#i just needed to get this off my chest because i don’t know how much more i can take

[vaginalvr]

Hello😈‼️‼️ I’m back again because you did so good with the overstimulation request and I’m greedy ASF (and now a little addicted to your writing.)

Could you write something about Spencer getting really needy, maybe after he has his first time with reader and he just becomes really clingy but unsure how to ask for what he wants. Something like that, with really whiny sex after because I’m naught but a whore. Sending love!!!!

a/n I fear whiny spencer is becoming my niche... enjoy!

cw:smut, clingy!Spencer, whiny!Spencer, first time aftermath, needy sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, soft dom/sub dynamic, mutual pleasure, emotional vulnerability, praise kink, creampie

You noticed it the morning after.

At first, it was sweet — how Spencer curled around you in bed, still naked under the sheets, his long fingers tracing lazy shapes on your back. You’d expected some awkwardness, maybe a rush to dress or distance himself. After all, it had been his first time — and he'd whispered that into your neck last night with such raw honesty it had made you feel dizzy. You hadn’t rushed him. Hadn’t teased or laughed. You’d just held him, letting him explore, guiding him gently until his head dropped onto your shoulder and he came with the softest, desperate whine.

But now?

He couldn’t stop touching you.

His hands were on your waist while you brewed coffee, trailing up your sides like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. When you sat down on the couch, he followed — practically draped over your back, nosing into your hair. And his eyes? Wide and dark and fixed on you like he was starving and you were the meal.

You turned toward him with a gentle smile. “Spence?”

He blinked, face flushed. “Sorry—I just. Um.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Your stomach flipped.

“About last night?” you asked softly.

He nodded, pink creeping across his neck. “It was—so much. I didn’t know it could feel like that. I—I want—” He cut himself off, visibly flustered, fingers curling in his lap.

You leaned closer, letting your hand brush his knee. “What do you want, Spencer?”

He made a soft, helpless sound. “I don’t know how to ask for it. But I feel… I need something. I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin if I don’t get it.”

Oh.

You watched his breathing pick up. His eyes dropped to your mouth, then your chest, and back again. He looked overwhelmed — needy and frustrated and embarrassed by it all.

“Do you want me to help you feel good again?” you whispered.

His head bobbed quickly, curls falling into his eyes. “Yes. Please.”

Back in your bedroom, you coaxed him onto the mattress, watching the way he writhed just from kissing. He kissed like a man who couldn’t get enough — open-mouthed, panting, greedy. When you palmed him through his boxers, he moaned loud enough to make your thighs clench.

“Is this what you needed?” you murmured against his lips. “To be touched like this again?”

“Y-Yes,” he gasped, hips bucking into your hand. “God, I—It’s worse than before, I feel like I’m on fire, I can’t—”

“Shh, baby.” You slipped your hand inside his waistband and wrapped around his cock. He whined — high-pitched and raw, legs trembling beneath you. “You don’t have to do anything, Spencer. Just let me take care of you.”

He looked up at you like you’d hung the stars.

You had him naked and beneath you in minutes, trembling and flushed, his thighs already shaking before you’d even sunk down onto him. He gasped — arms shooting up to grab your waist, eyes squeezing shut as he twitched inside you.

“Oh—fuck—” His voice cracked on the curse. “You feel so good, I can’t—how did I live without this—?”

You smiled as you slowly rocked your hips, keeping your pace torturously slow.

“You were so patient, Spence. Waiting all this time.” You leaned down, lips brushing his ear. “And now you don’t have to wait anymore. I’ll let you have it anytime you want.”

He whimpered. “I-I don’t know what to do with myself, I need you all the time now, it’s like I’m addicted—”

“You are,” you cooed, grinding harder now, just to hear him moan. “You’re addicted to my pussy, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yes—oh fuck yes—” His back arched, hands gripping you tight. “Please don’t stop, please don’t ever stop—”

You kissed down his neck, letting your teeth scrape his collarbone. “You want to come inside me again? Fill me up like last time?”

He sobbed, nodding frantically. “Please, please—I’ll be good, I’ll do anything—”

His desperation was delicious.

You rode him harder, watching him fall apart beneath you. Every time your hips met, his thighs jerked, cock twitching helplessly inside you, lips parted in breathless moans. He looked wrecked — sweat dampening his curls, cheeks flushed, mouth trembling from how overwhelmed he was.

“Touch yourself,” you whispered. “Get yourself there.”

He obeyed instantly — hand flying to where your bodies met, rubbing frantic little circles against his cock with an embarrassing, choked moan.

“Oh my god—oh my god—I’m gonna come—I can’t—oh fuck—”

You pressed down hard, grinding your clit against him as you felt him swell inside you.

“That’s it, baby. Come for me. Fill me up.”

Spencer wailed, the sound punching out of him like a sob, cock jerking inside you as he spilled deep with hot, needy pulses. His whole body trembled under yours, hands gripping your hips like he might float away if he didn’t hold on.

You kept moving until he was whimpering — not from pleasure now, but overstimulation. His hands fluttered against your skin like he couldn’t decide whether to pull you closer or push you away.

“S-Stop—too much—feels so good but—”

You finally stilled, breathing hard as you sank down on his softening cock. He was still panting, eyes glassy and wide, like he couldn’t believe he survived it.

You brushed the hair from his damp forehead.

“You okay, Spence?”

He nodded weakly. “I… don’t think I’ll ever be okay again.”

You laughed gently. “I think you’re just dick-drunk, baby.”

He pulled you down to his chest, arms locking around you tight like a security blanket. “I don’t care. I just want you. Forever.”

You kissed his neck, grinning.

“Forever sounds good.”

[izzih22]

could you possibly write pazzi fic based on the song casual by chappell, i need it so bad you have no idea

Not Casual

Note: this was the hardest fic to write yet… and it’s kinda crap. So I’m sorry😂😂

The windows are fogged up, dripping with the last heat of it. The kind of stillness that only comes after something overwhelming—the kind where your skin still buzzes and your brain hasn’t quite returned to your body.

Azzi’s head is tilted back, lips parted slightly, neck flushed and glistening with sweat. Her thighs are still trembling where they rest on either side of Paige’s lap. She’s wearing nothing but a hoodie now, her shorts discarded somewhere in the backseat. Paige’s hand rests low on her waist, thumb drawing circles that make Azzi shiver even though it’s warm.

There’s a glow around her.

Her eyes are half-lidded, cheeks pink, chest rising and falling like she’s still catching her breath. She’s glowing with it… blissed out, messy, full of love. And for a moment, it feels like the world is paused right there. Like she belongs in Paige’s lap forever.

Paige hasn’t said a word.

Azzi finally lifts her head off Paige’s shoulder and leans back just enough to see her face.

Paige is looking straight ahead. Her mouth is set, her jaw locked. Her hand stays steady on Azzi’s hip, but she’s silent.

Azzi shifts slightly, her heart thudding.

She already knows what’s coming.

Still, her voice is soft when she speaks. “You okay?”

Paige nods once. “Yeah.”

Azzi studies her. The tightness in her face. The way she won’t meet her eyes.

And suddenly that warm, floaty glow starts to feel a little cold.

She slides her fingers down Paige’s chest gently, fingertips brushing fabric. “That wasn’t just… nothing to you. Was it?”

Paige blinks. Doesn’t answer.

Azzi feels her stomach twist, but her voice stays gentle. “Because it wasn’t to me.”

A long silence stretches between them.

Azzi swallows and says it, almost in a whisper, the words falling heavy in the foggy space between them.

“Knee-deep in the passenger seat and you’re eating me out… is it casual now?”

Paige winces.

Azzi softens her voice more. “I’m not trying to fight. I just… I need to know if I’m the only one who feels like this is something.”

Paige finally looks at her. Her eyes are wide and vulnerable in a way that Azzi rarely gets to see.

“I treat you like you’re mine,” Paige says quietly. “Because you are. At least… in my head.”

Azzi’s heart skips.

“But then why can’t you say it?” she asks, barely audible. “Why can’t you just say what we are?”

Paige sighs and leans her head back against the seat, hand tightening slightly on Azzi’s hip. “Because I don’t know how to do this without screwing it up.”

“You’re not screwing it up by loving me,” Azzi says gently. “You’re screwing it up by pretending you don’t.”

Paige’s eyes snap to hers.

“I’m not pretending,” she says. Her voice isn’t harsh. It’s pained. “I just… I don’t know how to say it right. And if I say it wrong and lose you—”

“You won’t,” Azzi interrupts, touching her face with both hands now, cradling her like something sacred. “Paige. I’m not going anywhere. But this silence? This pretending like you don’t care the second it’s over? That hurts.”

Paige’s eyes fill a little, but she blinks them clear.

“I do care,” she says. “I care so much it makes me insane.”

Azzi gives her a little smile, tender and exhausted. “Then say it. Say what we are.”

Paige presses her forehead against Azzi’s. They stay there, breathing each other in, hearts thudding in time.

“I love you,” Paige whispers finally. “I’ve loved you since the first time you fell asleep on my chest in that Team USA dorm and I didn’t move for hours because I didn’t want to wake you.”

Azzi’s breath catches.

“And I kept calling this casual,” Paige says, “because if I called it what it really was, I’d have to admit how much I need you. And that terrifies me.”

Azzi cups her cheeks, smiling through the tears welling in her eyes.

“I’ve been yours this whole time,” she whispers. “You don’t have to be scared.”

Paige lets out a shaky breath and kisses her slow, soft, nothing like the desperate hunger from earlier. This is different. This is them.

Azzi melts against her.

Not casual. Never was.

And now, finally, they both know it.

[babydoll372]

stalker!wanda maximoff x governor!reader

but but make wanda have a fling she fucks here & there when she can’t get her hands on the governor & have her be cold when/ any time she’s around the gov, and could she be a femme ? If not it’s ok:)!!! I love ur writing so much

Rumor Has It

Pairings: intersex!Wanda Maximoff x governor!reader

Word count: 1080

Warnings: smut, Wanda is established as a stalker but there’s no stalking (I apologize), breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, fluff, some angst, mentions of cheating (not really cheating tho), arguing, jealousy, obsessed!wanda, daddy kink, intersex!wanda

Wanda groaned as the pounding on her door continued, her feet quickening in speed to open it. She was met with the sight of an angry you. She raised a brow.

