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#Bee needs to go the fuck to sleep
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Not to continue my recent trend of oversharing on tumblr dot com, but I am very much struggling not to feel like I'm doing everything in my entire life wrong at present
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soldier-poet-king · 8 months
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I slept nearly 11 hours and I'm STILL upset and angry, and further upset and angry with myself for letting it get to me, and it's just >:(
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thebusylilbee · 28 days
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Oh never mind evil boops work on mobile too, its on bitches 😈
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mishkakagehishka · 1 year
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I guess i'm at that age where all i want to write about is commentary on society
#she's at that special age where a writer only thinks about one thing. how to tear everything she hates apart but#formed as a little prose novel full of symbols and metaphors#i'm saying i wanna write that wip about the devaluation of writing as an artform through fast-fashion-esque treatment of literature#and the tiktokification of literature and so on and so forth#but i also wanna write about this. way that art in general is thought of as having no value despite the fact#that art is such a strong part of all our lives whether we're aware of it or not#and the fact that you can be unaware of it - because it's simply that deeply woven into our lives as human beings#there is nothing more human than art. even AI can only make derivative art but humans are the ones who can /create/#even when you emulate it's still your own original spin on art#and the fact that - despite music despite television despite dance despite comics despite it all being so#prevalent in society such a key feature of all our lives such a comfort to us. the arts are seen as lesser as unimportant as not even#secondary or tertiary but entirely on the bottom of the list of ''work that needs to be done'' is just...#none of you (the people who devalue art in such ways) know what you're asking for when you're asking for artists to go back to starving#without artists all we would have is work complemented by the most basic functions#eating sleeping pissing fucking. what would set us apart from animals would be work - and even that. ants and bees and beavers.#whatever. i won't linger on it for now
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opens-up-4-nobody · 1 year
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...
#theres a quote somewhere abt an adviser of a religious leader in... maybe the middle ages? where the adviser is like: we need to convert X#group of people gently. if we force our beliefs down their throats they may just expell it back up#and im thinking abt it bc thats how my brain engages with things. like: oh i like a thing. i must consume as much info abt it as possible#right this very fucking second. and then suddenly its very stressful and my brain tries to reject it#but i cant bc the fucking metaphorical evangelical in my brain is like: no. u fucking listen to me#and im just like 😵‍💫#which is to say that i didnt sleep much last night and overdosed on 0ne piece. which was not a good move bc now i just feel terrible#which i knew would happen bc i was like hm reading this fic sounds like a bad choice. lets fucking gooooo#and then i fucking trigger myself lmao. partly bc of the material in the fic and partially bc the last time i was reading 0ne piece fics i#was a lot more fucked in terms of my lack of self awareness. so it kinda inherently makes me think of back then and im like oh yea i used#to do X bad thing. i should go back to doing that lol. and its like No. stop. fucking. no#make better choices for the love of god. ugh fuck ive got too much i didnt sleep enough energy#im sure ill burn out way hard by the end of the day. channel that energy. channel that energy into finding an apartment in a fucking city#with a fucking housing shortage 😭 i dont wanna go back to having roommates. nooooooooo 😭😭😭#bleh. im procrastinating going to work. work that i am voluntarily doing for no fucking reason except thst i have issues with#compulsive behavior lol. not lol. sad face 😭 hhhh im vibrating. i wanna run around in circles. why cant i be like this when i actually go#for runs >:-[ im always to fucking brain saturated by then and its a ll static and bees in my head#whatever. time to get tf up and take measurements#unrelated#lmao y did i start this with allusions to a religious quote i dont fucking remember hahahaha#ah its bc i find the contrast of serious academic and philosophical topics funny when i go from thinking abt them to fucking anime and#my petty bullshit. idk i habe a weird sense of humor maybe
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librarianbabs · 6 months
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I hate to say it boys but I can feel the darkness creeping in again. fuck this. I don’t have time for another major depressive episode
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brainfullofbees · 7 months
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jamiethebeeart · 1 year
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Sometimes I forget people, like, perceive me? I had absolutely zero thoughts about how weird it'd be to MHA people to suddenly see 5 (or whatever) Danny phantom posts. And then my notes because a jumbled mess and I realized exactly what I'd done
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sinsirellaxx · 12 days
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I've been thinking about this for several days and I'd really love to know your opinion:
What do you think is the ideal type of each of the Slytherin boys?
Slytherin boys – Their ideal types
Warning: Toxic boys alert! (Not that bad though)
A/N: Ooh, this one was hard! Honestly, I had never really thought about that – or wanted to think about it … but here it goes:
PS: I didn't want to write about ideal body types, so I left that bit out – hope that is alright!
Mattheo …
… doe eyes – does not matter which color (although brownie points for brown eyes) – he’d spend hours just staring into your eyes. If you know how to use your eyes to your advantage, you’ll have him wrapped around your finger.
