#and they make me cry with them EVERY TIME

[goldsbitch]

Blink Once

Lando thought taking care of his twin daughters would be the hard part. Turns out, he can manage. Now, figuring out which one is which - that's a whole different story.

2k word count warning: none - domestic, fluff, fun

The room is in a state one could describe as a battlefield. Tiny clothes, diapers, creams, powders and God knows what scattered everywhere. There is also an intense stare down happening between the two pairs of blue eyes and one set of greenish. The latter belong to Lando, the former to his dearest offspring. The most adorable duo of little girls that he had ever seen. Every since they were born, he's been getting random streaks of immense pride throughout the day. That is until now, when he is staring at the two little grinning demons, holding a green sock in one hand a purple one in the other. Normally, he'd be overjoyed that he had managed to keep the two happy and not crying for so long. Y/N has gone out to much needed and postponed catch up with another adult, that's not Lando or anyone they're related to. It was his first time alone with the kids. He needed to prove it to her, and himself, that he can do it.

One of their daughters was expected, the other one was a happy surprise. To say taking care of two, instead of one, was a challenge for the new parents would be an understatement. Sleep deprived Lando was begging silently for his daughters to give him at least a clue to solving his latest fuck up. Identical twins. Y/N was so terrified of mixing them up, that the color designated socks and clothes were established right from the beginning. Olivia has green, Maya purple. Right?

He sighs dramatically, standing in the middle of the nursery and trying to recall which one had which pairs of socks on.

"Oh, how great of you that you can sit on your own now," he proclaims to the two, who keep beaming back at him, blabbering and apparently finding this very amusing. "If you could just magically learn how to talk now and tell me which one is which, that would be a-mazing!"

Nothing. Obviously. They have a long way to go to be able to do that. He tries to retrace his steps one more time. He put one on the changing dresser, that must have been the one with the green socks and went on to grab the other one to put her -on the left? Or was it right? He curses himself in creative swear words for taking the socks off so mindlessly.

It might be humiliating, but Lando is self-aware enough to have somewhat expected something like this to happen. He checks the shared note he and Y/N have. Ok - so it's right, Olivia is green and Maya purple. Great. Now which one is which?

He decides to sit them down in the living room - most likely mixing them once again, but what difference does that make now, he thinks.

He holds the two socks in front of their faces. This works with dogs, it must work with children too. He tries to brush over the fact he just compared his heirs to an animal.

"So, which one do you like better? Hm? You must have developed some sort of notion of which colour is yours at this point, right?" he speaks is sarcastic baby voice as the girls keep on laughing. Lando frowns. "This is not some sort of game, ladies. For all I know this might be the grounds for a divorce and your villain origin story." Nothing. No reaction to the socks, they just keep looking at him. Adorably.

He starts to properly panic now. Calls himself a shit parent, immature dad and just plain stupid idiot. Y/N is gonna kill him. He has to fix it somehow.

He tries different approach. "Olivia? Olivia, is it you? Blink twice if you’re Olivia. I’ll settle for a burp!" he speaks to the one on the left. It's like this child has stopped needing to blink completely. "So you're Maya?" he asks and figures the response of her hand reaching up must be enough to confirm her identity. He turns to the daughter on the right. "So, you're Olivia? Does that sound familiar?"

He is going to explain this to them one day, it's going to be a very funny story of how their father fucked up their whole life. Mixed them up so much that they end up becoming drug addicts. Oh, God. He is truly spiraling. Were they born with a destiny he’s now sabotaging by switching them? Or not switching them?

"Okay, Team Chaos. Maya, blink once. Or just scream, because that’s your go-to answer for everything anyway." He watches them intently and finally sees a blink! And immediately another one from the other child. He groans and puts his head in his hands. After a moment spent in a pit of despair, he comes back to reality with new found determination. He is a father, their father. His instincts must work. He picks one up and in the air and examines her intently. Turning her left, right and upside down. And then the second one. He's got nothing. These kids are point to point exact copies of each other.

As a typical young parent, he turns to internet for help. And as per usual, he finds zero reliable advice to go with. No - there is no secret birthmark on one of them. No, they both have identical eye color. No, there is no difference in their teeth. In amidst of all of this, he panic buys a fingerprint kit and full on plans on preventing this from happening in the future.

He comes back to stare at his kids, who are uncharacteriscally quiet, calm and content. As if they know that for the first time in weeks, he does not need their help to achieve chaos in his mind.

He calls the one person who is smart, won't probably laugh too much in his face, won't tell Y/N on him and might understand his parent panic.

Max Verstappen picks up after third dial.

"Lando!" he greets him cheerfully. At least someone is having a good time. "What's up? How's the new parent life looking out for you?"

Lando gets to the point straight. He is after all running out of time. "I've mixed up the twins. Don't laugh. I don't know what to do."

"What do you mean, you’ve ‘mixed up’ the twins?" the Dutchman asks.

Lando rolls his eyes, how does one not understand the simple premise. "I mean, I was changing their diapers, I took their socks off, and now I don’t know which one is Olivia and which one is Maya. I’ve stared at them for an hour, and they’re just...Point to point the same."

Max bursts out laughing on the other end of the line, a loud, unfiltered laugh that makes Lando cringe. He waits for the inevitable to end and lets him speaks first.

"So I assume you're alone with them? Is Y/N out of the house?" Why is that important, Lando does not understand.

"Yes. I’m serious, Max! They’re identical. Identical! It’s like trying to tell apart two...marshmallows. Two tiny, giggling, adorable and judgmental marshmallows who know I’m losing it and find it hilarious."

It seems that Max is finally somewhat on board with the seriousness of it all. "Right. So what’s the plan? Are you just gonna call them ‘Baby One’ and ‘Baby Two’ until Y/N gets home?"

Lando pinches the top of his nose in frustration. "Max, I need to solve this. If I don’t figure this out, Y/N will kill me. She was already paranoid about this happening, and now I’ve gone and done it. I mean, what if I ruin their entire lives, Max? What if they grow up thinking they’re each other-"

Max is solution oriented. So he jumps into interrupting the young father, because he might have just got on forever.

"Okay, okay, calm down. Let’s think this through. Did you check for a birthmark? Sometimes one of them will have a birthmark or something small that’s different."

Lando groans loudly. "No birthmark, no physical difference, Max, my kids look identical and I can't recognize them apart at all!"

"Hm," he stops to think, Lando stops to think and hopefully the whole world stops for a moment so he can fix his cardinal mistake. "What about… I don’t know, their personalities? Isn’t one supposed to be louder than the other?"

Lando appreciates the idea, first good one. Sadly, not a helpful one. He keeps staring at menace his children are. "They’re both loud. And they both cry at the exact same time, like they’ve rehearsed it. I think they’re doing this on purpose to mess with me."

"At least you can be sure you're the father," Max rhetors and laughs again.

"Not funny," Lando gritts his teeth.

"Well, I’d mess with you too if you were my dad."

"MAX."

"Okay, fine, fine. Why don’t you just pick one, call her Olivia, and call the other one Maya, and just stick with it? What’s the worst that could happen?" he tries to calm Lando, but it backfires masivelly.

Lando is now pissed at Max as well. The guy has kids far apart in age to obviously not understand the gravity of the situation. And he's more that willing to make him understand. "The worst? The worst! I’ll tell you the worst. What if they figure it out when they’re older and I’ve been calling Olivia ‘Maya’ for years? What if Maya’s like, ‘Wow, Dad, you didn’t even know who I was?’ And Olivia’s like, ‘I always knew I was the favorite.’ And then they hate me forever and end up in therapy, and the therapist is like, ‘Your father was a moron who couldn’t even tell you apart."

"That… sounds like a lot of "future you" problems."

Lando start to pray silently to all the gods he's aware of. "Future seems pretty damn close, given Y/N probably comes home any minute now."

And that's when he hears the door open. Fuck.

"Just wait when they're teenagers and start switching on purpose," is the last he hears from Max before hanging up indefinitely. Lando freezes, the phone slipping from his hand and landing on the carpet with a soft thud. His eyes dart between the door and the two grinning culprits, who have now decided to crawl toward each other and share in their apparent victory. He whispers under his breath, “Traitors. Both of you.”

He gets up automatically, the plan now being wooving Y/N, the mother of his devil children, out by his adorableness. It worked when he was trying to get to agree to go on a first date with him, it has to work now. He wonders into the kitchen, where he sees her putting some box of pastries onto the counter.

"Hello, my love," he attacks and immediately steps all over to her personal space. Hand on her cheek, the other one on her hips and he locks them in a kiss. He's not fully certain it works, but it earns him a pleased smile. Baby steps - no pun intended. "So, what did you do?" He know already, coffee date with a bestie, bla bla bla, but he needs to buy himself some time. She tells him anyway and he is pleased to her happy, for the last time in their lives probably. Oh, what a nice journey this has been. He gets lost in the love-filled thoughts that he temporarily forgets about his predicament.

She kisses him gently one more time and flashes a look into the living room. "Look at them, so happy." Fuck, that was quick. It was foolish of him to rely on the fact Y/N might just forget about their kids. "How’s everything going? Did the girls behave?"

Behave. Right. The girls behaved perfectly. It was him who had descended into chaos.

"Yeah! All good on that front. We're a great team!" he responds, maybe too enthusiastically. He is certain this was the last time she's left him alone with the them, until they're able to identify themselves on their own. It was fun while it lasted. The pit of despair in his stomach is growing.

"It makes me so happy to see you all having fun," she says and it's the kind of relaxed smile he hasn't seen on her face for weeks now.

"Honey, do you wanna take a nap or some alone time in the bedroom?," he asks sincerely, casually tangling their hands together. "Looks like some time off suits you." This is not said as a part of his salvage plan. It is actually really nice to see her rested for once. She looks at him sheepishly.

"You're amazing, you know that?" she whispers, several positive emotions written all over her face.

"Keep focused on that," he says before he can stop himself. Fuck once again. He freezes. She winces, her spidey senses on. He glance is averted to the children now.

"Lando, did something happen?" she asks, suddenly worried.

This time Lando looks over at the girls, who are still preocuppied by themselves. "No, all good. Look at them, all content." And mixed up, he thinks, but does not add that.

Y/N does not look conviced and goes over to check up on them herself. He does not stop her. It was bound to happen anyway.

He's an adult. Knows well enough from his high demanding job that fessing up to a mistake is ultimately better than have someone find out. Deep breath in. Here goes everything.

"I don't know which one is which," he says and lets the reality of it sink in. Y/N looks at him with eyes wide out. He continues. "I was changing their diapers, took the socks of and then forgot which one is which. I'm sorry."

She stares at him, then at the girls and right back at him. To add some gravitas to it all, the kids are now playing with both socks. Lando is pretty sure the blood stopped flowing in his veins. He tries to calculate how long it's going to take him to pack his stuff up. Y/N kneels down to level with the girls and smiles at them. Lando's fighting the urge to take a photo, so that he can remember what having a family felt like. Then she picks up the child sitting on her left.

"Hi, Olivia," he mumbles and puts the sock on accordingly. Lando does not compherend. "Hello, Maya," she continues and repeats her action. Has his wife just decided which one is which and moved on? He could have done that minutes ago! He stays silent as he takes careful steps toward his family. Y/N stands up as well and looks at her disheweled husband.

"Olivia's got little tiny dimples," she says simply to provide some explanation.

"What?" is the only response Lando is capable of giving her. She waits with a sneaky smile as he comes over to them and examines the girls one more time. After a moment, he speaks again. "You're lying."

She laughs and dismisses that. "No, I'm not, look." Lando still can't see a damn difference, but decides on believing Y/N. "How do you-"

She shrugs her shoulders. "I guess it's mom instincts." Lando is stunned at how casual she is about this all. Just like that, she goes back to unloading her back to the kitchen. Lando's heartbeat slowly goes down to the normal a human is suppose to have and turn to watch Y/N. When he's sure that she in fact not being sarcastic, does not seem to be mad at him and confirms that he might just have survived this all and gets to keep access to his family, he walks over her to cherish her once again.

"I'm so sorry, I was really trying to avoid doing that," he apologizes, still not quite done being guilty. "I know you were afraid of this."

She turns to him with a smile. "It was bound to happen eventually. I was really worried about that when we came back from the hospital," she glances at the little girls lovingly. "I'm with them so much that I guess I started to see the tiny, miniscule differences. Don't feel bad not doing so," she walks over to him to be the one doing the comforting.

"If you want me to keep them straight, we’re gonna have to tattoo their names on their foreheads. I’m kidding. Kind of."

She chuckles. "Yeah, do that and you are dead."

He shakes his head. "Always dismissing my genius ideas."