“Uh, you need something?” You pushed past her, storming into the house and ignoring how your boots left rain-padded footprints on the floor. You turned to face her, a scowl marking your expression as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Yeah, I do, actually. Who the fuck is Lindy?” Wanda looked at you in confusion before realizing who it was you were speaking of, making you scoff.

“Oh, Lindy! Yeah, her…what about her?” Your eyes were wide, as if she had just asked the most unreal question, and to you, she did.

“What about her?! I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’re fucking her behind my back! You didn’t think to tell me about that?!” She chuckles, taking a step closer and putting her hands on your arms, making you quickly push them off to which she rolled her eyes at your dramatics.

“Okay, relax, you’re pissing me off. Lindy is just a fuck buddy, I don’t give a shit about her. I didn’t even remember who she was!”

“It doesn’t matter! You still shouldn’t be sleeping with someone else when you’re with me-“

“Woah, woah, woah, I’m not with you, Y/N. You’re the one who said it, you don’t do the whole dating thing.” Your mouth opened and closed again, your voice box suddenly being unequipped and your throat feeling dry.

“Well- you don’t do the whole dating thing either!”

“No, no, I said I’d date you and only you. I don’t date anyone else, I don’t give two shits about anyone else other than you and I’m real fucking tired of you acting like I do, you got me? Lindy-“

“Stop talking about her, please…” Wanda slowly formed a grin, her hand falling to your hip as she pulled you in closer. She glanced down at your lips, knowing you were staring at hers, but she didn’t lean in. Her warm, soft breath fell on your face.

“Lindy is just some girl I screw when I’m bored, when you’re in your conference meetings, or when you like to deny how much you want me. She asked me on a date before, you know what I said? I said no, Y/N. You know why? Because you’re mine, and I’m yours. Whether you want to date me or not, I can’t get enough of you and this fucking body of yours…” She groaned out, swallowing thickly as your breath slowly began to quicken in pace the more she spoke. You glanced down in shame and in desire, but her hand on your chin redirected you quickly.

“She has a stupid name anyway.” You scoffed, and Wanda formed a smirk and a chuckle, shaking her head yet she agreed. She agreed with anything you said.

“But, uhm…I- I’m sorry. For, you know…not, uh, being good with feelings, I guess.” You struggled to get out, and the brunette's sly look only made it worse.

“Yeah, you better be sorry, baby, you put me through so much these past few months…why don’t you formally apologize?”

—

Your loud moans filled the room as her cock thrusted deep inside of you, her balls slapping against your ass, a groan escaping her with each breath. The bed frame was slapping against the wall, your hair in a tight ponytail held by her hand.

“You like that, hm? This all you came here for, you dirty slut?” She chuckled, pulling your face back and leaning forward so her lips were near your ear. “That look on your face when you realized you weren’t the only needy pussy I fucked, oh, it was hysterical.” She slapped your ass, making you whine out and grip the bed sheets tighter.

“Don’t you worry, baby, yours will always be my favorite.” She moaned at the end of her sentence, your warm walls trapping her inside as your jaw fell slack, your eyes squeezing shut. She had reached it before plenty of times, yet it never failed to amaze you when she hit your G-spot.

“D-don’t stop! Please don’t stop, Daddy!” A sly smirk fell on her face at the name, and if it wasn’t for the coil building further and further inside of her she would’ve kept you on edge for as long as she could. But instead, her pace somehow grew quicker, and your desperation enhanced.

“You’re Daddy’s only cock-whore, no one will ever fucking compare to you. No one. Fuck, I need you so bad.” You nodded quickly, tears brimming your eyes at the immense satisfaction.

“I- I’m gonna cum! Please- I wanna cum for you, Daddy,” You meekly begged, feeling her lips on your neck. “A-and I want you to cum inside me. I wan’ everyone to know I-I’m your slut, and I want that bitch to know you’re mine.” Her kisses paused, her eyes looking into yours to see if you were lying, but there was a genuine look in them.

“Yeah? You’re gonna let Daddy fill you to the brim with her cum? Oh, you’ll be the prettiest Mommy for me, Princess…” It didn’t take long for the two of you to release at the same time, coordinated by the woman on top of you. She smiled to herself, realizing she had finally got what she wanted. The next morning you were still in her bed, a rare occasion. And she quickly grabbed her phone to text Lindy, ‘Don’t come by, this is over.’ Without explanation. She didn’t feel bad for blocking her and deleting her contact, she only felt instant relief at what she had now.

The months on you still had your conferences, meetings, and so forth, everything Wanda didn’t understand but still supported. She was finally invited, sitting front row as she cheered whenever your section ended. She’d give you a warm smile to look upon, and it only grew the more she noticed your evolving bump. Eventually, the rumors would come out, and you were seen walking with the woman on multiple occasions. Some were you two holding hands as you ventured to a destination, in one you two even wore matching sundresses from her selection. People were shocked to see you with a woman, and even more so seeing the obvious pregnancy belly you wore with pride. But Wanda couldn’t be happier, and neither could you.

[maxtermind]

angry sex with lestappen where you're jealous mad at charles because he was flirting with– talking innocently to– someone else.

you know it wasn’t flirting, not really. charles is just like that– smiles too much, stands too close, tilts his head when he listens like every word matters. and it pisses you the fuck off.

being aware doesn’t really stop the ugly burn from flaring in your chest though and it's no spoiler that it ends up hurting your boyfriends too.

you saw the way she touched his arm, saw how he laughed, soft and just for her, and for the rest of the evening you couldn’t look at him without tasting blood in your mouth.

charles, oblivious at first, kept asking what was wrong.

and when you didn’t answer, he simply stopped asking, hoping max will sort this out. max does try, he tries to get you to talk and loosen up but now?

max is angry at you for giving him the silent treatment as well because he knows he hasn't done anything wrong but has to suffer because of his dumbass boyfriend.

max hates being caught in the middle.

he’s not subtle about it either– slamming cabinets in the kitchen, snapping at both of you.

“you two are ridiculous,” he mutters, pacing like a storm in bare feet and boxer briefs.

he didn’t do anything. and yet somehow he’s been cut out of the warmth– left in the cold with two stubborn idiots who won't talk to each other.

you won’t let max touch you. charles won’t touch max. max is burning as well with nothing to hold on to.

charles who is mad at max for not taking his side and trying to clear his name off alone. he didn’t ask for a rescue, but god, didn't max love him enough to put him first? he wanted an out.

wanted max to roll his eyes and say ���charles doesn’t even notice when people flirt with him. trust me. it's nothing.”

wanted someone in his corner when he saw the press speculating, when you walked away from him without a word.

he felt abandoned. his mouth twists bitter when he accepts it.

“i was getting attacked out there and you just stood there.”

max only shrugs, jaw clenched.

“what, so now you think it's my fault too?”

you laugh, dry and sharp, and that’s the final crack. your display of nonchalance makes max crack.

rough hands, snarky comments and a few eye rolls later–

they both have you pinned on the bed.

charles’s mouth on your bare skin, hands gripping your hips. pressing kisses against your waist, trying to get more access.

max’s fingers in your hair, his voice low and furious in your ear as he rolls a nipple between his fingers.

“baby, you could’ve just told us you were jealous.”

you gasp as charles bites down– not gentle, not soft. it hurts and you glare at him as your eyes well up.

“you hurt me,” he says between teeth and tongue, voice breaking. his reasoning made sense, he was only hurting you back. ignoring how you clenched around nothing, you sigh.

max pushes your legs open wider with a gentle hand. the guilt hits you hard. you shouldn't have given him the silent treatment over something charles did and as you're about to speak up and apologise-

“you don’t get to ignore us and then act like the victim.”

your body burns with it- all of it.

shame, want, anger, love.

it’s rough. fast and out of this world. the way they make you feel is out of this world and it is making your thoughts messy, more honest. they make you melt in their hold, your back arching as you try to chase the orgasm you are denied once again.

you whine, over it this time. the conversation in bruises and sweat and desperate friction has forgiven it all.

charles chokes on a moan as you tug his curls, urging him to press his lips against yours.

max bites your shoulder as you arch into him, his fingers deep, arching to find that one spot he knows will only driver you more desperate.

hands all over. sweat and spit marking you as theirs.

no rhythm, no coordination, just need. three people trying to claw their way back into each other.

charles is the one breaking first, apologising for nothing really. you don't remember now.

afterward, the room is quiet but not calm. you finally are granted the orgasm you wanted. your lovers basking in the little twitches and sounds of your body.

you’re tangled in sheets and sore all over, skin humming with every fingerprint and bite mark they left.

charles has his head on your chest, eyes wet.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, voice raw. “i don't wa-want anyond but you both.”

you kiss his forehead. heart finally slowing down a bit.

“i know. i love you too.”

he breathes out like it hurts still as if he thought you'd never say it to him again. what a fool.

max slides an arm across both your waists, pulling you into him.

still frustrated so he presses a kiss to your lips when you try to speak up again. that's just who max was. this is why it's easy to get mad at him.

he never stays mad, hes the rational, the one who understands and lets go of stuff when needed but still silently furious at how easily you took advantage of that.

you make a note to make upto him later, he wasn't going anywhere anyway. instead you both comfort charles. the one who breaks the earliest in between you all.

you wonder if max ever thinks of leaving you both. you're too dependent on him, emotionally, mentally, physically.

but he's still there. you let out a sign of relief. kissing him this time instead. scared yet reassured. gentle yet harsh. comforting yet hurtful.

and that’s love, isn’t it? not clean. not easy.

just real, and aching, understanding, despite the anger, still trying.

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[mysterymachine67]

got you into the loophole that is daredevil. i love it. talking about the blind man;

coaxing him to stay home for the night, with a lot of difficulties, but still managing to get him to bed as you whisper sweet nothings into his ear, promising to take care of him in a LOT of ways, then finally relieving him, allat 🤲pls

PAIRING -> Matthew Murdock x M!reader

SUMMARY -> Taking care of Matt because he needs it.

NSFW. MINOR��S DNI.

My writing in this is so ass I’m so sorry 😭

“C’mon, baby, you’ve done enough today,” You spoke, softly. You stood behind him, an arm wrapped around his middle. You were whispering into his ear, trying to convinced him to stay home for the night. But was he listening? No. “You deserve a break for a night. Lemme take care of you.” Matt had one of his hands on your wrist—holding a tight grip.

