for him and no one else. His past self would never believe he had gotten this lucky to grab your attention. He would thank any God–if there was one–how lucky he was to be able to see you, feel you, touch you, breathe you. 

“Mihya?” You hummed, interrupting his ceaseless daydreaming. Your honeyed voice a hushed melody to his ears as your head tilted down to peek at him, your knuckle brushing his cheek. “You okay? I can tell your mind’s wandering.” 

His lips parted slowly, as if to say something, but nothing escaped from them. Hell–he didn’t know where to start. He wanted to tell you how you took his breath away, as if something was squeezing his lungs. How the sun rays marked and enhanced each curve and shape of your facial features, a face that renaissance sculptors would fight to be able to sculpt, that would be placed in a museum for centuries to come, he thinks. How he always internally thought love was a dead and long buried concept for him, until you got a shovel and dug it right out, shoving it back in his arms.

How he could comfortably be vulnerable, how he didn’t have to think around you, his mind never on edge or racing. Your mere presence a soothing balm to his soul. He wants to tell you how he could stare at you all day and never find a flaw, that the many girls before you that had tried and failed to get his fragile heart were faceless to him. How when he went to get a bouquet for you in some fancy florist shop for your anniversary, the owner mindlessly told him how complementary marigolds are with roses, and all he thought of was you. 

But all he did was finally hum back in agreement, his cheek nuzzling in your open palm, lightly kissing it as his sun–lit blues focused in on your face. “Just admiring my pretty girl, schatzi.”

You beamed, his heart racing at the familiar sight of your cheeks puffing to accommodate your gorgeous smile, and the way your face flushed slightly whenever he complimented you. A giggle bubbled from your throat, teasingly calling him sappy, hands ruffling through his bedhead, but he didn’t even care.

He wouldn't mind being called sappy a million times if it meant he could witness your smile.

Quandaledlngle69 © 2025

[darlinluxx]

𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐄 | 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐊 ౨ৎ

pairing : saebyeok x fem!reader

fluff

warnings : sickness

summary : you’re sick n’ your girlfriend takes care of you

if you have any requests, feel free to message me <3

𝐓he low, rhythmic cough echoes through your apartment, a familiar sound that’s become a constant companion these past few days. you curl tighter under the duvet, the thick fabric offering little comfort against the shivering that wracks your body. your head is pounding, a dull ache behind your eyes that makes even opening them feel like a monumental task.

you hear a soft padding of feet and then, a gentle hand strokes your hair away from your feverish forehead. Saebyeok appears in your blurry vision, her usual sharp edges softened with concern. right now, those calloused hands are the only thing that make you feel safe and secure.

“how are you feeling?” she asks, her voice a low murmur that doesn’t aggravate the sensitivity in your ears.

you can only manage a weak groan in response. words feel like they’ve been replaced with cotton in your throat, each swallow a painful reminder of your misery.

Saebyeok doesn’t push. instead. she sits on the edge of the bed and places a cool, damp cloth on your forehead. the relief is immediate, a small oasis of coolness against the burning heat. she adjusts the blanket around you, tucking it in with a precision born from days of tending to her younger brother, Cheol. the gruffness you often associate with her is absent, replaced with a gentleness you rarely see, a side of her that feels both vulnerable and incredibly precious.

“i made you some tea,” she says, her voice quiet. “it should ease your throat a little.”

she gently helps you sit up, supporting your back with a strong arm that feels like a lifeline. each small movement is excruciating, but her hand on your arm offers unwavering support. she holds the mug to your lips, the steam fragrant with the sweet scent of honey and ginger. it’s simple, but the warmth spreading down your throat feels like magic.

after you’ve swallowed the last of the tea, she helps you settle back against the pillows. you’re exhausted, your limbs heavy and weak.

“rest,” she whispered, her hand lingering on your cheek. “i’ll be here.”

and she is. you can feel her presence as you drift in and out of sleep. you hear the gentle clink of her cleaning your room, the rustle of her moving around the apartment. you wake once to find her sitting on your bed beside you, reading a book, her brows furrowed in concentration. the soft light from the bedside lamp catches the sharp angles of her face, and you feel a surge of love so intense it aches.

when you wake up later, the room is dark. you feel a little better, the pounding in your head having retreated to a dull throb. you turn over to find Saebyeok sleeping beside you on your bed.

you reach out a hand, your fingers tracing the curve of her jaw. she stirs, her eyes fluttering open, and she focuses on you with that same deep concern.

“how’re you feeling?” she asks, her voice raspy with sleep.

“a bit better,” you whispered, your own voice still weak but clearer. “thank you.”

she doesn’t say anything, she just reaches out and takes your hand. her fingers intertwine with yours, her grip warm and reassuring.

in this small moment, amidst sickness and exhaustion, you know that you’ve found something precious. she’s the quiet strength that holds you together, the gentle touch that soothes your pain. as you drift back into sleep, her hand in yours, you know you’re in the safest place you could possibly be. you are loved, fiercely and quietly, by the woman who would face anything to make sure you’re okay. and that, more than anything, is a comfort stronger than any medicine.

[playdat]

the Salesman × Blind wife

-"you are handsome."

-"You don’t even know what I look like"

_________________________________________

The evening had fallen softly over their home, the amber light of the lamp casting long, warm shadows across the room. The quiet hum of the world outside seemed distant as they stood together in their shared space, he gently held her in his arms, the rhythm of his heartbeat steady beneath her ear. She rested her head against his chest, seeking solace in the comfort of his embrace, her fingers lightly brushing against the fabric of his shirt, memorizing the contours of his body with the same care one might study the lines of a beloved book.

Her world was one of silence and shadows, but in his presence, she felt more seen than she ever had before. Their love was not defined by sight but by the shared moments between them, the tenderness, and the understanding that went beyond words.

"You know," she whispered, a soft smile curling on her lips as she tilted her head slightly to look up at him, "i love you, my handsome husband."

A soft laugh escaped him, his eyes meeting hers as he leaned back against the couch. "Handsome? He teased, his smile playful. "you don’t even know what I look like, sweetheart," he teased, leaning against her. "for all you know, I could have the worst features."

She smiled at his words, but she didn’t falter. Instead, she lifted her hands, her fingers slowly tracing the outline of his chest, moving up to his face with deliberate care. Her touch was gentle, yet there was a clear sense of purpose in the way she studied him.

She paused when her fingertips met the strong, angular line of his jaw, and her eyes closed in concentration. Her hands continued their journey, lightly brushing over the curve of his lips, then up to his brow, where she traced the soft arch of his eyebrows.

"Hmm," she hummed thoughtfully, her fingers lingering at his lips for a moment longer. "Not bad... You have a strong jawline, soft eyes..." Her voice softened even more, a playful glint in her tone. "And these lips," she whispered, her fingers softly brushing his lips, "they’re perfect for kissing."

Her words, full of warmth and tenderness, settled in the space between them. There was no artifice in her tone, just pure affection, and her hands moved gently along his face, as though she were savoring every inch of him, finding beauty in every touch.

He couldn’t help but laugh at her teasing. "I didn’t realize you were so... detailed in your observations," he said, his voice soft, but amused. "You’re making me sound like a work of art."

She laughed too, her fingers still resting on his lips. "Well, maybe I just appreciate the finer details. I’ve got all the time in the world to study you, after all." She smiled up at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "And let’s be honest, you’re just as easy to love as you are to look at."

She brushed a strand of hair from his forehead and leaned in, her lips just inches from his. "You're mine, and that's all that matters."

His heart swelled in his chest, and he kissed her gently on the forehead, pulling her close again. In that moment, there were no insecurities, no barriers between them—just the pure, simple connection of two hearts who had found their home in one another.

In her world of silence, her touch was her vision. And to him, it was everything.

__________________________________________________________________________________

@dyingswanpavlova thank you for your request again! I really loved the idea! and I tried to make it as sweet as possible and i hope you like it 🤍🫶🏻!

[baigepueckers]

Nika Mühl X Reader

Number Ten

You sit hunched over your laptop in the cozy corner of the small on campus coffee shop, the warm scent of roasting beans and cinnamon swirling around you. You’ve been nursing your coffee for over an hour, absentmindedly sipping between typing out a super frustrating homework assignment. Wearing your friend’s oversized UConn shirt with “Muhl” and the number 10 on the back, you barely give it a second thought as you rub your tired eyes. To you it’s just another comfortable piece of clothing, the worn fabric a perfect match for your lazy study day.

The bell above the door chimes softly as Nika Mühl steps into the cafe, her tall athletic frame a commanding presence despite the casual hoodie she wears. She’s just finished up practice and is on a quick coffee run for her and Paige but as she scans the room for an open spot, her gaze falls on something unexpected.

There, tucked away in the corner is a beautiful girl. Wearing her shirt?

Nika blinks her heart skipping a beat as she takes in the sight. The number 10. Her name. You have no idea the attention you have just attracted, completely engrossed in whatever is on your laptop. Your brow is furrowed slightly in concentration and your hair falling softly around your face. The sight makes Nika’s breath catch, and she finds herself blushing at you wearing her shirt.

After ordering her and Paige’s coffees, Nika takes a deep breath wiping her palms on her sweats nervously before making her way over to your table.

“Hey” Nika says, her voice soft but just enough to catch your attention.

You glance up, your fingers freezing mid typing as you look into the eyes of the person standing before you. Tall. Athletic. Gorgeous. Your heart gives a small flutter, though you’re not entirely sure why. Maybe it’s the way her eyes sparkle when they meet yours or the warmth in her smile that makes your stomach do a little flip.

“Hi…” you reply your voice trailing off uncertainly. You glance around, unsure if the girl is talking to you or someone behind you.

Catching on Nika chuckles softly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Sorry to bother you but I couldn’t help but notice…nice shirt.”

You blink, then look down at the oversized UConn shirt you have on. “Oh this? Yeah, it’s my friend’s” you say casually tugging at the hem. “I don’t really know much about the team or the number or anything. She just gave it to me because I needed something comfy.”