"And always will be, honey," she leans over and kisses him. Just like that, the perfect moment is over. Sounds of crying creeping in from the living room. Y/N sighs into their kiss.

Lando looks at his two identical, mischievous daughters, he can’t help but smile. He may not have a clue what he’s doing, but one thing’s for sure. Life with these two is going to be anything but boring.

"Go lie down, honey. I got this," he notes and this time Y/N nods back at him.

[enbyorge]

I have a Secret^TM Stop Crying Sooner (ish) technique, and I will never tell a single person what it is ever.

Why?

Because the second someone even thinks in my general direction about "gUiDiNg mE" through my own freaking thing, it will never work again.

[Oops, I made a rant]

If I'm crying in public, I'm probably losing my mind and definitely absolutely terrified. The only way other people could possibly help is to stay far enough in front of me that I don't think you might try to touch me (or that I could at least get away if you did make that very bad mistake) and ESPECIALLY not go behind me.

Honestly, if I'm crying in public, there's a huge chance my back was touched, and an even bigger chance I either have heard or will hear "tHeY DiDn'T ToUcH yOu oN pUrPoSe!!1!" Which will instantly make me think of that idiocy every time I think of the person who said it for the rest of my life.

Fact: My amygdala doesn't care in the slightest if you MEANT to make it mistake you for an axe murderer. Say sorry if you must, but never mention the incident again. I'm more likely to forget you were even there the day it happened if you just leave it at one perfunctory "sorry" and pretend nothing happened. It probably wasn't actually your fault beyond a completely human level of not noticing the proximity of my back to your elbow/shoulder/whatever.

These incidents would escalate so much less if people just let me stand with my back pressed firmly into a wall for a few minutes until I can get over it on my own. And if it didn't coincide with physically painful (to me) levels of noise.

TLDR: Don't touch someone when you don't know for absolute certain that you, personally, would be acceptable touch to them, personally, in that exact moment, and don't get defensive at people for not instantly deciding you are the most trustworthy person on the planet. No one owes you trust in a panic attack, meltdown, (I hate that term, but that's a me thing.) Etc.

Trust is earned through good behavior while not expecting trust to be given.

Also, if you don't know someone, don't decide to play doctor with their heads. Panic does not justify white-knighting, and the person panicking does not deserve to be your prop to earn cool points.

Grounding techniques don't really work for me especially in public... "five things I can see" I see a bunch of people pissing me off

[tricoloreddango]

I'm really nasty 😞 can I request more Mydei smut, maybe detailing how vocal he is and how he talks the reader through it. 😭 God forgive me.

You and I think alike, anon. Hopefully this fulfills your request. I was writing this on a train ride, but thankfully my space around was empty 😅

Cw: fem reader, marriage, Mydei bends you in half, sex on his throne, oral fem receiving, praise, size kink, possessiveness, semi public, Mydei talks you through it and can’t shut up. Not suitable for minors!

There was an odd, wild idea about Mydei today; even more than usual, when he was suddenly putting you down on his throne, just moments after you were calmly resting on his lap, your tunic being lifted up by your clearly eager husband. Whether it was something that frustrated him today that had Mydei coming to you, something about you filling his head too much today, you couldn’t really complain, even if you felt swallowed by him.

You thought that you were about to be snapped in half, with how much Mydei was forcing your thighs close to your head, folding you in half. Kneeling in front of you seated like this on his crystal throne, he was eating everything between your thighs, growling rather aggressively at your taste. “You’re always so wet for me… I bet you can’t stop thinking about me doing this to you, huh?” he said against your sweet pussy, slurping with his tongue, and latching onto your clit with his lips.

“You can’t keep quiet at all, even when I told you to. It’s as if you want us to get caught,” he said roughly. He’d never let anyone see you like this, maybe slaughter someone who did, when this holy sight was reserved just for him; nor did he want entire place to know, but you were too brain-dead on the pleasure he was giving you, to even think of the consequences of letting others hear. You, instead, were busy with moaning for him and pulling on his orange hair, unable to stay still. It was just his hands on your thighs keeping you from squirming away, supported by his strong arms.

“Mydei, please!” And he couldn’t even try to shut you up, if it meant denying himself of hearing your wanton voice. He groaned with his tongue inside of you, feeling his dick throb at your needy whines. “You taste so good, love… you’re making me crazy like this. So, so weak,” his voice was muffled against your skin, the vibrations making you even more sensitive.

No matter how much you trashed, he brought you to your first pleasure, lapping at every juice you gave him. “Damn it…” he cursed when he looked up at your expression, seeing it twisted and so ruined by him, with tears and daze in your eyes, your lips parted and crying out of him. You were so beautiful like this, and he couldn’t stop obsessing about making you like this everyday. Maybe he should, seeing what a desperate of a wife he made… if you didn’t make him even worse.

He was quickly standing up, letting your legs rest down for a moment, not even bothering to take his pants off and choosing to yank them down. Thankfully, his armor part was abandoned earlier, when he returned.

You felt heat in your abdomen grow, knowing he was going to give you something even much better, to fill you up and shut up your whines for more, or rather, make you do so even harder. He’d take care of you, as always, cause while your husband could be merciless with his enemies, with you, his wife, he felt dutiful and giving. “Please, Mydei, I need you so badly…” you said eagerly. “Fill me up.”

“You really can’t wait… No, you never can…” he mused, his low voice, not any better at hiding his desperation. “Don’t worry, I can never really deny you, no matter how much how I like hearing your begs…” he said roughly. Mydei was well aware, that his mind have been always catching up to the memories of your moans and begs from your nights, just when he’s trying to focus on something else. “My wife won’t walk around starving.”

Mydei was kneeling in front of his throne again, this time lowering your body by your legs to lay your back on the bottom of the seat, and having your head rest against the back, your neck and spine curved to accommodate the position. Your legs dangling down the throne, Mydei threw over his shoulders. You were trembling with anticipation, whimpering impatiently, when he grabbed his cock to spread his wetness with his tip stirring against your wet hole’s entrance.

“Hush, you insatiable woman…” he teased, only to grunt hard when he finally pushing himself inside of you. You were so eager for him, that stretching you even with his thick girth was easy today—you just couldn’t stop enjoying seeing your husband so eager, unable to stop himself from pouncing on you. Mydei had to grab onto your thighs again, feeling suffocated by your heart and tightness. “There we go, so full of your husband… so beautiful for me,” he groaned, and was not wasting any time to start roughly thrusting into you, not leaving any space inside of your walls empty. Mydei was even more motivated, when you were falling into moaning for him quickly, and way too loudly for your surroundings again. No one would dare to walk in without knocking, but hearing…

“So good…” you whined out. “I can’t… you’ll break me,” you cried out, your eyes rolling back.

Something twisted shone in his orange eyes at your words, making him thrust even faster and deeper. “No, I won’t break you… but I’ll make sure it’s just me on your pretty mind,” Mydei exclaimed with a sense of ownership, liking the idea of your mind being dumbed with thoughts of your husband, and no other man. Devoted just the same way he was devoting himself to you. “I really wished a way you could see yourself like this, how beautiful you are… maybe next time, I’ll take you in front of the mirror,” he said, awfully content at the idea. Your pussy was too, when you suddenly squeezed on him, and Mydei latched onto your calves roughly to pull you even closer to his hips. “Yeah? You’d want that?”

The throne was shaking at this point.

With your legs still over his shoulders, Mydei forced them around his hips for even better angle, and leaned forward to kiss you hungrily, along to rub your clit, to help you reach your peak. He tasted your tongue, smacked your lips and devoured them with his, humming when you moaned right against his mouth, making his digit circle faster and his hips to be meaner. Each harsh thrust, was making your pussy gather a pressure, that was growing and soon would snap and release in another wave of intense pleasure.

Mydei withdrew from your lips, looking below at where his fat cock was pushing himself inside of you, disappearing, and leaving no space unstreched, forcing your lips to part for him. “What’s wrong, my love? Too big for you? No… I know you love me splitting you like this,” Mydei admitted the truth for you, one you knew to the core. Nothing would ever make you feel fulfilled like he does, ever again. Taking him wasn’t easy, but Mydei always made sure to make you ready for him, with the end result always so worth the long wait. “Yes… love it so much… so big,” you blabbered, and you were making him so proud like this—thinking only about your Mydei, your husband, just like he wanted it to be.

“Do you feel how deep inside I am?” he asked in appreciation, before placing his other hand on your tummy to press. You trashed under his palm, feeling him even more right there, protesting as you felt so overwhelmed yet so good. “I’m sure you do. You take me so well, I cannot stop spoiling you like this…” he praised, before falling back into sequence of groans and grunts, when as in result of his previous actions, your legs brought him closer around his hips, forcing him even deeper into you.

Just the way he had to busy his face into your neck next, you knew he was getting close too, ready to fill you up with his load, making you even more swollen of him. Mydei just couldn’t control himself with you, that he had to rest himself here, almost embarrassed of letting you see him so much differently than an everyday warrior. You let him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, as he pounded into you and vocalized against your ear, digging your nails into his skin and leaving him even more crazy on you. His balls slapped against you, adding to the animality of the scene.

“Mydei, I’m so close, please, fill me up…” you said desperately, scratching him slightly and making his hips momentarily falter, before mad again. “I will, my pretty. You’ll take it all, won’t you? You’ll come for your dear husband, and let him fill you up like he should,” he inquired, looking up at your face again. You nodded furiously, making him smile in pride, before he sped up for the last time and spent up himself inside of your walls, making you feel even fuller and warmer. He gripped onto your sides furiously, spilling curses and rough grumbles, feeling as if you were trying to kill him, when your pussy was twitching madly from your orgasm. The high pitched strangled moan you let out, was echoing across the empty room.

Mydei kept his hips pressed tightly against yours, having you filled entirely, as he wasn’t ready to let anything spill yet. He rested over your body, its heaviness crashing you comforting, letting you both catch your breaths. He wouldn’t think a battle is more breathtaking than doing this with you.

Soon, with much more gentleness than before, Mydei was lifting you up into his arms, leaning towards your face to press a kiss against your forehead, before he was carrying you to let you both take a nice bath.

[star2fishmeg]

domestic things w luke 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 like preparing dinner together, doing skincares, movie nightsss 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 im crying i need it

18:30, dinner:

"Luke! Who's watching the stove?" you complain, cutting vegetables while he nuzzles into your neck, peppering the skin with kisses and sliding his hands underneath your shirt.

"It's fine, angel. It's under control," he mutters, lips moving against your column and placing a wet kiss before standing straight and taking out two plates from the cabinet above, "do you not like my attention?"

He places the plates next to the stove, checking the pasta for real just so he can say he did. Both of you are capable of making a better meal, but it's just the two of you and neither has the energy to go through the prep so pasta and vegetables were settled on, however, you think he only settled on it so you can watch a movie faster. Plus, Luke wasn't really helping, his idea of being your sous-chef involves neck kisses, wandering hands and FaceTiming his friends.

"No, not when the stove's on and I have a knife in my hand." You roll your eyes playfully, finishing the last broccoli and brushing the diced veg to the end of the cutting board. "But any other time, you can be okay."

"So mean to me." He pouts, lowering the temperature on the hob. He slides back over to you, hands settling on your hips and lips planting chaste kisses on your cheek and neck once again. "How long's that veg gonna take?"

"Five minutes," you simply say, pouring the veg into a saucepan, turning the heat up and letting it boil. You spin around, Luke's hands still on you and he smiles. "Hi."

"Hi, baby," he mutters, his thumbs soothing over your hips. He's too cute when he smiles at you like that, soft, wide eyes with loose curls, licking his lips slightly, "wanna do this with you forever. Can I kiss you now?"

His eyes glimmer, hands sliding to your waist as he pulls you to his chest. You slide your hands up his chest, soothing over the muscles and you nod, closing your eyes until his lips gently slot with yours. He hums, arms winding around your middle as lips move against one another.

Abruptly, he pulls back, moving you to one side in a hurry and turning the hob down. Panic rushes over you, heart racing only to find your dinner had just boiled over. With a grin, you giggle when he huffs out a relieved breath before giggling with you.

20:00, skincare:

You always think he looks adorable when he sits on the toilet seat so you can reach his face, looking up at you with glossy eyes with his hair pushed back by one of your headbands. He's never had much of a skincare routine, and he doesn't have the time for anything extensive but then again, you don't believe a multi-step, multi-product routine is needed for some people.

You stand between his legs, your own hair pushed back by a headband too, a cleansing wipe in your hand while holding his jaw in the other.

"When will you do this by yourself?" you ask, endeared, wiping his face with the wipe. You don't mind doing it for him, it's rather sweet that he lets you do it in the first place.

"Never," his hands creep under your shirt, caressing along your waist, skin feeling dewy and clean, "feels nice when you do it. Why does my skin always look better when you look after me? S'like you have a magic touch."