“I can’t stay tonight you know there’s been a lot of stuff going on lately. If I stay here—“ you cut him off because you couldn’t bear to hear him any longer.

“Matthew, not everybody is your responsibility. You deserve a break—a day off. Let me do something for you.”

There was a long beat of silence.

“No, not tonight. I can’t. Got stuff t’do.” he finally answered.

“Stuff that can wait. You’ve done so much lately, don’t you think you deserve some sort of reward?” God, this was gonna take forever. Matt tipped his head back, and you took the opportunity to kiss at his neck. Maybe not?

“I don’t know.” He sighed. Your other hand came up, sliding along his stomach till it met with his hip. Burying your face into his shoulder you groaned. Why couldn’t he just agree? You promised to take care of him—treat him for a few hours. Who would turn that down? Matthew fucking Murdock it seemed. Just as you were about to open your mouth to say another plea, he started to speak. “If I agree…” he paused for some reason. You could practically hear his smile. “Promise to take care of me properly?” Was that even a question? You popped your head up, lips brushing over his ear. Even nipping a bit.

“Course,” you whispered.

⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The two of you slowly walked to his bed, with how you kept stopping to kiss him and feel him.

“I’ll make you feel so good. Make you forget everything,” you’d say, voice calm and steady. When you got close enough to the bed, you pushed Matt down then climbed on top of him. His hands immediately reached out for your body. With you leaning down to kiss him, it made it easier for his hands to roam up and under your shirt—all the way to your back. You groaned softly, pulling back to kiss at his jaw instead. Pressing small, quick kisses all the way down to his neck. Matt gasped when he felt a slight sting due to your teeth; you didn’t bite down too hard, just enough to get a reaction out of him. But either way you ran your tongue over the bite, and sucked—soothing the sensitive area. His breath hitched, legs shifting as he started to get more and more desperate. Your mouth got lower and lower, causing you to have to move your body down. You pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss right on his Adam’s apple. Meanwhile, your hands pushed his shirt up till you couldn’t anymore. You then pulled away, and watched as he sat up a bit to take off his shirt.

Matt threw the piece of clothing down to the floor somewhere, a problem for later. When he laid back down you went right back to the same position you were in before, but this time you were down more so that you could kiss at his chest. He huffed, shutting his eyes for a brief moment. Your hands ran down the sides of his body, all the way to his thighs. Which with every kiss you planted and hickey you made, you got closer and closer to where Matt wanted you the most. Your lips brushed over his stomach before pressing a soft kiss, and your hands started to undo his belt. With his cock finally free after a minor struggle, Matt whispered something. Which you couldn’t make out but you’d assume it had to do with you about to pleasure him.

Anyway, he adjusted his position—getting more comfortable because he had a feeling what would be next. And oh, he was right. The moment he felt your lips wrap around his tip he groaned lowly. A hand coming up behind your head, only daring to hold. Matt let out a soft gasp when you continued. Your tongue rubbing at the underside, then moving to lap up the pre. His legs moved, feet planting on the bed. Thighs tensing and attempting to close around your head when you took him a bit deeper. Keyword, attempting. Fortunately you were in between them so they couldn’t.

You moved back just enough to only have his tip in your mouth. You swirled and flicked your tongue, relishing in the sounds that poured from his mouth. A few seconds past, then you took him. All of him. Relaxing your throat and letting him sit in your mouth for a moment before starting to bob your head. Matt let out a drawn out groan, letting his head fall back against the pillow beneath him. He even dared to raise his hips. Which you shot him a look. The more and more you moved your head, sucked, and moved your tongue, the closer he got. Head turning from one side to the other. Not frequent, just every so often. Pulling away with a wet ‘pop’, you traced a vein with your tongue. Even managing to collect some of his pre-cum. The blowjob didn’t last long. It wasn’t really surprising. You had a pent up, somewhat needy boyfriend who just wanted something, even if he wouldn’t admit it. So when you finally got him like this? After all the struggles and difficulties you went through? He was finally, finally starting to let himself go.

You pressed your tongue flat on the head of his cock, then proceeded to move it upward. Hearing as he sucked in a breath and moaned. He couldn’t help it, the way you took him was perfect. A whine falling from his lips as he went to push his hips up, not intentionally, but forcing you to take more of him. Which it caught you off guard, but with a thought to yourself and a slight grumble you let him do what he needed to do. Which was slowly fucking your mouth. Moving his hips up and down while he let out sounds. Even taking it a step further and slowly putting his hands at the sides of your head. As if he was testing the waters. He couldn’t see your reaction, no shit, but he could tell that you didn’t protest or anything of that matter. In just a few seconds he held his hips up, keeping his cock in the warmth of your mouth as he came.

↓

You were buried inside him in a matter of minutes. Not moving or anything, only making out as you jerked him off lazily with one of your hands. Matt groaned into your mouth, taking your bottom lip in between his teeth when you pulled away briefly. Although this was nice, you knew the both of you needed something more.

So, you did you both a favor—switching him over on his back to finally fuck him properly.

↓

Your cock pushed against all the right spots within him. And something even better? He hugged you perfectly. As if he was made for you. His legs tightened around your waist, pulling you closer—deeper into him. He knew what he was doing, and you did too. Not that you were going to stop him or anything.

You made sure to keep your cock buried inside his warm hole when you leaned down atop him. Your lips brushing over his. First taking his bottom lip in between your teeth and pulling before letting go and kissing him. Just how he had done to you. Matt moaned into your mouth, hands coming up to your shoulders then slowly wrapping his arms around your neck. Pulling away for a quick breath he murmured against your mouth. “You’re really keeping your promise, huh?”

You smiled. “Of course.” You say, before leaning back in for another kiss.

Your hands gripped at his sides, one of your pointer fingers tracing one of his scars. With a hum you broke the kiss, Matt groaning from the loss. Within a few seconds you pulled back, straightening your position then picking up your pace; going back to the fast and deep thrusts that he loved.

Thirty minutes later, you were still pounding into him as if he was gonna disappear. During those thirty minutes, Matt came again. Staining areas of his chest white. The position changed, his legs now hooked over your shoulders—giving you a better angle to fuck your cock deeper into him. He wasn’t that tired. Maybe a few more rounds left in him. At the moment he couldn’t bear the thought of feeling the loss of your cock. You were fucking him too good. The feel of you hammering his insides made him squirm, arch his back, and do anything but stay still. That was until you decided enough was enough; moving your hands from his thighs to his hips. Grabbing him strong enough to make him stay still a bit. His mouth was hung open and all that left it was weak groans, moans, and nearly high pitched whines ‘n whimpers. Which just fueled you on even more. Not stopping till you were grabbing ahold of him once again, and cumming deep in him with a groan. Hips stuttering but still trying to maintain the pace you had set. And Matt? Matt was gone. The thought of him being able to go a few more rounds was no longer in his head—completely faded away. The moment he’d felt your cum fill him once again he came with you. His orgasm washing over him, dick jumping and absolutely throbbing. The angry shade of red it wore wasn’t hard to miss.

When your thrusts slowed, and turned into heavy, deep thrusts, the more easier it was to calm yourselves down. Catching your breath while Matt was still breathing heavily and clutching the sheets so tight his knuckles turned white. You leaned down over him, stopping the movement of your hips. Your lips hovered over his for a few short seconds before you gave him a proper, gentle kiss. “Did so good takin’ me—letting me take care of you.” You mumbled, hands starting to run up and down his sides.

This was something you both needed.

[quill-vy]

UNDER THE RADAR

warnings: angst, fluff, use of y/n.

a/n: surprise! just something to read before MARGIN OF ERROR (not linked)

hope you guys enjoy,

lots of love! ❤️

IN WHICH

Lando Norris is your boyfriend best friend. (there was definitely more going on)

secret handshakes and stolen kisses

you and lando had mastered the art of hiding in plain sight.

it helped that you’d been friends for nearly two decades—no one batted an eye when you sat together in the mclaren garage, or when he slung an arm over your shoulder in group photos. best friends did that. best friends definitely didn’t sneak kisses in elevator corners or trace promises onto each other’s skin in hotel rooms, but hey. details.

"you’re staring," lando murmured, nudging your foot under the table in the paddock cafeteria.

“uh, no," you lied, popping a grape into your mouth.

he grinned, that stupid, lopsided smile that made your stomach flip. "liar. you’re thinking about last night."

"shut up," you hissed, kicking him as your face burned. a mechanic walked past, and you immediately schooled your expression into something neutral.

lando just laughed, low and warm, before leaning in like he was telling a secret. "miss me already?"

"miss your ego, more like."

"ouch." he pressed a hand to his chest, but his eyes sparkled. "you love me."

you did. god, you did.

———

the cracks in the facade

the problem with secrets is they start to feel heavy.

it happened slowly—lando canceling plans last-minute because his pr team wanted him at some influencer event. "just go with me," you’d pleaded. "say i’m your plus-one." "you know i can’t," he’d sighed. then came the tabloid photos of him laughing with some model in monaco, her hand on his arm. harmless, but it stung.

the final straw was silverstone.

"you’re what?" you stared at him from across his hotel room.

lando ran a hand through his hair. "they want me to do this stupid ‘fake relationship’ promo thing with some tv host. for the british gp. it’s just—"

"just business?" you finished, voice brittle. "right. of course."

"y/n—"

"no, i get it." you turned toward the window, watching the sunset paint the track orange. "i just… i don’t know how much longer i can do this, lan. pretending you’re not mine."

the silence that followed was suffocating.

———

it exploded two days later.

"you knew this was part of the job," lando said, pacing. "the pr stunts, the rumors—"

"i knew," you interrupted. "but i didn’t know it would feel like this. watching you play boyfriend for the cameras while i’m just… your friend in the background."

"you’re not just anything—"

"then act like it!"

he froze. for the first time in years, you saw fear in his eyes. "what are you saying?"

you swallowed hard. "i’m saying i need more. or i need to walk away."

———

resolution

lando showed up at your flat at 3am.

he looked wrecked—hair messy, eyes red-rimmed, still in his team kit from the day’s promo events. without a word, he pulled out his phone, opened instagram, and handed it to you.

on the screen: a draft post. a photo of your intertwined hands on his knee, his thumb brushing your knuckles. the caption read: "told you i’d keep you."