Nika’s eyebrows shoot up, and she has to suppress the laugh bubbling up. She finds it both endearing and amusing. Most people would have recognized her by now, especially if they were wearing her number.

“Wait, so you don’t know anything about number ten?” Nika asks her voice teasing but gentle.

You shake your head with a small smile. “Nope, sorry. I’m kinda clueless when it comes to basketball.” You give a small apologetic shrug. “I’m just trying to survive accounting.”

Nika can’t help but laugh a warm sound that makes your heart flutter again. “Well, you’re talking to number ten.” Nika says, a playful glint in her eye. “Nika Mühl…that’s me.”

Your eyes widen your hand flying up to cover your mouth as you gasp softly. “Oh my God, you’re number ten? I’m so sorry, jeez i’m so stupid! I had no idea!”

Nika grins, clearly amused by the situation. “Don’t worry, it happens”she says with a lighthearted shrug. “But it’s kind of cute, honestly.”

Your face flushes a deep shade of red, and you bite your lip, laughing at yourself. “Well, now I feel like an idiot.”

“No no, don’t” Nika says quickly, her tone softening. She leans in a little closer, her voice lowering as if she’s sharing a secret. “Actually I like that you didn’t know. It’s… refreshing.”

You blink…your heart doing that strange little thing again. The way Nika’s brown eyes soften as they hold your gaze makes your pulse quicken. You can feel the butterflies in your stomach start to flutter. Nika is… charming. And really, really beautiful.

“Thanks, I guess…” you mumble shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Still feel kind of embarrassed, though.”

“Well…” Nika says, her grin turning a little more playful. “I have a way for you to make it up to me.”

You tilt your head, intrigued. “Oh?”

Nika leans against the table her voice dropping into a playful tone. “How about you come to our next game? I can get you a ticket..court side. Maybe then you’ll learn something about the team.” she teases, her eyes sparkling with that same warmth.

You blink caught off guard by the offer. “Wait, seriously? You’d do that?”

“Of course” Nika says, her smile widening. “I’d love to see you there. And who knows” she adds, her gaze softening again. “maybe you’ll become a fan of number ten after all.”

You can’t help but smile back, your heart racing a little faster now. “I’d like that…I’ll definitely come.”

Nika grins the excitement in her eyes clear as she reaches into her pocket, pulling out her phone. “Give me your number and I’ll send you all the details.”

You blush again but hand your phone over without hesitation. As Nika quickly types in her number, she hands the phone back with a smile that makes your knees feel weak.

“There..” Nika says, her voice warm and full of promise. “I’ll see you at the game, Y/N.”

With that, Nika flashes one last smile before grabbing the coffees from the counter. As she walks out of the cafe, you can’t stop the huge grin from spreading across your face. Your heart is racing, and you have to take a deep breath to calm yourself down.

What just happened?

You glance down at your phone…the contact labeled simply “Nika 💙” staring back at you.

She was definitely flirting with me, right? you think, an excitement bubbling in your chest.

As you return to your homework, all thoughts of assignments and deadlines are quickly replaced with thoughts of a certain basketball player with the number ten stitched onto her back.

You walk into Gampel Pavilion, nerves buzzing in your chest. For days you haven’t been able to focus on anything…all you can think about is this game. More specifically you can’t stop thinking about Nika. You’ve been trying to convince yourself that it’s just a casual invite that this is just a basketball game, but deep down you know you hope it’s something more.

Your mind keeps replaying the conversation at the coffee shop…the way Nika smiled at you, the subtle connection between you two that felt undeniable. Now as you weave through the crowd, you can feel the butterflies fluttering in your stomach an unfamiliar but thrilling sensation.

You finally find your seat in the front row, fingers gripping the edge nervously as you glance around the court. It doesn’t take long before you spot Nika warming up with the other players. Even in the middle of all the action, Nika stands out…the way she moves, the effortless way she handles the ball, her confidence radiating like she was born to be in the spotlight.

You try to play it cool, leaning back in your seat like any other fan enjoying the game, but your eyes keep drifting back to her. Then suddenly Nika looks up. Your eyes meet, and it feels like everything around you fades away.

She smiles at you…that same smile that made your heart flutter in the coffee shop. Before you realize it, you’re smiling back and your cheeks are heating up in spite of your attempts to stay composed.

Nika gives you a small wave, her expression soft as if to say, I’m glad you came. You quickly glance away trying to hide the warmth rushing to your face. Your heart is pounding, making it hard to focus on anything else.

As the game begins you force yourself to look around, to absorb the atmosphere but your gaze keeps finding its way back to Nika. Every time she makes a play you can’t help but watch in awe. She’s intense, competitive, and so skilled…everything you already knew but seeing her in action? It’s even more impressive in person.

What makes it harder to stay composed is that after every amazing pass, every shot Nika glances your way, her eyes twinkling with amusement like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you. It feels like there’s a silent conversation going on between you…a little game only the two of you are playing.

This is ridiculous, you think trying to calm yourself down. She’s just a basketball player, and I’m just a girl she invited to a game. But no matter how hard you try to rationalize it, that fluttery feeling in your chest tells you otherwise.

By the end of the game UConn wins easily, and the arena erupts into cheers. You stand up clapping along with the crowd, but your mind is still on Nika. As the players begin to leave the court you brace yourself, knowing she’ll come over. You don’t want to seem too eager, but as Nika walks over, her jersey clinging to her with her face glistening with sweat and adrenaline…you can feel your cool exterior slipping.

“Hey” Nika says flashing you a bright smile, her voice casual but her eyes full of something you can’t quite place. “So..what did you think? Still clueless about basketball?” Her tone is teasing but the warmth in her gaze sends a wave of heat through you.

You laugh, but it’s shaky. Trying to play it cool you shrug. “I think I’ve learned more than I expected” you say, grinning a little. “Basketball’s kinda exciting.”

Nika chuckles lingering closer, her presence close enough to make your heart race. “Kinda exciting, huh? Is that your way of saying I’ve won you over?”

You open your mouth to respond but nothing comes out at first. There’s something about the way she’s looking at you, that playful challenge in her words mixed with something deeper in her eyes and you feel completely thrown off.

“I uh…” you stammer but before you can say more, you see a shift in Nika’s expression. The teasing fades, replaced by something more sincere.

She leans in a little closer her, voice soft. “You don’t have to pretend.” she says gently, her eyes locking with yours. “I see it. I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me.”

Your heart skips a beat and you feel exposed, like she’s seeing right through the defenses you’ve tried so hard to keep up.

“I wasn’t….” you start but Nika smiles, that sweet knowing smile that makes your breath catch.

“Y/N” she whispers, her voice almost tender. “It’s okay…I’ve been looking at you the same way.”

Your heart races as her words sink in. She’s into me?

“You… you have?” you ask your voice barely above a whisper, like you’re afraid speaking louder might break this moment.

Nika nods, her gaze steady. “From the moment I saw you at the coffee shop. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And tonight?” She chuckles softly. “You coming to watch my game… I was definitely trying to impress you the whole time.”

You blink your stomach doing flips. “You were?”

Nika nods again her smile turning a little shy. “Yeah. I felt silly..but I’m really into you, Y/N.”

The words hang between you and all you can feel is the warmth spreading through your chest, the butterflies swarming.

“So” Nika continues, stepping closer until you’re almost face-to-face, her hand brushing against yours. “a bunch of us are heading to Tim’s later…the bar down the street. You should come.” Her voice softens her eyes locking with yours. “We could hang out. Just us, if you want.”

Your heart races at the invitation. You know this isn’t just a casual ask. There’s something deeper in the way she’s looking at you, something that makes you feel weightless.

“Yeah” you say softly, your lips curving into a shy smile. “I’d like that.”

Nika’s face lights up, her grin widening. “Good, dijete..I’ll text you the details.” Her hand brushes yours as she pulls back and the simple touch sends a spark through your skin.

“Oh, and” she adds, her tone playful. “next time you’re rocking a real jersey with my name on it, so everyone knows who you’re here for.”

Heat rises in your cheeks at her words, and you laugh softly trying to keep your composure. “Oh, is that right?”

She smirks, her confidence unwavering. “That’s right, I’d love to see a pretty girl in my jersey…I think it’d look good on you.”

Your breath catches, the air between you charged but there’s no denying the way your heart flutters. “I guess we’ll just have to see if that’s true.” you reply your voice teasing but full of warmth.

Nika steps back slightly, her smile softening into something more tender. “We will, won’t we?” she says, her gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer. Then she gives your hand a quick, almost shy squeeze. “See you in a few, Y/N.”

She walks away, giving you another teasing glance. You feel a giddy flutter in your chest. Already counting down the minutes until you get to see her at Tim’s.

[nilsavatar]

DAY 23 BITING - Part 5

Parings: Neteyam x Fem!human

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4

Genre/Warnings: fluff, ANGST, introspective, delicate themes (hibrid pregnacy, political and ideals conflict). All characters are AGED-UP. This the sequel of the @layla2-49 request used to fullfil the promp day 23 of lunakinktober 2023

Summary: Following the unexpected pairing that occurred at the Tree of Souls, after connecting as only two Na'vi normally could, Celeste and Neteyam entertain a clandestine relationship. Several times they have discussed coming out, but the girl is too prey to her insecurities as a human to do so. It is Eywa who will decide for both of them with a disconcerting revelation: they have conceived a hybrid child.

Word Count: 3,2k

Masterlist - Request a fic

Celeste sat on the edge of the medical cot, gripping the fabric of her shirt with shaking fingers. The weight of Neteyam’s words still hung in the air.

“You’re not human anymore.”

She wished to deny it, to cling to what she knew, but how could she? Every breath she took in Pandora’s air without choking, every whisper of life she felt moving under her skin, alien sensation coursing through her veins, told her the same truth. The child was manipulating her systems to an extent never before observed, just as a hybrid pregnancy had never been seen in the past. And no one knew when it would stop—if it would stop. Max and Norm had thrown themselves into research, but their finding only led to more questions.

