#i lined all these up while sick so yeah

[lecliss]

I'll never be able to take the theory that Vincent is Sephiroth's real father seriously cuz I cannot stress enough how important I think it is to the plot that Vincent wanted to fuck Lucrecia and did not get to.

[hella1975]

listening to call your mom rn (god it feels wrong spelling it like that)

gripping u by the shoulders. this song is everything to me.

[ribbonprincess]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

"Do a lil twirl for me,yeah...your ass looks so good baby." Rafe chuckles,fixing his pants as they tightened around his crotch,the sight of you in a tiny white mini skirt the reason.

"You like it rafey? I bought It thinking of you" "yeah,no shit- you used my credit card" he chuckles. Moving from his spot on the bed,he walks over you,laying his hands on your hips as he squishes the skin. "You should wear it today while I go golfing,you can look pretty in the cart and if you're good enough daddy will buy you a drink."

He smiles before tilting his head down to press his lips against yours as you whine almost immediately,slapping his chest "my lipgloss! you just smeared it all over,daddy." Turning around to face the mirror as you try to deescalate the situation of your almost ruined makeup,dabbing at the area around your lips with a beauty blender.

"Yeah yeah,'s just lip gloss,it's nothing serious." Gasping dramatically you turn around,hand on your chest as if you've been shot as you point a finger at his chest "'s not just lipgloss.."

Chuckling to himself Rafe presses a kiss against your shoulder "I'm sorry cupcake, daddy's being mean yeah?" Nodding as you run your manicured fingers over his jawline,pressing your chest against his,making your tits more visible as you smile softly- a tragic contrast to your action.

꒦꒷︶°꒷︶°︶₊˚ʚɞ˚₊︶°︶꒦˚︶꒷꒦

As you sit prettily in the golf cart,sipping at your drink while watching rafe play with his friends,you can't help but feel lonely,so you decide to approach as he stands a few feet behind the others. "rayray?"

Turning around almost immediately Rafe's expression softens a bit before turning hard. "What are you doing here,told you to sit in the cart" "Yeah... I know,but I missed you" Emphasizing your words you run a hand over his chest,playing with the button of his slacks.

"Missed me huh?" Looking over his shoulder he shouts a quick "Little lady is feeling sick!" Before dragging you over the Golf cart and driving over a more secluded area of the field,covered by trees and bushes.

"Since you've been missing me sooo much,might as well show it. C'mon get on your knees" Taking one last look around you move to your knees on the moist grass,quickly unbuckling his belt as you pull down his pants and boxer just as much needed. Wrapping a hand around the base of his shaft you kiss the vein that runs on the underside of it, resulting in a harsh tug of your hair. "Don't fucking tease me."

Wrapping your lips around his tip before slowly moving down,twisting your hand around what you couldn't fit "Deeper...I've trained you better than this,kid" Rafe mumble from above you,shoving your head down until you gag harshly,tears already pooling at your lash line. "Yeah,there you go...nice and warm for me." Looking up through your clamped wispy lashes you start to move your head again,twirling your tongue around his length like a popsicle as Rafe groans from above you "Got myself the best girl,right? Sucking my dick like this where everyone can pass by"

Nodding as best as you can,you pull off him with a loud "pop". "Wanna make you feel good,daddy." Smiling to himself, Rafe wipes at your saliva coated lower lip before bringing your mouth back on him with a satisfied moan,brushing some strand of hair that have fallen over your face away. "Fuck,keep doing that and I'm gonna cum. You want daddy to cum in your mouth? Yeah,you do."

Meeting you midway as he thrust into your mouth,giving you no time to react or even understand. "shit- 'm cumming" As his rhythm gets sloppier,you suck around his tip holding onto his thigh as you feel a milky substance flood your mouth. Breathing loudly he pulls you away from him as he smirks "Show me your tongue,angel" showcasing your tongue with a proud smile you look up at him in search of praise. "good girl,what do we say now?" "thank you daddy!"

[bi-writes]

how would simon react if his mail order bride got really really sick?

mail-order bride

the phone is ringing.

he's on leave, so normally he would never even touch the thing. but there are only two ringtones he has to answer to, and this one isn't price.

he picks it up, putting it to his ear. he wipes the sweat off his brow, letting out a sigh as he steps back under the shade. the sun is out today, of course choosing to beat down on him the one day he finally decided to build you better planters for your little garden.

you've taken to it quite nicely. you love being out here, tending to the little roots and the tiny leaves that have started to sprout. he thinks you look so cute when you're out here, on your knees. you always tie a scarf around your hair and wear these sage green gloves, and he thinks you look so fucking adorable when you come back inside with dirt along your brow and a sweet little smile on your face. you always give him an update. the carrots are so stubborn, you huff, and he tries to hide his grin as you bring out your little gardening journal and scribble in it all frustrated. look, simon! the tomatoes! look! look!--and he practically keens when you grab his hand to bring him outside so he can see.

but it's gotten too small. you've outgrown the little boxes of dirt, and simon knows you're itching to do more. the planter is only half done, so he's a little peeved to be interrupted while he's just starting to get it together.

"wot is it, luv, i'm--"

"s-simon?" your voice is a soft whimper, and you're sniffling on the other line. simon stands up straighter, dropping his tools immediately as he wipes his hands on his jeans and starts to go inside.

"oi. wot happened?"

"s-simon, i-i don't feel so good, c-could you come get me?"

simon lets out a low breath, shaking his head.

"fuckin' hell, luv," he mutters, grabbing his keys and wallet by the door. "still at the library?" you had asked him to drop you off in town, wanting to visit a few of the shops along the main road. your eyes had bugged when you saw the quaint little library and pastry shop, and he agreed to come back later after your little excursion.

"y-yeah, i-i..." you cough a little. "i-i got...i got sick. in the bathroom, i-i--"

"'s olright," he quiets you. "'m comin'. gimme a few minutes."

simon finds you in the family restroom of the little library, seated on the floor and hugging the toilet. he curses under his breath when he finds you, tears blurring your vision as you cry. you didn't sound so bad on the phone, but maybe you were just holding it together until you got yourself some help.

"ohhhh, swee'eart," he sighs, pushing the hood of his jacket off as he kneels down to your level. he wipes the sweat off your forehead with a gloved hand, cupping you under your jaw. "you olright?"

"no," you sob, gasping a little between tears. "i feel terrible, s-simon, i--"

"olright," he coos. "'m 'ere now. let's get ya 'ome. get ya into bed, tha' sound good?"

you nod. you look sickly, eyes dull, a cold sweat breaking out all over you. he suspects it might be the flu, considering the body aches you seem to have and the headache you tell him about as he helps you into the car. he gives you some water, stroking your face gently, and when you tell him how cold you are, he shucks his jacket off and drapes it over you before taking you back home.

you're in and out of consciousness over the next few hours. simon had helped you into your pajamas before tucking you into bed. he watched you with a glare to make sure you took the medicine he gave you, and he made you drink at least four glasses of water before he let you drift off to sleep.

when you wake up later in the evening, the cat is purring on her little bed hanging on the windowsill. simon had installed it a few weeks ago, a little perch bed so she could look outside and watch the little bunnies that came by in the morning. it's dark out now, and when you look around, simon has turned your little diffuser on, and it smells like lemons.

"s-simon?" you croak. your throat hurts. you hear a shuffle in the kitchen, and then simon is coming into the room. he doesn't turn the main light on, merely coming close and flicking the low lamp on beside you.

"'ow are ya feelin'?" he asks softly. your eyes are watery again, and he sighs, putting the back of his hand to your forehead and grimacing. "not as warm, at least. what do ya need, hmm?"

"my throat," you whisper. "i-it hurts--"

"i'll bring ya a cuppa, baby," simon murmurs. you sniffle, leaning into his hand. "do ya want somethin' ta eat? anythin'? got some bread...some soup if y'r up for it."

your lip wobbles, and he shakes his head, kissing your forehead gently.

"i'll bring ya some bread. if ya can keep it down, we'll try the soup, yeah?"

you just nod and shrug, and he picks up the box of tissues on the dresser and takes one out. he comes back to you, holding your cheek gently with one hand and wiping your tears with the other. he dabs at the sweat gently before he lets you relax again.

"i'll be right back."

you close your eyes when he leaves. you vaguely hear him in the kitchen, the sound of cookware and the whine of the kettle on the stove. simon comes back into the bedroom a little while later, holding a small plate and a steaming mug of tea. he sets down the tea, telling you it's something lemon with honey, and he shows you the thin slice of bread he's toasted with a little butter.

he sits with you while you eat small bites, and he helps you drink the warm tea that immediately soothes your insides. you start to cry again, but not from feeling so terrible.

"wot's wrong?" simon huffs, and you just look up at him, clinging to his shirt, pulling him onto the bed.

"t-thank you," you whisper, and simon just shakes his head.

"wot for?"

"f-for taking care of me. f-for c-coming to get me...for..."

simon meets your eyes, holding them, and he narrows his eyes.

"don't thank me," he says firmly. "wot fuckin' kind o' man would i be if i didn't take care of my wife, eh? sorry fuckin' wanker, is wot i'd be."

"b-but--"

"and when y'r better," he interrupts you, standing as he takes your plate, "got everythin' set up for ya outside. can move the lettuce, like ya wanted."

you sink into the cushions, happy tears in your eyes, and simon leaves, busying himself with the dishes as he tries to fight off the warm, aching feeling in his chest.

fuck, it feels so good to take care of you. to see you smile. to see your wobbly lip and those tear-filled eyes and know that he can make it all better--it feels so fucking good.

when he comes to bed later that night, you're still asleep, but you move towards him, seeking his warmth. it's instinctual now, easy.

there's a place at his side that's made only for you. it's shaped just how you are, it cannot be mistaken to be for anyone else.

when he whispers that he loves you into the dark, you don't hear him. but you scoot just that much closer.

[andwordsarefutiledevicess]

press relations

stanford!artdonaldson x sportsjournalist!reader

summary: assigned to write a profile of stanford's rising tennis star, you get to know art better. much better.

warnings: smut, dry humping, b0ner alert, implied consent

a/n: this does have a *hint* of art x patrick x reader undertones at the end! any (constructive) feedback is appreciated :)

you get the message as you exit the lecture hall and head to the cafeteria for lunch. “other writers are busy. can you take the art donaldson profile?” reads the text from your editor. having written for the stanford daily as a sports reporter for the past year, you’re no stranger to turning a dull interview with a rather dim-witted football player into an oh-so-riveting piece. however, this is out of your comfort zone.

tennis is…boring. sure, you’d happily tagged along to a couple of tashi duncan’s matches, unwilling to pass up the opportunity to see an olympic-bound athlete in her prime, but it isn’t your ideal way to spend a saturday afternoon. 

and yet, that is exactly what you are doing. the donaldson interview is lined up for directly after his match with a ucla player. “he’s got a tight schedule, so we need to accommodate him,” said your editor when you questioned why you had to sit through a match and then manage to cram in an interview in the men’s fucking lockerroom. 

art donaldson is a year above you, living in the same dorm. you recognize most athletes at this point—in part because they’re constantly (obnoxiously) sporting team merch, and because of your job—but art is known by most for his friendship with tashi duncan. neither are particularly social, keeping their circle tight amongst fellow tennis players, both at stanford and professionals. 

it’s difficult not to stick out in the bleachers. while other players, including a brown-haired boy cheering quite loudly, observe the game, it’s by no means packed. as donaldson pauses for water after the first set, he catches your gaze, giving an awkward wave in acknowledgement as he wipes the sweat from his face. you silently pray that he knows you’re the reporter he’s supposed to speak to, and doesn’t just think you’re some crazed tashi duncan fangirl. 

his playing is statuesque, long limbs sweeping across the court (but not entirely stripped of the boyish energy that defined his success as a high school student). after beating his opponent 2-0, donaldson steps off the court, dramatically embraced by the brown-haired spectator, who you have since realized is his former doubles partner, patrick zweig, and you take this as a signal to get this interview started before he becomes swept up in celebrations. 

climbing down the bleachers, you see art duck down into the hallway, making his way into the locker rooms. in all your time as a sports reporter, you hadn’t had such an…unconventional… interview location, and you feel a bit sick as the sound of the shower draws closer. 