"i was gonna post it after silverstone," he admitted, voice rough. "but then we fought, and i—" his breath hitched. "i don’t want to lose you. so if you’re ready, i’m ready."

you stared at him. "your team—"

"can deal." he stepped closer, cupping your face. "you’re my priority. always have been."

when you kissed him, it tasted like salt and relief.

———

australia, one year later

the crowd roared as lando crossed the line in p1. you were on your feet before his car even stopped, shoving past the team to reach him first.

he ripped off his helmet, eyes wild with joy, and before anyone could stop him—before pr could intervene—he grabbed your face and kissed you, hard and desperate, in front of 200,000 people and the f1 world feed.

max’s voice crackled over the radio: "fucking finally."

lando just grinned against your lips. "worth the wait."

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

hi, hope you're doing great !! feel free to ignore this if it makes you uncomfortable !! i would love to see a simon x neurodivergent!reader, maybe she's blunt because she doesn't really get social cues, quiet when happy (it's when she starts talking that something is wrong LOL). anyway i'm projecting ahah love your writing, have a great day love !!!

Tell Me Without Saying It

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Neurodivergent!Reader

Warnings: Sensory overload, emotional dysregulation (non-violent), swearing, misunderstandings, implied neurodivergence, protective Simon, soft comfort themes

Author's Note: Thank you so much for trusting me with this idea. As someone who relates deeply to a reader like this, this was written with so much love and understanding. You are not too much. You are not hard to love. We all have different experiences in this way of life but what matters is that you’re enough and you deserve love.

Summary: You're not always easy to read, but Simon’s learned how to speak your language. Silence means comfort—unless it doesn’t. When you spiral after a sensory overload, he knows just what to do.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The first thing Simon noticed when he got home was that the house was too quiet.

Which didn’t mean much to anyone else. Most people wanted noise to signal life: laughter, a TV humming, the click of a phone being scrolled through. But Simon? He knew the real signs. The real warnings.

Like the silence you made when something was wrong.

Because when you were happy, you didn’t talk much. You just… were. Curled up in your spot on the couch with your hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, sipping your drink slowly, not saying much—maybe just humming, blinking slow and content like a cat in sunlight. That was your language. Peace was stillness. Quiet was safety.

But this kind of silence?

This was tension.

He kicked off his boots, set them neatly by the door. No keys jingling. No TV on. No scent of candles or your soft humming or even the tap of your fingers on your phone screen. Just… nothing.

“Love?” he called out softly, dropping his duffel by the stairs.

No answer.

His shoulders stiffened.

Then came the sound—subtle, but there. A quiet thud from the bedroom. Followed by the unmistakable scrape of something hitting the floor and a shaky breath. Not yours. Not really. Yours were always so measured. This one was clipped. Erratic.

He moved without thinking.

——

The door to your shared bedroom was cracked open. And there you were.

On the floor. Not collapsed—you never lost control—but very deliberately sitting in the corner, your knees tucked up to your chest, eyes glassy and jaw clenched hard like you were forcing it shut.

The room was a little messy. Drawers pulled open. A hoodie half-flung across the bed like you’d tried it on and hated how it felt. Socks mismatched on your feet. Your water bottle tipped on its side, leaking onto a notebook.

Simon took in every detail in half a second and dropped to a crouch beside you.

You didn’t look at him. Didn’t speak.

But your fingers twitched once when he got close. He saw that. So he didn’t touch you. Just sat down against the wall beside you, giving you exactly 7 inches of space.

Enough to breathe.

Not enough to be alone.

Your voice, when it came, was hoarse and clipped. “I don’t know why it’s happening. I was fine. And then I wasn’t. Nothing happened. But everything feels like it’s moving too fast, and I hate all my clothes and I can’t fucking—”

You broke off. Bit down hard on the inside of your cheek. Looked away.

Simon nodded slowly. “Alright,” he murmured. “I believe you.”

You swallowed thickly.

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Then don’t.”

You flinched, maybe expecting a follow-up. A suggestion. A fix.

But Simon didn’t offer one.

He just sat beside you, quiet. Breathing slow. Letting you match his rhythm if you needed to.

Three minutes passed like that.

Then you whispered, “My shirt felt wrong and then my pants felt worse and I hate that I care but it makes my skin crawl and I tried to change but I didn’t want to change because I liked what I picked this morning but now it feels like someone else picked it for me and I don’t know why I care but I do.”

Simon turned his head just a little, just enough to look at you without crowding.

“I know that feeling.”

You glanced at him, skeptical. “You do not.”

“I do,” he said softly. “Got that way after missions. Couldn’t wear anything tight. Couldn’t be inside sometimes. Felt like my skin was screaming. Couldn’t explain it. Just wanted it all off me. Like I’d been put in someone else’s body.”

You blinked. Your expression cracked.

“…Exactly.”

Simon reached down slowly, brushed his knuckles against the floor. Still didn’t touch you.

“Okay if I get you something soft to wear?”

You nodded, hesitant.

He stood up, moved through the room carefully, like someone walking in a church. Quiet. Respectful.

He found your favorite hoodie—the oversized one with the sleeves that hung past your hands and the tag you’d already cut off—and your soft cotton joggers. No elastic waist. No tightness. Just you.

He brought them back and set them down beside you gently.

You looked at them. Then at him.

“Can you turn around?” you asked.

He turned without hesitation.

Behind him, he heard the rustle of fabric. The shuffle of movement. A tiny, whispered sigh of relief.

And then, after a few seconds: “You can look now.”

You weren’t crying. You didn’t cry often. But your eyes were puffy and your breathing was still uneven.

Simon dropped back down beside you.

“I don’t want to explain myself every time this happens,” you muttered suddenly. “I’m tired. I just want it to be. And not feel guilty about it.”

“You don’t owe anyone an explanation,” he said, voice like rough velvet. “Not even me.”

You looked at him sharply, like you were waiting for a catch. But there wasn’t one. Just Simon, steady and quiet, his big frame curled beside you like a dog waiting patiently for the storm to pass.

“I don’t know how to be soft,” you admitted. “I don’t know how to sugarcoat. I say things and people think I’m rude or cold or robotic but I’m just—me. This is what love looks like for me. It’s quiet and blunt and weird. And I’m scared you’ll get tired of that.”

Simon turned fully to face you then, gaze sharp, intense in that way that could shake a lesser person to their bones. But you didn’t flinch. You just held your ground, even in your moment of overwhelm.

“I fell in love with you because of that,” he said firmly. “Not in spite of it.”

Your throat bobbed.

Simon leaned in just a little, eyes locked on yours.

“You don’t sugarcoat,” he said, almost fond now. “You say exactly what you mean. You’re never fake. You’re quiet when you’re happy and loud when you’re hurting. That’s how I know what matters.”

You were quiet again, but this time… soft. The air around you shifted.

Simon reached out slowly, giving you time to pull away.

You didn’t.

He cupped the side of your face, thumb stroking along your jaw.

“Don’t need you to be soft, love,” he murmured. “Need you to be real. That’s who I’m staying for.”

A long pause.

Then, finally—finally—you leaned into him. Tentative at first, then full. Tucked your head under his chin. Let your hands bunch into his hoodie.

He held you. No rocking. No shushing. Just his arms, firm and solid and safe.

After a while, you spoke again. “Thank you.”

Simon rested his cheek on top of your head.

“Anytime,” he said. “Every time.”

——

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[delilahsturniolo]

— ♡ off the table . . . m.s

in which . . . matt helps you get through a rough patch of thinking you can’t find love again.

warnings . . . angst, comfort, crying, fluff, talks of past relationships + losing someone important

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

POSITIONS WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #5

you don’t talk about the past much. not out loud. not when it still haunts you in quiet moments, late at night, when the room is dark and your chest is heavy and the silence gets too loud. you loved someone before. you gave them your whole heart, and when they left, they didn’t give it back. so now, you walk through life with a half-healed soul. smiling when you need to. laughing just enough to keep people from asking. but love? you keep that off the table. until matt.

he comes into your life quietly. no grand gestures, no drama. just soft glances and easy conversation. he’s gentle where the world’s been harsh. patient where others rushed. he never asks for more than you can give, but he gives. constantly. and without expecting anything in return. at first, you keep your distance.

he texts, you wait to reply. he leans in, you lean back. he offers comfort, you pretend you don’t need it. but matt never makes you feel bad for pulling away. he just… stays. and somehow, that’s what starts to break your walls down. you’re sitting on his couch one night, legs tucked beneath you, eyes on some movie you’re not watching. he’s beside you, close but not touching. his fingers tap a lazy rhythm on his thigh. he looks over and catches you staring. “you okay?” he asks, voice low. you nod. pause. then shake your head. “i don’t know how to do this.” he tilts his head. “do what?”

“be with someone again.” he doesn’t speak right away. doesn’t rush you. he waits. and when he does speak, it’s soft. real. “you don’t have to be ready right now. i just want to be where you are. even if that’s just… here.” your eyes sting. not because you’re sad, but because you’re not used to being seen like this, fragile and unsure, and still wanted anyway. “i keep wondering,” you whisper, “if love’s even on the table for me anymore.”

he shifts closer, his hand barely brushing yours. “what if we built something new? something that doesn’t look like what you lost, but something just as real?” you look at him. really look. matt, with his warm eyes and steady voice. matt, who never pushed too hard. matt, who waited. you exhale. “it won’t work.” he smiles. “then i’ll help make it work.” and slowly, so slowly, you let your fingers lace with his. he doesn’t squeeze. just lets it happen. lets you come to him. and in that moment, it doesn’t feel like pressure. it feels like possibility.

© delilahsturniolo

[adoringaffliction]

A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

Professor!Reid x student!fem!reader

Warnings: age-gap, power dynamics, mean!dom!spencer, sub!reader, reader is reid's student, reader wears a skirt, petnames, oral (fem receiving), fingering, dubcon (please do not do this irl), semi-public sex, reader is in college, cheating, reader has a boyfriend

Summary: Reader's professor Dr. Reid, overheard some complaints about Reader's boyfriend. It's too bad her boyfriend doesn't have what it takes to really take care of her.

MDNI +18

The bell rang and I gathered my things off my desk. 

“Y/n can you hang back for just a sec?” Dr. Reid asked and my head popped up. He looked particularly fine today. Hair tousled and sweater vest on. I nodded and grabbed my backpack throwing it over my shoulder and walking up to his desk. 