“Her DNA is restructuring at a cellular level,” Norm explained, swiping through the scans on the holo-screen. “Her skeletal structure is shifting. Her respiratory system has already adapted, and now…” he hesitated, looking over at her. Max sighed. “Your nervous system is being reconfigured. That queue forming at the base of your skull? It’s not cosmetic. Your body is developing a neural interface like the Na’vi.” Celeste swallowed hard, reaching back to touch it. It was still small, hidden beneath her thickening hair, but she could feel it now. A living part of her that shouldn’t be there.

Jake, who had been pacing silently, stopped short. “Are you saying she’ll be able to connect to Eywa?” His voice was gruff, skeptical, fearful. His friends exchanged a glance before turning back to the girl. “We don’t know yet, but it’s a possibility.” Netyam, seated quietly by her side until now, finally spoke. “And the baby?” His voice was even, but his fingers curled into fists on his lap. “The baby… is accelerating it.” Their breath caught. “The hybrid nature of the fetus is actively rewriting Cel's biology to accommodate it,” Max continued, voice full of scientific accuracy marred by paternal concern, looking now at her. “This phenomenon occurs in all pregnancies and is known as microchimerism. If refers to the transfer of cells between mother and child through the placenta. Even in normal pregnancies, it is a little-known occurrence, but in your case, the influence of fetal-origin chimeric cells exceeds typical limits.”

Neytiri had remained silent the entire time, standing still beside her son. One hand gripped his shoulder, drawing comforting concentric patterns on his deltoid, while her golden eyes remained severe. But now, she stepped forward and crossed her arms. “You mean to say the child is forcing this change?” Norm grmaced. “It’s not forcing—. Something in the child’s DNA knows she wouldn’t survive carrying it in a purely human body.”

Celeste flinched at Norm's words, her heart pounding violently, Neteyam tensed next to her. Would she still be herself when this was over? Would she recognize her own face, her own mind? Or would she become something entirely different, something that neither human nor Na’vi would truly accept? The thought was terrifying.

Jake cast a warning look at his wife as if to caution her from speaking her mind. Neytiri’s expression didn’t soften, but she said nothing more. Then his eyes drifted back to his daughter-in-law, the way her skin was shimmering gently in the lit obscurity of the lab, how her body was progressively adapting. The tswin shaping at her nape had shaken him more than he wanted to admit. If her form was mutating so drastically, what would that mean for the child? And for her?

He had spoken with Neytiri in private, hoping for some measure of reassurance, but he had found her just as torn. “We don’t know what this means,” she had said, her voice quiet but heavy. “And that’s what scares me the most,” he had admitted. He wasn’t just worried about the girl. He was worried about what her transformation would mean for the clan. If Eywa was manipulating her DNA through the fetus, then why? What future was she shaping?

And what if it wasn’t meant to last? What if Cel was being remade to bring this child into the world, only to lose her in the process? That thought kept him awake more nights than he could count. He knew what would happen if the worst-case scenario occurred. He knew all too well the emptiness of losing someone dear to you. He had experienced it more times than he would have wished for even his worst enemy. He had lost friends, comrades, his brother. He had almost lost his son. Immediately, his mind went to him. What would become of Neteyam if he lost her? He would never be the same; even now he did not recognize him, worn down by anguish.

What about Spider? Celeste was his home, his comfort in a world that did not belong to him. They were twins, just like Jake and Tommy, they had lived everything together. But just as had happened to the Sully twins, at some point their paths had inexorably split, taking them on two distant paths. Only in appearance. Just as Jake's destiny had led him to overlap with his brother's, so Spider was to come alongside in support of his sister's. Besides fear, how must he have felt in passively witnessing her metamorphosis, who day by day seemed to become closer and closer to a Na'vi than a human? That he just could not imagine.

Jake needed answers. And he feared they were coming faster than anyone was ready for. The latest tests confirmed her transformation wasn’t stopping. Max and Norm had gone over the results a dozen times, looking for any sign that this was something temporary. Something they could explain. But there was no precedent for this. Her DNA was shifting, human markers were fading at an alarming rate, replaced by something that straddled the line between Na’vi and… something else new.

Her complexion had taken a weak lavender undertone, barely visible in bright daylight but unmistakable at twilight and dawn, when the light was less vibrant and strong. Her nails sharpened slightly, and finally, she no longer needed food like humans did. Her frame craved raw energy—sunlight, the forest, the pulse of Eywa herself. The longer she stayed indoors, in the compound, away from the living nature, the more drained she felt. It was tiring. Suffocating.

It happened a week later. Celeste had insisted on stepping outside the lab. She couldn’t take it anymore of the white walls, the observation screens, the constant monitoring. The moment her mate stepped inside, one look was all he needed. “You have to be outside,” he said, even if his voice was laced with reluctance. She nodded, but Spider got anxious, looking between them and then back at Max. “Is it safe?” The doctor let out a sigh, rubbing his jaw. “Safe? No idea. But keeping her locked in here isn’t helping. If anything, it’s making things worse.” Jake exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. When Celeste met his gaze, something in her expression softened him. Damn, he thought, he always had a weak spot for her, like with Kiri and Tuk, his baby girls. He was definitely a girl’s daddy, unfortunately for himself. “Okay.”

She didn’t wait. The moment her bare feet touched the ground, she felt it. A wave of energy surged up through her legs, into her spine, as if the very land beneath her had been waiting for her return. The air hit her lungs with a rush of clarity, sharper, richer than anything she had ever felt. Her skin prickled, the glowing freckles responding to the pulse of the world around them. The jungle came alive around her, as if the planet was welcoming her back.

And then the pain started.

Celeste staggered, gripping Neteyam’s arm as a sharp, searing heat spread up her spine. “Cel?” His voice was urgent, his grip steady, but she could barely hear him. The world around her blurred, the sounds of the forest amplifying to an unbearable degree. She gasped, collapsed to her knees as white-hot agony lanced through her head. Neteyam was shouting, dropping beside her, hands gripping her shoulders for stability, Kiri and Lo’ak rushing forward, but she couldn’t focus on anything except the sensation of something unfurling from her body. An intense, searing pain lanced through her skull, as the base of her neck split open, releasing the long, trendily-like strands that had been growing beneath her nape.

Something ripped through the base of her head. Her queue. A fully formed, living, breathing kuru.

She reached up instinctively, fingers trembling as they touched, yet Celeste wasn’t afraid. Because as her kuru writhed in the air, reaching, searching, she perceived something. Vast, alive, profound, and endless, welcoming her like a mother greeting a lost child. Her breath hitched.

She could feel Eywa as more than just a presence—she felt her in her bones. The connection was instantaneous. Overwhelming. She sobbed, hands gripping the earth, shaking as the energy of the world itself surged through her. Neteyam was there, arms wrapping around her, his forehead pressing against hers. “Ma muntxate,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. She had no words. Because deep down, she knew. She had crossed a threshold that could never be undone.

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming flora, yet all Celeste could feel was the fire coursing through her veins. Her body still trembled, her breath shallow as the tendrils of her queue twitched against her back, newly formed and sensitive to every shift in the air. It was a weird, indescribable sensation.

Everyone had fallen silent, staring at her in a mixture of awe and fear. Neteyam hadn’t moved from her side. His hands still cradled her face, his golden eyes flickering between wonder and worry. “Yawne…” His voice was hushed, reverent, like he was afraid to break whatever spell had just woven itself around her.

But Jake… Jake was rigid. He stood a few feet away, his expression unreadable, but the tension in his jaw said everything. He wasn’t just shocked. He was afraid. Celeste forced herself to take a breath, focusing on the way nature seemed different now. The hum of Eywa’s presence was louder, a song thrumming beneath her skin. Every leaf, every creature, every pulse of life—it all resonated with her in a way that was impossible to describe.

She was no longer just aware of Pandora. She was part of it.

“We need to get her back inside,” the olo'eyktan finally said, voice tight. His son's grip on her tightened. “Keeping her locked away won’t change anything.” The man’s eyes snapped to his firstborn. “You don’t know that.” “And you do?” Kiri’s voice cut through the sky, sharp and defensive. She had been kneeling beside his best friend, her hands hovering near her shoulder as if wanting to touch but not daring to. “Eywa is doing this. Can’t you feel it?”

Their father let out a breath, his gaze shifting to Norm in his avatar form, looking for confirmation. But he remained silent, her piercing amber eyes fixed on his adoptive niece as if studying something sacred—and terrifying.

Celeste swallowed hard, feeling the weight of their uncertainty pressing down on her. “I don’t think this will stop,” she whispered. “It’s not just the queue. My body is still… shifting.” She flexed her fingers, watching the faint bioluminescence swirl beneath her skin. Jake shook his head, muttering under his breath before turning once again to Norm. “Is this even possible?” The scientist exhaled, rubbing a hand over his neck. “Scientifically? No. But nothing about Pandora works by human rules.”

A heavy silence settled between them. It was Kiri who finally spoke, her voice quiet but firm. “Eywa has chosen her path. Whether we understand it or not… it is already set.” Celeste shuddered. She knew, deep in her bones, that she was right. There was no going back. And the question that loomed over all of them now was—

What was she becoming?

That night, Celeste sat at the edge of the outpost, her arms wrapped around her knees, watching the forest shift under the soft bioluminescent glow of Pandora. The air hummed around her, every leaf and creature alive in ways she had never perceived before.

Before. That word felt heavier now, like a distant memory of a life that no longer fit her. Her queue rested against her shoulder, its presence both foreign and natural. Every so often, the tendrils twitched, reacting to unseen energies in the air. It should have terrified her. Instead, it felt right.

Footsteps approached, and she didn’t need to turn to know it was Neteyam. She could feel him now, sense him in a way that had nothing to do with sight or sound. “You should be resting,” he murmured, lowering himself beside her. She let out a quiet laugh. “How do you rest when your whole body is rewriting itself?” Her lover didn’t answer right away. He watched her, his honey eyes reflecting the soft blur of the forest. “Does it hurt?”