“art donaldson?” you say, standing just outside the open door of the locker room. 

“yeah” he calls back, as though he was expecting you, but not entirely welcoming the intrusion. the shower turns off, and the soft sound of his steps on the tiles echo. “well, come in,” he calls again. 

you step into the steam-filled space with your eyes directed down. “i understand you have physical therapy shortly, so i’ll try to keep this quick—,” you say, taken aback as you finally draw your eyes upward. he’s managed to pull on a pair of checkered boxers, fabric sticking to his still-damp body. 

you can’t imagine you look particularly composed, hair sticking to your face from the steam with a burning blush spread across your cheeks. you watch as art bites his cheek and awkwardly motions for you to sit on the bench across from him as he methodically changes the overgrip on his racket. 

“so,” you say, clearing your throat, “how did you first become interested in tennis?” he glances up from his task. “my parents needed someone to watch me, and my grandma was busy, so they stuck me in a local tennis camp. i doubt they realized that they were signing up for over a decade of tennis running my—and their—lives.”

you hum in agreement. “and what specific areas of your game are you hoping to improve on this season?” you follow up. his gaze becomes more intent—more focused. setting the racket to his side, art stands, before quickly realizing he’s still only boxer-clad. you stare at the opposite wall, hoping to save him the embarrassment, and you see him fumble to slip on shorts out of the corner of your eye. he clears his throat. “ – um – yeah, i’m trying to get faster on my feet. sorry, i—” he says, before you cut him off in protest. “no, no, i should have given you a moment to clean up after your match, it’s my fault,” you say, rising off of the bench awkwardly, avoiding his gaze. 

but with the lingering steam, and your downward gaze, your fumble to exit the locker room instead lands you into direct contact with his chest. “shit! sorry,” you exclaim, drawing your chin up. a wash of heat cascades from your head, nipples taut, despite the warmth of the room, as your body reacts to the sudden proximity. art is equally flushed, pink lips slightly parted and chest rocking as he concentrates on breathing deeply, trying to lower his racing heart. you can smell him, fresh with a hint of that post-game sweat, a droplet of water falling from a blonde curl. 

he brings a calloused hand to your hair, brushing it behind your shoulder, as if to ask permission. the slight nod and glaze of your tongue over your lips is enough for him to understand, his breath heavy against your face as your noses are close enough to touch. that final centimeter is finally closed, and it’s as though air rushes back into you while inhibition is tossed out. without thinking, your hair tangles into his mess of damp hair, and you feel his soft moan against your lips. you gasp as his hand grabs your ass, drawing you into contact with his erection (for how much of that interview was he hard?). 

“you—ah—you have physical th-therapy,” you say, breathless as he works his mouth down your jaw and neck. “just…five more minutes,” he says in between kisses, like a teenager wishing to sleep in, causing you to chuckle. bringing your left knee up, your hips are suddenly flush against his, and the new contact sends you both reeling, his cock twitching in his shorts. you tentatively rock, again, against his groin, and you both seem to realize that that hit the spot. pushing your back against a locker, art draws his groin against yours again, and again, his soft pants becoming near whimpers as your lips meet for a desperate, sloppy kiss. 

you’re lost in the rhythm the two of you have found, ignoring the rattle of the lockers with each thrust. fuck you’re embarrassingly close (that’s what a two month dry spell will do for you) but before you have to worry about coming too early, you hear his strangled voice in your ear. “ – f-fuck, s-sorry i’m close, was so pent up.” before you’re able to reply, your body has taken this as permission to let the orgasm wash over you at last. still reeling from your own orgasm, you feel the warm spread of art’s cum seep through the thin fabric of his shorts, as he continues to rut against you. 

bringing your arms up to hurriedly fix your now-tangled hair, you draw away from art. a fresh blush comes to your cheeks at the realization of how silly you feel, grinding like a pubescent teen. art seems tired, yes, but not embarrassed, slipping off his pants and boxers and replacing them with clean ones. before he’s got his wits back, you’re out the door, praying no one managed to overhear the encounter. to your dismay, patrick zweig, smug as ever, sits outside the locker room.

[cheriladycl01]

They do be comfy tho! - Lando Norris x Pregnant! Reader

Plot: You try hide your pregnancy through Lando's large array of hoodies.

You sat in the bathroom crying your eyes out. You'd been feeling sick recently and didn't think the plane journey all the way to Las Vegas would be a good idea.

So you stayed behind while Lando went racing, you were now looking at the positive test in your hand.

You knew exactly when it was, it was. It was after his first race win in Brazil... you guys weren't as careful as you should have been.

"Fuck" you cried leaning your head against the wall of the bathroom, tears streaming down your face. It wasn't that you didn't want kids, or that you didn't want them with Lando it's just that you both agreed now wasn't the best time where he was in the height of his career.

You didn't know what to do, the only person you could think to call was Oscar's girlfriend Lily who you'd become best friends with ever since you met her at her first race appearance.

You waited while the phone rung, and rung until the line opened.

"Lily?" you sob into the phone but it's silent.

"Lily please, i need you!" you cry a little more.

"Y/N?" a male voice you knew too well answered. It was Oscar.

"Oscar?" you ask.

"Yeah, it's me Lily's just in the bathroom i didn't want it to go to a missed call!" he says before you here Lily ask who it is.

"Please Oscar, just hand me over to her" you say, Oscar could tell you were crying and he wanted to know what was wrong more than anything. He handed over the phone to his girlfriend with a worried look who answers right away.

"Y/N?" she asks with concern in your voice.

"Can you be alone right now, like without Oscar?" you say with labored breaths.

"Yeah, he's just leaving to get ready for FP3, weren't you babe!" she smiles giving him a look that tells him to leave.

Oscar, stops outside the door with a small panic.

What does he tell Lando?

Does he tell Lando?

He really had no idea what to say. Did he tell Lando that his girlfriend just got a call from Lando's girlfriend and he answered and she wa sobbing.

Would this make Lando spiral and have a bad race.

"Y/N please tell me what's happened!" Lily says back in Oscar's driver room.

"I'm pregnant" you sob and Lily's eyes widen.

"Congrats?" Lily says awkwardly and you just sob harder.

"Okay okay I'm sorry! I don't know what to say. How can i help!" she asks.

"I don't know, I think i just needed to tell someone!" you sniffle.

You continue to talk to Lily until she needs to leave to go watch Oscar and you agree you should probably watch Lando.

You walk past your shared room with Lando in your Monaco flat seeing one of his hoodies laying over the chair. You grab it and pull it over.

You spend the rest of the weekends watching shitty romcom's until you get a text from Lando.

Lando: I'm coming home, now

And that sent you into a full on spiral. Did Oscar or Lily talk and tell him, was hen angry at you...

Until he got home you were a nervous wreck having a ball of anxiety in your stomach.

"Baby?" Lando calls as he goes through the front door looking around for you. You were sat on the sofa, curled up in his lavender hoodie from his Quadrant range.

He walks in seeing you sat there, tears in your eyes as your trying not to look at him.

"Baby, look at me tell me why Oscar told me you called Lily in floods of tears... what's happened!" he asks, kneeling down in front of you trying to catch your gaze but you refused to look.

"Baby come on" he sighs. You take his hand, before standing up and walking him to the bathroom and showing him the test.

"Is this what I think it is?" he asks looking between the stick and you. You just nod, no words coming to your mouth.

"Baby, this is amazing! I know timing isn't great but i'll be here for you and them! I promise!" he says pulling you into a tight hug. He spent the whole evening talking to you about everything.

"You aren't leaving me?" you asked with a small sniffle.

"Baby, of course not... is that why you called Lily crying?" he asks with a frown and you nod.

"I was just worried, I know Mclaren have a really good car this year and that you and Oscar are a good team and we are still really young!" you admit and he nods.

"We are, but it's not anything we can't handle together..." he says pulling you in for a kiss, holding your hips before they snake up your body to get to the back of your neck.

"I love you so so much" he sighs leaning his forehead against yours, his eyes open watching you eyes.

"I love you too!" you sigh, all that built up anxiety just leaving and releasing from you.

"I don't think we should tell anyone but family" you say looking down and he frowns, not sure what you mean.

"Your going to stop coming to my races?" he asked, obviously he knew towards the end of your pregnancy you wouldn't be able to do the flight but right now you'd be safe and healthy to fly.

"No of course not! As long as we are on a jet I should be fine, why wouldn't I ?" you ask tilting your head in confusion.

"Well, baby ..." he gulps and you nearly start to laugh wondering where he's going with this.

"In a pregnancy you are growing a whole other human inside of you, so you'll ... you know get bigger?" he says as if its more of a question to you than anything.

"Yes, I'll have a bump" you giggle, placing his hand on your currently flat stomach.

"But you don't want to tell anyone? People will start to find out when they see it honey!" he laughs, rubbing your hips and stomach.

“I’ll just cover up with your hoodies” you say showing Jake how you look now.

“Mmmm my hoodies can only go so far” he laughs.

And that was the truth, you struggled in the heat in the hotter countries and ended up getting too big for even Lando’s hoodies.

Someone on twitter had got a picture of you, at an angle where Landos hand gripping your made the loose hoodie grab around your growing stomach and people started to go wild.

So you guys went to Instagram of course.

landonorris

landonorris: Yes Y/N is pregnant! We are both very happy and she’s currently 7 months along and we are expecting in July and cannot wait to meet our little girl!

Tagged 1 Person

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y/user: I love you so much. I wouldn’t want to experience this journey with anyone else! 🧡🫶🏼

mclaren: Papaya Baby incoming 🧡🦁 Congrats Lando!

oscarpiastri: congrats man!

lilyzniemer: she’s such a pretty mumma

-> y/user: stop it!!!! 🫶🏼🧡

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[itgetzweird08]

“You’re nervous..”

You said so matter of factly, your head resting on Bakugou’s chest. He grunted, opening one eye to look down at your face. “I can tell,” you continued “Because you didn’t clean your room before we laid down… and you didn’t do your reps. You only miss those when you’re sick or when you’re so nervous you can’t focus. And I know you aren’t sick so…” he scoffed, closing his eye again. “You should be a goddamn detective if this hero shit don’t work out.” You chuckled, but his joke didn’t distract you. “Talk to me Kats…you’re nervous about tomorrow, aren’t you?”

He stayed silent, and for a moment you thought prying was a bad idea. You had only been dating for four months, since Christmas, and you didn’t want to over step any still fresh boundaries. But Katsuki sighed, shrugging softly. He figured, if there was anyone he could be real with, it was you. Plus, he was trying to learn to communicate a little better anyways.

“Yeah. ‘M nervous. Not cuz I don’t think we’ll win, but because of…you.”

You sat up, looking at him confused. “Because of me?” He huffed, sitting up and facing you. “Yeah- I know we’ll kick ass. We got the top heroes, Mr. Aizawa, and both of our classes. Even though they ain’t as strong as me, everyone can put up a fucking fight. But..I’m worried something’s going to happen to you. What if they put you on the front lines, or the villains manage to get free and end up hurting you? Taking you? What then? What if…I can’t protect you?”

You frowned hearing his worries, and at some point during the confession, took his hand. But your frown slowly turned into a soft smile, and you ran your thumb across his knuckles in an attempt too soothe him. “Kats… do you remember what you said when you confessed to me?”

He snorted, “Of course I fucking remember. I said ‘go out with me you damn nerd, it’s getting cold out here.’” You shook your head, nudging him with your shoulder. “Before that, dummy. You said-“ He cut you off “ I said ‘I’ve fucking liked you since the fitness test. I thought you were beautiful, capable, smart, and stronger than the rest of the extras in this goddamn school and if there’s anyone who can give me a run for my money to be the top hero, it’s you. And I think it’s still true’” He quoted himself, and you kissed his cheek, taking his face into your hands. “Exactly— you know I’m capable of protecting myself and putting up a fight. Trust me, I’m concerned as hell for you too, but I need you to focus on the mission and not me. I’ll be okay. We’re both gonna kick some villain ass and I promise once it’s all over I’ll be right back here laying next to you and watching that cheesy fucking all might movie you love so much.”