“What’s up?” I looked down at him in his desk chair and watched as his eyes roved from my face down to my shoes. I could feel the flush starting on my face. 

He reached out to thumb the hem of my skirt,”This is cute.” 

“Oh thanks-“

“You don’t wear skirts often,” he looked up at me, still having my skirt pinched between his index and thumb. 

“Oh- um- I just bought it,” I stammered. I looked around to find no one else in the classroom. “Dr. Reid, did you need something?” 

He maintained eye contact, ”You could say that.” 

My chest tightened and I could feel my skin start to buzz. It felt hot, and his gaze didn’t help the matter. 

“What did you need?” 

“How are you and your boyfriend doing?” 

I looked at him confused,”Um- well- we’re fine.” 

He nodded and let go of my skirt,”Got it, so what you said to Selena is fine?” I gulped. I’d explained to my desk partner Selena that me and my boyfriend were on the rocks. He seemingly had no interest in me physically and it was starting to make me restless. “Cause it didn’t sound fine.” 

“How- how much of that did you hear?” 

“You sit right next to my desk sweetheart.” 

I nodded resigning to my fate. My physics teacher had heard about my sexual frustrations and now he was staring up at me and being hot and I couldn’t take it anymore. It was like I was going feral. I pressed my fingers to the space I between my brow,”Dr. Reid I am so sorry you had to hear that-“

I felt Dr. Reid’s hand start to snake around my exposed thigh. He tugged causing me to  shuffle towards him. “It’s a shame really.” His eyes rolled up and down my figure stopping back at my eyes. 

“Wh-what?” 

“I said it’s a shame. Look at you. Bet this skirt was for him, huh?” His hand grazed the back of my thigh and I felt it travel up. 

I glanced down at the outfit I was wearing,”I- well, yeah…” 

“Too bad…” 

“Mr. Reid, I don’t know-“ 

“Funny- I thought you knew everything,” he joked and looked up at me. His fingers started to gently trace over the edges of my panties. 

“I-,” I started, only to be interrupted again. 

“You know, you’re not very quiet.” 

“Wh- what do you mean?” 

He looked up at me and grinned devilishly,“I hear everything you say honey. I sat you up next to me for a reason.” I look at him confused. “Oh don’t act so innocent. Because the things you say about me to your desk partner definitely aren’t.” I look at him like a deer caught in headlights. Shit. “Aw, you thought you were slick huh?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Aw now, don’t lie honey. Lying’s a sin you know. You don’t need anything else in your repertoire.” My jaw drops and he laughs,”You’re adorable.” 

His fingertips continued their dance over the edges of my cotton underwear. He flipped up my skirt to take a peek and grinned. I was wearing a pink pair with an embroidered rabbit on the front. “God, it just keeps getting better huh?” He looked up at me, and it no longer felt like I was looking at my adorably nerdy physics professor. This was an entirely different man. This wasn’t Dr. Reid. This man was sinister, and hungry. Like a wolf waiting for its prey to take the bait, and unfortunately I was stupid. 

“They’re my favorite pair,” I murmured. 

“Oh I bet, they’re very you.” 

I nodded nervously at this comment. There was something uncomfortable in his gaze. It kept me shifting from side to side. I felt as if I was being inspected. I kept looking back at the classroom door to make sure no-one was going to walk in. 

Reid noticed this,”The door’s locked from the outside sweetheart. No one’s gonna see me play with you.” I felt my face flush harder. He spoke so sweetly, yet every word was drenched in the essence of sin. “You don’t even know how long I’ve wanted this. To see you. Feel you.” He hooked his fingers around the waistband of my panties and began to peel them down. 

Something in between a moan and a laugh escaped his lips as he watched my panties try their best to cling to me. A silent protest to the debauchery happening before them. The honey from my center webbed itself to my underwear. A silky strand of wetness shining in the fluorescent light of the classroom. 

“God, that is so sweet,”he smiled and gazed up at me with blown out pupils and devastatingly doeish eyes. My breathing took a rapid turn and I felt like a rabbit, constantly twitching. “It’s okay sweet girl, just let it happen. This is what you wanted right?” His smirk is enough to force my understanding. I’d brought this upon myself. My own lustful ideas and wishes. The things I’d let slip to my desk partner. All a dreadful mistake, because now I’d made my way right into the wolve’s den. 

“I think the words you’d used were,’I want him to do despicable things to me’. No?” If I was embarrassed before, it was nothing on the mortification I was feeling now. He was being cruel, and he knew it. Tears brimmed at my lash line and he laughed,”Aw, aren’t these the consequences of your own actions sweet thing?” I tried to nod but all my function was lost as he drug his finger from my entrance to my clit, drawing slow figure-eights. A small whimper fell from my mouth and my eyes fluttered shut. Quickly I grabbed the edge of his desk. He applied more pressure and I was sure that my legs would give out.

I’d touched myself before, but this was nothing like how that felt. It was different, and almost exciting. While all of my own touches were calculated, his were sudden. New. 

“Dr. Reid-,” I brokenly cried. 

“What is it sweet girl? It feel good?” His lips curled up and then he took it all away. 

I whined at the loss of stimulation, but all of that was quickly forgotten when he gripped my hips and manhandled me to the top of his desk. Sat on the edge, legs spread, and my panties hanging off of my right ankle. Shining and mocking me, circling my ruffled socks and white sneakers. It was a cute outfit, but I’d never be able to wear it again and think normal thoughts.

“I need to do an experiment, okay angel?” 

I looked down at him with curiosity. I watched as he smirked again,”I need to know if you taste as sweet as you look.” And with that he buried his head underneath my skirt. I felt his tongue lick up my core, gathering all of my essence and flicking it back into his mouth with a groan. A shattered moan broke through me as he ate me out like I was some kind of undeniable delicacy. Except most would think that this meant he would take his time. But Dr. Reid never stood still for long, and he definitely was not good at slow. 

It wasn’t long before I felt an orgasm build in me as he rolled my clit between his lips and inserted his long middle finger into me. It was an unknown intrusion- nothing like how mine had felt. He curled it and pressed into the wall of my pussy. This drew a gasp and a drawing of my eyebrows together. I peeled back my skirt so I could see the master at work and was doomed the moment his chestnut curls came into view. The new light must have alerted him of my peeping as he was now staring up at me with those eyes, and that’s when it happened. 

My orgasm broke over me like a tsunami. Waves of staticy pleasure washing over me one after the other. But what was pleasure quickly turned to overstimulation, causing whine after whine to jump from my lips. 

He pulled away grinning, my wetness dripping from his stubbled chin. “That good huh?” He asked and I nodded vigorously. My hand was gripped onto his shoulder when I felt him rise to his feet. In this position I felt much more cornered. Everywhere I looked there he was, staring at me with that stupid smirk on his face. 

“It’s too bad that your boyfriend doesn’t ever wanna do that for you,” he licked his lips and wiped his chin with his sleeve. I was so entranced that I missed when he hooked his finger around my favorite pair of underwear, removing it from my ankle, and stuffing it into his pant pocket. “But, you know, my door’s always open.” I gulped and nodded. “You’re sweet, inside and out.” He helped me down and walked me to his classroom door. Before I could even quite register what was happening I was pushed out into the hallway and the door was closed behind me. I turned to face the door and suddenly felt awfully chill down there… 

I tried the handle but funnily enough, locked. 

[pinkslipxox]

heyyy how are u??

i have a request but pls just ignore this if you think its gonna be boring: for tattoo artist!billie we go to her studio (we could be nervous for it or confident idk u decide. maybe the tattoo is really meaningful to the reader? like a medusa tattoo? or it can be random if u don't wanna write that obviously). we get along really well, and it's all a little flirty and we have her number by the end of it. overall its just really soft and wholesome and cute.

hola, mami! Im good and you? Ugh yes of course! Hope you like it 🙈❤️

——————————————————————————

You walk into the tattoo parlor, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness swirling in your stomach. It's your first tattoo, and though you know exactly what you want—a Medusa, with the snakes wrapping around your arm, looking both fierce and beautiful—you can’t help but feel a little anxious. But as soon as you step inside, the nerves begin to melt away.

The shop is quiet, almost calming, with dark walls and dim lights giving off a cozy, intimate vibe. And there, behind the counter, is Billie. She’s leaning against it, wearing a loose hoodie and a beanie, but even in the casual look, she exudes an undeniable coolness. She gives you a soft smile when she sees you. Her eyes are warm, the kind that immediately makes you feel like you’ve known her for much longer than just a few seconds.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she says with a light, teasing grin. “You here for your first tattoo?”

You nod, a little embarrassed by the flutter in your chest at the way she calls you “sweetheart.” It’s silly, but it makes you feel… special.

“Yeah,” you mumble, feeling your hands twitch nervously at your sides. “I’ve been wanting this for so long, but I’m kinda nervous.”

Billie steps toward you, her demeanor softening, her voice becoming gentle. “It’s totally normal to feel nervous. I’ll take good care of you, promise.” She places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, her touch light but warm, making your heart race in the most unexpected way. “Why don’t you come sit in my chair? I’ll show you the design I have in mind for your Medusa.”

You follow her to the back of the shop, where the tattoo station is set up. The buzzing of the machines fills the air, but Billie’s presence is so calming that the sound feels distant, almost like white noise. She pulls up the design on her tablet, showing you the intricate details—the sharp eyes of Medusa, the curling snakes that seem to almost move on the screen.

“That look good to you?” Billie asks, leaning in a little closer, her breath warm against your skin. You feel her gaze on you, studying your expression carefully, waiting for your approval.

You nod, biting your lip in anticipation. “It’s perfect.”

“Good,” she says softly, stepping back. “I’ll get the stencil on you and then we can get started, alright?”

The process begins, and as she works, you’re surprised by how gentle she is. Her hands are steady, her movements sure, and she talks to you softly, keeping your mind distracted from the slight sting of the needle.

“Tell me if you need a break,” she says, glancing up at you. “You’re doing great, sweetheart. You’re so brave.”

You blush at the sweet compliment, the heat creeping up your neck. She notices, a knowing glint in her eye, but she doesn’t tease. Instead, she smiles at you with so much warmth, it feels like the room is brighter just because she’s near you. Her fingers brush against your skin as she adjusts the stencil, and the small touch sends a thrill through you.