You toss the wipe away, his hands never leaving your waist as you squeeze moisturiser into your hands, "Because you're sweaty all the time and it clogs your pores, baby. You need to clean them, less breakouts."

"Is it unattractive when I break out? Like, does it gross you out?" You can tell he's genuinely worried about it by the way his voice is quieter and how his eyes track your every move.

"Absolutely not, Lu," you rub and tap the cream onto his cheeks along to his nose, forehead and chin, "I still love you either way. It's just a pimple or two, nothin' deep. S'normal. Does it gross you out when I break out?"

"No..." he mumbles, seeing your point and letting go of you. He watches you turn to the mirror and wipe your own face, entranced by your lack of concern about your appearance when with him, stripped down to the bare yet he still thinks you're beautiful and you're comfortable enough for him to see every blemish. He thinks for a moment about how well he's proven that he loves you enough for you to feel safe with him.

It's not like you haven't noticed him staring from the corner of your eye, in all honesty, you think it's sweet how he sits in a trance, watching, learning, admiring.

"You want a pore strip, Snoops?" your voice catches him by surprise and he blankly blinks, watching you apply a pore strip over your nose.

"Will it prevent me from making out with you?"

"Nope, that's a facemask, this just goes over your nose." You smile, waving an unopened one in front of his face.

"Then put it on me, baby." He closes his eyes and waits, smiling when you dab his nose with a damp sponge and apply the strip, pressing firmly and kissing his forehead.

21:00, movie night:

You can't ever truly concentrate on a film, not while cuddled with Luke and especially not while watching in his bed. You're tucked under his arm, head resting on his chest with one leg over his lap, his hand caressing along your thigh while the other slides under the waistband of your shorts. He's still wearing your headband from earlier, curls pushed back off his face with a couple too short to hold and falling over his forehead. He looks cute, even cuter holding you to his body like you're his teddy bear.

He finds it hard to concentrate as well. Your hand soothing over his chest sets goosebumps running down his spine, the way your skin is touching and transferring heat only enticing him into shifting his gaze from the TV to your lips.

But if there's one thing that drives you up the wall when watching movies with him, is that Luke will talk his ass off through one if he's excited about it. Secretariat's his favourite movie, and you'd think if he loved it so much, he'd want to watch it again, but instead, he's giving you a running commentary and you can't hear a thing, and he's refusing to put subtitles on.

"Oh, I love this part!" he mumbles in excitement, eyes lighting up.

"You said that ten minutes ago..."

"Baby, no. I mean it this time, look!"

He acts like your eyes haven't left the screen, lips pulling into a grin. His excitement is endearing, and your heart warms seeing him into something other than hockey. He's so excited that his hand slides up your waist, hoisting you further up his body so your faces are almost level. You almost think he's going to continue watching, but you're miserably mistaken as he keeps chatting, explaining the backstory and inspiration for the film at the same time you're trying to listen.

In an exhale, your hand cups his cheek and you turn his face to look at you. Your gaze burns into his but you're not mad, it's an endeared and adoring gaze that shimmers under the glow of the TV.

"Shut up, Lu." You press your lips to his, fingers sliding into the back of his curls as mouths slowly and sensually move with each other, his hand on your thigh kneading at your skin and the other flat, gliding up your back, thumb rubbing your skin. He melts into you, humming at the high he gets when kissing you, stomach flipping as his desperation becomes obvious. With every second you disconnect for air, he dives back in for another languid and wet kiss, completely forgetting about the movie in the first place. You're all he's concentrating on now.

Animated divider belongs to @/cafekitsune

[duskanddaydreams]

Songbirds Serenade

The night I heard my mother cry for the first time

I was only nine.

"Betty Jones, Mama doesn't cry"—

That's what you had told me every night

The night I saw my mother's tainted golden hue skin for the first time

I was only nine.

"Corsets, baby. I ain't born a sexy little thing"—

That's what you had told me every time

The night I saw my mother choking on the smoke for the first time

I was only nine.

"Betty Jones, you gotta cook when you gotta cook"—

That's what you had told me each night

Almost as if singing—

Songbirds serenading.

The night I fell asleep waiting for my father

I was only nine.

"Babygirl, Daddy's gotta work. Who'll feed you otherwise?"—

That's what you had told me every night

The night I asked my father what dreams were

I was only nine.

"A rich husband, that's for you, baby. For your brother, perhaps an ivy league"—

That's what you had told me each night

The night I asked for a birthday present

I was only nine.

You got me a princess doll, looking pretty.

Never matter that the one with the sword remained on the shelf, forgotten—

Like a songbird mocking the serenade.

The night I won a game with my brother for the first time

I was only nine.

"I let you win, Betty. Men always win"—

That's what you had told me every night

The night I saw you all rugged up from a fistfight, battered and bruised— and I had asked you: 'Does it hurt?'

I was only nine.

"I'm not a sissy like you, Betty"—

That's what you had told me every night

The night I drew you a pink flower

I was only nine.

"Flower are for girls. Pink is for Missies. Don't you know that, Betty Jones?"—

That's what you had told me when you rejected my love tokon for the very first time

As if like a songbird—

Crying songs of melancholy.

I was only nine then

Now I'm twenty-nine

And I look for love at all the wrong places—

Like a dying songbird with no one left to serenade.

My husband gets me flowers—but it doesn't make me happy, brother.

I got a rich husband, Daddy— just as you wished. Got children too. But does it matter?

The corsets kill me, Mama. You never said it ain't easy to be a pretty little thing. Why didn't you?

When I finally sleep, Mama

Don't resurrect me like Lazarus—

For my children are better off without me

For I'll teach my daughter and my son too—

The same old things.

That boys ain't crybabies. That girls needn't dream.

I'll serenade them too—

Like choking little songbirds born out of you.

For flowers never bloom on wastelands

And the world is far too bloodthirsty to ever notice the dead ones—

So Mama, please let me sleep.

(This is an original piece. Please do not repost without credit. Thank you.)

✞ 666 ✞

[k1mbe3rly]

Hii, I was wondering if you could do a yandere se-mi headcannons/story?💕🫶

real.

Yandere Se-mi headcannons

warnings: kills, NSFW, ⚠️WLW STRAP⚠️

Yandere! Se-mi who will obsess over you and constantly stalking you and watching your every move, and will go to great lengths to keep you to herself.

Yandere! Se-mi who slowly becomes extremely possessive and jealous, lashing out at anyone who she perceives as a threat to yalls relationship

Yandere! Se-mi who will try to control every aspect of the your life, from who you talk to, to what you do and where you go.

Yandere! Se-mi who does emotional manipulation to control you and what you’re interested in, using techniques like guilt-tripping and gaslighting to make things go her way.

Yandere! Se-mi who becomes violent if she feels like you’re trying to break away from her or if she feels like she is losing control of the relationship.

“Why haven’t you came over in 2 days? what the hell is going on huh?! fucking cheating on me you slut?!”

Than proceeds to fuck you harshly while her hands are wrapped around your throat, tightening and softening her hands around it.

Yandere! Se-mi who buys many airtags and places it in your purse, and car., she also buys small cameras and places them around your house when your fucked out on the bed and can’t even move after she fucked you

Yandere! Se-mi who follows you thru malls, grocery stores and even when your with your friends, she also makes sure when you tell her your with your family that your actually with your family

Yandere! Se-mi who forces you to give you all her passwords to anywhere you can communicate with other people snapchat, instagram, facebook, messenger, and twitter

“Who the fuck is ‘Jun hee’ talking about her baby daddy isn’t myung gi?”

Yandere! Se-mi who records you getting fucked by her strap and moaning and crying for her as she pinches and pulls your nipples a bit than proceeds to send it to anyone who flirts with you

Yandere! Se-mi who drags you to a public bathroom only for you to get yelled out and fingered roughly

“Why is your ‘Childhood friend’ looking at you like that hm? the second we get home i want you to block them okay baby? Your mine. Cum on my fingers baby, Do what i say..”

Yandere! Se-mi who notices one boy who keeps texting you and even visited your job after she got a notification from your account with him texting you

“I’m glad I got to see you, wanna do that again some time?”

Yandere! Se-mi who know believes you cheated on her, so not only she goes and finds the guy and kills him brutually but goes to you with bloody hands and fingers you with his blood on her hands

Yandere! Se-mi who is fucking with you with the strap roughly as tears filled your eyes moaning loudly, she’s gripping on your hips hard enough to leave a bruise as she said soemthing that immediately turned you off

“Fuck! you know you kinda sound like that one boy i murdered for you” she said smirking as she wanted to see your reaction

Yandere! Se-mi who notices you stopped moaning and stared at her in fear as she kept thrusting into you, eventually she stopped

“What did you say..?” you spoke to her, “Nothing baby you just look so sexy right now..” she whispered to you, “No i heard what you said..what do you mean? did you actually kill someone Se-mi?!” you yelled out, “He was stealing what’s mine.”

Yandere! Se-mi who watches you cry in fear as she threatens that if you ever leave she’ll kill you too but deep down she won’t cause she just loves you so much

Yandere! Se-mi who has to strangle you down after you tried running for the front door

“Are you serious? your being so ungrateful! fucking went out of my way and murdered that stupid slut for you! and this is how you reward me?”

Yandere! Se-mi who ties you up teases you until you can’t take it

“Tell me you’ll stay with me. Tell me you won’t leave me and i’ll let you cum and even untie you”

“I’ll stay you! i promise! Just please i can’t take it anymore! I’ll be with you forever!” you cried out sobbing as she smirks, that night you had the biggest orgasm and find yourself crying silently on the bed as she cuddles you

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

THIS WAS A PRANK?!

drew starkey x fem!reader

(mood board does NOT depict readers’ appearance !!)

SUMMARY: y/n pulls her family into a trending prank where you pretend to embarrass your partner in front of your family…i wonder how drew reacts?

based on this ask!! i really hope you enjoy this @xoxosblogsblog , and i hope it’s what you asked for <3

WARNINGS: i think maybe one curse word?, just pure fluff really, me crying because i used ‘mom’ instead of mum because they’re american </3 (lmk if i missed anything!)

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

SECOND PERSON +

Drew always tried his best to make a good impression on your parents. Even after three years of dating you, meeting them countless times, and attending every family barbecue or holiday dinner you invited him to, Drew still got a little nervous around them. You found it sweet, honestly—how this confident, charming actor, adored by fans worldwide, could still feel the need to impress your mom and dad.

You were currently spending the week at your parents' house, a cozy rural home in Vermont that felt like a world away from the bustling chaos of Los Angeles where you and Drew lived.

Drew had taken the week off from filming to join you, and so far, everything had been going smoothly. That was, until you saw a TikTok prank trend earlier that morning.

The prank was simple: embarrass your partner in front of your family by saying outrageous things and watch them squirm. You couldn't resist. Drew had pulled plenty of pranks on you in the past, and this felt like the perfect opportunity for some playful payback.

While Drew was in the shower, you shared your plan with your parents.

"Are you sure he's going to find it funny?" your mom asked, trying not to laugh.

"Oh, he will," you grinned. "Eventually. After he panics a little bit."

Your dad chuckled. "I'm in. But I'm not holding back—I'll really sell it."

Your mom rolled her eyes fondly. "You two are terrible."

"We'll keep it harmless," you promised.

By the time Drew emerged from the shower, fresh and smiling in a casual hoodie and jeans, you were ready to set your plan in motion.

The four of you were gathered around the dining table, enjoying your mom's homemade lasagna—a dish Drew had raved about during every visit. You decided to start small.

"You know," you said casually, "Drew actually told me he doesn't like your cooking, Mom. He says it's too... plain."

Your mom froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. "Really?" she asked, her tone clipped.

Drew's head whipped toward you so fast you thought he might get whiplash. His eyes widened. "What? No! That's not true at all! I love your cooking!"

"Hmm," your mom said, narrowing her eyes. "That's funny, because you always seem to clean your plate."

"Exactly!" Drew said quickly, holding up his hands. "I do, because it's amazing! I don't know what Y/N's talking about. I would never say that!"

You bit back a grin and focused on your lasagna, mumbling, "If you say so."

Drew shot you a bewildered look, his brow furrowing. You could tell he wanted to press you on it, but he let it go—for now.

Later that evening, the four of you were in the living room watching a football game. Your dad had always been a big fan, and Drew had made it a point to bond with him over it.

"He doesn't actually like football, Dad," you said offhandedly during a commercial break. "He told me it's boring."

The room went silent.

"What?" your dad asked, turning to Drew with a stern expression.

"No, no, no!" Drew stammered, his cheeks flushing. "I never said that! I love football! We've watched games together! We’re both huge fans of the Kansas City Chiefs!"