He growled, grabbing a pillow from behind him and gently whacking you with it. “It ain’t fucking cheesy! It’s classic fucking cinema”

You grabbed your own pillow and hit him back, giggling all the while. “Mmhm! Of course it is.”

“I���m serious Y/N!”

It was moments like this that kept Bakugo brave as the battle began. And it was moments like this that you both thought about as he took his dying breaths. He was so worried about protecting you, but you couldn’t protect him.

Pity.

——— —-

I have no remorse :) Anyways im starting to do requests! So if you have an idea for me, go ahead and put it in my asks <3

[luveline]

—you meet Spencer again after losing out on the BAU job. he comforts you while you do your best not to flirt. bombshell!reader, 0.9k

You lose out on the BAU job to Elle Greenaway. It drives you crazy.

You work just as hard as Elle does, you’re professional no matter what Jason Gideon has to say about you, and you know you could do it. You have just as many successes as Elle does.

It makes you feel sick. You tried so, so hard.

I’m sorry, Hotch had said, and at least you’d had his support. He was kind enough to tell you in person. I can’t make the decision without Gideon, and if he thinks you aren’t right for it right now, we’ll have to wait.

Wait. As though Jason Gideon was ever going to change his mind about you.

You open your purse and take out the barrel of your sheer lipstick. Your compact is next. You hold the mirror up and angle your face in the sun, popping the lid off of the lipstick, and pressing its flat end to your bottom lip. The line you draw is perfectly precise. Your hand barely trembles.

You drop the mirror down and rub your lips together slowly. No matter what falls out of your control, you can present yourself to your liking. You can be immaculate. You—

“Hi.”

You look up from your rumination, startled. You’d been thinking so hard someone actually got the run up on you.

“Hi,” you say, tilting your head gently toward your shoulder.

Dr. Spencer Reid stands a polite three feet away from you. He’s suddenly changed. The last time you met him he was wearing his long hair in a side part. Now it’s split down the middle, just a touch shorter at the sides, and he’s wearing glasses.

(He’s wearing glasses!)

You’d thought he was pretty before.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” you say, tempted to call him baby, maybe sweetheart. He’s a sweet looking boy. His sweater vest makes you wanna hold his hand. “Thank you for asking. Why are you asking?”

You talk to him with no derision nor malice, just curiosity.

He frowns. It gives his eyes a sad shine. “I know you wanted the open position. You would’ve been great at it.”

“You think so?” you ask, surprised.

“I’ve seen some of your write ups. We’ve used your summaries in one of our profiles, do you… remember that?”

You send Hotch anything he wants to see.

“I don’t know why Gideon doesn’t like you… He’s so rarely wrong about people, but you’re…” He licks his lips nervously. “You’re– you’re smart. You’re inquisitive. I think you would be an asset to the team, and it’s a shame you didn’t get your chance.”

You’re making him nervous and it isn’t your intention. You put your hands in your lap and stop giving him the look, swapping your amicable smile for a proper friendly one. “Thank you. Is it okay if I call you Spencer? Dr. Spencer Reid is a lot to say at once.”

He laughs, still nervous. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Spencer, thank you for caring so much, but I’m okay. I think I might still have a chance one day, but with Elle gone, the sex crimes division is going to need me.” You lift your chin. If he’s sought you out to tell you he’s sorry, your premonitions about him when you met a few weeks ago were correct. He’s as kind as he is pretty. “I love your glasses. Are they for reading?”

“I always wore glasses when I was a kid, and then I started working here, and I thought it might make me seem less… childish, if I wore contacts, but they’re the worst.”

You laugh happily. He says it in such a pained voice. “The glasses suit you so much,” you say, shoving your things into your bag and standing. “Did you wanna go for coffee? I need a pick me up before I go back to the office.”

Spencer touches his wrist. “Are you serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?” you ask, again, without a drop of malice. You’re not stupid, Spencer has all the nervousness of someone who’s been mistreated before, and heartily, and it’s easy to be soft with him not solely because of it, but because he seems so sweet. You could happily be his friend. “Do you like coffee? We could get those hot donuts from the cafeteria, have you tried those?”

You close the little gap between you both and raise your hand carefully to his face. Gentle, you try to pull a stray hair from the hinge of his glasses leg without snapping it.

“You can tell me all the stuff I’m doing wrong.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Spencer says.

“Come on, there has to be something.”

His mouth gives him away. “It’s not that you’re doing it wrong, you’re just– you– you’re not looking at things the…” Your fingertip brushes his cheek as you drop your hand. “…Right way, sometimes.”

“I wanted your recommendations.” You bump his elbow with yours. “I’ll buy you a coffee and you can write me a list. Cool?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Cool.”

You’re thinking it’ll be the start of a good friendship. You and Dr. Reid make quite a pair.

[burntoutdaydreamer]

Weird Brain Hacks That Help Me Write

I'm a consistently inconsistent writer/aspiring novelist, member of the burnt-out-gifted-kid-to-adult-ADHD-diagnosis-pipeline, recently unemployed overachiever, and person who's sick of hearing the conventional neurotypical advice to dealing with writer's block (i.e. "write every single day," or "there's no such thing as writer's block- if you're struggling to write, just write" Like F*CK THAT. Thank you, Brenda, why don't you go and tell someone with diabetes to just start producing more insulin?)

I've yet to get to a point in my life where I'm able to consistently write at the pace I want to, but I've come a long way from where I was a few years ago. In the past five years I've written two drafts of a 130,000 word fantasy novel (currently working on the third) and I'm about 50,000 words in on the sequel. I've hit a bit of a snag recently, but now that I've suddenly got a lot of time on my hands, I'm hoping to revamp things and return to the basics that have gotten me to this point and I thought I might share.

1) My first draft stays between me and God

I find that I and a lot of other writers unfortunately have gotten it into our heads that first drafts are supposed to resemble the finished product and that revisions are only for fixing minor mistakes. Therefore, if our first draft sucks that must mean we suck as writers and having to rewrite things from scratch means that means our first draft is a failure.

I'm here to say that is one of the most detrimental mentalities you can have as a writer.

Ever try drawing a circle? You know how when you try to free-hand draw a perfect circle in one go, it never turns out right? Whereas if you scribble, say, ten circles on top of one another really quickly and then erase the messy lines until it looks like you drew a circle with a singular line, it ends up looking pretty decent?

Yeah. That's what the drafting process is.

Your first draft is supposed to suck. I don't care who you are, but you're never going to write a perfect first draft, especially if you're inexperienced. The purpose of the first draft is to lay down a semi-workable foundation. A really loose, messy sketch if you will. Get it all down on paper, even if it turns out to be the most cliche, cringe-inducing writing you've ever done. You can work out those kinks in the later drafts. The hardest part of the first draft is the most crucial part: getting started. Don't stress yourself out and make it even harder than it already is.

If that means making a promise to yourself that no one other than you will ever read your first draft unless it's over your cold, dead body, so be it.

2) Tell perfectionism to screw off by writing with a pen

I used to exclusively write with pencil until I realized I was spending more time erasing instead of writing.

Writing with a pen keeps me from editing while I right. Like, sometimes I'll have to cross something out or make notes in the margins, but unlike erasing and rewriting, this leaves the page looking like a disaster zone and that's a good thing.

If my writing looks like a complete mess on paper, that helps me move past the perfectionist paralysis and just focus on getting words down on the page. Somehow seeing a page full of chicken scratch makes me less worried about making my writing all perfect and pretty- and that helps me get on with my main goal of fleshing out ideas and getting words on a page.

3) It's okay to leave things blank when you can't think of the right word

My writing, especially my first draft, is often filled with ___ and .... and (insert name here) and red text that reads like stage directions because I can't think of what is supposed to go there or the correct way to write it.

I found it helps to treat my writing like I do multiple choice tests. Can't think of the right answer? Just skip it. Circle it, come back to it later, but don't let one tricky question stall you to the point where you run out of brain power or run out of time to answer the other questions.

If I'm on a role, I'm not gonna waste it by trying to remember that exact word that I need or figure out the right transition into the next scene or paragraph. I'm just going to leave it blank, mark to myself that I'll need to fix the problem later, and move on.

Trust me. This helps me sooooo much with staying on a roll.

4) Write Out of Order

This may not be for everyone, but it works wonders for me.

Sure, the story your writing may need to progress chronologically, but does that mean you need to write it chronologically? No. It just needs to be written.

I generally don't do this as much for editing, but for writing, so long as you're making progress, it doesn't matter if it's in the right order. Can't think of how to structure Chapter 2, but you have a pretty good idea of how your story's going to end? Write the ending then. You'll have to go back and write Chapter 2 eventually, but if you're feeling more motivated to write a completely different part of the book, who's to say you can't do that?

When I'm working on a project, I start off with a single document that I title "Scrap for (Project Title)" and then just write whatever comes to mind, in whatever order. Once I've gotten enough to work with, then I start outlining my plot and predicting how many chapters I'm going to need. Then, I create separate google docs for each individual chapter and work on them in whatever order I feel like, often leaving several partially complete as I jump from one to the other. Then, as each one gets finished, I copy and paste the chapter into the full manuscript document. This means that the official "draft" could have Chapters 1 and 9, but completely be missing Chapters 2-8, and that's fine. It's not like anyone will ever know once I finish it.

Sorry for the absurdly long post. Hopes this helps someone. Maybe I'll share more tricks in the future.

[lvrhughes]

Haunted House | Q. Hughes

pairing: Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

word count: 1.48k

summary: Jack forces you to go through a haunted house with Quinn, leading to confessions from both of you.

warnings: none?

requested: no

not my gif!

“You got to come!” 

Jack was begging at your door, almost on his knees begging for you to come to some stupid haunted house with him. 

“Why? You know I don’t like scary things.” 

“But Quinn’ll be there, he can protect you!”

“Oh I’m so sure your brother wants to have to look after me.” 

Jack mumbled something under his breath, too quiet to hear before he returned to his begging,  claiming he’ll never leave until you agree. 

“I can do this all day, have fun begging.” 

It was a strong line, until he began singing. Serenading your neighborhood with the out of pitch tune, causing a few dogs to begin barking before you begged him to stop. 

“Fine, fine! I’ll go, just stop it!”  

The smile on Jack’s face was almost brighter than the sun, his arms wrapping around your waist quickly to pull you into him for a hug, whispering thank you’s and ensuring that you’d be fine. 

By nine, you’d talked yourself out of going, coming up with a fake sickness before Jack showed. Of course, why would he knock though? Walking into your house and scaring the shit out of you was his favorite part of having his own key to your house. 

“Jack!” 

Your heart was racing when he appeared behind you, looking over your shoulder at your laptop, which now lay on the couch from when you jumped in fear. 

“Were you googling fake illnesses to get out of this?” 

There was mock hurt in his voice, a hand to his heart while you rolled your eyes. 

“Maybe.” 

“Too late, you’re coming.” 

“Please-” 

“Nope.” 

Jack had dragged you to his car before you could speak, throwing the door open to shove you down beside Quinn in the back. Quinn softly laughed at the interaction, covering his smile with his hand while you tried to hide the blush from him. 

“Didn’t want to come anymore?” 

Quinn turned to look at you, making you scrunch your face in distaste at his question, urging him to laugh once more. 

“I was trying to fake an illness when Jack broke in.” 

Quinn all but burst out laughing at the confession, turning away from you again to laugh while you smiled at the sight. 

You’d always had a thing for the oldest Hughes’ brother, and when Jack found out he was adamant that he could get you together. Nevertheless when you begged him not to try anything, he complied. Not without bringing it up every day though. 