As the session progresses, the two of you chat easily, laughing about silly things, trading stories. It’s almost like you’ve known each other for ages. And every now and then, Billie will drop a playful comment, like when she calls you “sweetheart” in that soft, melodic voice, or when she nudges you lightly with her elbow.

“You’re being so good, sweetheart,” she murmurs after a while, her tone affectionate, almost proud. “I swear, you’re making this way easier than it should be.”

Your heart skips again, a little faster this time, but you try to brush it off as the tattoo begins to take shape on your arm.

By the time she finishes, you’re in awe of the work. The Medusa looks as fierce and beautiful as you’d imagined. Billie steps back, looking at it with a satisfied smile. “How do you feel?”

“I love it,” you say, looking at your arm, your heart soaring. “It’s perfect. You’re amazing.”

She grins, that same affectionate, slightly mischievous look in her eyes. “Well, I do have a bit of a talent for making things perfect,” she says with a wink, but her voice is soft, warm. “I’m glad you like it, sweetheart.”

She grabs a piece of paper and jots down her number. “In case you need anything else, or if you just wanna chat. I can always be your tattoo emergency contact.” She hands it to you with a wink, and your heart flutters again.

You smile, a little shy. “Thanks. I might take you up on that.”

Billie gives you a soft, affectionate smile, her eyes full of something unspoken. “I’m looking forward to it, sweetheart. Take care of that tattoo, yeah?”

You nod, still floating from the way she makes you feel, from the way she’s treated you—so kind, so soft, so genuinely sweet. “I will,” you reply, and as you leave the shop, you feel a warmth that goes beyond the tattoo, a warmth that feels like the start of something special.

And you can’t help but wonder if this is just the beginning of a beautiful, unexpected connection between the two of you.

[6thscara]

i’m alive i swear!!!

Hanahaki Disease [oneshot— part one?]

✭ Scaramouche x Reader

ׂ╰┈➤ hanahki au / reader’s love is unrequited💔 / not many details for reader’s character / light angst / some lumine x scara / scaramouche is called Wanderer / no use of y/n

.ೃ࿐ synopsis ; you’re just another adventurer, she’s the traveler. of course it was dumb to be hopeful, but love turns you foolish. it’s a force with enough power to drive you to death

————————

bro i cannot finish writing this.. i’ve had it in my drafts for like a year but i don’t know where to go w it tbh.

in that year i’ve also been going through a lot… but i wanna write again!! and i wanna take requests :D

no beta im tired of this thing💔

2,277 words

————————

You expected this— knew fully well it would happen, and yet you pursued.

Between you and the blonde traveler, Lumine, of course he’d like her more. It wasn’t even a contest— she’s strong, clever, and beautiful.

On the other hand, you’re just you. Which isn’t a lot. Not enough for him. Yet, your wishful thinking kept you going.

It also brought you here once again— slumped over in a secluded field in the forest, choking out petals with various hues. Your eyes scrunch at the sight of the flowers you’ve been coughing out, your heart full of resent. You sigh, thinking about how pathetic you must look.

You’ve known the Wanderer for a while, though still not too long. You knew him enough to know that despite his cold demeanour, there was a soft side to him. Although you’ve seen part of it, its entirety was reserved for someone else.

That’s why you find yourself in such a pitiful state.

With one last look at the mess you’ve made, you stand up. Your wobbly knees almost knock you over before you can hold onto a nearby tree to catch your breath.

Your body was starting to grow weak. Day by day, it was getting harder to do commissions and your daily activities— which definitely did not go unnoticed by your peers.

“…What’s up with you?” A voice calls out behind you, accompanied by the sound of jingles. It was the Wanderer.

Your eyes widen, the surprise making you flinch before quickly composing yourself. You turn around to face him, feeling your heart already begin to beat faster when met with his presence. It hurt.

You see him cross his arms, looking at you with scrunched eyes.

“Oh,— nothing,” You quickly say, “I was… doing some commissions until I had to fight off some hilichurls.” You lie.

The Wanderer breathes out a small sigh, taking a moment to inspect your poise before uncrossing his arms and speaking, “Alright then. You just didn’t look so good,”

You nod, reasonably understanding why. “No need to worry.” You say brightly, giving him a smile.

Thankfully, the wind had already taken the flower petals away, otherwise the odd pile might have seemed weird.

“So, what are you doing here?” You curiously ask.

“Not much. The traveler requested to meet me.” He answers, eyes drifting off as a hint of bashfulness uncharacteristically cracks through his manner.

He clears his throat, eyebrows slightly furrowing. You cough a bit.

“I see,” you grin, though you feel unsteady at his answer. Just because of it, you can feel your stomach stir with uneasiness while your chest tightens.

“Well, enough of me taking up your time then! Go see her.” You laugh, patting his shoulder. He scoffs.

“Exactly what I was about to do. See you.” He says, turning around and walking off. His hat jingles, leaving a lingering trail of his showing. You call out a last “bye”, to which he doesn’t mind.

You stare at his back as he leaves— and you’re sure your gaze is full of desperate yearning.

That’s that, you try to tell yourself. But it just really hurts. Simple as that.

With one last heavy sigh, you place your hands on your hips, looking up at the clear sky.

It was probably better to go do something instead of mulling over it. Right— you had planned on going to the Akademiya to try and do some research about your condition. You didn’t want to go to a doctor, firstly because the sickness seemed acquainted with your feelings, and secondly because you didn’t want anyone else to potentially find out.

You start making your way towards Sumeru City, traversing through the land’s greenery while your mind stays busy thinking about Wanderer.

It’s been like that for quite some time— ever since you met him, he’s been lingering in your thoughts, and you’ve been trying to get closer to him. Though you did to an extent, you wanted more.

It felt as if a needle pricked your heart for every thought you had of him. Thinking about him with anyone else but you was dreadful. Your heart begged you to stop— to focus on what’s ahead.

Without even realizing it, you finally reached the city. Your attention was finally brought back to your surroundings once you heard the bustling vendors, lively restaurants, and scholars discussing academic matters.

The smell of food coming from nearby restaurants was tempting, but you figured it would be better to do research now and eat later.

You make your way over to the House of Daena, promptly beginning to browse the vast bookshelves. There were quite a few Amurta students gathered around the shelves you were looking through— reasonably, since the Darshan was tied to biology and medicine.

After some perusing, you ended up with about 3 stacked books next to you. A lot of the terms in these books confused you, but the indexes were very helpful while looking for this disease. Many books you went through didn’t even mention anything similar to your condition, which was frustrating.

But finally— you find it. Hanahaki Disease, the text read, seemingly originating from Inazuma. You read with great interest, carefully going over the contents.

There wasn’t as much information on hanahaki disease as there was on others, but with what you had to work with, it was sufficient.

It was a condition that slowly killed someone whose affection for another was not returned. Your eyes widened, your breath growing heavy. You were right— it was tied to these hopeless feelings.

Then… what were you supposed to do? Unrequited love couldn’t be fixed with medicine— not any surgery, or antidote could help. Love is controlled solely by the heart of the beholder.

You gather your initial thoughts before continuing.

Hanahaki Disease, a chronic condition caused by deep, pristine love which is not returned. These unreciprocated feelings are the root of blooming flowers in the bearer’s lungs, slowly killing them until it becomes too much for the body to handle.

You continue reading on, flipping the page curiously. You let out a relieved sigh once you see that the remaining information is about possible ways to make the condition go away.

The text read, “With today’s known information, two solutions are available; the safest option is allowing the patient to let go of their feelings before they are killed,”

Right, as if you could do that. Much easier said than done. But it’s not like the author would’ve known about your love’s severity.

Sighing, you continued, “whilst the other option includes a surgical procedure, in which the blooming Hanahaki flowers will be removed directly from the patient’s lungs.”

Your heart sank. “The surgical removal is a dangerous procedure that must be taken with caution. Following the removal, the victim will also lose their romantic love for the object of affection.”

Seriously— this was your other option? You can’t go through with that! You’d probably die anyway… there's no trustworthy surgeon you know who could do it privately for you. Especially considering the after effect, it just didn’t seem like a doable solution. Love is something you hold so closely. The concept that turns existence into life. But did that really mean that it’s something to die for?

Your emotions swelled, causing a fevered feeling in your stomach.

What would Wanderer do if you died?

You flinch as you ask yourself that repulsive question, immediately beginning to cough. Hastily, you bring an arm up to cover your mouth. Ragged breaths leave your mouth as you cough up a few petals, a bitter taste on your tongue despite its sweet appearance.

Although you were alone in a secluded space, you don’t want to disturb anybody else. Covering your mouth, you let out a few little coughs before regaining your composure and cleaning up the sickeningly beautiful flower petals.

Your fingers carefully turn the page, hoping for more information, but there was nothing. Unfortunately, it seems like the disease didn’t have as much research done.

With lots of heavy feelings on your shoulders, you close the book. An uneasy sensation swirled in your stomach knowing you had a big choice ahead of you— a choice of life or death.

As you put the book away, you realize you got a bit too busy with your findings to acknowledge your body’s needs. Your eyes are tired after being glued to the book for so long, and your stomach feels empty. It was time to get food.

It was as if an aura of misery surrounded you as you walked through Sumeru City. It was only evening, and the sky was painted with orange hues, but the feelings towering over you made the air around you feel gloomy.

And yet, you try to think positively. Wanderer and the traveller aren’t completely official… so you might still have a chance! If you could just be a bit more charming— do a bit more, maybe there was a small possibility that he could think of you more fondly?

…

You plague yourself with these unconvincing thoughts, squeezing out all the hope you have left.

After all, you only had two other options that wouldn’t even suffice.

A familiar scent grabs your attention as you’re walking— a delicious aroma surrounding you. Your eyes find the same restaurant you considered stopping at earlier, a reminder of your mission for food.

Languidly, your legs drag on as you enter.

“Hello, there! What’ll you be having today?” The tavern owner, Lambad exclaims. His voice is warm and friendly.

The environment helps you relax— the energy is cozy and comfortable, soothing as you think about what to get as you sit down. “Hmm…” Your eyes scan the menu, looking for something easy to eat while staying within your budget. “I’ll just have a shawarma wrap.”

With a nod, Lambad leaves to begin preparing your food. You relax into your chair, finally being able to decompress in the flavourful aromatic atmosphere. You’ve always enjoyed eating here, because not only did they serve amazing food, but the tavern itself was like a cozy, inviting home space.