She thought about it. Physically, no. The initial transformation had been painful, but now it was something else—like her body was stretching into something it was always meant to be. “No,” she admitted. “It’s just… overwhelming. Everything feels so different, so new.”

Neteyam reached out, hesitating before brushing his fingers over her forearm. The contact sent a shiver up her spine, not just from the touch itself, but from the way she could feel him—his presence, his emotions, even the warmth of his spirit, like he was somehow connected to her beyond just flesh.

His expression softened. “I don’t care what you become, do you know that, right? You are still you. You are still my mate.” A lump formed in her throat. She wanted to believe that. But was she really still the same person? Before she could answer, rustling from behind made them both tense.

Jake.

He stepped forward, arms crossed, his gaze flickering between them before settling on her. His expression was unreadable, but she could sense the conflict inside him. “We need to talk,” he said. Neteyam stiffened beside her. “Dad—” “Alone.” Celeste placed a hand on Neteyam’s, silently reassuring him before nodding. “It’s okay.” Reluctantly, he squeezed her fingers before standing and stepping back into the shadows of the outpost, leaving her alone with Jake. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The man exhaled, hardly, embarrassed, almost, before sitting down beside her. He didn’t look at her at first, just stared into the lively jungle. Night had fallen deep and heavy across the forest, wrapping the world in a silken hush. The trees shimmered faintly with bioluminescent moss, the air thick with the sounds of life breathing in unison. But its beauty faded as he looked at her, his jaw tight.

“This isn’t what I wanted for you,” he finally said. She swallowed. “I know.” “You don’t understand.” He turned to her, eyes dark with something raw. “I’ve seen people change because of this planet. I know what it means when Eywa chooses someone. It’s not just about you anymore. It’s about the future. And the future…” He trailed off, inhaling sharply. “I don’t know what looks like anymore.” Her chest ached. “I didn’t ask for this,” she whispered.

He rubbed his hands together. Jake hadn’t felt this lost in a long time. He had fought wars, led people, faced the impossible—but this? This was beyond impossible. He wasn’t in front of an enemy right now; Celeste wasn’t just another battle to strategize around. She was family.

He had taken her in when she was just a kid, guided her, protected her, loved her like she was his own. And he was forced to watch her change into something he didn’t comprehend—something he wasn’t so sure he could understand. He wasn’t sure if she even needed him anymore. He couldn’t accept that, no father can. Cel and Neteyam had each other now, but in his eyes, they would always be children. His children.

The girl sat beside him, quiet but steady, her bright veins barely visible under the starlight. He looked at her tswin, how it rested against her skin like it had always been there. It made his stomach twist. She looked Na’vi, but she also didn’t. She looked still human, but she wasn’t anymore. Now something in between, a being Eywa had shaped with her own hands.

Celeste hesitated, then reached up, touching her queue, sensing his intense stare glaring at it. She didn’t feel in danger, at the same time, she felt the urge to shield her most vulnerable part of her body. The tendrils reacted instinctively, perceiving the tension in the air. Jake studied her, his eyes searching for something—doubt, fear, anything that told him she wasn’t so prone about this. But she was. She knew this was happening for a reason.

“Jake,” the girl pronounced softly, breaking the silence. “I know this scares you.” His jaw tightened, “‘m not scared—” “Yes, you are.” Her voice was gentle but firm. “And I get it. But I’m still me. I’m still your daughter.”

Something inside him cracked. He turned to her then, really looked at her—not as a mystery to solve or a threat to predict, but as the girl he had raised. The girl who used to stumble over her own feet trying to keep up with Lo’ak and Spider. The girl who had sat with him at the edge of the forest, asking questions about flying, about war, about the world she had grown up in but never truly belonged to. Finally, he sighed. “Kid…” his voice came out rough.

Celeste reached for his hand, and when her fingers curled around his, he almost pulled back—not because he didn’t want the touch, but because for the first time, he could feel something else beneath her skin. A pulse. A hum. The same thing he felt when he connected to the Tree of Souls.

It was her. Eywa was inside her, woven into her frame, her spirit.

Jake swallowed hard. “I don’t know how to protect you from this,” he admitted, voice low. “I don’t know what this means for you, for Neteyam, the clan. For any of us. This doesn’t just change you. It changes everything.” Celeste’s fingers tightened around his. “I don’t either.” She looked down, taking a breath before meeting his gaze again. “But I know I don’t want to do this without you.”

The man let out a shaky breath, rubbing his free hand over his thigh. It would be easier if she were just changing. If she were becoming Na’vi, like he had when he left his human body behind. That, at least, he could get.

But this? This was something Eywa herself had allowed—maybe even designed.

Celeste wasn’t just shifting from one thing to another, and Jake had no idea what that meant. But as he looked at her, at the fierce determination in her eyes, at the way she still held his hand like she had when she was younger, when she still trusted him to lead her—

He knew one thing for sure. He wasn’t letting go. “You’ll always have me, baby girl,” he said, voice thick. Celeste’s breath hitched, her eyes shining—not just with the eerie halo of her transformation, but with something far more human. And for now, that was enough.

Taglist: @minnory@faith2155@stardream14@akari-rosefield

[inkbybambi]

simon "ghost" riley/john "soap" mactavish/f!reader words: 4.2k warnings: mmf, threesome, fingering, anal fingering, finger sucking, riding, creampie, doggy style, pet names (kitten, bonnie, angel, etc), dirty talk, breeding kink notes: this was written as part of the valentine's exchange from @bunnyreaper ♡ this is a gift for @auspicioustidings ♡ this is my first time writing a threesome, but i loved every moment of it ♡ header image is coral charm peony ii by mia tarney

The light of the dying sun slowly drains from the horizon, hues of blues, pinks, and purples following in its wake. There’s a gentle breeze coming through the open windows of the cottage; a little haven tucked away for you and yours. A smile plays at your lips as a small cow-shaped timer trills from its perch on the kitchen counter. You slip on a pair of oven mitts decorated with highland cattle, taking out your shortbread from the oven lest it bake for even a moment too long. 

Your boys were due to be home soon and this sweet treat was the last on your to-do list. 

They had left you earlier that week with a messy amount of kisses pressed to your cheeks and forehead and lips and anywhere they could reach, really. You had similarly returned the favor, finding your favorite lipstick to press marks onto Simon’s mask and Johnny’s glove before pressing other faded marks elsewhere. 

Before letting them cross the threshold back into the world — one that had tried to take them from you more times than you could count — you spritzed your favorite perfume on their wrists, sealing it with a kiss. The scent may fade with the mark, but they’ll know. 

Your heart ached the moment they left and its felt more numb in the days since, waiting dormant for them to return, to let you breathe fully knowing they’re there, that they hadn’t been taken from you. 

You inhale sharply to disperse your lingering worries. They’ve always, always come home to you. Today will be no different.

You leave the shortbread to cool on a rack as you gather your sugar and butter for the caramel next. 

The one perk of solitude means the abundance of time you had to practice. Johnny isn’t necessarily known for his patience — not when it comes to you or Simon — and he would’ve been quite the distraction. You burnt enough caramel without him, thank you very much. 

The soft, warm lights of the kitchen accompany you humming Simon’s favorite song, staring patiently at your pan as your sugar melts slowly, pulling you into a sugary-sweet trance. 

You lose yourself to your very serious task of making sure your caramel doesn’t burn, the melody of the song lost in your throat as your humming softens, concentration on anything outside your little kitchen waning. 

The click of the front door doesn’t phase you, and neither does the muffled thump of boots and bags. The sugar has started to dissolve and you can’t bear to lose your concentration now. 

“Bonnie!” 

You barely have time to register Johnny’s excited shout, head snapping up only moments before strong arms wrap around your waist, hauling you up to spin you in a hug. 

“Johnny!” you laugh through your startled yelp, squirming in equal parts because you want to hug him properly and to get back to your caramel. 

“Johnny, the caramel!” you exclaim when his grip on you only tightens, his face pressed between your shoulder blades. 

“Ach, we dinnae caramel,” he says almost petulantly, voice lost against the fabric of your shirt. He does put you down — albeit reluctantly — but all you do is turn in his hold to lace your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer than before. 

“Missed ye,” he says as a soft kiss is pressed to your temple and you bury further into the crook of his neck. You’ve missed his warmth, and his scent, and the comfort of him and being his. 

You feel like you miss him all the time, but it’s the moments when they’re first back when you realize just how much, and the knot of worry slowly unfurls the longer you spend in his arms. 

He cradles the nape of your neck gently and you can hear the angry bubbling of your sugar — too far gone now to save — but you wouldn’t be able to pull yourself away from him for even a moment. 

“Where’s Si?” you ask against his skin when there’s a very distinct lack of your other half from the kitchen, craving his touch just as badly. 

It’s not real until you’ve seen them both, until you’ve touched them both, to know that they aren’t the phantoms that will sometimes accompany your dreams, your memories. 

“Think he went to the shower, hen,” comes Johnny’s soothing reply, pulling you back from your hiding spot to cradle your face in his hands. 

You used to hate how small you felt with them; how it felt like you were an accessory to them rather than part of them. 

Now you feel nothing but protected, cradled carefully in their hold, their own way of keeping you safe. 

You pout, glancing over his shoulder, down the hall to where the bedroom lay, seeing the faint hint of light from the bathroom spilling out. Johnny’s calloused thumb rubs over your bottom lip, before he crowds in close enough to give you  a soft kiss. 

“Without us?” you ask, and he snorts in reply. 

“Go on, then,” he says as he herds you towards the bedroom, a gentle pat to your ass to urge you along. “Go join ‘im.” 

Your pout deepens, holding out your hand for him. 

“Come with me,” you don’t whine, but you wiggle your fingers enticingly. You’ve been without them for so long, you don’t want to go another second without either of them. 