"You mean the team you pretended to like just to get on my good side?" your dad said, raising an eyebrow.

Drew looked like a deer caught in headlights. "No, I swear, I really like them! I even looked up their stats before we came here so I could keep up!"

Your dad folded his arms, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "I thought we had something, Drew."

"I—Mr. Y/L/N—I mean, sir—I promise, I'm not lying!" Drew's voice grew more frantic, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

When your dad turned back to the game with a dramatic sigh, Drew leaned over to you. "What's going on?" he whispered.

You shrugged innocently. "I don't know what you mean."

The final straw came later that night when you were all sitting around the kitchen island, enjoying dessert.

"Mom," you said with a sigh, "Drew said he's still hungry. He wants you to make him something else."

Drew nearly choked on his forkful of pie. "What?! No, I didn't!"

Your mom gave him a sweet but pointed smile. "Well, Drew, if you don't like the pie, I suppose I could whip something else up for you."

"I love the pie!" Drew insisted, looking panicked. "I never said that! Y/N, why are you doing this?"

You shrugged again, fighting the urge to burst out laughing.

When your parents finally went their separate ways—your dad retreating to the living room and your mom heading upstairs to fold laundry—Drew cornered you in the kitchen.

"Okay," he said, crossing his arms. "What is going on?"

"What do you mean?" you asked, feigning innocence.

"Don't give me that," he said, narrowing his eyes. "You've been throwing me under the bus all day. First the cooking thing, then football, now this? I swear I didn't say any of those things!"

You tilted your head, pretending to think. "Hmm, maybe you did, and you just don't remember."

"Y/N," Drew said firmly, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice now. "Are you messing with me?"

Before you could answer, your parents reappeared in the doorway, both looking serious.

"We need to talk," your dad said, crossing his arms.

Drew paled. "About what?"

"About all these things Y/N's been saying," your mom added. "We just want to know if there's something you need to get off your chest."

"I—I don't know what she's talking about!" Drew stammered, his hands flailing as he tried to explain himself. "I love your cooking, Ms. Y/L/N and sir, I love football, and I would never ask you to make me more food! I swear!"

That was it. You couldn't hold it in any longer. You burst out laughing, doubling over as tears streamed down your face. Your mom quickly followed, and even your dad cracked a smile.

Drew stared at you all, realisation dawning on his face. "Wait... this was a prank?!"

"It was a TikTok trend!" you gasped, clutching your stomach. "I had to try it!"

Your mom patted Drew on the shoulder. "We're sorry, Drew. It was all in good fun."

He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "I can't believe you all ganged up on me."

"You've pulled worse pranks on me," you reminded him, wiping your eyes.

"Fair point," he admitted, pulling you into a playful headlock. "But don't think you're getting away with this. I'm going to get you back."

"I'd like to see you try," you teased, grinning up at him.

As Drew laughed along with your parents, you couldn't help but think how lucky you were to have someone who fit so seamlessly into your family—even if he was already plotting his revenge.

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such an adorable one :’)) i really hope you enjoyed it my lovely !!

i’m still trying to figure out a master list, so fingers crossed i’ll have it up tonight !! but for now, you can click on my personalised tags to access my fics <3

likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated !! <3

[grimmweepers]

— ☆ contents: dealing with dragon!form zhongli who possesses cat-like behaviours. human reader. dragon husband. sfw. fluff. established relationship. might be a little ooc. this is very unserious. 0.6k. | masterlist (i’m a dark content blog so mdni).

Dragon!Zhongli who acts much like an affectionate housecat despite his towering size and the magnitude of his status.

He, who is so comfortable around his human partner that he isn't afraid to bear his dragon form day-to-day, lest his cat-like behaviours (endearing as they are) go unnoticed.

Every time you run your fingers through the silk of his dark locks or scratch at the base of his horns, that's when it starts. A deep, soothing vibration beneath his scaled chest. The low rumble is almost hypnotic as his amber eyes drift closed, lulling him (and yourself) into a state of ease. If you remain watchful, you'll catch the corners of his lips curl ever-so-slightly upwards.

You can’t help but giggle because you know it’s not quite purring, but it might as well be.

Dragon!Zhongli whose tail is as much part of his personality as his deep voice and eloquent spiels. First and foremost, that thing is unapologetically heavy. When he’s in a good mood, it swishes around lazily, thumping against the furniture or brushing against your legs as he walks by.

Once it knocked over an entire stack of books and while you were busy laughing, he just sighed and said, “An unfortunate accident.” But if he’s feeling especially affectionate? Even worse. That's when you really have to watch out. It possessively curls around you and suddenly you’re dealing with the weight of a solid tail pulling you closer to him. You’ve almost toppled over a few times because of it.

“Careful, Zhongli,” you’ll tell him. “You might end up sweeping me off my feet.” Then he chuckles at you, tail tightening around your waist just a smidge.

That’s the idea, of course.

Dragon!Zhongli who feigns annoyance every time you act on your favourite habit: lifting his lips to inspect his fangs.

They’re a far cry from the tiny, delicate teeth of a cat, which is the only other creature you’ve subjected to this odd little inspection but that makes them even more fascinating.

"Must you do this every time?" he asks, lips pulling back just enough for you to admire them. They were sharp, pristine, and unsettlingly perfect. Enough to crack a bone with a single snap of his jaw but it was the same mouth he kissed you with. You never got used it.

"I'm lucky you’ve never nicked me with these," you’ll tease, brushing your finger along the largest fang.

Zhongli's responses are always the same: a long exhale as if you've just asked him to recite every contract he's ever known (which he could btw), followed by, “You’re enamoured with the oddest things.” But he lets you do it anyway. His words begin lose a bit of their weight when his tail slowly starts swaying behind him, exposing that he’s enjoying it more than he lets on.

And no one will ever believe you when you tell them how he is when he's feeling playful. It's a rarity but he'll nudge you gently with his horns as a display of affection and if you don't respond right away, he'll flick his tail at you. Not hard but enough for you to look his way.

Pay attention to me, it seems to say.

It’s mischievous, even if for a moment. Then you’ll catch a glint in his eye while he pretends to be all composed, but truly, he finds it amusing how he easily this form could be used as a weapon against you when he warrants his own needs.

The mighty dragon, who can command the earth itself, is stripped of his grandeur when you're around, replaced by a creature who wants nothing more than to be with you in the simplest way. And if you mention it, he’ll give you that look of half exasperation and half fondness before pulling you closer and acting like it’s purely your fault he’s such a softie with you.

a/n: if it wasn’t obvious already, i am a cat person (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

[nerissamaes]

My parent's memory sits outside my own.

At holidays I make innocuous comments- Things about the past, Truths from the scars I bear, Always forgetting scars to me look like badges of good parenting to them.

I forget often. They reconsider their memory, Adjust and re-pin their badges falteringly, Which never fails to reprimand me.

My shattered expectations of honest conversation are not-so-phantom pains To match the flashes of abuse that drip from the tears their re-pinnings have to cause Interspersed with I don’t remember thats.

I don’t remember thats are cover-ups: Bandages over their own badges, An unfaithful reconciliation of their own parents I don’t remember thats.

Remembering my grandma’s flinching demeanor around my opa makes me wonder: How many layers of bandages, Crusty, flaking, barely sticking, and oozing Are those that my parents are applying?

I think I have the answer. When I give my dad a piece of his own medicine: Slam his hands out of my face, Force him to see my scars for what they are: He cries.

He doesn’t cry for me. He cries for himself. He cries for the dog his dad killed in front of him. For every single punch he took for his brother. For a sister who anorexia almost took by his mother’s hand. For every little thing that oozes through his I don’t remember thats that I don’t remember, And for those he bears alone.

He cries that I can’t be abused, That he was abused, He cries for the injustice of badges his parents can’t see as scars. The scars spell out he wants to be better And he cries for the scar he’s just added himself.

I cry too, not for my I don’t remember thats, But for all the things I remember, For all the scars he and my mother left. I cry for him.

I cry for the man zealous at the altar of being better, Misunderstanding the tenants of his own religion Misunderstanding that bandages are insular: That bandages don’t heal. Bandages hide.

I cry for the man who wounded his “daughter” so deeply at this altar The scars will never really go away, no matter how much they want them to. I cry for a man who is an awful father But by all accounts was better And will never get the daughter that he wanted to be better for.

My parent's memory is slowly getting closer to mine. With my dad's admission Each adjustment to their pins is shakier And the bandages fall away a little more; The sunlight gradually gains more and fades with time.

I want desperately to be the daughter he wants to get better for. But the only way to do that is to meld their pins to my person- To accept these bandages as my second skin. I don’t remember thats can’t help them get better, Can’t help us get better, And I know that - they’ve shown me that.

So with every holiday, with every question, Some innocuous and asked by chance, Some placed with purposeful severity, I painfully force the bandages to deteriorate.

I will never be the daughter my father wanted, Not for him and not for myself. I believe that he can be the better he wanted to be, That my mom can be the better she wanted to be- I hope my parents can be the good parents they wanted to be, Even though I’m too old for it to matter for me. This is the scar I bear for myself. This is the scar that I cry for the most.

when the objectively bad person has traumatic and honestly reasonable reasons for why theyre like that but it doesnt excuse their actions and only serves to make them more tragic as a character

[themultifanshipper]

Dom lando convincing Oscar to try different types of sex toys and lando loving it as much as Oscar and maybe I could see Oscar being a size queen just loving being filled either by lando or dildos like big bigggg ones

The first time Lando suggested it, he'd been joking. 

But the look on Oscar's face, and the fact that he came prematurely as soon as the words were out of Lando's mouth, told Lando everything he needed to know about what Oscar thought of the idea. 

Warnings:  smut, fingering, fisting, using big-ass dildos, blowjob, crying, Lando being a bit mean

Lando was big.  

Not in like, a ‘I have a big dick and an ego to match’ way, but he was fucking big. 

And he was actually quite shy about it, because sometimes it could make sex quite difficult if his partners weren't prepped thoroughly. 

Sometimes he bottomed just to avoid the conversation and hassle. Which he did enjoy, but he preferred to be the top.  

And a rather dominant top at that. 

So when Oscar mentioned to him offhandedly that he could take anything, he had to see for himself. 

They ended up in bed together several times before the afore mentioned incident. 

Oscar was a noisy bottom, and Lando had been getting a bit too into the prepping part and had decided to go up to four fingers and make Oscar come like that. 

And he jokingly said something along the lines of “What if I put all my fingers in? I bet I could get my whole fist inside you.” 

And, well. Oscar came without uttering a single word about it. But he didn't need to. 

Lando got his dick in him as soon as he could and that was the end of the conversation. 

Until the next day when he brought it up again, in the conference room of all places. 

Oscar choked on his coffee and stared daggers at Lando. Thank god they were the only ones in there. 

Long story short, that very night was the first time Lando got a whole fist in Oscar, and they both came completely untouched. 

But Lando was nothing if not greedy. He wanted more. 

He wanted to see how much Oscar could really take. 

And Oscar was insatiable in nature so he readily agreed to Lando's antics. 

Every few weeks he would come home and find Lando sitting there with an unopened amazon box. 

He never opened them on his own. He would always wait for Oscar to come home and open it, because he wanted to see the hungry look in his eyes when he saw each toy for the first time. 

Dildo number four made his eyes widen and his mouth water. 

It was a good 3 inches wide, and made Lando's cock look like a tooth pick, no offense. 

That night they did their usual ritual. 

Oscar had been wearing a big plug for a few hours to help with the prep. 

Lando grabbed a bottle of lube (they had about 30 bottles, because they were on sale and they used a lot of lube, sue them) and squirted a generous amount on one of the previously bought dildos. 

Oscar sank down on it like a pro, whining at the stretch as Lando held his hips steady so he wouldn't topple over. 

He didn't take long to start riding it, sweat already dampening his hairline as his toned thighs bounced his weight up and down. 

Lando was in awe, as usual. 

He watched as Oscar took it further and further down, moaning like a slut the whole time. It made his dick throb. 

Pretty soon it wasn't enough, and Oscar sank all the way down to the base and huffed. 

“Okay, I'm ready.” He panted. 

Lando nodded, helping him off and putting him on his hands and knees. 

“Spread your legs as far as you can” he muttered excitedly, using as much lube as he could. 

He needed Oscarwet. 

He took a second to admire Oscar, bent over and back arched, hole already gaping slightly. 

“Are you gonna put it in or do I have to do it myself?” 

Lando chuckled, placing the tip against Oscar’s rim. 

“As usual, tell me if anything feels wrong or painful” 

Oscar sighed. “Yes Lando, now put it in me” 

“What's the magic word?”  