However, it did feel a bit lonely. You notice these odd feelings of isolation once you listen in on others conversations— academics, gossip, small talk, the usual. Normally, you would also be here with at least one other friend, happily chatting it up. Occasionally, even with Wanderer. But right now, you were filled with bittersweet feelings of lonesome comfort. Bittersweet because he wasn’t here with you, and comfort because it’d also be painful to have him near.

Lost in your thoughts, you ease into your surroundings, until you hear a particular jingle in the air.

It’s an immediately recognizable sound which makes you sit upright. Turning your eyes to the restaurant’s entryway, you see just what you suspected. The perfect, breathtaking Wanderer, alongside an equally as desirable blonde traveler. He holds the door open for Lumine, trailing her as he walks in before taking her side.

It’s a small action, and yet it has an effect. Such simple mannerisms make you reflect– has he ever held a door open for you? Follow you like he follows her? No, it’s the little things that are different. Different because of his love for Lumine.

You’ve always been taking the lead, so he hasn’t had to go out of his way for you at all. In that way, he has been following you, but not like he follows her.

When the Wanderer accompanies you, he’s focused on anything else in front of him– the area’s surroundings, any enemies, or events. It’s not at all like the way his eyes follow Lumine’s presence. Or how he tries to hide his enamoured gaze. How he goes along with her no matter the occasion, compared to mostly hanging around you because he was asked to.

Such a simple sight was enough to make your stomach swirl. You quietly get up, forgetting about your food as a bad feeling of turmoil begins churning. The two don’t even notice as you scurry past them– too involved with each other to concern themselves with the busy atmosphere.

The late evening’s cold air hits your face as you hastily run out the door. It’s refreshing. It’s the perfect renewal of fresh air after feeling so suddenly alert. Another sigh leaves you feeling breathless as you begin walking through Sumeru City’s uncommonly calm streets.

Aside from the occasional hum of vendors or laughter from children staying out too late, you’re once again left with your thoughts. Love was consuming you badly, destroying you as it whirled around your insides– literally.

A nauseous feeling circulated from your head towards your stomach, making the environment spin.

Not wanting to make a displeasing scene in the middle of the city, you make your way out of civilization, retreating to the forest. As if your body had a cue, flowers began expelling out of your stomach through your mouth.

Everything feels dizzy— you can’t tell if that little squelching sound is you or the greenery you’re destroying as you grip the ground beneath for support.

It feels gross. A sharp taste burns on the back of your throat while bittersweet petals continue passing up.

The rush advances quickly, leaving you breathless and panting on the ground. You crouch over the ground, barely able to hold yourself up.

The exhaustion is too much, making you simply lay on your back, having only the day’s late stars to comfort you. A rustle of wind passes, which makes you feel a bit better. Still, the remaining unsatisfactory taste and burning in your throat doesn’t ease up much.

—————

i’m sorryuuyyyyy.,, i seriously don’t know where to go with this and i’m lwk tired of it cuz i wanna write some fluff :’D

so kind of an open ending but i’m also up to writing any suggestions!!

[erwinsvow]

this pic of SH in glasses is doing things to my mind, body, and soul

how do you think jack is coping with having to get glasses? does he embrace it or is he embarrassed/ insecure about getting older? what about when he realises his gf finds them hot?

tbh i just wanna ride him while he looks up at me through those dorky old man glasses, is that too much to ask?

you just triggered something insane in me because I thought of him vehemently denying that he needs glasses for AGESSS and then reader finally just getting him pair of readers or sending him to the eye doctor because there’s nothing doctors are worse at than admitting they need to go to the doctor. and even then he refuses to wear them at work just straining his eyes and only wears them at home when he’s trying to review papers or squint at the computer. the only thing that works is when you pout and put your hand on his chest and say that he has such pretty eyes and you don’t want them to get strained because he won’t get his glasses. and that you think glasses make him look smart and hot. listens to you after that! but also imagining him shirtless just in pajama pants in bed freshly showered reading some book or a printed journal with his glasses on, annotating the paper with a pen and plays with it between his fingers. guys how would you refrain from jumping his bones not even god could pull me off his dick if he was wearing those glasses😭😭😭😭😭 never complains about wearing them after that night because he knows what it does to you. and also then he remembers that night (trust me he is a biiiiiiiiig fan of cowgirl and if you just kind of crawled into his lap like that and went a little ballistic because you got horny from his old man glasses. core memory for him.) puts them on at work and lets the others laughs because you are never laughing!!!!! you’ve got silent!!!!! jacks not a fan of sex at work because 1) he takes his time and 2) too many interruptions but when you drag him by the stethoscope to some empty room or supply closet where you lock the door from the inside 😭😭😭 woo lord.

[yvesssssssss]

hii how r u?

can i please request saka days men (preferably shin, natsuki and yoichi) x s/o with a flat body and it’s making them feel insecure? could be fluff or smut whatever you feel like it

thank you!!<3

Body worship - sakamoto days

—nagumo, shin, natsuki

Mdni!!

Nagumo yoichi

You tried to hide the wince when your shirt came off, but Nagumo caught it. Of course he did.

He froze mid-motion, eyes sweeping down your chest like he was memorizing you. You crossed your arms instinctively.

“Don’t,” he said softly. “Not in front of me.”

“Nagumo—”

“Nuh-uh.” He was on his knees before you now, hands sliding up your thighs. “You think just because your chest isn’t huge that I’m not obsessed with your body? Baby, I jack off to the curve of your waist.”

His mouth moved to your stomach, kissing a slow, heated trail up to your sternum. “Your tits are perfect. Small, soft, sensitive. I can feel your heart beating under my tongue. That drives me fucking insane.”

Then his hands hooked your thighs apart.

“Let me show you what this body does to me.”

He dragged his tongue down your belly, licking over your mound, your slit, tasting you like you were his first sip of water after a warzone. He moaned against you, grinding his hips into the mattress.

“You're so sexy I ache, baby.”

You were shaking. Writhing. And when he slid two fingers inside you and latched onto your clit, you swore he smiled into your cunt.

“Flat body?” he growled. “No, sweetheart. You’re a fucking blade. Sharp, deadly, and mine.”

Shin asakura

You tried not to let it bother you—how you looked in the mirror. No curves, no bounce. You felt like a sheet of paper beside the women in Shin’s world.

He noticed. Of course he did.

Shin reached for your hand in the dark. “You’ve been pulling away from me lately.”

You flinched. “…Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He moved slowly, respectfully. “But I want to show you something. If you’ll let me.”

You nodded.

He undressed you like you were fragile silk. Kissed your collarbone, your shoulders, your flat chest with lips full of worship. No mocking. No judgment.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he murmured, brushing his fingers over your ribs. “I’ve never liked anyone’s body like I like yours.”

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to your sternum. “You're real. Raw and perfect. When I see you like this, I—fuck, I just want to protect you and ruin you at the same time.”

He moved between your legs slowly, gently. Slid into you while whispering, “So beautiful. Just like this. You don’t need anything more.”

He stayed deep inside, grinding against your walls, kissing every part of you he could reach. Each thrust came with a soft whisper.

“Perfect…”

“Feels so good inside you…”

“Love this body… so fucking much…”

You came with tears in your eyes, and Shin held you close, as if to shield you from even your own thoughts.

Natsuki seba

“Wait—wait, Natsuki,” you said, breathless as his hands slipped under your tank top. “Don’t look.”

He blinked up at you, confused. “What? Why not?”

“…I just don’t look like other girls. I know I don’t have a lot going on up here,” you gestured vaguely at your chest, “and I don’t want you to be disappointed—”

“Are you serious?”

Before you could move away, Natsuki pulled you down onto the bed with him, pinning you with gentle hands and wide, dark eyes.

“I’ve been dreaming about getting my mouth on you for weeks,” he said. “Flat or not, I want you exactly how you are.”

Then he yanked your shirt off and just… stared.

“Holy shit,” he murmured, awed. “You’re so fucking hot.”

His mouth was all over you in seconds—sucking, licking, moaning. He kissed up your chest, nipping at your nipples like they were the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re so cute, I could die.”

He slid down between your thighs, tongue darting out, hungry and unrelenting.

“You feel that?” he said against your core. “That’s me losing my mind. Over your body.”

You gripped the sheets, crying out as he worked you over like a man starved.

“I’m gonna worship this body every night if you let me,” he gasped, pulling you tighter against his face. “Flat? Nah. You’re perfectly fuckable. And I’m gonna prove it.”

You came hard. He didn’t stop until your legs were trembling and you were moaning his name like a prayer.

[bullet-prooflove]

A Southern Man: Harry Wilson x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @buckysteveloki-me @hagarsays @misskrose @rainmg

Companion piece to:

Sugar - You're Harry's first stop when he makes it back to New Orleans.

Bourbon (NSFW) - The things you and Harry get up to with a 10k bottle of bourbon... it's sinful.

Court Days - Court days are your favourite days.

The Corkscrew - You realise Harry isn't the person you thought he is when you see him on a date with another man.

Harry’s a gentleman, a Southern man raised with honest to God Southern manners. That’s why he takes off his jacket when he notices a chill in the air, why he drapes it across your shoulders as he walks you home along the pathway that leads from the stables to your house.

You haven’t said much since he revealed his true nature. You’d listened diligently while you untacked Midnight, checking on the other horses before locking up the stables. He’d helped the best he could, filling the silence with stories of his adventures, explanations. He doesn’t know if that’s helping or hindering, if the deeper he gets into the lies, the further away he pushes you.

“I feel sorry for you.” You say finally and he swallows hard against the ache in his chest because that hope inside him, it’s dying. He’d prayed that you’d be able to see past the deception, that you’d understand it but truly how could anyone expect you to. “I have no idea how hard it must have been to keep everything so balanced, knowing that one slip up could just bring everything tumbling down.”

“Lying to you…” He struggles to find the words. “I hated it. I tried to keep everything as close to the truth as possible, when I said I was going out of town it was for business…”

“It just wasn’t the type of business you allowed me to think it was.” You summarise considering your past conversations. “You never actually said you were doing lawyer things, I just assumed and that’s part of it isn’t it? Letting people assume. It’s very clever, allowing people’s brains to fill in the blanks from their expectations. It’s like you’ve learned how to hack people.”

He's silent then because he realises there is no way on this earth he can take back what he did, the year he’s spent lying to you. The year that’s also been the best of his life.