“I was thinking pairs for the haunted house.” Jack spoke, interrupting the peace that had settled in the car. “Was thinking of Quinn and pumpkin, me and Trevor, Luke and Seamus.” 

The nickname resurfacing every October, coming from the once Jack had bought you a pumpkin spiced latte and you loved it, making it very known. You glanced at Quinn, noticing the sullen look on his face, feeling your heart drop.

“Yeah, that’s good.” Quinn’s words shocked you, glancing back at him to see the soft smile he sent your way. 

It wasn’t long until you were stood outside the house, a soft breeze held a bit of a chill, forcing a shiver through your body as you waited. 

“Here.” Quinn was quick to offer, removing the flannel from his body and over your shoulders. 

“No, it’s okay-” 

“You’re cold, take it.” 

You knew arguing with him would be useless, having listened to countless arguments between him and Jack, so you stayed quiet. Thanking him softly for the flannel before slipping your arms properly through it, feeling the warmth of his left in it. 

“Okay, Quinn and pumpkin go first.” Jack deemed, speaking only when he and Trevor reached the front of the line. 

“What? Why us?” 

The thought of entering the house brought a little shake to your voice, feeling Quinn put his hand on your shoulder as you spoke. 

“We’ll be fine, we got to show them.” Quinn whispered, his head resting on your shoulder now as he leaned to speak, ushering you forwards once you nodded. 

Jack sent a goofy smile and wave your way as you glanced back, leaving you to flip him off before walking in beside Quinn. 

The entrance was dark, only slivers of light seeping to just cover the floor, Quinn walked ahead, his hand reaching back for yours within seconds of the door closing. You took his hand quickly, letting him pull you beside him so his arm could wrap around your shoulders. There was rattling and flashing lights, the room quickly darkening the further in Quinn led. 

The sounds of chainsaws filled the halls as Quinn tried to find his way, keeping his hold on you while he turned down another hall. The shaking of bars beside you grabbed your attention, letting out a scream when a hand reached for you. 

“Baby, it’s okay.” Quinn had you wrapped in his arms quicker than you could think, continuing to whisper calming words to you. 

“Are we at the end?” 

Quinn was staring at you with wide eyes, his pupils blown as he shook his head, indicating no. He moved slowly, maneuvering your body to walk in front of his with his arms around your shoulders. He walked slowly, letting you walk at whatever speed you decided while keeping his eyes open for anything that could scare you. 

The end came quickly, Quinn whispering tips to you about where to go and what to expect. His hold on you never falling, keeping your body against his the entire walk, whispering reassuring words every so often. 

“Quinn?” 

Your voice was almost a whisper as you walked through the door, seeing the night sky again, lit with all the stars. 

“Hmm?” He hummed a response, turning your body to face his. 

“Why’d you call me baby?” 

A dark blush covered his cheeks, his face almost a beet red now while his hand reached to scratch the back of his neck. He stumbled over a few words, trying to think up a logical explanation before letting out a soft sigh, returning his hands to your waist where they had laid before. 

“Because that’s what I want to call you,” He took a breath, “I want to be the one who gets to hold you at night, I want to be yours.” 

“Quinn.” He shook his head as you whispered his name, shifting his hold on you to pull you in closer. 

“It’s okay, I know you like Jack.” 

You almost burst out laughing at the words, staring at him with a dumbfounded look instead, which he returned quickly. 

“I don’t like Jack, Quinn, I’ve liked you since Jack introduced us.” 

His eyes widened at the confession, leaning back as if to see more of you before moving to cup your face. 

“Are you serious?” 

His tone was filled with disbelief while you laughed out a yes, moving your hands to run through the hair at the nape of his neck, softly tugging on the chain he wore while you moved. 

Quinn was quick to move after you spoke, pressing a kiss to your lips instantly. His touch making your body melt into his, letting his arms hold you up while you continued threading your hands in his hair. 

“HOLY SHIT.” 

The screams of Jack and Trevor filled the moment, urging you to pull back from Quinn to see them running from the house, headed directly for you. 

“Oh so you finally made a move?” 

Jack’s tone was filled with attitude, his hand landing on his hips as he stared down his brother, leaving Trevor panting behind. Quinn simply rolled his eyes, pulling your body flush against his once more before more screaming filled the air. 

Looking up to see Luke and Seamus running from the house, damn near clinging to each other as they ran towards the group. Luke arrived first, colliding with Quinn’s back, pushing you forward while he clung to the backside of Quinn. 

“That was terrifying, never again.” He panted, still clinging onto Quinn like his life depended on it. 

“I think even Pumpkin handled that better than you.” Quinn played, using the old nickname, before turning to his brother. 

Shoving Luke into a headlock quickly, ruffling his younger brother’s hair while he complained, not fighting hard enough to get out. You watched from the side, slipping from Quinn’s grasp when he turned to mess with Luke. 

“Hey on the bright side,” Jack spoke, gaining the collective attention, “Q finally made a move!” 

The collection of boys shared cheers, shoving Quinn around the circle before returning him to you, allowing you to wrap your arms around his shoulders while his wrapped around your waist. 

“Let’s go home now, hmm?” Quinn hummed softly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as you nodded, letting him lead you back to the car, calling for Jack to hurry up and drive you home.

[idkdudethisisntpermanent]

Blurred Lines

jenna ortega x female reader

summary: You and Jenna, best friends and actresses, are cast as lovers for the first time, tasked with bringing a romantic chemistry to the screen. But as scenes unfold, the lines between acting and reality begin to blur.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: This was actually the first Jenna story I wrote!

————

What are you thinking so hard about? Jenna asks plopping down in the director's chair next to you.

After being best friends for years, you and Jenna have finally gotten the opportunity to work alongside each other on your latest film Lovestruck, a romance film where you two are playing the lead couple.

You. You wanted to say, but you were 8 years too deep in the friendzone to truly say what was on your mind. "Just the next scene," you smile at her tiredly.

Her eyes light up, "I've been looking forward to this scene for so long!  God just look at that view Y/n!  I'm so jealous of Lalya," she sighs, referencing the character she's playing in the film. "Just who wouldn't love to be confessed to here," your co-star finishes looking over at you with sparkles in her eyes.

When your manager gave you the script for this project, you could only laugh at how much the story paralleled your situation with Jenna.  You were playing Quinn, a girl who has been in love with her friend for years, but couldn't do anything about it.  Eventually the mixed signals and watching the one she loves be with others got too much, and Quinn angrily confesses by the lakefront during a sunset; the view Jenna was fawning over just a minute ago.

You could only wish that the aftermath of any potential confession of yours could resemble the one in this film. Layla ends up reciprocating Quinn's feelings and it's a happy ending.

Unfortunately the universe isn't as perfect as an angsty teen romance, and is rather a sick minded individual who gets a kick out of meddling with people's lives. For years you and Jenna have auditioned for the same projects to play friends, enemies, even sister's but why is it that the one project both of you manage to land is this one?

"Y/n/n!"

Startled, you look over at the girl who's been trying to get your attention for all this time while you zoned out. "Y-yeah sorry. You're right. It would be a dream to be confessed to here."

She hums and stands up before placing a hand on your shoulder looking intently into your eyes, "I'll see you on set after the break, hope you bring your A game Y/l/n," she winks with a smile before walking off.

Jenna walks over to Andrew another actor working the film and immediately starts laughing and touching his arm in conversation.  You couldn't help but roll your eyes, but you also couldn't tear your eyes away from the scene that always happened to unfold in front of you.

It hurts you beyond belief watching your best friend interact flirtatiously with other people. Having to hear about rumoured boyfriends and especially having her not deny them. The mixed signals you got from the girl wasn't any help either, like what was that hand on the shoulder just now? The wink?!

You walk away trying your very best to calm yourself down before your big scene. Jenna frowned as she watched you walk away and towards your personal trailer.

————

The director calls everyone to set and has prepared to shoot the big confession scene. The crew helps you and Jenna find your places and fixes up any imperfections in your clothing. As you stand before your co-star you're hit with a strong wave of emotions. The 20 minutes you spent in the trailer wasn't much help, and now as you watch Jenna who is looking at you curiously, you make a realization.

You may never confess to Jenna. How could you? This friendship was the greatest you've ever had and you were aware of the fact that friendships like this one, don't come easy. It would be insanely stupid of you to confess your love and single-handedly lose a gem like Jenna completely. The more you thought about it, the interactions between Andrew, the rumours with Percy, and countless other boys, the more helpless you felt. There was no way she could feel the same.

"You okay?" the gentle voice you've come to love speaks.

You're silent.  She looks at you with her big doe eyes that you've come to love, but at this very moment you hate so much.  The concern in her eyes is pushing you off the edge.  You hated it.  You hated how her caring nature has only gotten you falling tenfolds harder. Why does she have to be good to me, why does she torture me like this you ask yourself.

"Y/n/n."

You look away, refusing to look into her eyes, scared of the emotions you'll find in them, scared of finding out how much more you could fall in love with her in this moment, so you settle on the view of the sunset.

The director begins a 10 second countdown to cue in the start of the scene and you're still looking at the sunset pondering. This may be the only time that you'll ever speak the words of a confession to Jenna. Yes, to her it'll be you performing the script, Quinn speaking these words, but she doesn't have to know that you will mean all the words you speak with every fibre of your being.

A light smile plays on your lips as you think about the performance you're about to give and how it should get you nominated for all the acting awards in existence. The lines of Quinn and Y/n have blurred, and you are playing no character other then yourself.

You won't be acting.

"Action!"

The scene begins and you start marching away from Jenna like the script told you to.

"Wait- Stop!" Jenna says frantically grabbing on to your arm.You roll your eyes, shrugging her off and continue walking.

"Why do you insist on hurting me?" She shouts, following the script.  You stop walking and pause.One beat. Two beat. Just like the script instructed. You turn around, glaring at her with more intensity than the script demands, "Me? Hurt you? That's rich coming from you."

Jenna hesitates, caught off guard by the seriousness in your voice, but quickly recovers, staying in character.

"Yes you asshole! I invite you to the lake house, and all you do is ignore me!"  Groaning into your hands, you speak your next line.  "Layla. You're joking right?"

"No Q, I'm not.  Do you even care about me?  It's my fucking birthday, and you're acting like I'm not even here, sulking in one of your moods and embarrassing me in front of my friends!"

"Then what am I?"

"What?"

You laugh, running your hands through your hair, struggling to keep your emotions in check.

"If those are your little fucking friends, then what am I to you?"

Jenna acted taken aback like she was supposed to, "My friend? My best friend? I don't know that's not the point! Wh-"

You cut her off, "But it is the point!"

You break the script.

You blink hard, letting the tears that were building up before the scene fall down your face.

Jenna had a look in her eyes that you've never seen before it was confusion and something else you couldn't pinpoint. Being the amazing actress that she is, she improvs her next line, so the scene can get back on track.

"Here you go again not wanting to address the real issue," she rolls her eyes.

You decide to stick to the script with tears streaming down your face. "I can't keep doing this anymore Layla," the words carrying the weight of years of hidden feelings. "Watching you with them, pretending I'm fine when I'm not. I can't just be your friend anymore."

Jenna's eyes widen, her character momentarily forgotten as she registers the raw emotion in your voice. "Quinn... what are you saying?"

You take a deep breath, letting it all out, the pain, the frustration, the love. You're about to do it and you hope that just for a second your performance will blur the lines for Jenna. "I'm saying that I'm in love with you, and I have been for a long time. And it kills me every time I see you with someone else, knowing I can't be the one to make you smile like that."

The silence that follows is deafening. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, waiting for her response, both in character and out of it. The director's voice seems far away as he doesn't call cut, letting the scene play out naturally. For a moment you start to think that Jenna has forgotten her line, she's supposed to say, "For how long?"

But she goes off script.

She takes a step forward so she's only a foot away from you and takes your trembling hands (that you didn't even realize were shaking) in her own, an attempt to calm you down.

Jenna, as Layla, steps closer, her own tears glistening in the fading light. "Why didn't you tell me sooner, Quinn? Why did you let me go on thinking we were just friends?"