You’re selfish in very few ways, but are unapologetically so when it comes to your boys. 

Johnny steps into your space, a soft kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth, before nudging your cheek with his nose. 

“I’ll be right behind you,” he promises with another lingering kiss, and you nuzzle into him momentarily before nodding and releasing his hold. Like a moth to a flame, you follow the path to the bedroom, seeing Simon’s clothes already tucked into the basket that’s specifically meant for their work clothes. Anything to separate who they are out there to who they are with you. 

You shed your own clothes, placing them in the empty hamper before stepping into the bathroom, the tile cold on your feet. 

He stands just beyond the glass, new scratches and bruises littering his skin. You’re going to kiss each and every one before you fall asleep tonight. You take a few moments to appreciate him; the broad expanse of his back, the slight layer of fat that surrounds his tummy, thick thighs that you love to bury yourself between, muscles moving like water. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” comes his teasing lilt as he turns to face you, a smirk plastered on his lips as he tilts his head in invitation. You bite your lip to hide your excitement, hurrying over to join him in the shower, taking his hand as he reaches for you, drawing you under the spray of the water.

“I have plenty of photos, actually,” you tease back. He tilts your chin up with a tattooed finger, leaning down to kiss you, before he moves to hold your throat delicately, keeping you in place. You inch up on your toes to press even closer, nipples pressed against his broad chest. 

“Not nearly enough, love,” he replies, not giving you a moment to answer before he draws you back into his mouth, licking into you and swallowing your gasps. You hum and lean into him, lacing your arms around his shoulders. One of his large hands splays against the middle of your back, the other trailing down your spine to the curve of your ass, pulling you in close. 

“Missed you,” you breathe out between kisses, as you cup his face to kiss him deeper, desperation thickening in your veins the longer you’re in his hold. “Missed you so much,” and your nails dig into his skin, adding a collection of your own marks to the others on his body. 

A warm body at your back makes you shiver, pulling away from your kiss to lean your head back on his shoulder. Simon cradles the back of Johnny’s head, kissing him softly. 

“You two need to clean up,” you murmur into Johnny’s jaw, lips grazing the stubble that’s been growing for a few days. It burns your lips, but you’re thankful for any reminder of them. 

“But you’re so comfortable,” Johnny practically whines as he leans further into you, arms tight around your waist, thankful Simon was there to provide stability or else you absolutely would’ve lost balance. 

“Johnny,” Simon admonishes gently, a bite to his ear in reprimand. Johnny squeezes your tummy tighter in reply, but turns to brush his nose gently over Simon’s. 

You wriggle from his grip, a hand on each of their forearms for balance, pressing a kiss to the corner of Johnny’s mouth before pressing one to Simon’s. 

“The quicker you get clean, the quicker you can join me on the bed,” is your parting words as you grab a fluffy towel from the rack, drying yourself before sauntering to the bedroom, diving into fresh sheets. 

You hear the soft murmurs of their conversation curtained by the fall of the water, rolling onto your back and arching up as you stretch, feeling as the tension seeps from your body, relaxing further into the mattress. 

“MacTavish!” comes Simon’s warning bark before a very excited, very wet Johnny launches himself into the bed at you, burrowing his face into your neck as you giggle, feeling the bubbles of body wash that he hadn’t bothered to rinse all the way off. 

He peppers your throat and jaw with kisses, teeth scraping every now and then before he reaches your mouth for a breathless kiss, and you cradle his head gently, nails grazing along the nape of his neck, feeling how his shaved sides have grown just a little since they went away. You’re sure he’ll let you clean him up proper tomorrow, but you don’t want you or either of your boys to leave the bed for the foreseeable future. 

“Simon’s grumpy,” he says against your cheek, and you can’t help but snort. 

“Can’t possibly imagine why,” you tease in return, gripping a longer part of his mohawk and giving a harsh tug, hoping Simon brings an extra towel or two with him because the bed is damn near drenched — and not in the fun way. 

“Absolute menace, that one,” Simon says as he comes from the bathroom, towel slung low on his hips showing the tantalizing line of his tummy that you love so much. 

“Aye,” Johnny agrees with a cheeky smile, removing himself from you and sitting on his heels, settling himself over you to turn back and look at Simon. “But ye love me.” 

Simon comes forward with a fresh towel in hand, motioning for Johnny so he can dry him off. 

Simon doesn’t say anything in reply — he doesn’t have to, and both you and Johnny know that your declarations of love will never go unrequited — instead stopping at the edge of the bed and reaching for him. 

“Be a good pup,” you say as  you push him back with your foot, pressing him back into Simon’s hold so he can dry him off, ruffling his mohawk and wiping away the lingering drops that cling to his tanned skin, Johnny’s own marks and scars adorning his body. The intensity of the blue of his eyes feels like a shock of electricity, his gaze unwavering from yours as Simon tilts his head to the side to press a gentle kiss to his jaw, a soft I love you pressed to his skin. Simon’s lips graze over to his ear, murmuring something too low for you to hear. 

Johnny turns enough to catch Simon’s mouth in a rough, dirty kiss, teeth nipping his bottom lip before a tap to his ass pushes him into motion, crawling his way over the bed back to you. 

You arch up into his body as he slinks closer, a hand on your jaw pulling you into for a filthy kiss of your own. You whine against his mouth as Johnny pulls you up from where you lay on the bed, moving to take your place. 

Johnny settles you over his hips, blue eyes sparkling in the lingering light of the bathroom, a fond smile painting his lips. As cute as he looks — and he looks adorable — the thick heat of his cock resting between your legs makes you ache, makes you want him to take what he wants. His nails dig into your calves as he anchors you against him, rocking his hips against yours, cock moving through your slick and catching on your clit. 

“God, we missed ye,” Johnny sighs out as he digs his nails into your skin, and you bite your lip against the sting of his possession. 

“Never heard the end of it,” Simon says as he comes around the side of the bed, one leg braced on the mattress, the towel parting enough to show his aching cock. 

“Did you take good care of our pup?” you ask through a gasp as you turn to the blonde, eyes fluttering as Johnny’s cock catches at your entrance. 

“Always, love,” he promises, Simon crowding in close as you pull his towel loose, blindly tossing it from the bed as he kneels on the bed at your side, swallowing your next gasp as he presses his lips to yours. 

“Don’t like it when you leave,” you pout against his lips as he moves to kiss down your jaw and throat, trailing his lips over your shoulder. Your head tilts to the side, wanting his teeth in your skin. 

“We’re here, darlin’,” Johnny soothes as a hand grazes up your side to grip your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple until it hardens under his touch. You lay above him, arms braced by his head as you catch him in a kiss, happily letting him take control as his tongue licks deep into your mouth. “We’re not going anywhere,” is his whispered promise and you just nod in agreement as you press your mouth back against his, unable to get enough of his touch, of his taste. 

“Missed your cock,” you whimper with a sharp roll of your hips, Simon settling behind you, hands on your waist as his chin tucks over your shoulder, watching your slick soak Johnny’s cock. 

“Gorgeous thing,” is Simon’s soft purr of praise, one of his hands slipping down the line of your tummy until he can press two fingers against your clit, his other hand grazing up to hold your throat, tilting your head back against his shoulder. 

“Dreamed of your cunt, bonnie,” Johnny pants from beneath you, feeling his cock pulse with each of your thrusts. His fingers grip your hips tight, and Simon tuts at him from his perch over your shoulder. 

“Don’t cum, pup,” and Johnny only whines in reply, nails biting into your skin. “Wanna see your cum spill from her pretty pussy.” 

You’re breathless, need and want coursing through your blood, desperate for something more. 

“Please,” you mewl as you try to paw for Johnny’s chest, but Simon’s hold on your throat keeps you in place. 

One of Johnny’s hands grip you hard enough to lift you from his lap, his other fisting the root of his cock so he can guide you down onto him slowly, your pussy fluttering as you sink deeper in his lap until he’s completely sheathed. 

“Fuck,” he bites out, and you feel the way his legs shake as he holds off his release. He looks gorgeous beneath you, head thrown back against the pillows, the line of his throat exposed and mournfully free of marks from either you or Simon. 

“How’s she feel?” Simon asks, dipping his fingers lower to feel for himself  where you and Johnny are connected. 

“L-like a fuckin’ dream,” comes his panted reply. 

“You wanna fuck ‘er?” he asks, like you aren’t even here. 

You feel like you aren’t, lost in the pleasure of Johnny’s cock nestled deep inside you, stuffing you full. You don’t think Johnny is capable of words after a week without you and your touch, but soon he starts a slow grind of his hips up into you, the crown of his cock pressing against your cervix. 

You cry out in pleasure as he continues the slow roll of his hips, fighting the urge to beg him to fuck you rough. This is for him just as much as it is for you. 

Simon’s grip on your throat remains, thick fingers collaring you, keeping you safe. The two fingers he used to rub your clit, to feel where Johnny was plugged into you, grazes your lips. You willingly open your mouth, swallowing down his fingers as best you can with him behind you. 

“Did you miss me too, darling?” he asks, though you can feel his smirk pressed against your skin, knowing you can only gurgle your answer around his fingers, spit spilling out from the corner of your mouth. 

“I know, kitten,” he says with a kiss to your shoulder, pressing his fingers even deeper, causing you to choke, your throat working around his digits. “I missed you too.” 

He withdraws his fingers as you gasp for breath, losing it the next second when Johnny snaps his hips up hard against you. His soaked fingers trail down your spine to your other hole, the tight ring of muscle fluttering as he circles it, just pressing the tips of his fingers against it. 

“Johnny couldn’t stop talking about your ass,” Simon says against your skin. Your eyes flash to Johnny’s, glazed and dark, but his eyes are locked to Simon’s. “Told me how warm it is,” he continues, very carefully pressing one of his thick fingers against your rim as you beg yourself to relax. “How every single inch of you,” he says as he slowly begins to pump his finger deeper and deeper with each word, “is meant for us.” 

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus, Simon,” comes Johnny’s choked moan, “she’s squeezin’ me so tight.” 