“It must have felt very lonely being you.” You say as you reach the steps of the house. “Holding onto all of that, knowing that you couldn’t share that part of yourself with me.”

“No.” He says softly, shaking his head as you remove the jacket from your body. “When I’m with you I feel complete, like you see the real me, the person I am even without all the cons and the heists. You just see Harry.”

“I do see you Harry and that’s the problem.” You tell him, handing him back the garment. His eyes sting as he pulls it on over his broad shoulders. “If anyone else had lied to me like this I’d be kicking them off my land so fast their head would spin but I’ve seen the good you do, I’ve been a recipient of it. I know your heart is in the right place, that you’re trying to make amends, to redeem yourself after the whole evil lawyer thing.”

“But…” He can sense the word hanging in the air between the two of you.

“But…” You drawl as your fingertips trail along the lapels of his jacket adjusting them. “I need full disclosure from here on out. If we’re going to make this work, I need the truth at all times-”

“There are going to be some things that I can’t tell you.” He says his forehead coming to rest on yours. “Things that could endanger other people.”

“I understand that.” You respond, your nose grazing his as you look into his eyes. “I know the nature of the job, I get the need for secrecy, just no more lying alright? My heart can’t take that.”

“No more lyng.” He promises, his voice barely more than a whisper as his gaze lowers to your lips. “Only the truth from here on out.”

Love Harry? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[imaginingmanyfandoms]

worlds worst brother | jamie tartt x kent!reader

a/n; in my head i see this as a mini series, but this part just kind came to me. i'm picturing a part 2 & a 'how they started' ...... idk but i live for the angst, bye.

"I don't understand why you won't tell me about the bloke you're seeing," Roy mumbled, crossing his arms, "you always let me vet them."

Roy had stopped over late, without so much as a warning text, after dropping Pheobe off at your sister's house. He needed you to pick her up after school tomorrow, because he had a meeting with Ted and Beard and couldn't reschedule, and your sister was meant to be at work all day.

"C'mon, let me meet him! Is he here now? These ugly shoes must be his."

You were smiling nervously trying to get Roy to leave. Normally, an unannounced visit from Roy would end in a few hours of chatting and maybe a glass of wine, but today you were rushing your brother out the door - and he noticed.

"Let's set up a lunch next week," you said, "not just spring it on him now."

It shouldn't be a big deal. You were a grown woman, you could have boys' spend the night without Roy throwing a fit, he'd grown used to hearing about his younger sister's dates. But you'd been seeing this guy for a while and Roy hadn't heard a peep.

"All right fine," he relented, "but next fucking week and I'm holding you to that."

Except the guy you were seeing is Jamie Tartt.

And it was Jamie Tartt who was fast asleep in your bedroom after a long night spent mostly between the sheets.

And Jesus Christ, what a good night it had been. Jamie had really pulled out all the stops. From the beginning of the night he'd had it all planned out. He sent you out with Keeley in the afternoon with his credit card to buy a new dress, he'd brought flowers when he picked you up, drove you to the loveliest little restaurant on the edge of town while listening to a playlist of love songs he'd curated for the evening, and after dinner he told you that he loved you, and that he wanted to be your boyfriend properly, not just behind closed doors, and you'd agreed to come out with it.

And then he'd taken you home and spent the next few hours worshipping your body and doing everything in his power to make you scream his name.

No cheering fans could ever make him feel like you did when you sang his name over and over like a prayer.

And you had every intention of returning to that bed, and letting Jamie do it again.

You just needed to get Roy the hell out of your house.

Roy was laughing as you ushered him out, but suddenly... he was dead wait, rigid, glued to the spot. You tried to follow his line of sight, but he was in the way.

“Whose jacket is that?”

“What?”

“The fucking Greyhounds jacket!!!”

“Oh this???" you grabbed the windbreaker and tossed it into the closet. "Uh, no one’s, mine.”

“You’re a shit liar, and that was a team jacket."

“Well whatever, don’t ask a question if you don't wanna know the answer.” You were bluffing, you knew damn well he wouldn't let it go. Roy Kent was not one to just let things go that involved his sister.

“Oh, I want to know the fucking answer.”

"Next week!" you squeaked, "We'll go to lunch next week, promise!"

As if someone somewhere was working against you, Roy’s head snapped in the direction of the toilet flushing, followed by light footsteps.

Did Jamie hear what was going on? Maybe it's a miracle and he snuck into the guest room to play innocent. There was no way he didn't hear Roy's yelling.

Sneaking around with Jamie was one thing, but getting caught instead of telling Roy yourself was a whole other problem.

“Wait, dont-“

But he was already off down the hall, and you were hot on his trail. Jamie was in your room, caught like a deer in the headlights trying to pull on his pants. He didn't have time yet to grab his shirt, and his chest, splattered colourfully with a combination of teeth and scratches were staring Roy right in the face.

In your defense, the team was off and no one was meant to be seeing him without a shirt but you...

"Hey now," Jamie said, crooked, uneasy smile on his face, "it's not what it seems."

"It seems like you just fucked my sister!"

"It ain't fuckin', it's makin' love." Jamie crossed his arms, looking around for his shirt. Roy's eye twitched with this new information.

You threw a random night shirt of yours off the ground, and he slipped on (his favourite) Hello Kitty shirt of yours.

"I bought 'er that fuckin' shirt!" Roy shouts, lunging towards Jamie who yelps, and dodges out of reach, trying to hold his hands up in defense, but Roy just grabs him by the wrist, pulling him close so he can headbutt Jamie, knocking him over with the force of it.

"What the fuck Roy?"

"Jamie fucking Tartt? Jamie fucking Tartt? Have you lost your fucking mind?"

"Roy will you just-"

"No! No I won't fucking do anything! Out of everyone in this fucking city, you pick Jamie fucking Tartt? This must be a fucking nightmare. And what happens if he breaks your heart? Huh? What if he knocks you up and leaves you on your own? Am I going to have to be the one to pick up all the fucking pieces, again? God, this is gunna turn out so awful and you didn't even stop to think about me, or the fact that he plays for my team, you absolute fucking idiot, I'm fucking tired of sisters who pick stupid fucking boyfriends!"

And it was like all the oxygen was sucked out of the room. It was the meanest thing he'd ever said to you, the loudest he'd ever raised his voice against you, and he could see the way your lower lip wobbled, he could see the tears forming in your eyes, and before he could reach out for you, Jamie was already there, arm around you, rubbing your back slowly while he whispered something soothing in your ear.

"I think you should head out," Jamie said, voice even and without any hint of Jamie's usually idiocy. Void of humour or cockiness, and his eyes, his eyes never left your face. "Now, Roy. I think you should head out now."

And Roy didn't know what to say, he didn't mean it, oh of course he didn't mean it. You must know that. He couldn't ever be tired of helping his sisters, you guys were everything to him.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, leaving the room with his tail between his legs, closing the door behind him.

With the door closed, he could hear your crying start, and his heart shattered in his chest.

Wasn't Jamie Tartt that broke your heart.

Roy did that all on his own.

[perotovar]

everything good happens after midnight — drabble

gif by me

pairing: dieter bravo x gn!reader rating: T content: soooo much fluff word count: 611 dividers: @/saradika-graphics beta: @for-a-longlongtime (ty bb)

summary: dieter has a surprise for you. knowing him it could be anything.

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY DARLING BB @sp00kymulderr i'm sorry this came later than i planned!! i hope it was a great one and sooo many dieter kisses are in your dreams tonight ♥

Dieter wasn’t always one for grand gestures. He liked more intimate moments at home, both of you cuddled up on the couch watching a movie, and smoke permeating the air. 

Today, though, was a different story. 

He’d texted you earlier than normal, which meant that he was really excited about whatever it was he had planned. His instructions were to get dressed in something nice, but comfy. That very well could have been Dieter’s life motto. But you did as he asked, and sent him a text in return.

where are you taking me, mr. bravo?

Shhh don’t worry about it 😉

dieter bravo with a plan… i’m scared lol

🥺

kidding lol you know i love u

😍😍

You giggled at your phone and made your way out to the car he’d gotten ready for you. The drive from Dieter’s Sherman Oaks home was a little longer than you were expecting, and your curiosity grew and grew the further the driver took you. Every time you tried to ask the stoic man in the front seat where you were going, he’d just smile calmly and say, “Mr. Bravo’s orders,” and pretend to zip his mouth shut. 

Eventually, though, he pulled up to a secluded area overlooking downtown LA. Normally the lights from the city would cover up just how many stars there were at night, but Dieter managed to find a spot where you could see most of them. 

Making your way over to your man from the car, you noticed that there were blankets spread out over the ground and some wine with a charcuterie board. You raised a brow in his direction and he just shrugged with a goofy grin on his face. 

“What’s all this?” You asked, a laugh bubbling out of your chest.

“I need a reason to treat my baby?” 

Your heart melted at that and you couldn’t deny him a kiss. He hummed into it, big hands holding your hips in a tight grip. Electricity shot up your spine at the gesture, making you wrap your arms around his neck.

A soft sigh left Dieter as he slowly walked you over to the blankets and gently lowered you to the ground. He hovered above you, his kisses growing deeper and more heated. You felt his cock twitch to life between your legs, making you wrap them around his waist to grind against it.

“Baby,” he grunted, nipping on your bottom lip. “H-hold on,” he chuckled.

You whined slightly, and pulled away, a small pout painting your lips.

“Wanted to show you something first,” he grinned, handsome face flushed and plump lips swollen. Your heart still pounding in your chest, you let him direct your eyesight downtown, following his pointed finger to a large billboard in the nearby distance.

You squinted your eyes, then gasped when you realized what he was pointing to.

There, on a billboard in downtown LA was an image of your upcoming indie film. You’d been working so hard on it, spending much of your free time perfecting the script and making sure the cast was just right. 

“Dee…” You whispered. Deep brown eyes and a cheeky smile looked in your direction. “How did you do this?”

Dieter just shrugged in response, eyes twinkling in the nearby candlelight. “Because I love you. And I’m proud of you. Wanna show you off,” he answered easily.

You cupped his face and pressed your forehead to his, breathing him in. “I love you, too, you silly man,” you chuckled. “Now, fuck me under the stars.”

Dieter’s chest puffed up slightly before he crawled back on top of you. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”