“I will fucking leave” 

“Okay, okay” 

He put a bit of pressure on the dildo, making Oscar's rim stretch around it. 

When the head finally popped in, Oscar whimpered pathetically into the sheets. 

“Oh fuck, more” 

Lando laughed, grabbing the lube to squirt some more on the dildo before pushing it in a bit more. 

The man under him let out a bone rattling groan and that encouraged him to push another couple of inches in. 

He pumped it in and out shallowly for a minute, then added a couple more inches. 

Oscar was drooling onto the sheets as he felt the fullness inside him.

“Lando” he panted. “Lando, please. More” 

Lando obliged, and before long, he had almost pushed the whole thing in. Given the size of the damn thing, there was no way his prostate wasn't being constantly stimulated.

“Oscar… fuck. You're doing so good for me, just a little more...”  

He pumped it in and out some more, making Oscar keen and writhe beneath him. 

“Lando! Lando fuck- I'm gonna come!” he whined. 

Lando grinned, he thrusted it faster and harder. 

“Go on then baby, come for me” 

Oscar's body jolted, shockwaves traveling up his spine as he shot ropes of cum across the sheets under him. 

Lando slowly stilled his movements, letting Oscar ride out his intense orgasm. 

Now, up until this point, you could think that Lando wasn't particularly dominant. Just sort of, there, guiding Oscar more than anything. 

You would be wrong. 

The next step was what Lando was truly looking forward to. 

He put the already dirty sheet on the floor, next to the bed. 

“Osc?” 

Oscar gave him an exhausted thumbs up from where he was laying on the bed, the dildo still half way inside him. 

“You're not done yet, baby, come over here” 

He gently pulled the dildo out of his lover, and placed it upright on the floor. 

“You think you can ride it for me?” 

Oscar nodded, crawling over to him on the bed, giving him a quick kiss before standing up and crouching over it. He put his hands on Lando's thighs to stabilise himself.

He sank down on it slowly, head thrown back and his long nails digging into Lando's flesh painfully. 

But Lando didn't care, he was entranced by the way Oscar was stretched around something bigger than his fucking arm.

He managed to sink down about three quarters of the way before he gasped. 

“Jesus, the feeling is much different with this angle” 

One of Lando’s hands went to cup Oscar's jaw, pressing into his cheeks harshly. 

“I want to see you take it. All of it” he snapped.

Oscar whimpered when Lando pushed his thumb into his mouth to press on his tongue. 

Oscar obeyed, sinking further down, inch by inch until his ass met his heels. 

“Good boy”  

A bead of precum leaked from Oscar's tip at the praise, and he lifted his hips slightly only to drop them back down, moaning around Lando's thumb as he did so. 

It wasn't long before he got into a rhythm with his hips, and Lando grabbed him by the hair to bring him closer to his own leaking cock. 

“Give it a kiss” he said, and Oscar looked up at him with wide eyes. 

“Go on, you haven't touched it all night. Least you can do is kiss it”  

There it was. Lando's slightly sadistic side. 

Oscar knew better than to argue. 

He kissed the tip, then made his way to the base, placing soft kisses along the skin. 

Lando sighed at finally being touched. “Good, now open your mouth for me” 

Oscar stuck his tongue out for good measure, and wasn't surprised in the least when Lando tapped his cock on it a few times before sinking into the wet heat of his mouth. 

Because Oscar was a size queen, and it didn't just apply to his ass. 

His gag reflex was non-existent, and he adored the feeling of his mouth being stretched around Lando's thick girth. 

“You look so fucking good Osc. You were made to be fucking filled up, weren't you? Stuffed full of cock all day…” 

Being filled from both ends is what really did it for Oscar, so that plus Lando's filthy commentary drove him wild, and it didn't take long before he was whining around it as he came all over himself, eyes rolling into the back of his skull. 

Lando had been on edge for the better part of an hour, so the sight of that alone was enough to send him over himself, rocking his cock in and out of Oscar's mouth as the absolute whore swallowed it all. 

Lando pulled out and let go of his tight hold on Oscar's hair. 

“Now, you're going to do one last thing for me Osc. You're gonna come again...” 

The younger man looked up at him with wide eyes, incredulous at the order. 

"I don't know that I can come again Lando. That took everything out of me“ 

“You can, and you will…” 

He sat back on the bed, leaning on his arm as he took in the sight of his teammate. 

Flushed from his chest up to his cheeks, cock soft where it was hanging between his thighs. 

“I want you to bounce on that dildo, and get yourself off while I watch” 

Lando had a goal in mind. He wanted to see Oscar come dry. 

He'd only done so once before, and it was a beautiful sight. 

Oscar cried, tears streaming down his face while he could do nothing but ride the waves of his orgasm in pure bliss. 

He wanted to see that again. 

And the sheet below Oscar was absolutely soaked, so he had a feeling it would only take one more. 

Oscar looked at him defiantly and raised his hips. 

When he dropped back down, he couldn't help but let out a low moan, and his cock twitched. 

Lando motioned towards it. 

“Go on, give it a tug. You’re gonna have to do better than that if you want to get off” 

Oscar wrapped a hand around himself, letting out a breath at the contact. 

He hadn't been touched either tonight and he found himself quickly hardening again at the new stimulation. 

His thighs burned as he bounced, hand almost a blur where he was desperately fisting his cock. 

He had tears in his eyes and was moaning freely while looking at Lando with the most torn expression on his face. 

It felt good, too good. He was so overstimulated it bordered on pain, but he kept going. 

“Lando” he whined “help me, please. Talk to me” 

Lando groaned at the almost broken sounds coming out of the younger man. 

“You want me to talk to you, baby? Want me to tell you what a good boy you're being?” 

Oscar nodded desperately. 

“Well, too bad. It's been what, five minutes? And you still haven't come yet. You're such a whore you can't even get yourself off on your own anymore. Fucking pathetic. Worthless sluts like you don’t deserve to be touched, do they? No, so be a good boy for once and fucking. Come.” 

Oscar screeched as he felt his entire body burn with pleasure. His hips stuttered and his hand pumped his cock a couple more times. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” 

His poor cock throbbed, but only a drop or two of cum dribbled out, dripping down his angry red tip as he cried out. 

Lando got what he wanted. Oscar had tears staining his cheeks as he whimpered pathetically, slumping forwards and panting against the side of the bed. 

Lando helped him off the dildo, laying him down on his back, on the bed with his legs spread. 

Lando looked at where Oscar’s twitching hole was gaping, trying to clench around nothing. 

He was hard again, so he took himself in hand, and with a sight like that in front of him, it didn’t take long for him to come all over Oscar's spread thighs.

When he looked up he saw that Oscar had his arms crossed behind his head and was grinning at him. 

“Did you enjoy that, Lando?” 

Lando nodded, breathing heavily after his orgasm. 

“Yeah, was mint” 

Oscar scoffed and rolled over to get off the bed and make his way to the bathroom. 

“Mint” he ranted “If that's what you want to call it, then sure, it was mint” 

Lando blushed, following him into the shower. 

“you know what I meant” he wrapped his arms around Oscar. “I loved it. Thank you” 

He pressed a kiss to Oscar's nose and the taller man rolled his eyes. 

“Sometimes I don't know why I indulge your fantasies” 

Lando smirked, pressing himself closer to Oscar's body. 

“Because you love me, Osc” 

Oscar looked down at him with pursed lips. 

“Hmm. We'll see…” 

[wakasaswifee]

TASTE | RIN ITOSHI | 18+

Aged up, cunnilingus/eating out, dirty talk, not proofread

Rin itoshi x reader

NSFW under the cut

I headcanon that Rin Itoshi is crazy good with his tongue. For obvious reasons.

And once he finds out how good he makes you feel with just a flick of his tongue against your clit, you best believe he'll use that to his advantage whenever he can.

『 °*• ❀ •*°』

Rin had his hands on your thighs, keeping them open so you don't close them from overstimulation.

His hands were wrapped around the upper portion, gripping the plush of your thighs, his thumb rubbed soothing circles against your skin. Completely contradictory to the abuse happening on your clit.

His head was buried between your legs. The warm muscle of his tongue pumping deep inside of you; your juices flowing down his chin and onto the mattress.

When Rin has his lips pressed against your slick folds, the only thing that matters is you, the way you feel and making you feel good. He was always so concentrated on you that his surroundings didn't matter.

"Fuck. You're so wet. So sweet. The way you're clenching is making me think you're close."

"Are you, hm? You wanna cum on my face, wan'a cum in my mouth?"

The way he said it made it sound like a question but both of you knew it was a statement.

"Yea.. ri-rin.. wanna cum.. please" you whined, your voice breaking as tears streamed down your face.

He had used the shirt you were wearing to tie your hands to the bed frame. Rin doesn't like it when you try to push him off and tell him "it's too much" or "no more".

Of course he's only doing this so his pretty girlfriend can feel good and help you relieve some stress. Seeing you cry and trembling beneath him is only a bonus.

"Rin.. please, 's too much"

"Shh, quiet, you're doing so good for me, yeah? I'll let you cum soon, pretty"

Rin moved his tongue to your puffy and swollen clit, taking it between his teeth making you jump.

"Rin!!"

He ignored your cries, pressing his tongue flat against your folds, and dragging it across, touching and teasing every part of you.

"Your pussy is so sensitive, I can't get enough of it" Rin mumbled. Pushing 2 fingers inside your neglected hole. He stretched you open, not getting enough of how you sucked him in and clamped around him. The younger itoshi was knuckles deep in, your previous orgasm trickling down his long fingers.

"Close, huh? Cum for me" he kissed your pussy, pulling his fingers out and taking them into his mouth like a man deprived of water.

Rin kept his eyes on you as he slurped up whatever you were giving him. His gaze had you squirming, pulling at the restraints. You sniffled, bitting down on your tongue as you clenched around nothing. The weird feeling in your stomach only increased.

You didn't even have the chance to tell Rin or let alone utter a word before his tongue dove back inside of you. Lapping at your pulsating hole. Swallowing up your release, trickling down his chin, licking his lips to make sure none of it goes to waste.

He pulled back, sitting up between your legs. Wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

He couldn't help but grin at your pouty, tear stained face.

"You taste amazing, baby" the murmur of rin's voice sent a sudden jolt down your spine, leaving you breathless like every other time.

[bee-whistler]

I submit as evidence my oldest daughter. Now, all my kids are good, but Doodle always had an extra affinity for kindness. She was so affable that my shy self would have her ask questions for me sometimes. She has Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and MCAS which limit what she can do currently as we look for better treatment options, and she’s got a smart mouth sometimes (lol), but she’s still wonderful.

When she was little, all I had to do at the playground was whisper, “That kid doesn’t have anyone to play with,” and her natural, untrained and unprompted response was to charge straight over and get the kid to play with her and any kids she’d already gathered. Seriously, I didn’t teach her that. I just didn’t fight it. And we’d bring enough sand toys for all of them. We sometimes had to tell parents we had brought enough to share, all they had to do was ask, because they’d stop their kids from “taking” her toys.

She was bullied in middle school but still managed in high school to gather a group of characters and misfits who are friends to this day (she’s 27). She’s ace but has been mistaken for lesbian because she hugs everyone she loves and jokingly calls the girls in her friend group her wives. And she’s the “mom” friend, scolding them if they don’t take their meds, coming to me if any needs a ride somewhere or to get out of a tense family situation for a while, or has been sleeping on a folding cot instead of a mattress.

She thanks every cashier and server because she knows they work hard. She once comforted a Dollar Tree cashier after someone bawled her out for no reason.

The first time we took our little cat to the vet, there was an older lady there with a big dog. The staff came out and painstakingly took the dog back… accent on the pain. It had been attacked by unleashed neighbor dogs and there was blood where it had been laying! Once the dog was getting treatment, we heard the woman softly crying. My daughter couldn’t take it anymore and proceeded to talk to her until she got word that the dog was going to make it.

So yeah, Doodle is my proof that people are naturally inclined to be good. Even with the negatives in her life, she has managed to still be the person she was from the time she was small. We just have to try not to crush that beauty in a kid and it will bloom wherever you let it.

Also I recommend this:

Her channel is about positive stories entirely. A lot are animal stories.

“People are inherently terrible” no!!! Have you ever seen a child wait for their friend while they tie their shoelaces? Have you ever known someone who would bring hurt squirrels and rabbits and mice to the nearest vet just so it doesn’t suffer? Have you seen someone grieve? Have you ever read something that hit your heart like a freight train? Have you looked at the stars and felt an unexplainable joy? Have you ever baked bread? Have you shared a meal with a friend? Have you not seen it? All the love? All the good? I know it’s hard to see sometimes, I know there’s pain everywhere. But look, there’s a child helping another up after a hard fall. Look, there’s someone giving their umbrella to a stranger. Look, there’s someone admiring the spring flowers. Look, there’s good, there’s good, there’s good. Look!!!!