Simon hums in reply as he continues his leisurely pace of fucking his finger into you. “Wonder what my cock would feel like in here,” he muses, continuing a line of kisses across your shoulders. He digs his teeth in deep into your shoulder, a shaky moan rising in your throat as he wiggles a second finger into the tight ring of muscle. 

“T-too much,” you whine out, asshole fluttering desperately around his fingers. Johnny’s cock was bigger than Simon’s two fingers — but it had been well over a week since either of them had touched you there. 

He stills as Johnny leans up to kiss along your collar and chest, tongue licking across your nipples. 

“Give me a color, love,” he asks gently, the fingers around your throat loosening so it’s easier for you to breathe. Johnny’s soft pants ghost against your skin as he holds your waist gently, ever so patient with you. 

“Bonnie?” comes Johnny’s soft prompting, laced with concern when you didn’t answer. 

“Green,” you whisper out after another moment of pause, and Simon’s answering good girl makes you melt further into their touch. 

Sweet, precious girl Johnny whispers against your collar, one arm laced around your waist as his other hand reaches for Simon’s hip. 

You bite your lip as tears thicken your throat. Your head is muddy with pleasure and love for your two boys, not realizing how much you’ve missed them until now, their soft praise spoken against your skin, kisses and devotion pressed to each exposed inch that they can reach. 

Simon carefully begins to thrust his fingers into you, sinking deeper each time until he’s able to curl and thrust without any resistance. Heat licks deep in your belly, broken moans catching in your throat with each expert thrust of his fingers. 

You vaguely hear him ask Johnny for the lube, hearing the pop of the cap as he squirts a generous amount into his hand, coating his length before smearing whatever is left over your hole, empty now without his fingers. 

He drags the tip of his cock over your hole, teasing the relaxed ring of muscle, watching as it looks like your hole is trying to draw him in, desperate. 

“Think you can take me, love?” comes his question pressed against your cheek, and you lace one arm back around to hold the nape of his neck, a soft yes falling from your lips. 

One thing you’ve learned from your boys is they always want to hear you. They love how vocal you are — Johnny especially — but hearing how badly you crave them, need them makes something primal in them snap, wanting to give you everything you beg for and more. 

“Slowly now,” he says as he pushes the crown past your ring of muscle, and you swallow thickly, nails digging into any part of Johnny you can reach. Johnny does his best to distract you with soft praises as Simon slowly sinks into you, pausing halfway when he feels you trembling under his touch. 

“Fuckin’ hell, darlin’,” he groans out, forehead resting on your shoulder. 

“Feels good, don’t she, Si?” 

Simon inhales sharply, raising his head enough to pull Johnny in for a kiss as your nails scratch at the base of Simon’s neck, leaning back against him as you watch your boys indulge in each other. 

“Incredible, just like you said,” he agrees with one more kiss, teeth nipping sharply at Johnny’s bottom lip. 

Johnny leans back down against the sheets, pulling you forward. Simon follows carefully, allowing Johnny to adjust your hips so it’s easier for him to sink the rest of the way into your hole. 

“Angel of our lives, ah swear,” Johnny says as he begins to carefully thrust up into you, knocking the wind from your lungs when his sharp thrust catches that squishy spot deep inside you that makes you keen and clench around them, Simon’s moan reverberating against your back. 

Simon carefully ruts into you, timing himself with Johnny’s thrusts, until you can’t think of anything more than the heat coursing through you, sparking and igniting like a wildfire. 

You can’t think of anything other than their names, but after a few minutes, Simon braces one of his feet on the bed so he can thrust in harder, rougher, and your voice cracks with how hard you cry out, lost to the pleasure. 

“Wanna stuff you full,” Johnny babbles beneath you, his thick thumb moving down to rub your clit, touch electric and causing you to moan and shudder in his hold. “Watch our cum drip from you until you’re full of our babe.” 

Simon’s free hand settles over your tummy, thumb stroking in surprising gentleness compared to the absolute filthy mess they’re making of you. 

“You want that, lovie?” Simon asks from behind you, his question punctuated with a sharp thrust, the obscene sound of his balls slapping against your ass accompanying the sounds of Johnny’s cock drenched in your slick. 

You’re helpless and reduced to nodding and whimpering, clenching hard around them as you whine out about giving them a baby. 

“Christ, love,” Johnny grits out before he’s spilling deep inside you, thick ropes of cum painting your insides. He grips the nape of your neck to bring you in for a kiss, a mixture of panting his moans against your mouth and swallowing your own. 

Simon’s fingers are back on your clit, your nub hard and sensitive, sensitive to his touch. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you pant out as you reach your peak, Simon buried deep inside you as his grinds, cock pressed deep inside you. 

Johnny’s cock pulses with your orgasm, walls fluttering and spilling your release over him, the force of it causing his cum to spill out from where Johnny’s still plugged deep. 

“Atta girl,” Simon snarls as he buries his teeth in your shoulder with his own release, your eyes rolling back as you feel each thick pulse of his cum. He growls as he minutely thrusts into you, his own cum spilling from where his cock is nestled in your ass, making a mess of Johnny beneath you two. 

Simon draws his teeth from your shoulder, soothing  over the wound with his tongue as it pulses with your heartbeat. Soft kisses are placed along the line of your shoulders and close to your throat as you settle into their touch. 

He gently draws you to him, pressing a significantly softer kiss to your lips as your breathing evens out. You press your forehead to his to bask in his warmth, his nose pressed to your cheek as his nuzzles into your skin before carefully pulling out, his cum slipping from your hole. He helps keep you in place for Johnny to pull out as well, before Johnny is gathering you into his arms, cradling you against his chest and running his fingers delicately along the line of your back. 

You hate how empty you feel without them, but they’re right there, close enough for you to touch, for you to know they’re here with you, home, finally. 

You nuzzle into Johnny’s hold, already the edges of sleep drawing you deep. Simon settles behind you, a thick arm around your waist, anchoring you to him, to them. You murmur something about ruined caramel, but the press of their lips across your cheeks and forehead are all you need, finally allowing you to rest in the comfort of their arms. 

[ahqkas]

Theodore with a partner that’s has sensitive skin. Like if a strong perfume had hit their skin immediately they need to wash whatever essence it is or else they break out and start to itch. Maybe Theodore always has a handkerchief in case something like this happens.

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THEODORE NOTT HAD ALWAYS BEEN ATTENTIVE, ESPECIALLY WHEN IT CAME TO YOU. from the moment he learned about your sensitive skin, he made it a priority to ensure your comfort and well-being. he carried a handkerchief with him at all times, a simple white square of cloth, always neatly folded in his pocket and ready for use.

one breezy afternoon, you and theodore strolled through the bustling corridors of hogwarts. the faint scent of blooming plants from the greenhouse wafted through the air, mingling with the various perfumes and colognes worn by students. you had grown accustomed to avoiding certain areas, knowing that a stray whiff of the wrong scent could send your skin into a fit of irritation. but despite your precautions, the unpredictable nature of shared spaces meant that accidents could still happen.

as you passed a group of giggling girls from ravenclaw, their strongly smelling perfume hit you like a wall of bricks. you felt it immediately — the prickling sensation spreading across your skin, the creeping itch that threatened to turn into a full-blown rash. your hand instinctively went to your neck, rubbing at the spot where the scent seemed to cling.

theo, the perfect boyfriend he was, noticed your discomfort right away. he had a keen eye for your subtle reactions, having memorized every inch of your body and its language. without a word, he gently took your hand and led you to a quieter corner of the hallway, away from the thick of the crowd.

"hang on," his eyes said, though he spoke no words aloud. he reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out the handkerchief, its fabric soft and familiar. theo always made sure to wash it with unscented soap, knowing how even the mildest fragrance could trigger a reaction.

you watched as he moistened the cloth with a quick, precise spell that conjured a small stream of water. he dabbed it carefully against your neck, the coolness of the water providing instant relief. his touch was gentle, his movements deliberate and soothing. you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as the irritation began to fade.

theodore's expression was one of concentration, his brows furrowed slightly, creating those pretty lines between them as he tended to you. he took great care in making sure that every trace of the irritating perfume was wiped away, his concern for you evident in every gesture he made. the usual confidence he carried softened into a tender protectiveness, one that made your heart swell with affection towards the slytherin boy.

"there, that should help," even his touch seemed to soften as he finished, tucking the damp handkerchief back into his pocket.

you opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. "thank you, theo," you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude. his small acts of kindness always left you feeling cherished and understood.

"always," he responded, a small with reassuring smile dancing on his face as he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, his hand tangling into your hair on the back of your head to keep you as close to him as possible.

[cmdrfupa]

Ponyboy

suggestive. college aged nanami. Our boy might be in heat. thank you SOPHIE for this banger.

18+

Tonight was a special night. Nanami somehow convinced his girlfriend—a refreshing contrast to his aura—to come to a show with him. You’d only been dating a few months, but Nanami already felt a deep, grounding attachment to you, an odd calm amid his chaotic life.

You entered his dorm, usual warm smile lighting up your face as you took in the room. The moment you stepped in, Nanami’s eyes softened. you wore an outfit that was unmistakably your style: a cardigan covered in owls, a random graphic tee and a pair of shorts that looked both adorable and impossibly clean against the scattered darkness of his space. It wasn’t your world, but you fit into it like a bright spark against a dim backdrop.

"Alright," he started, his voice low and amused as he tugged off one of his well-worn tees. "If you’re gonna survive tonight, you’ll need to fit in a bit more." He held it out to you, smirking as you accepted it with a gleam of playful excitement in your eyes.

Your eyes trailed down to the golden hairs that disappeared into his dark pants.

He definitely saw you eyeing him the tips of his ears turning red gave it away.

You slipped the shirt on, the fabric loose and soft over your figure. It was a black, slightly oversized tee, faded and stretched from wear, the letters of an obscure band barely visible across the front. you glanced down, smiling softly as you adjusted it. Nanami came up behind you as you looked at him for approval, and his eyes raked over your hips, lingering just a moment too long on the way it stopped right at your navel with you holding it up, soft skin exposed at your midriff.