Your voice cracks as you respond, "Because I was scared. Scared of losing you, scared of ruining what we have. But I can't keep pretending anymore."

Jenna reaches up, gently cupping your face with her hands, her touch warm and soft. "You idiot," she whispers, her voice trembling. "How could you not know? How could you think for even a second that I didn't feel the same way?"

Her words hit you like a ton of bricks, and for a moment you forget that you're on set, that this is all supposed to be a performance. It feels too real, too raw.

"T-then what about everything I see? All those guys?" You say staying true to the script, but you couldn't hold your tongue and add, "The rumours? The interactions I always see?"

Jenna clearly seems taken aback by your addition to the script, and opens her mouth and closes it, at a loss for words.

You can't help yourself and continue, "Do you have any idea what it's like to watch you with other guys? To see you flirt with everyone else and feel like I'm just...invisible?"

Jenna's heart races as she realizes the depth of your feelings, the lines between the script and reality blurring completely.

Jenna continues, the rest of the scene now being pure improv. With tears in her eyes, "I wasn't trying to hurt you...Q. I wanted you to notice me. To see me the way I see you.

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. Jenna's voice is trembling, her gaze locked on yours, and for the first time you realize she's not just playing a role. She's confessing, right here, in front of everyone.

"I've been in love with you for so long," you get out through tears, "But all I've ever seen is you with them... like I don't even exist."

The shorter girl steps closer, dropping the last remnants of her character. Her hands reach up to cup your face, her touch gentle and filled with unspoken emotion.

"I didn't know how to tell you, Quinn. I was scared, so I tried to make you jealous, provoke you into action, hoping you'd finally do something. I-I was hoping you'd see how much I care. How much I...love you.

Your breath catches, your heart pounds in your ears, and you break character completely not caring anymore, in a trembling voice you ask, "You really feel the same way?"

Jenna nods, tears spilling over as she smiles, a mixture of relief and vulnerability in her expression.

"Yes, Q. I've always felt this way. I was just too scared to admit it... but not anymore."

You blink, struggling to process what's happening. This wasn't in the script—none of this was. But it's real, and it's happening now.

You smile through the tears, "Then let's stop pretending, Jenna. No more games... I'm yours if you'll have me.

Jenna lets out a small, tearful laugh, pulling you into a tight embrace. The cameras are still rolling despite your name drop, but none of that matters anymore. She pulls back just enough to look at you, her eyes shining with a love that's no longer hidden.

"I've always been yours. Always."

In that moment, you lean in, pressing your lips to hers in a kiss that's filled with all the years of longing and love you've both kept hidden. When you finally pull away, you're both breathless, tears of happiness mingling with the raw emotion of the scene.

The director calls "Cut," but neither of you moves, still lost in each other's eyes. For a moment, the set is silent, the crew unsure if they've just witnessed the best acting of your careers or something far more real. But you both know the truth—and it's better than any script that could have been written.

[zhongrin]

honey, can you…. un-sick me please?

© zhongrin | 2023  ✼  no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡

✼ characters ┈ zhongli, al haitham, wriothesley, neuvillette, diluc

✼ tags ┈ gn!reader, fluff, crack, 'puppy' nickname used (wriothesley), you’re sick but nothing life-threatening (common cold/flu/fever), they’re all just so soggy for you

✼ a/n ┈ i did change my formatting recently, yes. i like this one better methinks hehe

ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ) ✼ ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ)  ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

“dear, i assure you, the ‘passing on the sickness by kissing’ method has never been proven to work... ah, please don’t give me such downtrodden eyes, you know i cannot help but give in when you look so saddened…”

zhongli was ever so patient with your whininess, clinginess, and overall annoying (your words, not his) self when you were sick with this kind of fever. he personally thought it was adorable, the way you insisted on following him around, asking to be pampered and spoiled in such a vulnerable moment…

… and boy, did he spoil you rotten.

though his mortal vessel is incapable of catching mortal diseases, he had seen the ever-evolving medical treatments throughout the millenia to know that your request to ‘kiss me so i can heal faster’ was meant to go unfulfilled. but how could he refuse you when you look so cute? he sighed fondly and ended up peppering you with kisses all over your flushed face, a gentle smile curling his lips when you giggled and clung to him even tighter in response.

anything to soothe his treasure.

“you’re delirious. go back to bed.”

your boyfriend might sound blunt and mean, yet the way he cradled your sickly self carefully and the gentleness in which he tucked you back into bed behind the blankets was everything but uncaring. al haitham was as complex as the books he read, but if you were thorough enough, you would be able to see the worried lines creasing his eyebrows and the turmoil behind his usually impassive green eyes fringed with bright terracotta lines.

al haitham became a mirror of his grandma ever since your body proceeded to shut down on you. he would make you soup and helped you eat it when you couldn’t muster the energy to do it yourself, and he fussed over you in his own way. admittedly, he had secretly sneaked in some herbs - grown with the help of his dendro vision - into said soup, which he read would aid you in your recovery… but that was a secret he shall keep to himself.

wriothesley looked torn between wanting to laugh at you or being incredibly worried if the fever was affecting you too much. he opted to shake his head with a chuckle and hoisted you up into his arms before tucking you back to bed despite your feeble protests.

“sigewinne told you to take plenty of rest, remember? you’ll get ‘un-sick’ed soon enough if you just listen to her, you silly puppy.”

your whines and pouts did nothing to convince him otherwise. your beloved seemed intent to keep you on the bed. he was very much tempted to threaten you with a promise to cuff yourself to the bed if you keep being stubborn, but he decided not to. instead, he stayed by your bedside like a loyal hound until the medicine kicked in and you fell into a deep slumber.

“let's have a picnic under the sun when you recover, yeah? but for now, let me just guard you while you're at your most vulnerable, sweetheart.”

neuvillette, the infamously aloof and diligent iudex, was anything but austere when it came to you. one might say he takes his role as your husband more seriously than his role as the chief of justice - and considering his accomplishments as the latter, it was an understatement to say that he excelled as your lover.

the day you got sick, rain fell throughout fontaine, persistent and seemingly neverending. it mattered not if it was just a common cold. you might as well be on your deathbed judging from the saddened gaze of your dearest’s sharp eyes and the way he was calling upon all doctors in fontaine to check up on you. even when you tried to lighten up his somber mood with your words, he merely grasped your hands tighter and brought them to his forehead, silently vowing to do all he could to make you healthy again.

“it is maddening that i do not have the power to heal humans, but rest assured that i will ensure that you can recover in the fastest and most efficient way possible, my love.”

the only time master diluc would be present in the kitchen is when 1) it’s a special day to you or the both of you, or 2) you’re cooking, or 3) you’re sick.

and currently, you’ve fallen ill from your recent adventure of dancing in the rain with your beloved. it was an addition into the romantic moments which the two of you would no doubt engrave in your hearts, yet while his pyro vision had subconsciously kept your lover’s body temperature from droppimg, it failed to do the same to you - hence why you were left with a bad case of flu and sore throat.

still, being sick while being diluc’s lover had its perks: for one, there were the maids who would take a good care of you, and they were always so considerate of your needs, especially when you were in this condition. but the best part would have to be your devoted red haired man doting after you like an overly attached falcon, personally taking it upon himself to nurse you back to full health. he was ever so patient with you, chuckling when you babble nonsensically, brain fogged and loose-lipped.

“yes, dear. i shall take it upon myself to ‘un-sick’ you. now, it’s time for your medicine. i’ll help you sit up... my love, don’t make that face… i promise to give you a forehead kiss if you finish the medicine.”

✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ) ┈ @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sunnshineflxwer | @yuutasbabe | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @marina-and-the-memes | @mixed-kester | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @sassy-cat-in-town | @syrenkitsune | @smokipoki | @cakeboxie | @crystalflygeo | @ciexuvia | @illaasya | @celestewritestoomuch | @pams-comfortzone | @spidermanluvr444 | @ourstrawberryclouds | @ryuryuryuyurboat

[nemesyaaa]

western nights // mean!S2!barry x kook!reader x s2!rafe

summary ; /

warnings ; mentions and using of drugs. kinda violence. barry doesn't give a shit about pogue/kook thing. threesome(mxmxf/switch). smut without real plot. shotgunning (smoking). choking. double p in v. boys kissing (if you see that challengers reference, no you don't.), oral (f&m receiving.). scars mentions. threats.(3k words.). be careful with the warnings.

author's note : i want rafe and barry back as a chaotic duo for S4 part 2, please. it's a threat, not a request. im watching you obx screenwriters.

“someone you know very well owes me money.”

you looked up from your line of cocaine in a loud snort, before sitting comfortably on the bed while rubbing your nose to clean it quickly.

"and how does that concern me barry? you have your business, i have mine. and by the way, are you stalking my clients because you're losing yours ? ”

“ you’re such a fucking ungrateful princess. let me remind you that it’s because of me that you even have a business in the first place. you were nobody before i helped you, it doesn’t matter how much of a kook you are in this business.”

"wow.. someone’s got an attitude. it's not my fault your boy chose me over you.”

"yeah, he’s gonna regret that when you fuck him over."

“and why would i do that?”

he approached you, a big blunt falling out of his lips, before leaning toward you, made you feel quietly small. a short breath escaped your throat while you shivered. a smile with a wicked expression on his eyes showed on his face. “ still afraid of me. why ? it’s been a long time since i’ve had to put you in your place. you still got that scar? ” with a sick, softened voice, he added just over your lips. “that expensive makeup covers it up real good.”

“ what do you want, barry ? ”

in the intimacy of silence between the two of you, he pressed a thumb in the corner of your lips, letting his finger open it a little wider, before pulling out and blowing smoke directly into your mouth, letting your tongue disappear on the shot.

you scoffed, before your throat had swallowed the smoke. “ i want my money. and you're gonna do what i ask you. ”

“ and if i don’t ? ”

“ you don’t have much of a choice actually.”

barry placed himself above you, more threatening than when he welcomed you into his home. you placed a hand on his chest before responding calmly. “ don't be mad at me. it's your own fault you decided to trust him. why are you giving him free shit? you know he can afford it. and don’t give any of that ‘he said he’ll bring the money next time’ bullshit, when has rafe cameron ever been trustworthy?”

“ y/n. don’t start shit you can’t finish. ” he warned.

"what do you want me to do? you have a gun, and no reputation to preserve, if you want to shoot him, he's all yours. don't involve me in this. i'm having a good relationship with my client, do not mess it up. "

“do you think it’s that easy, princess?” he laughed nervously. "obviously. you really think I can get away with taking out Rafe Cameron?”

"i just think if you really wanted to, you would. Since when does Rafe scare you anyway? "

"i had a little disagreement with ward. it’ll just be easier if you handle it."

“what do i gain from all this?”

“It’s your choice. But we’ll talk about it when we’re out of this situation.”

you sighed. the next day, you invited rafe cameron to your house. like every time you called him, he came back.

“ so, where’s the coke ? ” he asked. “ tell me you have something for me. ”

"obviously I do, I'm a dealer, what did you expect ? But do I have any for you ? that's another question. ” you frowned. your gaze was on his beaten puppy face, his eyes were glinting, completely desperate, and his voice was almost pleading and nervous. “ i think i’ve been too nice to you, rafe. maybe i should be mean for once. look at this scar you have, should i give you another one? because that’s what’s gonna happen if you don’t behave. ”

“I’m begging you, please. i'm gonna pay you back.”

"begging already? wow. tell me why i should believe you’re pay me back?”

“ just trust me. you know i have money, i just have to get it.”

“ i have no reason to trust you. “ you shook your head with a tsk tsk that meant you didn’t believe him. he was a pathological liar, it was in his nature to save his ass with lies.

you laughed in frustration, making him raise an eyebrow. "you’re gonna pay me back, huh? I’m not even the only person you owe money to. is this about what we did last time?”

“If i can recall, you were enjoying yourself just fine.” he cut in.

"rafe. you have nothing to offer me. to tell you the truth, if I really needed money, there are ways I can get it. So whatever is going on here, it’s not fair because you’re getting something out of it and I’m not.”