[harryspet]

rough hands, soft chains [1] r.cameron

[warnings] dark!grey!rancher!rafe x bimbo!cowgirl!reader, arranged marriage, rancher au, manipulation, size difference, future smut, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: This is an au I'm trying out where Kildare County is actually in Montana and all the pogues and kooks exist within a ranching community. Hope you enjoy!! I would really appreciate feedback, reblogs are most appreciated!

In which your dying father struck a deal with Ward Cameron, he promised the family land in exchange for your safety. But protection comes with a price, and that price is Rafe Cameron.

word count: 5k

rafe cameron masterlist

After the funeral, you flopped down on the old leather couch in your living room, absently twirling a lock of your hair as you stared up at the cracked ceiling. Your black dress, meant for the sweltering summers, fell just below your knees. You’d paired it with a shawl you found tucked away in your mother’s dresser, a pretty, soft thing with little patterns you didn’t understand, but it smelled like her, so it felt right.

People at the funeral said you looked “so grown up” now, which filled you with a sense of pride. They said nothing about the dirt under your nails from wandering around the yard barefoot earlier that morning or the way your mascara smeared from crying too much. No one ever took you seriously anyway. 

The quiet of the house was deafening, pressing in at you at all sides. The lack of his presence weighed on you. He’d built every corner of this house, your mother painted every wall, and you were grateful for the life they’d built you. Three bedrooms, a wrap-around porch where you’d once dreamed of watching your children play in the yard as you rocked in your chair, and the old, red barn that had weathered time alongside them. You knew you couldn’t lose it, but you weren’t sure how to keep it either.

A loud knock at the front door made the house shake and snapped you from your daze. It was not the knock of a kind neigbor delivering a sympathy caserole, the knock was firm and authoritative. You half expected the sheriff to be behind the door but instead found yourself staring back at Ward Cameron. 

You pushed back the curls that had fallen into your face. He stood before you, tipping his finest black cattleman hat with deliberate grace, lifting it from his head and placing it over his chest in a quiet gesture of respect. His square jawline was sharp, his striking blue eyes unflinching, and though the gray streaks in his hair hinted at age, they only added to his rugged handomenss. 

“Miss,” he greeted you smoothly, his voice as sharp as the crease in his shirt. He looked out of place here, too clean, too polished for the worn edges of your family’s ranch.

Your anxiety peaked, “Uh, hi. Can I help you?” You gripped the handle of the door tighter than you expected. 

“I think you know why I’m here.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s time we talked about your father’s arrangements.”

Arrangements? You shifted nervously, trying to make sense of his words. You knew your dad had debts, but it wasn’t like he told you all the details. You knew that a significant amount of your father’s debt was to Ward. It humiliated your father to lease the Cameron’s grazing rights but he only did it to keep the ranch afloat. Money and paperwork were never your thing, and your dad always said not to worry about it. “I—I don’t think there’s anything to talk about. I’ll figure out how to pay you back, okay?”

Although Ward wasn’t the tallest man, most people towered over you, and as he leaned in the doorway, you knew he had your stature in mind. 

Still, his smile was empty, “Why don’t we discuss this in your father’s office, hmm?” 

“Um, no thanks,” you said quickly, shaking your head. But before you could shut the door, his hand pushed it open with way too much ease. You stumbled back, your cheeks heating with embarrassment as he walked in like he owned the place.

“Excuse me! You can’t just barge in here!” you squeaked, hurrying after him, his expensive boots, tapping against the creaking floor of your home. 

He made his way down the downstairs hallway, barging into the room that not even your father wanted you to step in. Immediately as you stepping inside, a coldness touched you. he heavy oak desk sat like a monument to your father’s stubbornness, papers scattered across its surface in disarray. Just looking at it made your brain feel fuzzy. Ward moved behind it as if it were his own, his hands brushing against the chair’s worn leather.

“I offered to come speak to you, before all of this drama, but your father insisted I wait until he was gone,” Ward gestured to rickety chair that sat in front of the desk, “Sit.”

You ignored him, crossing your arms in stubborness, “What are you talking about?”

“Do you know how much exactly your father owes me? How much you’d be taking on?”

His words, like they had certainly intended to, made you feel stupid. Your father made sure you were uninvolved in the ranch’s finances and he had just passed this week, you hadn’t thought about entering his office and disturbing his things. 

You blinked, your mouth opening and closing. “Well… um… I know he owed some money, but he didn’t really tell me how much.”

“It’s more than the farm is worth, Y/N.”

The weight of his words settled heavily between you, thickening the already suffocating air in the room. You clenched your jaw, refusing to show any sign of the panic tightening in your chest. The farm, your father’s legacy, your mother’s dreams, was supposed to be yours to save.

“That can’t be right,” you said, though your voice wavered slightly. “My father would’ve told me if it was that bad.”

“Would he? It’s nothing you should’ve worried your pretty head about,” Ward continued, his eyes sharp and assessing, “We parents try to protect our children. But he was too prideful. Pride doesn’t pay the bills and banks don’t wait forever.”

“The bank–”

“The bank would’ve taken the entire property if your father hadn’t already signed the land over to me.”

Your heart sunk into your stomach at Ward Cameron’s words. Your breath hitched as you stared at him, trying to process what he’d just said. You shook your head in disbelief, “He wouldn’t do that.”

The land was the only piece of your father that you had left. A hundred acres that your family and only a few ranch hands tended to.There were dwindling amounts of livestock, mounting debts, but it was your home. Humble in comparison to the Cameron’s thousands of acres but it belonged to your family. Even if you were the only one left. 

“This all would’ve been easier for you if your father had explained all of this to you before. I think he was scared of you hating him.”

“I don’t understand.”

Ward’s expression didn’t falter. If anything, he looked almost bored with your responses, “We came to an agreement a year after his initial diagnosis. Instead of losing it to the bank, he would sign it over to me.”

“I promised to take care of you.” Ward’s words were slow, deliberate, as if he were explaining something to a child. “You’re unmarried, no prospects, and this place is a sinking ship. Someone was bound to take advantage of you eventually. You don’t have the resources to rebuild.”

“T-take care of me?” you stammered, your face scrunching in confusion.

“You’ll come live with my family for the time being. And eventually you will marry my son, Rafe.”

Your eyes went wild, “Are you crazy?”

Ward’s expression didn’t change. If anything, he looked even more smug. “This arrangement keeps the land in the family, ensures your safety, and gives you a future. You’re not equipped to handle this ranch on your own, Y/N. Your father knew that. I’m offering you a way out.”

You gaped at him, your thoughts spinning too fast to make sense of anything. “I… I want to talk to a lawyer or—or see his will or something!”

“You’re out of options. It’s either this arrangement or being out on the streets. I’m tossing you a lifeline.” 

 “I didn’t agree to this,” you said, your voice shaking with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

“No,” Ward admitted, standing and adjusting his cuffs. “But your father did. And a Cameron always honors their agreements.”

You wanted to scream, to tell him to leave and take his deal with him, but the weight of your father’s decisions pressed down on you. The debts, the ranch, your future—it was all tangled up in a web you couldn’t escape.

“I’ll give you until tomorrow to pack your things,” Ward said, placing his hat back on his head. “Rafe will come by to collect you.”

He turned and walked to the door without another word, leaving you standing alone in the office. The walls seemed to close in around you, and although you’d be crying for a week, you cried again. 

You thought that if you weren’t at the house when Ward’s oldest son came to collect you, they might just give up and leave you be. Maybe you’d slip through the cracks of their plans, vanish into the quiet of the countryside. You could disappear for a little while and return in a few days. It would be rough surviving outside but you could make it on your own. You’d packed a small bag of essentials and took Juliet, the chestnut-colored mare that had belonged to you since your fourteenth birthday.

“Okay, Jules, we’re gonna go on a little adventure,” you whispered as you fumbled with her saddle. 

Her large, liquid-brown eyes blinked at you with trust as you led her down the south path, the one behind your family’s ranch, overgrown from years of neglect. You left before the sun had a chance to rise. You didn’t want Ward Cameron or his scary son to find you, after all.

You tried to dress for comfort. Your long jeans would keep you warm, and you layered a jean jacket over a soft white cotton shirt. Perched atop your head was your trusty white cowboy hat, its wide brim offering protection from the sun, taming your unruly curls, while keeping your face shielded.

Juliet made a snorting sound, and you patted her neck. “Don’t worry, girl, we’ve totally got this. Like, what’s the worst that could happen?” You glanced back at the ranch, its dark outline fading behind the trees. 

You mounted Juliet after deciding the direction you were going to travel in. You wanted to be much farther away by the time the sun came up. The air was cool and crisp, a reminder of the coming morning. You looked behind you although you were sure no one was following you yet. 

The path twisted and turned. “Okay, so if we head toward the old fishing shack by the river, we can stay there for, like, a day. Nobody’s used it in forever.” You spoke out loud, pretending that Juliet could respond. “I think it’s... that way.”

You continued down the path in the direction you remembered the fishing shack to be located. The sun rose slowly, bringing light to the dark path. The shack was tucked away on the outskirts of the ranch, sitting in the bend of the river, most of it shielded by tall grass. The water flowed gently, the sound caressing your ears, it’s hues reflecting the red in the sky. 

A clearing sat nearby covered in wildflowers, the bright colors splashed against the muted landscape. You hadn’t ventured this far out since the previous spring and were surprised to see how the flowers had held their vibrancy, defying the chill of the cooler months. 

You hopped down from your saddle, taking Juliet’s rein before you tied her to a nearby tree, allowing her room to graze. The shack was small and weathered, and you rested on a rickety cot that you had to clear of cobwebs. It felt safe. At least for now. 

If only staying still was your strong suit. A few hours later, boredom quickly got the best of you. You could only talk to Juliet for so long and you’d failed several times to nap inside the dirty shack. The silence pressed in on you. You decided to wander out into the wild flower fields, tugging your cowboy hat low over your curls. The vibrant colors were calling to you. 

An hour later, you held a thick bundle flowers in your arm and a crown of daisies wrapped around your hat. Before you knew it, the shack was almost out of your sight and you faced a long trek back to Juliet. 

You didn’t hear him at first.

“Hell of a hiding spot.”

The deep drawl froze you in place. Slowly, you turned, heart pounding, your eyes landing on Rafe Cameron sitting tall on his horse a few yards away. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement, though the tight line of his jaw hinted at something darker.

Rafe’s quarter horse was even more intimidating. It’s coat was midnight black, sleek and imposing. There was a wild, untamed quality to him, a fire in his eyes that mirrored Rafe’s own.

“I… I was just…” You stepped back without thinking, the urge to drop your bouquet and bolt creeping up. You’d seen Ward’s son from across a room before, but no one had ever bothered to introduce you. Still, you knew enough from the whispers and rumors. He was wild, always getting into trouble with the Kildare County police, and everyone said he was gonna take over his dad’s power and influence one day. 

He was older than you remembered, more rugged, and definitely more muscular. His black button-up shirt clung to broad shoulder and his sleeves rolled up to reveal sculpted arms. A baseball cap sat atop his head, the bill slightly bent, with the Cameron Ranch sigil stitched on the front—an emblem of a stallion rearing. His light brown hair peeked from beneath it, slightly tousled. 

“You’ve been wandering around all morning. Half the town’s already seen you,” Rafe leaned forward slightly, eyeing you curiously, “If you were gonna run, thought you’d go a little bit farther.” You gained the courage to finish your sentence, “I wasn’t running …or hiding. And you can’t tell Mr. Cameron that.”

“Why do you think he sent me?” He smiled devishly, “I’m the one you gotta worry about, darlin’.” 

Your lips parted in shock and Rafe watched you take another step back. His jaw clicked before he swiftly hopped down from his horse. His heavy boots hit the dirt with a thud that seemed to echo, and you couldn’t help but notice the sheer size of him. Though he wasn’t much older than you, it was clear he towered over you, his presence demanding attention in a way that made your knees feel weak.

“I’m not coming with you,” You stated with all the strength you could muster, “It’s not right. You can’t make me.”

He stared back at you. Where Ward was bored by conversation with you, something about your Ward’s made Rafe’s eyes fiery, “And I guess you’ll make your living by what … selling flower crowns?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. You hadn’t considered that an option. In fact, you hadn’t dwelled long enough on what you would do once Ward gave up on this arranged marriage nor did you have any idea of how to make the ranch profitable again. The idea seemed wrong. Flowers weren’t the key, were they? 

“I’m kidding,” Rafe spoke again after a moment of watching you reflect, “That’s a bad fucking idea. You know…I think your father might’ve been right about one thing in his life. You do need someone to look after you.” 