“Perfect,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head and stepping back as if to admire his handiwork.

Soon after, he went into the basics. He explained the atmosphere of the venue, the unspoken rules of a mosh pit—“Don’t get too close, but don’t go in unless you want to leave with bruises”—and what to do if things got out of control.

You listened intently, taking it all in, nodding with a mix of excitement and nerves. Nanami found it adorable, your willingness to step into his world, to experience it even though it was clear you was slightly out of your comfort zone.

“Now, one more thing,” he said, eyeing the bag he’d carelessly tossed onto his desk. “If we’re going all in, I’d like to not navigate eyeliner on my own.”

You gave him a grin, mischievous and sweet, which he found oddly endearing.

Nanami raised an eyebrow but handed you the eyeliner, sitting back in his chair as you straddled his lap, your hands steady but delicate as you got to work. your warm, gentle focus was a stark contrast to the cool, dark liner you were applying, but Nanami found himself hyper-aware of everything in that moment: your thighs pressed against his thighs, the soft brush of your fingertips tracing his jawline as you held him still, and the way your breath caught, just barely, as you leaned closer.

“Hold still,” you whispered, your tone soft, almost intimate.

He did as you asked, but it was torture in the best way. His skin prickled with the closeness, his eyes following you, drifting down to the curve of your lips as they parted slightly in concentration. you worked with careful precision, pressing your thumb lightly against his cheekbone to steady you, and the intimacy of it all—your breathing, your touch—was becoming too much.

He felt you shift in his lap, and the tension between you surged, thick and undeniable. His hands found your waist instinctively, a gentle squeeze grounded you both as you finished up, leaning back to admire your handiwork. But he couldn’t ignore the way his heartbeat had quickened, or how your fingers lingered against his face as you put away the makeup.

“Looks good on you,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

“Only because you’re good at this,” he replied, though his voice was hoarse, betraying how aware he was of you. His hands stayed firm on your hips, his fingers slipping just under the hem of the shirt you wore. you shifted against him again, and he felt every inch of that movement like a spark down his spine.

Your lips curled into a smile, and his heart thudded as your fingers ran through his hair, pushing it back so you could get a clear look at him. you were still so close, almost as if you could feel the magnetic pull between you. You lingered there, neither of you moving as the charged silence thickened around you both.

Nanami’s eyes drifted from your gaze down to your lips, and for a moment, he felt every ounce of his restraint wavering.

“We should get going. Shoko said she’s meet us there.” You went to stand but the pull of your shirt stopped you.

His thick fingers held onto the shirt before he wrapped his arm around your waist.

“The opener isn’t good.”

“But its’s Gojo’s band?”

“Exactly.”

You giggled and his cheeky smile grew as he stood up, a yelp escaping you as he lifted you with little effort.

“Honestly, we can be 40 minutes late.” he lied you down gently, his eyes on a field trip of discovery as you squeezed your plush thighs together. “Venue is only 5 minutes away.”

Eyebrow raised and shirt high enough to expose your bra, you reached for him. “Baby.”

Nanami slithered between your legs, lips immediately finding yours. “40 minutes.” he whispered against your lips.

“40 minutes.” you felt his thin chain hit your chin. “No more.”

“No less.”

You didn’t make it to the show and you had a weeks worth of cigarettes to buy.

[spideysl0ve]

hello !! if it's not taken, and if you're not busy, could you do "is it weird if i say i never want this moment to end?" with sanji ?? thank you ♡

also, is it alright to ask what your first language is ?? totally understandable if you'd rather not share

 . 𔘓 ؛ home sweet home

⇢ masterlist

⇢ writing prompts

⇢ vinsmoke sanji x reader.

⇢ a/n: i speak spanish luv 😸

⇢ tw: fluff, this is so cute and domestic, english isn’t my first language.

⇢ summary: “is it weird if i say i never want this moment to end?” prompt with sanji

heaven, for sanji, was moments like this. the soft hum of the kitchen as he moved around, his hands deftly chopping vegetables, stirring the simmering sauce, the familiar clink of pots and pans in the background. the warm, comforting scent of the meal he was preparing filled the air, wrapping around him like a soft embrace. he could feel the heat of the stove against his skin, the rhythmic motion of his work, but more than anything, he could feel the peace that settled in his chest. because you were here.

you sat at the kitchen table, legs curled up beneath you, a book in your hands.

your attention was fully on the pages in front of you, but sporadically, you’d glance up to catch him in the act of doing something he loved.

his brow furrowed in concentration as he tasted the sauce, the way he hummed lightly to himself, the gentle clink of his lighter when he lit the stove.

everything about him radiated warmth, and it made your heart feel fuller than you could put into words.

you smiled softly, watching as he worked with such care and focus. his passion for cooking was evident, but the tenderness with which he prepared everything was what made his creations truly special.

it wasn’t just about making food; it was about creating something for you, something that came from the very core of who he was.

sanji paused for a moment, a spoon in hand, and glanced over his shoulder. his eyes met yours, the warmth in his gaze softening. you didn’t even realize you’d been watching him so intently until he caught you.

"hey," he said, his voice low, as he wiped his hands on a towel before turning back to his work. "is it weird if i say i never want this moment to end?"

the words hung in the air, and you blinked in surprise, your heart giving a small, sudden flutter.

you lowered your book slightly, tilting your head, sensing the sincerity in his tone. there was something in the way he spoke,so quietly, yet so intensely, that made your chest ache with affection.

"weird?" you echoed softly, your lips curving into a gentle smile. "not at all."

sanji let out a breath, turning his attention back to the task at hand, but you could see the way his shoulders relaxed, like he had been carrying something unspoken for a while and now, it was out in the open. he moved with more ease now, his hands moving through the motions of preparing dinner, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere,entirely on you.

"it’s just,it’s... when i’m cooking, when i’m making something for you, it’s like the rest of the world just disappears. and when i see you sitting there, reading, looking so peaceful… i can’t help but think, this is exactly where i want to be. here, with you. nothing else matters. it feels perfect" he continued, his voice a little softer now, almost distracted.

your heart swelled at his words. it was such a simple moment,a quiet evening, the two of you together, nothing too grand,but somehow, to him, it was everything. you felt your chest tighten with emotion, and you set your book aside, standing up from the table to walk over to him.

he didn’t seem to notice you coming until you were right beside him, and you gently rested a hand on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin even through the fabric of his shirt. he looked up, a surprised, but fond expression on his face as you leaned in to kiss his cheek.

"this moment is perfect," you whispered, your voice soft and steady. "because you’re here. because we’re here. and I wouldn't want to be anywhere else either."

sanji’s eyes softened, and he smiled at you, a genuine, heartfelt smile that made the entire room feel warmer.

he placed the spoon down on the counter and turned to face you fully, pulling you into his arms. the scent of garlic and fresh herbs lingered in the air, mixing with the sweetness of the moment. his hands rested gently on your back, pulling you closer, as if afraid you might slip away from him.

"i’m glad you feel that way," he murmured, his voice quiet and content. "because all i ever want is to share these moments with you. even if we’re just cooking or reading, it’s everything to me."

you closed your eyes for a moment, savouring the warmth of his embrace, the steady beat of his heart against yours. "you make even the simplest moments feel special, sanji," you said softly. "just being with you is enough."

he chuckled lightly, pulling away just enough to look you in the eyes, his gaze tender and loving. "you say that now, but wait until you taste what i’ve been making. i promise, it'll make you fall in love with me all over again."

you laughed, the sound light and carefree, and gave him a playful shove. "i already have, sanji. i already have."

the rest of the evening passed in a blissful, domestic rhythm. the sound of knives chopping, the bubbling of sauce, the occasional playful banter between the two of you. it was everything that made life feel full,quiet, simple, and full of love.

as he finished plating the food, sanji placed the dish in front of you, his eyes filled with that same warmth.

"bon appétit, my love," he said, a hint of playful pride in his voice. "i hope you’re ready to fall in love with me again."

you smiled, reaching out to take his hand.

"already have," you whispered, leaning in to kiss him before taking the first bite of the meal he had so lovingly prepared.

in that moment, everything felt right. the world outside could wait. as long as you were together, nothing else could possibly matter.

taglist: @remasjoestar @anamiad00msday @rotin0 @moon4lust @elitesanjisimp @dreamcastgirl99 @acehasmyheart @colourfullgardenerduck

be added to my taglist

[spanktony]

“I THINK IT’S PERFECT.” - madison beer.

summary: you & madison build your christmas tree.

words: 658.

warnings: gn!reader, fluffy, reader sadly mentions missing their parents and siblings, that’s all i think.

notes: merry christmas eve/ christmas guys! (if you celebrate) this is literally like my only christmas themed writing so 😭😭 i’ve been clinging onto this

navigation. request.

you sat cross-legged on the plush rug, a box of ornaments in front of you, while madison fussed with the ribbon garland draping the tree. she was determined to have everything look perfect this year, her brows furrowed in concentration as she adjusted the shimmering fabric.

“you’ve been quiet. are you alright?” madison asked, turning to face you. the worry in her tone softened when her eyes landed on your peaceful expression.

you were absently fiddling with a delicate glass ornament shaped like a snowflake, your gaze fixed on the tv in the background where an old holiday classic played. you were only half-listening, but the sound was comforting, and the movie was nostalgic, reminding you of years spent watching them with your family.

your mind wandered to the memories of christmases spent with your parents and siblings, all of you squeezed onto the couch together under a quilt and passing around mugs of hot chocolate.

you smiled as you thought of how your mother would always bake more cookies than the three of you could possibly eat, and your father would sing off-key carols while he trimmed the tree.

the memories warmed you, but you still felt a little pang of sadness, missing the family you were so far away from. you had never imagined that you would spend this holiday away from them, but you knew that distance couldn’t diminish the love they had for you and the love you had for them.