… pouty lips with a defined cupid’s bow. He’d always have to kiss you whenever he glimpsed at your lips – which was quite often. Be prepared to be kissed all. The. Time. Even during classes – which got you both detention for inappropriate displays of affection.
… he loves long hair, especially curly or wavy hair. Whenever he’s bored, he’ll twirl your curls around his finger.
… he needs a loving, affectionate, soft partner. He’s quite needy and possessive, so he’ll need someone who’ll constantly reassure him without judging him for being overly possessive.
… however, he’d bee head over heels if you also have some sass to you: Sweet, loving but make it spicy.
… loves sneakers and his hoodies on you. Especially if his hoodies still smell like him. The thought of his smell marking you makes him want to go feral.
… would love someone who is inexperienced ... because let’s be honest: the thought of you having been with other people would drive him mad and rob him of his sleep.
Theodore …
… loves long hair as well. He’d try to braid your hair for you – he’d lowkey be possessive over your hair and get angry whenever someone else touches it.
… thinks he wants a more sultry-seductive-siren-like partner, but I think he’d simp for a golden-retriever-type-of partner.
… would secretly wish for you to cook and bake for him – especially Italian dishes and pastries.
… he loved his late mom but she was taken too early from him, which is why he needs someone nurturing, mature and someone who tells him when he’s in the wrong – he won’t like his partner telling him what to do though, especially if he isn’t completely in love with them.
… has a corruption-kink, that he still has to recognize/accept, which is why he’d be crazy about an innocent partner – even if it’s a facade. Bat your lashes at him, and bite your lips and he’s gone
… loves – absolutely adores – milkmaid dresses on his partner
Lorenzo …
… loves a good struggle – so, someone with an attitude – a diva!
… although he wants sass, he’d be mad if his partner refused to listen to him – but as mentioned above: he loves a good struggle, so challenge him.
… adores long hair, especially if worn down.
… wants a partner who always dresses up prettily – just for him!
… play hard to get and he’ll be running after you like a starved dog – but don’t let him grovel for too long, otherwise he’ll be fed up.
… he wants someone who’ll take care of him and praise him, someone who radiates warmth, someone who lets him be the little spoon once in a while.
… wouldn’t want his partner to be taller than him.
… wants someone who only shows their true self to him – to people that they are close and intimate with.
… otherwise, he’d love for his partner to be more introverted.
Draco …
… wants someone he can pamper.
… needs someone who will pamper him emotionally.
… loves lighter hair.
… adores the dark academia style on his partner.
… needs someone who’ll listen to him – someone who is honest with him if need be.
… he’d need someone more goofy – a good-natured partner (that he can easily manipulate if he has to)
Blaise …
… loves long hair.
… is drawn to out-going and playful personalities – someone he can have fun with.
… if his partner does not shy back from telling people to fuck off he’d be on his hands and knees for them.
… would absolutely freckles and/or siren-eyes – he’d be simping 24/7.
… thick thighs for days for this boy.
… someone who is shorter than him.
Tom …
… wants someone smart, witty and strong-willed – but someone who will submit to him (although I believe the dark side of him would enjoy if they put up a fight once in a while, he’d enjoy the putting his partner in their place)
… would hate a clingy partner – but they would have to be ready to give him affection whenever he wants.
… does not care about hair length, but he’d like darker hair.
… needs (not wants) a caring partner, someone who’ll stubbornly tell him to finally eat or get some sleep.
A/N: What do you think their ideal types would be?
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eyesxxyou · 6 months
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My Hero
☆🕷️。・hobie brown x blackcat!reader
rating. m
word count. 3.3k
synopsis. you and Hobie have long been playing the game of cat and spider. you chase, you fight, you fuck, you fight again, and you two love your games. until you find your life in danger because you stole something you shouldn't have
✩°。 ⋆⸜ 🐾warning: p in v sex, unprotected sex don't do that children, a bit of sub!hobie, riding, reverse cowgirl, oral (m receiving) a bit of anal play not much though, hobie being kinda whiny and needy.
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You always had a way of coming back into Hobie’s life when he needed you to the very least. Just when he was beginning to think that maybe he wasn’t head over heels obsessed with the Black Cat as he thought he was, that he’d be able to look at you one day and not have the irresistible urge to kiss you and take you wherever the two of you might be, whether you be allies or enemies that day. He’d think that smile of yours, filled with chaos and mischief, framed in the silver fangs of your piercings, was just like any other, and that he didn’t have every inch of your body committed to memory.
Then you’d pop back up from wherever you spent your down time and bring back with you all the emotions he thought he had discarded in the rubbish bin down the street as well as your usual additional bullshit that he always played his own part in. That’s how you ended up in his very own bed, his real bed, the one he sleeps in every night, in just a thong and a baby tee that says 'I love (the love is a heart) to make men cry' as your hair now black as the night sky.