“You don’t know me,” You looked away, your face heating up with embarrassment, “And I don’t want to go with you.” 

A yelp escaped your lips as he started to close the distance between you, his long strides closing the gap in a matter of seconds. His smirk widened at your reaction, and quickly, you dropped your bouquet and made a run for the fishing shack. Rough hands easily snatched you up by your waist, lifting your feet off the ground, and making your head spin, “You’re real cute, darlin’,” Rafe drawled, hardly breakin a sweat as he dragged you back towards his horse. His grip on your waist was firm, unrelenting, and no matter how much you kicked or squirmed, it didn’t matter. He only hoisted you higher. 

Heavy boots crunched against the dirt. You could hear your breathing and the sharp pounding of your heart in your ears. You lost your hat and subsequently your flower crown in the struggle. Scared that you might spook Rafe’s horse, you found yourself succumbing to his force, letting him lift you onto the saddle. 

“Please, let me down,” You whispered, tears beginning to fall. Rafe was next, hoisting himself onto the black stallion, squeezing himself behind you. You were pressed against him so much that you could feel the flexing of the muscles of his stomach. An arm wrapped tightly around your waist. 

Rafe shushed you, and surprisingly, you felt him settle your hat back on your head. You hadn’t even seen him pick it up. You were never supposed to ride without a hat, that’s what your father had taught you. You barely had time to process it before he urged the horse forward, the powerful animal's hooves pounding the earth beneath you as Rafe held you tightly, “M-My horse, Juliet!” You remembered, panicked, “I won’t go without her, Rafe!”

“I didn’t forget your horse,” He spoke calmer than you expected, though his tone still had an edge to it, “She’ll follow. Unlike you, she seems to have a decent amount of common sense.” 

He kicked the horse into a gallop, the powerful animal responding instantly, the sound of its hooves hitting the ground like thunder in the otherwise still air. The wind whipped through your hair, stinging your face. You gripped the saddle tightly, to anchor yourself, despite knowing that Rafe’s grip was strong enough to keep you from flying. 

This wasn’t the escape you wanted. Not even close. 

Sure, he’d heard the rumors that you were a little …daft. And maybe that was true in some ways, but you were more than he had anticipated. He followed you, watched as you handled the horse with ease, and found himself intrigued. Your confusion, innocence, even your stubbornness drew him in like a moth to a flame. 

The last thing Rafe wanted was a wife. He resisted the way his father felt like he could stll make decisions for him. Rafe was losing with this arrangement. Your father’s hundred acres was nothing in comparison to what he family already had and would acquire. But perhaps his father had seen exactly what Rafe was seeing now. You were raw, so unpolished, and that meant you could be shaped. 

Once you were under the Cameron’s roof, Rafe had the power to do whatever he wanted. 

Proving himself to Ward was a constant battle, every choice scrutinized, every misstep noted. To run the ranch one day, Rafe needed to show he could manage it all, the land, business, and now a wife. Building a home and keeping you in line was just another test.

That morning, Rafe had never expected to chase after you on horseback. He had arrived in his truck, scouring the house for any sign of you, only to realize you were already gone. In frustration, he called John B., one of the Cameron ranch hands, and sent him to bring Trigger, his horse, to the Y/L/N ranch.

When you both returned, John B. was already there, waiting. Thunder cracked above, a sunny morning turning into a dreary afternoon. Rafe barked orders to ensure Juliet and Trigger were both stabled at the Cameron’s ranch.

He lifted you down from the saddle, his grip firm on your wrists before you could bolt. It only took a second for him to realize the urgency in your voice as you spoke, trying to talk to John B., who was already taking Juliet and Trigger’s reins. “She gets nervous when she’s in new places. She doesn’t like to be rushed,” Rafe overheard, catching the panic in your tone.

“Yes, ma’am. Don’t worry, I’ll take it slow with her,” John B. assured her although Rafe only glared at the worker, jaw tight. 

“Come on,” Rafe pulled your arm, “We’re leaving.”

Your small hands grabbed where he’d wrapped his hands around your arm. You dug your boots into the gravel in front of the house, “Wait, I don’t have everything. I-I need to grab some things,” Rafe’s gripped only tightened as his irritation grew. 

“You should’ve thought about that before you made me chase after you,” He took one more look at your teary-face before he snapped. Taking you home should’ve taken thirty minutes, not four hours. Without warning, he scooped you up over his shoulder, ignoring the surprised gasp you let out. 

Your legs kicked in the air, “Hey! Please put me down!” Rafe didn’t spare your house on John B. a second glance as he trudged over to his dark, blue truck. Please, that made Rafe brow furrow. Rafe took the opportunity to cop a feel, of course, he had to know exactly what he was working with. You were his future wife, after all, “Rafe! I don’t like being upside down!” 

“Scream all the way there for all I fucking care,” He muttered under his breath, his voice cold as he finally reached the truck and tossed you into the passenger seat.

Rafe sped off moments after he pressed start engine on the vehicle. You went quiet and he hoped to be alone with his thoughts, soothed by the soft pitter patter of rain on his windshield. Fifteen minutes down the road, he heard your breath hitch. He looked over to see you were staring straight head, eyes wide and wet with tears. Smudged mascara beneath your eyes. Your chest rose and fell rapidly and you clutched your hands tightly in your lap. Your lips were shaking, moving as if you were whispering something to yourself. 

Your legs began to jitter, restless, and Rafe looked away. He managed to tune out your obvious panic for nearly an entire minute. He had a rare feeling. One he didn’t fully understanding. The angel on his shoulder was telling him to reach out, to try and comfort you. He thought about what Wheezie might think if this was the disheveled state he brought his future wife to meet her in. He let out a quiet sigh, knowing it was only going to get worse as the reality of your situation set in.

“Hey,” He spoke without that sharp edge, channeling a voice he might use with his youngest sister, “I didn’t mean you’d never get your things. We can come back, when you’re more settled …And I’ll send someone to get all your keepsakes. Okay?” 

“Okay, okay, okay,” You repeated though your voice sounded empty, “Okay.”

He thought those would be the magic words but you hadn’t even turned to look at him. You were doing the same thing, shaking like a leaf, barely taking in enough breath, “Fuck,” Rafe cursed. He pulled over to the side of the road with a sharp jerk, the gravel crunching under the tires as the truck slowed to a stop. Without thinking, he shifted into park and turned to you.

Rafe needed to be more deliberate in his actions. He had eyes on him, his entire immediate family, and he wouldn’t have them thinking he couldn’t handle you. 

He tried to calm you, squeezed your hand, told you to breathe over and over again. Nothing. You were spiraling, letting your thoughts consume you. Rafe had been too rough. It was all too much too fast for you. He wanted to mold you, not break you. 

He leaned in, taking your face in his hands, and pressing his lips to yours. You went frantic but he only deepened the kiss. He held your hand and slowly felt your tension lesson. He entwined his fingers in yours and slowly felt you move your own lips against his. You tasted like cherries, dark red, and perfectly ripe. His hands moved to the back of your neck, his fingers pressing lightly, urging you to focus, to let go of the panic.

He pulled away only when you stopped your heaving. 

“You’re okay,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “You’re okay now. Breathe with me.”

He waited for you to come back to him, cradling you there. You had no one left, Rafe realized in that moment, the truth settling heavily in his chest. And maybe that was why he couldn’t bring himself to be cruel. 

No, taking care of you wasn’t just an obligation, it was an important responsibility. One he’d shoulder completely. Whether you liked it or not, Rafe would make sure of it.

Rafe Cameron tasted like whiskey, with a faint hint of mint that lingered now even as you stood in the foyer of your new home, Tannyhill Ranch. The white house was sprawling and pristine, situated amidst of sea of green fields. Windows sparkled even in the storm that was coming down, and although the roof’s shingles were weathered, it was hard to believe the property had been there for more than a century. 

Workers, chefs and maids, bustled by but no one spared you or Rafe a glance despite the dry tears on your face and disheveled appearance. 

The interior was grand, the hardwoods polished until they shined, and the ceilings were higher than the ones at church. Everything screamed old money. You felt a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the grand entrance hall and then up one side of a grand staircase. Portraits line the walls, serious faces, Camerons and previous owners of the estate. 

Their eyes watched you, “Rafe, where are we going?” You asked him quietly. 

“To your room,” He spoke low and firm. There hadn’t been any rough grabbing of your limbs or unwanted rides on Rafe’s shoulder since your kiss in the car. You hadn’t fully let you guard down but you preferred when Rafe was calm, and so you remained calm too, “You can settle in.”

Rafe led you down the upstairs hallway, stopping at one of at least six bedroom doors, and pushing it open. The room was breathtaking, a four-poster bed draaped in white linens, oak furniture, blue-white toile patterns, and large windows that overlooked the property. It was beautiful, yes, but none of this belonged to you. 

Your fingers absentmidnely traced the fabric of the bed’s comforter before you got a grip, turning around to say something in protest, “Don’t look at me like that,” Rafe interrupted, hands tucking into the front of jeans as if to give off a non-chalant appearance. The position emphasized the silvery belt buckle that sat on the middle of his waist. 

“I don’t want to live here,” You spoke softly, your voice still weak from all the crying. 

“I know,” Rafe continued, sounding exactly like his father, “Your father did though. You still love your Daddy, don’t you?” 

Rafe’s words made you think. Really think. Of course you loved your father. He was a smart man and he always did right by you and your Mother. However, deep down, this all still felt wrong. You stood there, caught between the beauty of the room and the unease of what you felt.

You nodded, “But–”

“But this is what he wanted, darlin’,” Rafe spoke in a way that carried a sense of finality. Rafe stepped closer and suddenly his body was a brick wall keeping you from leaving the room. His lips pulled into a smirk and he leaned down to speak in your ear, his breath fanning over your cheeks. Whiskey and mint, “You always did what your Daddy said, right?” 

“Yes,” You answered too honestly for your own good. 

“Now you’ll do what I say. That’s how it works. A young lady belongs to her father, and one day, after she grows up, she belongs to her husband,” He straightened up and you blinked your big eyes up at him. Slowly, your eyes traveled down to his lips, “You’ll thank me, one day.” 

Gently, he tucked a finger beneath your chin, lifting it even higher. You held your head exactly in the place he placed it, making something flicker in Rafe’s eyes. A heat bloomed in your core. You could only think about that kiss, your first one, despite the fact that he was one of the men completely ruining your life. 

“You ever seen someone break a wild horse?” 

His question caught you off guard, and your brows furrowed slightly as you searched his face for meaning. The smirk on his lips deepened, and his hand dropped from your chin.

“Takes patience. Takes strength. Takes knowing exactly when to push and when to pull back. But eventually, the horse figures out who’s in charge.” His blue eyes darkened, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place, ”Out on the ranch, when we get a wild one. It’s my favorite thing to do. Watch em’ go from fighting you to starting to trust you. Really, there’s no point in fighting. The one’s who don’t submit, we don’t keep em’ around. They’re dangerous.”

“Oh,” You managed to say, shifting uncomfortably, “That sounds … hard.” 

Rafe chuckled in response, “Hard? Yeah, especially if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Rafe’s smirk returned, sharper now, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“You want me to kiss you again. I can tell.”

His words sent you stammering immediately, “No!” 

“Tell you what,” Rafe interrupted smoothly, ignoring your denial as if it hadn’t even registered. “If you settle in, get all dolled up for dinner…” His voice dripped with false generosity. “I’ll give you another one.”

You stared, dumbfounded and frozen until the young rancher casually turned and walked out of the room. Your fists clenched at your sides as a storm of emotions swirled inside you, anger and fear. One emotion simmered quietly beneath the surface, unwelcome and disorienting. Anticipation.

Reblog and let me know your thoughts to be added to the taglist!

[luwritesstuff]

Breaking Point

Spencer Reid x reader

notes: angst/arguing followed by fluff/comfort, gn!reader, no use of y/n

wc: 884

Every relationship had their weakness, the one thing that tested how strong two people really were together. You and Spencer found out months into dating that your relationship's pressure point was exhaustion. It hit you both after two back to back cases across the country in one week, a friend’s wedding on Saturday, and a dinner with your parents on Sunday. By the next week, the two of you were stretched thin.

For you, the exhaustion made you irritable. Things you usually had patience for were getting under your skin and turning you into, quite frankly, an asshole. Spencer somehow had the most patience in the world and this only pissed you off more. Why wasn't he annoyed that your neighbors kept taking up two parking spots? Why was he so calm when you lost power for 12 hours?

As much as you ranted, Spencer listened. He made it a point to be a good boyfriend even on your worst days. This didn't mean that the exhaustion didn't get to him too. Spencer’s lack of sleep brought out his insecurities. The more irritable you got, the more worried Spencer became that he was the one annoying you.