"I told you, I’m gonna pay you back, just please, give it to me. I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

"We’re going to try this another way. I’ll see you tomorrow and if you have the money you owe us then you’re good. And I’ll take care of you again.”

you kicked him out of your house. the next day, he showed up in your room as you were coming out of your shower. you planned to procrastinate all day before he stormed off like crazy.

"What are you doing? You think you can show up here like this?”

“I have your fucking money. now, i want my coke. i did what you wanted me to do ! ”

you smiled, while giving a pat on his curtain bangs. “ good job, pretty boy. ”

“where’s the coke? give it to me. ”

“i don’t have any.” you replied.

rafe laughed, a nervous and uncomfortable laugh. he took a few steps towards you, pushing you against the wall.

“rafe?”

“where’s the fucking coke? ”

“dude, are you high?” you asked, suddenly unwell by the rising tension you can't feel through the air. “ i just tol...”

he was mad, more than that, frustrated. the way you played with his feelings, you were making him go around in circles. and his hands began to irritate him, to make him wickedly agitated. which meant that he was gradually losing control because you were showing that it was you who had the power. he was just asking for drugs, only a little. it was such a small ask in his eyes, just a fucking line how you gave him some every time he came. like a child's whim, you couldn't take away from him what you had always given him. from his point of view, it was not okay.

and the thing was, you were doing it just now. he felt a horrible chaos inside him which made him spiral. his hands fell terribly on your throat, fingers wrapping in tight around you like a collar.

"i just asked you a question. and you better hope your answer is what i want to hear, because if it’s not this isn’t gonna be fun for you.” he whispered, his lips softly ghosting over yours.

“you’re scaring me….rafe ”

“ good, maybe now you’ll show me some fucking respect.”

he grabbed you by the throat, forcing you to bend your knees so that you were at his feet. you coughed, and he responded with a smirk.

“i don’t have your fucking coke. "

“but you know what, that’s not fair. i held up my end of the deal, o got your money and you don’t have my coke.”

he slipped each of the bills against your tongue down to the exact amount he owed you, forcing your mouth to stay open.

"not having so much fun now, huh?”

“ what a great surprise, my two favorite people in the same place. " had commented a voice behind the kook.

it was barry. you and rafe both shivered. at the same time.

“what the hell is this ?” rafe replied.

“relax country club, i didn’t come to give you a hard time. ”

“so why are you here ?” Rafe replied.

you spat the money back into your mouth and barry came closer to you.

“what the hell are you doing here?” you replied.

"so you're stealing my clients, you're taking my money and what more, you're lying to me?" barry had wisely articulated.

“wait, what do you mean?”

“shut up, rafe.”

“barry, it’s not what you think.”

"that's exactly what i believe. but you know what I believe even more? is that you need to be taught a fucking lesson.yeah, spoiled, rich girls like you need to learn that they can't play with everyone. come on, country club. ”

“barry.” you started. " listen..."

"I would love to listen to you, princess but I'm going to have a hard time doing once i fill that pretty mouth with my cock."

“what?” you retorted.

" oh you know, i'm in a grear mood. you seem to really enjoy playing with people around you. guess today, it's just my turn to play. i'm also thinking we should invite rafe to this game. would be fair actually. will princess be able to say sorry after being her nasty mouth being fucked to death ? ” replied barry by pulling you by the side of your face, hair caged in his grip, making you gasp.

“ pretty sure, bitch like her can. ”

" you're too high to even know where you put your dick. ” you said.

“ very funny. ”he laughed in a sarcastic way, before pulling his pants down, his cock slapping against his stomach, following his movement by plunging it straight into your mouth, one hand with rings covering your throat, pressed tightly his fingers against the back of your neck. “still funny?” he continued as he pushed himself even deeper, feeling his dick deep down in the inside of your pleasing mouth widening around him. “ can't even answer now. ”

Barry smiled before undressing his pants, guiding your hand to his own cock. you quickly got the hang of it, starting to masturbate him, your free hand circled around his full length stroking back and forth, all the while having rafe’s thick length, lodged hard in your throat.

your fist was wrapped around barry’s cock, fingers tightening and sliding around his girth quickly while rafe was buried completely inside your mouth, fucking you faster on the tongue. you already started to get soaked on the inside of your thighs, the wet forming a damp spot on the fabric of your underwear.

both boys stood in front of you, above your kneeling position while you were at their commands. barry invited himself into your mouth, his cock next to rafe's hitting your dripping, sloppy tongue. their two dicks were working your throat at the same time, same pace as your muscle rolled over the two shafts that stretched you open. you could feel the weight of their lengths filling your stuffed mouth. your face was weeping with spit and saliva.

you grabbed their cocks with your free hands, sucking with your mouth and pumping with your fingers, their grunts hovering in the room.

your mouth was completely blocked by the growing size of their dick. rafe smeared all the drool from your mouth on your face, before spitting on your tongue, followed by barry. you touched them both while continuing to deepthroat the two boys. you let your tongue run on the veiny flesh of their dick, trailing your wet muscle around their veins, followed by balls lapping. your received both of their cocks so well like you were always made for this. you coughed several times, letting a trickle of saliva slip from your jaw. they both pulled out, before slapping their cocks on your drooling cheeks. your face was pressed with tears, running down your skin to the floor.

“don’t be lazy, open your legs. ” ordered rafe.

you had spread your thighs, leaving them with a full view of your glistening pussy. “ but look at you, already so wet, soaking like a mess when neither rafe or me already touched you. ” barry mocked.

rafe pushed your glossy lips apart with two fingers making you suck on them, stuffing you full in the mouth to the throat and barry found a place between your legs, and trailed his tongue against your folds filled with wetness that poured over his face.

he traced your clit, before eating out your hole that was pulsing against his messy mouth, the way his tongue licked your slit, slurping in and out, before circling your beating clit. his lips were wrapped around you, dirty lapping your cunt as rafe taking his thick fingers deeper in your throat to the point you choked on them. he cleaned them with his own mouth, before diving his thumb in your lips. the corner of your mouth were foaming as he roughly brushed his digits inside your cavity, two fingers fucking your tongue and throat, as barry widly sucking your cunt. your taste were flowing and he keeping it before kissing you slowly, let in drip back in your mouth.

“ do not swallow it. i bet country club wants a taste of you…” he commented, through the kiss.

without swallowing, you kissed rafe, moving your lips against his and released your tongue over his own. you were over the moon, both of them kissing you, tongue mixed with streams of saliva, and nasty spits.

you placed your hand through your slit, before pushing your fingers against rafe's mouth, forcing him to open wider while you do the same with your other hand with barry's mouth, feeding the two boys with your juice flowing around their hanged jaw. you rushed your digits further in their throat, as they gasped around them. you were so turned on, the way they were literally drooling like dogs over your hands was making you feel insane.

you slowly pulled out your hands as their faces got closer to each other, while watching them kissing through your dirty fingers. you watched them with a twisted smile, as rafe hand reached the throat of barry, his thumb running over his cheek. your gaze was focused on them, and your ears filled with the wet and horny sound of them licking each other. that was hot, and you hated how hot it was. “ are you gonna fuck or should i do it all the work myself ? ”

“ want to be fucked so bad ? ” cutted rafe.

“ is my legs open enough for you, rafe ? ” you said, teasing him flirty.

“ she's really asking for it. ” answered barry.

“ which one's gonna fuck me first ? ”

they both laughed at you as you said something very funny. you raised an eyebrow.

“ you're gonna take us.”

“ it's not gonna fit. ”

“ it's gonna fit. because that pussy is tired of being tight. ”

when they started fucking you it made the heat rise inside you. your whole body was horribly hot, their two cocks were both pressed and stuck in the same hole. you gripped the sheets with your fist, while they stretched your weeping pussy over and over, shoving every inch of their cocks into your soaking pussy. your head was spinning as you lost yourself completely, your flesh smushed onto the mattress. both wrecked your canal, and hitting every one of your spots. you felt strange spasms, a mixture of pleasure and pain as you trembl d and moaned under their thrusts.

“ don't fucking cry, you're the one who wanted those cocks inside you. was too mean to do what your pussy begged for ? too late. neither rafe nor i are going to stop. ” shouted barry while ramming his hips against you in a brutal stroke, making you whine harder.

“ pl-please…”

“ the only thing you need to “ please please ” is for us to fuck you even harder. ” continued the curtain bangs one with a sick smile around his lips.

rafe shutted you cries with a rough snap of his hips, his firm body slammed into yours, while barry next to him, pounded you in the same raw way. his hair was messy as yours, unbrushed and bouncing against his shoulders, as the air became more hotter. you were crying and panting for breath like a crybaby, tits swaying while your vision was getting blurred.

the kook one grabbed your face, hollowing your cheeks with his fingers, before spitting in your open mouth, watching his globe of saliva dripping from your glossy lips. inspired, barry spat on rafe's mouth, forbid him to swallow with his hand brushed on his partner jaw before letting the spit drooling over your mouth.

the pace sped up, as your pussy squeezed them like a vice, the room filled with the wet smacking sounds of your core getting speared roughly. they were fucking you deeply, your cunt dripping around them as they thrusted into you back and forth, all spots getting touch.

next position, you were bouncing on rafe's dick, big hand tugged on your hips, your ass jiggling against and slamming into his large spreaded thighs, as barry letting you suck on his dick. you were giddy, feeling overheated, messing everywhere on both of them. they were working on each part of your body, the overstimulation draining you.

“ suck it well, pretty thing.” he grabbed your jaw, his glare locked into your teary eyes. “ don't forget that you have still another free hole. and trust me, you don't want two cocks in. ”

your mouth found barry's cock, tongue out and wrapped around his crazy shaft, as you slowly pushed your muscle above his tip. you were now used to it, and sucked it directly to the throat, you spitting on it before licking to feel the size hitting the deep of your neck. you were like a dizzy free-use doll that were fucked to heaven.

you placed the dick of barry between your swayed tits that was unstoppable because of rafe's hard strokes on your sloppy cunt. your cunt that was actually filled by his large cock. before starting to pump the dealer with your boobs, you caged the painful boner in the middle of your breasts, and pressed them to the bulging girth before moving up and down quickly. when you heard his raspy grunts near your ears, his mouth and breath brushed your sensitive skin, you accelerated the pace, leaving him growling speechless.

few minutes later, he came around your neck, painting your flesh with white loads. rafe released his cum in you five minutes after, while kissing you, swallowing every breath of yours.

you fell on your back, completely exhausted. “ you guys…are crazy…”

“ just the beginning. ”

[ak4e7a]

Men I Love Fucking — milf lovers!hyung line

hiiiiiiii! i, the president of dumb baby nation, have been gone for too long … here is my surprise comeback to enhablr (it’s so apt of me as mother to schedule my comeback for mother’s day) … i present to you, milf lover!hyung line :D enjoy >:)

minors dni, you know the drill. @karinasbaby and @enha-stars, this one's for you. thank you both for listening to me yap about this and helping me with ideas ≽ܫ≼

cw: degradation, breeding kink, sugar daddy jay, i got super carried away with jake's for some reason idk. sunghoon gets his own warning lmao

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿˚₊

heeseung loves milfs in the sense that he’s pining after his older sister’s best friend. he never looked your way before, but once you announced that you were pregnant, it was over for him. suddenly, he found himself spending his nights ignoring his friends’ requests to hop off the game, and instead in his bed, fucking his fist to the image of you, his sister’s best friend, belly round and tits swollen with milk, imagining that you were pregnant with his child. he fantasizes about which positions he'd use to knock you up with. doggy? reverse cowgirl? mating press? he thinks about it so much that he’s convinced he’s the father. and with the way you let him sneak into your house so he can lay you on your side and fuck you like he’s trying to get you pregnant again, he just might be the father. (he is, but you're holding onto that secret for as long as you can.)

another night of being his sneaky link sounds like:

“i thought us fucking was a one-time thing, but if i knocked you up on the first try, there’s no way i’m letting you go.”