“hm?” you blinked and looked up, finally meeting her gaze with a slight tilt of your head. “you say something?”

madison couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. so cute, she thought. her heart swelled at the sight of you, so effortlessly lost in your thoughts.

“i said,” she started, “are you okay?” she crossed the room and crouched beside you, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “you’ve been kind of… zoned out.”

you laughed quietly, a sound that made her heart skip. “yeah, i’m good. just… enjoying this. us. this feels nice.”

madison’s smile widened as she took in your words. “it does, doesn’t it?” she said softly, her smile widening. she settled beside you on the rug, folding her legs beneath her as she reached for a silver ornament shaped like a star.

you watched her from the corner of your eye, noting the way her brow furrowed slightly in concentration as she carefully inspected the ornament, making sure it had no imperfections, which was completely understandable. last year, the two of you struggled a bit with packing the decorations away after the holidays, and as a result, many of them had been damaged.

madison held the silver star delicately between her fingers, tilting it toward the light to check for any cracks. her lips pressed into a soft pout, a small habit you had always found endearing.

“looks like this one survived,” she said, her tone relieved as she turned to you with a grin. “last year’s chaos didn’t claim everything after all.”

you chuckled, shaking your head. “i still can’t believe we thought shoving everything into one box was a good idea.”

madison laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “in our defense, we were running late for that new year’s party. but i’ll admit… it wasn’t my finest moment.”

“not even close,” you teased, nudging her with your shoulder.

she handed you the silver star. “here, your turn to hang one. pick a good spot.”

taking the ornament from her, you stood and carefully placed it on one of the higher branches. stepping back, you tilted your head, inspecting the tree. “what do you think?”

madison joined you, standing close enough that your shoulders touched. “i think it’s perfect,” she said, but her eyes weren’t on the tree—they were on you.

you caught her gaze and felt your cheeks heat, but you didn’t look away. “yeah,” you said softly.

[nicnak20]

Biceps:

*Yn sees an Instagram trend where you bite into your man's biceps. She tries this with Nicholas.*

The afternoon sun streamed through the living room window, painting warm stripes across the plush sofa where Yn and Nicholas were comfortably tangled. Nicholas was engrossed in a book, a faint furrow in his brow indicating his deep concentration, while Yn idly scrolled through her phone, a soft smile playing on her lips. The air hummed with a comfortable silence, broken only by the gentle turning of pages and the occasional, contented sigh.

Yn adored these quiet moments with Nicholas. His presence was like a comforting balm, his gentle energy grounding her in a way nothing else could. He was a haven of kindness, his heart overflowing with warmth and understanding. She watched him, her eyes tracing the strong line of his jaw, the soft wave of his dark brown hair that fell across his forehead, and the way his brow would smooth out whenever he looked at her. He was handsome, of course, but it was more than just his looks. It was the gentle light in his brown eyes, the patient curve of his smile, the unwavering devotion that radiated from him.

Today, however, her peaceful scrolling was about to take a slightly mischievous turn. She stumbled upon a series of Instagram reels all following a similar theme – women playfully biting their partners’ biceps. The trend was lighthearted, filled with laughter and surprised reactions. Some men jumped, some flexed harder, some just laughed in disbelief. But all of them seemed to be enjoying the unexpected affection.

A slow smile spread across Yn’s face as she watched another video, the woman in it dissolving into giggles as her partner chuckled and playfully pushed her away. An idea started to bloom in her mind, a playful seed taking root and blossoming into a full-fledged plan. Her gaze drifted from her phone, landing on Nicholas’s arm, currently resting casually on the sofa cushion. Even through the fabric of his t-shirt, she could discern the subtle curve of his bicep.

Yn had always been… appreciative of Nicholas’s physique. Not in a superficial way, but in a way that acknowledged the strength and health he possessed. And yes, she’d be lying if she said she didn't find his biceps incredibly appealing. They were firm and defined, a testament to his occasional gym visits and his naturally athletic build. She was a little obsessed with his biceps, she admitted to herself with an inward giggle. It was a harmless, slightly silly obsession, but an obsession nonetheless.

The Instagram trend suddenly felt less like a random internet fad and more like a personalized challenge, a playful dare tailor-made for her and Nicholas. The thought of surprising him, of seeing his reaction, of feeling the firmness of his bicep against her teeth… it made her heart flutter with excited anticipation.

She continued to scroll, pretending to be engrossed in her phone, all the while her mind raced, plotting her bicep-biting strategy. Should she be subtle? Should she be dramatic? Should she give him a warning, or go for the full surprise attack? The surprise attack seemed more fun, more in line with the playful nature of the trend.

Taking a deep breath, Yn put her phone down on the coffee table, feigning disinterest. She shifted closer to Nicholas, subtly maneuvering herself so she was leaning against him, her shoulder pressed against his arm. He didn't look up from his book, just wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. A warmth bloomed in Yn’s chest. He was so effortlessly affectionate, so naturally loving.

“What are you reading?” Yn asked softly, her voice deliberately casual.

Nicholas blinked, momentarily pulled from his literary world. He looked down at her, his brown eyes softening as they met hers. “Just a thriller,” he said, a gentle smile gracing his lips. “It’s actually quite gripping.”

“Oh really?” Yn tilted her head, feigning curiosity. “Anything exciting happen yet?”

He chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound that always made Yn’s heart melt. “A bit,” he said, shifting slightly to show her the cover. As he moved, his bicep flexed subtly. Yn’s eyes flickered to it, a mischievous glint sparking in them. Now was her chance.

She leaned in closer, pretending to examine the book cover, her eyes dancing with suppressed laughter. “It looks interesting,” she murmured, her voice low and breathy. Nicholas was still focused on the book, unaware of the impending bicep assault.

Taking another deep breath, Yn gathered her courage. She told herself it was just a playful bite, a bit of harmless fun. It was an expression of affection, a silly trend she wanted to try with her amazing, wonderful, bicep-blessed boyfriend.

And then, in a swift, decisive movement, she leaned forward and gently, playfully, bit Nicholas’s bicep.

It wasn’t a hard bite, not at all painful. It was more of a playful nip, a soft pressure of her teeth against the firm muscle. But it was definitely unexpected.

Nicholas froze, his eyes widening in surprise, his book momentarily forgotten. He looked down at Yn, his expression a mixture of shock and utter bewilderment. For a split second, silence hung in the air, thick with anticipation.

Yn, biting back a giggle, pulled back slightly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She watched his reaction, her heart pounding a little faster with a mix of nervousness and excitement.

Nicholas blinked a few times, processing what had just happened. He touched his bicep with his free hand, as if to confirm that yes, he had indeed just been bitten. Then, slowly, a slow, understanding smile began to spread across his face.

“Did you… just bite my bicep?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement.

Yn nodded, unable to suppress the grin that was now spreading across her face. “Maybe?” she said innocently, batting her eyelashes.

Nicholas chuckled, a louder, heartier laugh this time. “Maybe?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow playfully. “There’s no ‘maybe’ about it. You definitely just bit my bicep.”

“It’s an Instagram trend,” Yn explained, her words tumbling out in a rush. “Everyone’s doing it! It looked cute and funny, and… well, your biceps are very… prominent.” She blushed slightly, suddenly feeling a little silly for admitting her bicep obsession out loud.

Nicholas’s smile widened even further, becoming positively radiant. He leaned back against the sofa, still chuckling. “My biceps are… prominent?” he repeated, flexing his arm slightly, a playful glint in his eyes.

Yn buried her face in his shoulder, laughing along with him. “Yes! They are!” she mumbled into his shirt. “And I saw this trend, and I thought… well, I just wanted to try it.”

Nicholas wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “And you just decided to use my unsuspecting bicep as your trend-testing subject?” he teased, his voice warm and affectionate.

“Exactly!” Yn said, popping her head up and grinning at him. “Was it… bad?” she asked, suddenly a little concerned. She hadn't wanted to actually hurt him, just be playful.

Nicholas looked down at her, his eyes filled with warmth and love. “Bad?” he echoed. “No, not bad at all. Surprising, definitely. A little… unexpected. But definitely not bad.” He reached out and gently stroked her cheek, his touch feather-light and loving. “In fact,” he continued, a mischievous spark returning to his eyes, “I think I deserve a re-bite. For… scientific purposes, of course.”

Yn’s eyes widened, and she laughed again, delighted by his playful response. “A re-bite?” she repeated, her voice laced with mock seriousness. “Are you sure? It’s a very… rigorous scientific process.”

“I’m willing to endure the rigor,” Nicholas said, flexing his bicep again, presenting it to her with a flourish. “For science. And… well, for you.”

Yn chuckled and leaned in again, this time more deliberately. She gently nipped at his bicep again, feeling the firm muscle beneath her teeth. This time, she lingered a little longer, pressing a soft kiss to the spot before pulling back.

Nicholas watched her, his eyes filled with adoration. “Much better,” he declared, his voice husky. “Scientific data successfully collected.”

Yn giggled and nestled back into his arms, feeling a wave of warmth and happiness wash over her. The bicep bite had been silly, a little impulsive, but it had been perfectly them. Playful, affectionate, and entirely based on their deep, loving connection.

“So,” Nicholas said after a comfortable silence, his fingers gently tracing patterns on her arm. “Are there any other Instagram trends you’ve been eyeing?”

Yn laughed and shook her head. “Not for today,” she said, snuggling closer. “But maybe… maybe tomorrow there will be a new one. And maybe… maybe your other bicep will be feeling a little neglected.”

Nicholas chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “My biceps,” he murmured, his voice filled with love and amusement, “are entirely at your disposal. For scientific research, of course.”

And as the sun continued to stream through the window, casting long shadows across the room, Yn knew that even the silliest of Instagram trends could become a cherished, intimate moment, when shared with someone as kind, sweet, and utterly devoted as Nicholas. He was her haven, her laughter, her joy. And, yes, she had to admit, her favorite bicep.