On a normal week, you had more control over your emotions. You were thoughtful about how you spoke to Spencer and you were able to let the small stuff roll off your back. But this week wasn't a normal week and you couldn't stop the anger that kept slipping out of you around every corner. Spencer’s solution was to give you space, but deep down, you didn't want to be alone. Not even on your worst day did you want Spencer not to be curled up on your couch with you.

And how could Spencer say no to you? He wasn't evil, if you asked him to stay, he'd stay. Even if you had a permanent scowl on your face and didn't offer any conversation.

“Spencer!” You groaned, fighting the urge to stomp your foot like a child. “Why do you keep putting your wet towel on top of mine? There's another hook behind the door and every time I go to use my towel, it's wet!” You brought the towel out to Spencer and threw it onto the couch. Before he could finish his apology, you were continuing, “It just drives me crazy, honey. It makes me cold getting out of the shower and-”

“If you hate having me around so much, then why am I even here?” Spencer cut you off, raising his voice in a way you'd never heard directed at you before. Anyone who didn't know Spencer well would see his words as anger, but you knew Spencer well and you could feel the hurt and insecurity seeping out through his voice.

You both froze, staring at each other in silence while you replayed his words in your head. After a beat, your shoulders sagged and you moved to sit on the opposite end of the couch from him. “Shit,” you sighed and grabbed the towel to start folding it, “I'm being mean, I'm sorry. I do want you here,” you promised and looked over to find Spencer staring at his lap.

“It's fine if you don't, just… tell me that. I don't want to keep pissing you off and making things worse,” his voice was calmer now and your heart ached. Spencer, the light of your life, felt unappreciated and unloved, because of you.

You reached out to take both of Spencer’s hands into your own and gave them a squeeze. “Hey, I want you here. I love you,” you emphasized, “having you here helps and I'm sorry I haven't been showing it. This week was just… you know how it was. And my parents just get under my skin, but I shouldn't have taken that out on you. I'm sorry, sweetheart.” Spencer couldn't hold any anger towards you if he tried and the thought made you want to cry. Your Spencer, that you were cold and bitter to, still held your hands tightly and pulled you to his chest after your apology.

“I'm sorry I put my wet towel on top of yours. I know you like having a warm towel after your shower,” he said softly and kissed the top of your head, “and I'm sorry I raised my voice at you.”

You sniffled and shook your head against Spencer’s chest. “No, don't apologize for that. You should've raised your voice at me sooner, I was being a brat,” your voice was muffled by Spencer’s shirt but he took every word in, rubbing your back as you spoke.

After you'd both calmed down, Spencer took you to bed where you both slept a solid three hours. You woke up feeling lighter than you had all week and Spencer felt relieved to have you back to your usual self. “There you are, my beautiful love,” he whispered and brushed your hair from your face.

“You're one of a kind, Spence. Let's not overdo ourselves like that anymore. Next weekend, we’re taking both days off and we’re not seeing anyone but each other,” you promised and rolled over until you were straddling Spencer’s hips. His thumbs traced shapes into your hips and he agreed eagerly by pulling you down into a kiss.

[luvst4rc0r3]

OMG I LOVE UR FANFICS!!

PLZ WRITE MORE SERIES!!

Can you write (if you want) a jinx x f!reader were reader’s first language is not English but another language. And she has a son whose first language is English and he always complains about taking classes. So jinx pulls them out of classes and that makes reader very mad. (basically Gloria from modern family)

It can be any language just ofc not English

TYY IF YOU DO IT

OMG I LOVE THIS REQUEST!!!

I did it in my native language. English is my first but Tagalog (Filipino)is kinda my second asides from Spanish. I can kinda of speak Tagalog just not fluently.

“Lost in translation”

Jinx x F!Reader

WC: 1427

NOTE: established relationship. I did have to use google translate for some words so it might not be grammatically correct.

THIS ALSO MIGHT BE MY LAST FANFIC FOR A COUPLE DAYS BC I HAVE MIDTERMS

“Jinx, what the hell were you thinking?”

You stood in the center of the small apartment, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. Jinx leaned against the counter, her casual stance a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside you.

“I was thinking the kid hates it,” she shot back with a shrug, twirling a wrench in her hand. “Why make him sit through something that makes him miserable?”

Your heart clenched. “He needs to learn it. He needs to—” You hesitated, stumbling over your words as your thoughts tripped over each other, fighting to come out in English. “It’s important for him to know… to understand—”

Jinx rolled her eyes, her tone dismissive. “He’s a kid. He doesn’t need a million things crammed into his head. He’s fine just the way he is.”

“Fine?” you echoed, your voice trembling. “Jinx, it’s not just about school. It’s about him knowing who he is. Who I am. You think it’s easy for me, being stuck in the middle of two languages all the time?”

She frowned, her smirk faltering for the first time. “I didn’t say it was easy—”

“You didn’t even ask me!” you interrupted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “You just pulled him out without even thinking about what it means!”

Jinx tilted her head, her electric blue eyes narrowing. “He’s my kid too, y’know. I’m not trying to hurt anyone. I just didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Her words hit you like a slap, and suddenly, the English words you’d been clutching at fell away, leaving nothing but raw emotion. Your chest heaved, and before you knew it, tears blurred your vision.

Jinx’s face shifted, the confidence draining from her expression. “Hey, whoa, babe, don’t cry—”

But you couldn’t stop. The frustration and exhaustion, the endless translating in your head, the constant feeling of being misunderstood—it all came pouring out in a language she didn’t understand.

“Ang hirap na hirap na ako, Jinx. Hindi mo naiintindihan. Hindi mo alam kung gaano kasakit na hindi ko masabi nang maayos ang nararamdaman ko.” (I'm in such a difficult situation, Jinx. You don't understand. You don't know how much it hurts that I can't express my feelings properly.)

You covered your face with your hands, your body shaking with sobs. “I just want him to know me,” you managed to choke out, your voice breaking. “I want him to understand me without me having to fight for every word.”

Jinx froze, the wrench clattering to the floor. She stepped closer, unsure and unsteady, like she was walking on glass.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice low and raw with something you didn’t hear from her often—guilt.

You didn’t respond, your tears falling harder. Jinx reached out, her gloved hand hesitating before resting on your knee.

“I thought I was making things better for him. I didn’t think about how it would hurt you.”

You sniffled, shaking your head but still unable to look at her. “It does not just hurt, Jinx,” you whispered, the words coming out shakily. “It’s… I’m tired. I’m tired of fighting with my own head, trying to make everything make sense in English just so I can talk to you, or him, or anyone.”

Jinx’s hand tightened slightly, grounding you, as if to say she was listening.

“I just… I feel like I don’t belong anywhere,” you continued, your voice cracking. “Not here. Not at home. And now, our son… he doesn’t even want to learn the one thing that connects him to where I come from. To me. And you just let him quit. You made the decision like it didn’t matter.”

Your words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Jinx’s usual chaotic energy had vanished; she looked like someone had ripped the ground out from under her.

“I didn’t know,” she said after a moment, her voice soft but steady. “Of course you didn’t. You never think of anyone except yourself” with that you slammed the door to your shared room with her.

—

You stood in the doorway, your bag slung over your shoulder. Your hands shook as you clutched the strap, the heaviness in your chest unbearable. Jinx stood across the room, her wild hair and mismatched clothes somehow looking smaller, like she didn’t know what to do with herself

“Wait,” she said, her voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “You’re leaving?”

You nodded, your throat tightening as tears threatened to spill again. “I just… I need space, Jinx. I need time to think.”

Her brows furrowed, her lips parting like she wanted to argue, but no words came. For once, Jinx didn’t fight. She just stood there, the chaos in her usually vibrant eyes dimmed by something deeper.

“I love you,” you said, your voice breaking, “but I can’t keep doing this if you don’t try to understand. It’s too much.”

The silence in the room was deafening, and when you finally stepped out and closed the door behind you, it felt like your heart was breaking in two.

The days passed slowly. You stayed at a friend’s place, letting the quiet moments give you the space to breathe. But no matter how hard you tried, thoughts of Jinx and your son kept creeping in. The weight of the fight lingered in your chest, heavy and unresolved.

You told yourself you just needed a little more time. That maybe Jinx would realize how important this was—not just to you, but to your family.

And then, three days after you left, you came home.

The apartment was quiet when you walked in, and for a moment, you wondered if she was even there. But then you heard it.

“Kamusta.”(Hello)

You froze, your bag slipping from your shoulder as you turned toward the sound. Jinx stood in the middle of the living room, her hands fidgeting nervously with the hem of her shirt.

“What?” you asked, your heart pounding.

She cleared her throat, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and determination. “Kamusta,” she said again, the word clumsy but recognizable. “That means… uh, hello? Right?”

You blinked, stunned. “Y-yeah.”

Her lips twitched into a small, nervous smile. “I’ve been trying,” she said, stumbling over the words. “I… I looked up some stuff. It’s… hard, but I wanna learn. I wanna…”

She trailed off, her electric blue eyes meeting yours with a rare vulnerability. “Ayaw ko… um…” She fumbled for a moment, clearly struggling to remember the phrase. “Ayaw kong… mag-translate ka… araw-araw.” (I don’t…I don’t want you to have to translate everyday)

Your heart clenched at the effort in her voice, the way she fought through every syllable. “I don’t… I don’t want you to have to translate every day. I love you,” she added in English, her voice shaking slightly.

Tears welled in your eyes as you took a step closer. “Jinx…” you smile widely, “now you’re the one who looks like an idiot!”

She chuckles softly but soon returns to her straight face. “I’m serious, okay? I… I’m not good at this, but I’m gonna try. I’ll keep learning. And he’s gonna learn, too. I already talked to him. Told him he’s sticking with it. I don’t care how much he complains—I’ll sit with him if I have to. We’ll both learn.”

You couldn’t stop the tears now, your hand flying to your mouth as you let out a shaky breath.

“I didn’t get it before,” she continued, her voice soft but steady. “But I do now. I don’t want you to feel like you’re doing this alone. Or like we don’t see you—really see you. You shouldn’t have to fight for that.”

She hesitated, then stepped closer, her hands reaching for yours. “I’ll learn Tagalog for you. For us. Because I love you. And I don’t wanna lose you.”

A sob broke free from your chest as you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her close. Her arms tightening around you, and for the first time in days, you felt like you could finally breathe again.

“Salamat,” you whispered through your tears. (Thank you)

Jinx chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Walang anuman. That’s how you say ‘you’re welcome,’ right?”

You laughed, your heart aching in the best way. “Yeah. That’s right.”

Her grin widened, a little of her usual spark returning. “Told ya. I’m a fast learner.”

And in that moment, as the weight in your chest began to lift, you believed her. Together, you’d figure it out.

for once, her chaos felt like home.

TYY whoever requested that!! That was such and interesting requests to write!!

I want food

[gguk-n]

Can you write one where lance stroll has a relationship with a curvy girl?

This is short. Idk what sort of thing the request wanted. Maybe next time you could be a little more precise🥺.

Off track

Lance was a quite person who liked to keep to himself. He liked to keep the people he loved to himself too. Lance didn't like to share and he wasn't about to share his gorgeous beautiful girlfriend with anyone, even for a moment.

Lance loved his girlfriend, that's why she was at every single one of his races. That's why the only time he was photographed smiling or laughing was because Y/N was next to him and probably said something funny.

People can be rude and judgmental; Lance learned that early on in his life. That's why he made it his life's mission to make sure people weren't mean to the love of his life. And people could get mean, even his fans.

Y/N was beautiful, gorgeous even but for some reason people couldn't look past her weight. Most, if not all F1 driver's dated models or actors; Lance was the anomaly. Him and Y/N had sparked a friendship on one of his trips in Europe and stayed friends ever since, leading to the wonderful relationship they have now.

With everything, Lance couldn't protect her. He found her in their hotel room under the sheets sniffling. "Babe" Lance cooed slowly. He felt the sheets shuffle before he saw a head pop up. Tear stained face looking at him, "did anyone say something?" he asked worried. "no" she replied confused. "Than" he paused, "why are you crying?" he asked. "I was watching those dog videos" she said showing the video playing on her phone. Lance sighed a sigh of relief. "Baby, you need to stop worrying so much." she reassured. "Also, if someone said something to me, I wouldn't hesitate to clock them" she smiled deviously. "You want me to free you from a foreign prison?" he asked. "Perks of having a rich boyfriend I guess" she chuckled. "I'd probably free you from any prison" Lance smiled before he kissed her lips. "I'm gonna shower, you're free to join" he called out, discarding his shirt. "You don't have to tell me twice" Y/N called out, abandoning her phone and following Lance into the bathroom.

Hope you like it!