“you just love this dick so much you had to have my baby, hm?”

“f-fuck, pussy’s so good, babe. still so fucking tight no matter what i do to you, isn’t that right?”

“gonna cum, fuck, fuck, turn over, please! wanna cum on your tits. they look so pretty, full of milk for our baby.”

———

jay loves milfs in the sense that he loves the dynamic. if you’re the milf, he’s the daddy who provides. you met him while waitressing at a restaurant that he just happened to be a regular at; he fell in love with how sweet you were whenever you’d be the one to wait on his table. he liked you so much he started requesting you by name whenever he’d come in. one thing led to another, and now here you are, sitting pretty in his penthouse apartment, with everything taken care of for you. he’s paying for you to go back to school, he’s paid off your debt, bought you a car, anything you want, it’s yours—all you have to do is give him your pussy whenever and wherever he wants it. jay’s just so devoted to you, because you make him feel like a man, in the purest sense of the word. he feels like a protector and a provider and he loves it and it’s all thanks to you.

above all else, jay is a provider first and foremost, giving you anything from money to gifts to his cum and his love:

“you like that new purse i got you, baby? yeah? then you know how to thank me. get on your knees.”

“you’re gonna take my cum and keep it in your little cunt for the rest of the day, and if any of it slips out, i might just return everything i bought you. don’t you understand? I’m trying to knock you up so you know who you belong to.”

(and months later, when he’s madly in love with you to the point of no return, begging you to marry him already:) “i’m the one who put that baby in you, i’m the one who loves you, i’m the one who takes care of you so well. and if i have to fuck you every night to prove that i want no one else but you, then i will.”

———

jake loves milfs in the sense that he’s an absolute dog. he’s cleaning pools for the summer while he’s on break from uni, and his clients are all lonely, rich, hot stay-at-home wives. he feels a sick little high just knowing he’s giving good dick to every milf on his roster, knowing that he’s fucking some guy’s wife and giving you orgasms that make you pay him double what he charges. he’s downright nasty, getting his dick sucked on an expensive leather armchair, fucking a beautiful pair of tits that some loser paid for and clearly has no idea how to use. and don’t get him started on when he visits his frat bros on his days off. their moms are fair game for him to fuck, too. he’ll corner you when you’re in the kitchen making apple pie for the boys, mumbling in your ear about how you’re such an angel, groping your ass, telling you to call him if you ever want a creampie instead. you don’t even bother calling him. he’s tiptoeing into your room that night while your son and his other friends are fast asleep.

“what waste of good pussy,” jake spits out, pounding into you from behind. “your husband doesn’t know the first thing about fucking you, because if he did, you wouldn’t be so. fucking. tight.”

“you like that? like taking cock from your pool boy? nasty slut. i bet your pathetic husband would love to know how much you like it sloppy.”

“that’s it, yeah, use me like that fucking dildo i found in your bedside table. feels better than that stupid toy, doesn’t it, baby?”

“what? cum in you? nah, sweets, you’re gonna take my load on that pretty face of yours.”

———

sunghoon loves milfs in the sense that he’s bragging nonstop to his friends about how his girlfriend is a couple years older than him, and he’s basically “preordered a milf”. you might be his TA in one of his classes or his supervisor at work, whatever. either way, while the age gap isn’t so large or even visibly obvious, you don’t like acknowledging it. but when you do, it’s to take charge or to boss him around—and he’s had enough of it. one night, he corners you in your shared apartment, tired of you treating him like he’s a baby. you argue back that he’s your baby, but he’s not having it. “I’m an adult too, you know,” he murmurs in your ear, slotting his knee between your legs while he’s got you pushed up against the door of your bedroom. “let me take care of you, doll. i can show you just how good i can be.”

“my sweet little milf deserves the world, doesn’t she? if only she’d stop being a brat and just let me give it to her.”

“it feels good giving up control to me, doesn’t it?”

“tell me who’s in charge. say it. say my name… louder, baby doll, i can’t hear you. c’mon, let the neighbors know while you’re at it.”

“you’re so beautiful, baby… you deserve to not have to think about shit all the time. don’t you worry your pretty little head. from now on, i’ll handle everything for you… you can relax with me, just focus on how good this cock feels inside of you right now, hm?”

[tragedy-of-commons]

"You're burning up" + Aventurine?

"You're burning up."

Aventurine doesn't know what else to say, so he goes with those three words. Safe bet - the doting parents in all the movies and sitcoms say it just like that; with care and worry, palm splayed out across the ill's forehead.

And holy hell are you ill.

Collapsed on his lavish sofa, you groan in response, swatting his hand away. "I'm gonna be just fine..."

He's inclined to disagree. You're sweating buckets despite how he'd mashed the thermostat down to its limit - he even had to shrug on a jacket. Perhaps Aventurine would have poked fun at you for your intolerance, but he has enough decorum to hold his tongue. He really doesn't like seeing you so put out, as much as you're welcome to crash here.

"Your poker face could use some work. Save your words, we can hang out another time," he dismisses easily, bracing himself for your incoming opposition. He reluctantly breaks away from your side to amble over to the coffee table, beginning to clean up the remnants of game night.

"No way," in the corner of his eye, he notices you shifting restlessly, "finals are coming up. Won't have time after this..."

Aventurine sighs, sweeping his very nice clay chips into one hand while using the other to click open their case. This time of year, things become almost unbearably hectic. He has exams coming up in a few weeks himself, and though he never needs to study, he always adheres to your modus operandi of 'cram now, cry later'.

"Well, you're not going back to those dorms in that state."

"You sound like a dickhead," you murmur. "You think I wanna live there? Shitty thin walls... shitty dining hall food..."

He chuckles, snapping the case shut and dusting his hands of nonexistent dust. "You're cruder than usual when you're feverish."

Aventurine almost startles when you gasp. "I have a fever?!"

...and you're loopy, too.

He gets you to sit still with the promise of retrieving a fever reducer and some water. Aventurine roots through his bathroom cabinets, combing through his own extensive collection of self-care and skin products to reach where he keeps his medication.

It takes several minutes of crouching down on the tile for him to realize he doesn't have any. He clicks his tongue - well, it seems his own lifestyle has backfired on him once again. Aventurine doesn't get sick often, doesn't spend a lot of time at home, and has enough stubborn resilience to power through any ailment that might plague him.

But for you? The only reason he spends any time at all in this stupidly expensive penthouse?

Yeah, he'll make a quick trip to the drugstore.

When he walks back into the living room with his shoes on and wallet in his pocket, his heart warms. You've somehow slipped into an upside down position, hair spilling over the edge of the cushions. You somehow make it look comfortable, eyes closed and brow free of any creases.

"Does that help your sinuses?" he asks, really only to test if you're awake.

"You smell good..."

Aventurine ignores how those words make him feel, eyeing the door (and where your shoes are lined up neatly against the wall).

"I have to restock on Tylenol," he swallows. "Will you be okay by yourself?"

"Yes," you respond coherently this time.

Before he departs, he cajoles you into another position in case you throw up like that and end up choking - not without some strangely endearing complaints that you'd normally never voice, positive thing you are.

He doesn't get to the inside mat before you pipe up again, making him stop in his tracks.

"C'mere," you cough. "Please, humor a dying star's last wish..."

He really should be going so he can get your temperature down quicker, but leaving you on the sofa while you're about to cough up a lung strikes him as cruel. Aventurine gives into your dramatics - which happen to perfectly align with his own at times - and makes his way over to you.

"What is it? Did I forget something?" he sits down on the armrest, perching there with perfect balance. When you don't respond immediately, an odd little expression on your face, he rests his chin on his fist, pensive.

You hum.

He doesn't expect much; a request for another pillow, a plea for him to turn on a movie for you while he's out. Instead, he's caught off-guard as you throw an arm around his waist and pull, effectively whisking him off the high ground and right into your grasp.

Aventurine initially tenses but settles as you nuzzle closer. You're the only person in the world that can get away with loving him so easily.

"M'sorry I got sick on game night..." you whisper, uncaring that you're spreading your sickness (and your homely oxytocin).

He finds himself not caring much either.

"Do you believe me to be that hung up on you catching a cold?"

Aventurine's heart rabbits cruelly - he's sure you can hear it, with the way you're snuggled against him and whatnot, but maybe he'll get lucky like he always has, and you'll remain oblivious and perfect and unbothered, despite what you do to him.

You sniffle, words thick with exhaustion. "I dunno. Just stay."

He can't. Not just because he has to go pick up that Tylenol, but because he feels like he might die if you keep saying things like that.

"Five minutes," he acquiesces.

Aventurine waits for your celebration of victory, but no such thing comes. You're fast asleep, clinging to him like he's worth something.

He stays for a lot longer than five minutes, only wriggling out of your arms when he's sure you won't wake up to find him gone. When he returns later with his spoils (which also just so happen to include your favorite drink), you're cradling a pillow in his place.

Before Aventurine is your boyfriend or lover, he is a liar.

He is most definitely, unequivocally, one hundred percent hung up on you.

🏷️: @akutasoda, @aviiarie, @lowkeyren

a/n: modern au because i couldn't possibly resist. just wanted to mention here that u guys absolutely killed it with these quotes. you have my gratitude! also why is he like that. soggy wet cat

event post here

[chlmtsdoll]

FULL OF LOVE

Anonymous: PLEASE MORE DAD ART AND PREGNANT READER

ilysm anon and THANK YOU for this cute little idea 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Notes 🎀 : fluff | breeding kink-ish | dilf Art | I think we all can agree Art is a certified girl dad, so this is heavy on that. Also ! Since in my first dad Art fic he and reader have a two year old, we’re gonna continue that plot line & also give her a flower name to match Lily’s 🤍 this was cuteee to write.

You and Art couldn’t say you’d been too taken back by your little surprise.

Everything had just been getting settled when Lily began tennis lessons after school and Paisley, your smallest baby, had been getting out of the way just in time for the news. It wasn’t that you and your husband were even trying for another baby, especially with how your busy family life could be. And soon enough, Arts championship season being only just around the corner — but you could actually admit, you did often dream of another baby to keep you and your husband on your toes.

So, with the last couple of weeks, that rooted feeling deep down that you just knew you were pregnant was getting harder and harder to ignore.

The night you found out your womb had in fact been no longer empty, you’d been coming home from dinner with Art when not even a couple seconds after stepping through the front door you got sick. And without any precaution, Art rushed to the store to get a handful of pregnancy tests for you. Each of which all came back with the same result. And your poor overtly anxious man couldn’t take the responsibility of waiting for you to tell him what the results were showing — Art even wanted to be in the bathroom with you while you were taking them, read your expression right then and there so his heart would stop beating in anticipation so quickly. But being the princess you always could be, you made him wait outside anyways.

“Baby.. Baby, what’s going on ? Talk to me.. are you okay ? Is-is it positive ? ” Arts concerned muffled voice from the other side of the door chimed in every couple of minutes that we’re probably only seconds, he’s preciously just been begging you to let him, he promised to turn around even while you took the tests. And though you weren’t in complete shock of the results in your hand, that feeling still wouldn’t ever become not indescribable. You chuckled softly with steadied tears forming in your ducts, as you knew you husband had to have been freaking out on the other side of that door.

“Art, you’ve got to chill. Okay ?” You say as you were completely not chilling.

Art went from having his ear pressed against the wood to hear you, to resting his forehead there with a deep exhale. His palms clenching and unclenching. “Can I just come in ? Please ?” Your husband asked softly, and you sincerely couldn’t hold off the news from him any longer as you stared at the three positive tests in your hands.

“Okay, fine..”

When Art finally opened the door slowly, he saw you look up at him as you stood with your smile ear to ear while you wiped away a tear falling down your face. He could feel his heart skip a couple beats right then. Art walked over to you with his wide doe eyes already being filled with euphoria.

“Yes ? Is- - it a yeah ?” Your husband whispered out as he searched your face for more signals and you bit your lip feverishly with a joyous smile tucked underneath, nodding as your husband approached you and you stood to your toes, wrapping your arms around Arts neck and he practically swung himself around your figure. The man blissfully lifted you up from the ground, leaving squeals to exit your lungs along with the happiest tears.

“We’re having another baby!” You choked on your own giggles mixed with sobs, Art closed his eyes and brought you in to plant his face into your shoulder as he hugged you tighter than he maybe ever has. He just let the wondrous news wash over him right then.

“Oh, baby,” your husband breathed out in the heat of your skin as he held you, his everything, carrying his third child.

The blonde pulled back to look at your expression again. He panted as his excitement was bouncing within him and it was almost like had to make sure he wasn’t just about dreaming by now. Your own eyes glistened with your ecstatic smile, you cupped his face in your palms, noticing your husband’s teary eyes looking into you.

“we’re having another ? Really ?” Art questioned with a soft but breathy tone.

“Yes. My love, round two is happening. For real.” You beamed and Art melted into you again as you laughed fondly and squeezed your arms around him.

“My god, I knew it.. I just knew it, baby.” Art peppered kisses down your shoulders like he could worship your being right then. Taking your hands and kissing them too. “You’re so beautiful, the baby’s beautiful, this is all- - amazing, I can’t believe it.” Your smile grew along side Arts as he set you down on the bathroom counter behind the two of you.

“You’re not even a little bit upset, are you ? I know it won’t be like planned… since your gonna play this season you won’t be home as much before the birth like you were with Paisley.”

You eyes followed Art as he shook his head and snaked his hands around your waist, thumbs even gently caressing your tummy which made your blush heighten.

“No, no- this is like planned, angel. We wanted another little one at some point and the ‘right timing’ is just a myth. I don’t care, I promise I’ll make time, love. Yeah ?”

You felt butterflies fill up your senses as Art spoke so tenderly to you, eyes full with emotions of gratitude for you being the one he gets to bring love into the world with. Grateful for you letting him be the father to your beyond gorgeous kids. You couldn’t have gotten luckier.

You rested your forehead against Arts as you simpered under his caress and he brought his lips to smooch yours sweetly.

Being a wife was always in your queue for your future — but being a mother to the tennis star’s children was a true blessing with just how much Art truly loved being a dad. When it was time for you both to tell Lily about her new sibling, explaining to her that her dad was having another baby with someone who wasn’t her mom was always interesting to see the way her little brain could comprehend it all, but she handled it so well. Lily’s a sweetheart and she loved you like a mom, and you loved her as one of your own.

Art reminded her that she was always going to be his greatest love in life — it was achingly sweet to see her feel so safe with the two of you and her half sister also being her best friend. They grow together every day. You’re a family and bringing a new addition to something already so perfect was going to be that next chapter of your lives making it all tie together.

A couple months passing by and there had been so much your little crew had been up to with all the perks of getting ready for the new baby, and even just getting around all of your schedules. You told Art you wanted him to be able to play this season, feel like you were secure enough even in your second trimester to be home with the girls and handle the pregnancy alone on the day to day. But Art was always thinking ahead — made sure you knew he’d pass up. Tennis could wait if something as important as you going through any difficulties carrying the baby, or simply anything that he’d need to be home with you for. So even though all your checkups and ultrasounds went stunningly, you’d been feeling better than ever before with a healthy baby and a bump that was perfect to your body and daily lifestyle, once it was confirmed you were having another baby girl, Art stepped down from campaigning to compete this season.

He was too over the moon about it all. He became a full time stay at home dad to be with all four of his girls.

One afternoon when you’d been taking a rest with your two year old who was napping alongside you, and Lily bad been with her mom for a few hours — you’d noticed Art disappeared for a while not just so he didn’t wake you and Paisley, but busy with something else. So when you waddled your way around to search for him, you found your husband in the nursery. Hunched by Paisley’s crib with a measuring tape in hand, wearing his glasses that he brought out when he was getting serious with his cooking skills or helping out around the house. It made your smile widen across your lips as you leaned in the door frame to observe how occupied he was with whatever he was doing.

“What are you up to, Mr. Donaldson ?”

Art heard your sweet yet sleepy voice, like honey to him, the blonde faced you with a grin as you strolled over while holding your stomach.

You reached to run your fingers through his curls, disheveled as he started letting his hair grow out now that he was home and you were more than into how it took on his boyish but manly look in a new way. His eyes ran over you, icy and in love with just the way you looked at him.

“I’m starting on our little girls crib. I wanna do it by hand, and- - you can paint it however you want.” He beamed down at your figure as his sideways smile showcased his teeth, you giggled softly.

“I’m sure it’ll be just fine if she and Paisley share a crib, right ? She’ll be closer to her sister and it’ll save you time, energy.. building a crib from the bottom up is a lot of work.”

Art pulled you closer into him with one hand, the other placing his pen just above his ear and you bit down on your bottom lip at just the sight. “But I have enough time and energy to put towards it, sweets... If I can give my girls the world, I will. And I want to do that for her. It’ll be so fun. You know it will.”

Art was the kind of man who just wanted to give to the people he loved. The ones most important to him and it was a priority that since he had the funds and the access to give you and his daughter’s whatever was needed to make you the most comfortable and happy, he would. It was why you didn’t mind giving him as many more as he wanted. He was the best husband and dad a girl could ask for.

He leaned in to kiss your cheek then near your ear, warm hands on you immediately and your fond smile grew as they went to rub around your bump with tenderness. Art wanted to stay connected with his new little girl as early as possible. Always kissing, hugging and talking to your tummy on the daily like she’s already been born. It could of made you cry that someone loved you, and all versions of mini you’s so much. These past few months with him has been the softest you’ve ever experienced with your lover.

It was a little hard not to constantly get emotional on how grateful you’d been — but you blamed it mostly on the fact that you are pregnant after all, and can get away with tears.

Art still made you get flustered even now when he did little gestures like this with you.

Your husband took your hands in his as he led you to the rocking chair nearby the crib and sat, of course bringing you to relax on his lap with him while going in for another kiss. Holding the back of the blondes head with a sugary smile you melted your lips with his till you only pulled away to speak. “You sure I’m not too heavy ?”

“Never,” Art chuckled as he went to peck your girly smile again. “Let’s not pretend like you won’t end up here again anyways, I ought to get used to it.”

“Artie!” You pushed on his chest as he laughed and you joined him, not even surprised by the fact he was already thinking about getting you pregnant again while being less than six months in with his current baby.

“What !? Wouldn’t you agree ?”

“I mean, I can’t say I’d be up to stop any time soon..” you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip while holding your own wrists around his shoulders. Art held you close, thumb rubbing at your waist like always as he eyed you down, tongue darting out just before licking over his lip in carnality of you. It was like you could feel the exact moment when your face had the reaction of falling flustered under his gaze. Thinking about the day Art wouldn’t make you blush terribly was non-existent in times like these.

“Yeah ? You gonna make me a daddy a couple more times, pretty girl ?” Arts tone lowered as he grinned into the side of your neck, going to pepper kisses on to your skin as he held you on him. You were so used to the way he could go from zero to a hundred once he was alone with you. You laughed and leaned into his tender smooches, but kept a hand on his torso to keep the man at a warning distance.

“Careful, Donaldson… I’m learning that I get pregnant very easily and this baby needs her daddy first.”

Art chuckled but slightly groaned as he let up only a bit from nibbling on your neck, his hand rested there on your stomach due to your caution, “mmm, but you know that doesn’t scare me, baby. I don’t want to be careful. Wanting to have a fuck ton of babies with my gorgeous wife can’t be a crime.”

“You can’t say that in the baby’s room!” You laughed.

“We’re the only ones in here!”

You two were a giggling mess in the corner of the nursery. You’d blushed like crazy at your husbands choice of words and feverish attraction to you like this. All pretty, in his lap, with your flowy dresses, healthiest smelling hair, belly round and full with his love for you, he couldn’t even fathom getting tired of it any time soon.

The blonde never even dared to keep his hands off of you, ever. No matter what time of the of the day or night, he was getting you somewhere private and alone. Even if it was just under an hour, he couldn’t resist. In moments when you felt your most unworthy of a fun time, Art still had it over you that he was so down bad for your sexiness even domestically. It drove him to be painfully obsessive with wanting you all to himself. So he was totally right.

You would end up here again in no time.

It had partially been your fault with the way you egged him on. It was radical the way Art loved just being called daddy. By the girls, you saw the way his face lit up and the sparkle in his eye enhanced whenever they called him just by seeing him first thing in the morning as he made breakfast for you all. Proud and ready to kiss your two year old. Make her heart or princess shaped pancakes. He adored her and Lily’s “add more sprinkles, daddy.” even at eight am. His endearing smiles and effort would confirm it all. And of course even when you referred to him as daddy, especially in other settings, he’d be precisely pleased as well.

With the maids you usually had around the house being paid but laid off seeing as Art thought there would be no need since he was home to clean up after the girls — you always naturally fell into picking up their toys and doing their hair, dressing them every day as a motherly instinct, but Art wanted you off your feet as often as possible.

He made it his responsibility to clean up around the place before you could get to it and even make fun games out of it with the girls so they’d get used to tidying up even without a maid. Brushing their hair at night before bed he never skipped, and attending to their bath time on the dot. Of course you couldn’t help yourself to help out even if he insisted, it was in those little moments you got to cherish Art for all he was as a husband. It was the sweetest you might had ever seen a man in your life put into his duties.

Shopping was plentiful of fun too when Art wanted to take you and the girls out for the day. He figured the baby would need new clothes once she arrived as you’d been nearing your third trimester and making room for it even with the shower gifts you’d surely receive.

“Hold hands, girls.”

“Okay, mommy!” came from Lily and Paisley as they hurried out of the house before you and Art. They were always over the moon to go shopping knowing Art would get them whatever it was they wanted, even if you protested because they have more than enough doll houses and friendship bracelet kits. He’d still find a way to sneak them toys and Barbie’s being as you couldn’t complain once he already bought it. You should of learned to give up now when it was obvious he’d never stop spoiling all of you.

“You can’t spoil them to death this time, Art.”

“I can’t keep any promises, you know that.”

Your husband scoffed and you rolled your eyes playfully with a small titter. One of his hands carrying the car seat and the other was placed on the small of your back as he guided you from the front door towards the car, his pearly smile showing as he kept an eye on the girls.

Art opened up the doors for the three of you, “alright, ready ?” He grinned before reaching to pick up the little girls in his arms, they bursted in squealed and giggles as he loaded them into the car. You got yourself in as well and the corner of your lips stretched with a smile as you observed the way he made sure every day was special for them — their faces showing just how much they adored their dad.

“Give the Cinderella one to daddy,” you heard Lily mention to her sister while Art was finishing up buckling her into the car seat. Paisley causally took the sticker and placed it on Arts cheek while giggling through her pacifier.

“Thank you, princess.” The blonde laughed before reaching over to make sure Lily put her seatbelt on correctly, he carried a soft smile. “I want you to start making sure your sisters are all buckled in when we go on car rides, sweets. You’re getting bigger and mommy’s going to need your help watching for the little ones, okay ?”

“Okay, daddy.” Lily nodded gladly in response to Art. You admired the way he spoke to her so gently about everything and maintained their relationship beautifully. You had no doubt in your mind he’d keep it up years from now with all of your kids. He circled the car to check on you with an endearing little look on his face. “You all good, my love ?” Your husband spoke to you with lightness as he placed his hand on the top of the car to lean into you a bit and your eyes meet his lovingly, he’d been taking you in as he always did and you simper at his charm.

“I’m okay, Prince Charming.” You noted to the sticker stuck to his face with a soft giggle, Art smirked before pressing a kiss to your lips tenderly.

“One for you.” He never forgot to kiss your stomach as well, making you feel treasured for the last couple of months of this new journey with him. “And one for you.” Art happily prided himself before closing your door to get in the drivers seat. Not even a minute after you’d been out the driveway, he grabbed your delicate hand to hold in his, pressing a few kisses there as he drove.