He never told you where he lived. No one would have assumed that the vigilante Spider-Man would live on a canal boat. But you were smart, crafty. If anyone were to figure it out, it would have been you.
Hobie was just swinging back on to his docked boat when he felt the familiar tingle of his spidey-senses going off. The prickling of his hair standing as his body moved by its own fruition. He leapt out of the way just before one of your knives could catch him. It came from overhead, the top of his boat where you perched yourself. The knife lodged itself in the wooden deck between his booted feet and he looked up at you.
There it was. All those feelings. They disgusted him but he loved you. He loved your slightly violent ways of showing love that never leave him wounded for long. Your usually pure white hair now raven black in wild curls, bad luck and even worse intentions radiating off of you. The smallest twinkle of fondness in your eyes as you look at him with that grin of yours.
“You always gotta try ‘n kill me every time we meet?” Hobie asks you at you drop down from your perch in front of him with the agility of a cat and snatch up your knife from his deck. You’re in regular clothes with a duffle bag tossed over your shoulder and cat-ish makeup on your pretty face. “I never try to kill you, hon. Just testing your reflexes.” You tucked your knife away, Your hand coming to rest on his chest affectionately. “Miss me, Bee?”
Always. “‘Aven’ crossed ma min’, luv.” He spoke gruffly. You looked up at him with knowing eyes. “I missed you too.” You got up on your toes, your hand coming to the nape of his neck to pull him close and kiss him, a friendly hello to make up from your aggressive one. Hobie kissed you back immediately, didn’t even have to think about it, how body did all the work for him. He knew he should be asking questions. How the fuck did you figure out where he lived for one. But oh— it’s like you knew that kissing him would make him nice, malleable, agreeable, and dumb. Hobie’s not dumb. He’d wise up quick so you had to beat him to the punch.
“I need your help, Hobes.” You murmured against his lips before he kissed you once again in sloppy play fighting with your tongues. “I’m in trouble.”
“When are you no’?” He left out in a slight breathless chuckle, finally pulling away. Wised up. “Wha’cha do?”
You nipped softly at your bottom lip, containing a slight smile. But if he wasn’t mistaken, there was a bit of fear behind those eyes. “I stole something I shouldn’t have.”
“Those are the only thin’ worth stealin’.”
“Bad people are after me, Hobie, and I need a place to lay low for a little bit.” Your lips twitched a little. Yes, definitely fear. “I need help and I heard Spider-Man is in the business of helping people.” It was definitely a shot at your pride. You hated admitting you needed help, spent years drowning because you denied everyone's attempts to throw you a life raft. Hobie knew you’d rather stab yourself in the foot. And that meant this was serious.
"Come on, le's ge' inside."
And that's why you're here in his bed, because the fear of being suffocated in your sleep in your own home left you paranoid. Hobie settled down beside you in his narrow bed with his arm tossed behind his head, the action pulling his shirt up just enough to reveal his naval and that beautiful happy trail leading down his low-hanging sweatpants. "Wha'cha take?"
"Nosey much?" Yet, you cozied up right beside him in his rather cushy bed. You liked the way he smelled, like musk and sweat and the faint hint of faded body wash. Some days, depending on the activities, he smelt metallic, like blood, and you loved that even more. You love his sharp, stoic beauty. Loved his hair and the unmarked flesh of his neck that was usually either bruised or cut in some way. Sometimes done by your own hand.
Hobie's hand was on your thigh, the pads of his fingers messaging your flesh as he looked at your face, dimly lit by the waning moonlight reflecting off the broad ocean and glittering into your face. Your lips were wet, full, pouty. Your eyes sharp and piercing. He could see the pretty peaks of your nipples beneath your shirt. He wanted to run his thumb across them, call you his pretty girl. Mumble into your mouth incoherent words of ignorant admiration. "You came t'me, lovie. I feel I gotta righ' to know wha' kinda trouble you're in."
You two couldn't keep your grubby paws off of each other, always stealing touches, slight caresses like you two were fooling anyone. Every fluid movement between you two, always playing off each other's last, was done like something of a ritualistic dance. You take something from him, he takes it back, whether by hand or by web, you get up close and with both of your quick instincts you're fighting over the objects of your desire, seeing who's wit will prevail in the end. Your banter often followed the same routine.
"Well, I feel I have the right to reserve that info. Jus' do your job, pretty boy. Keep me safe so people don't come and ruin this pretty face you like so much." You pull him close and place a soft kiss on his slender cheek before dropping the matter all together. "But— I am very grateful for your kindness. My hero." You press your lips against the shell of his ear, peppering kisses against his skin.
You shuffled about in his bed, maneuvering between his legs with your hands against his sweatpants to pull them down. "I want to thank you."
Hobie let out a breathy chuckle as you worked to pull his cock out from his pants. "I don't need thanks, par' of ma job, but I won' refuse one." Not with lips like yours and a sharp tongue that could turn so, so soft when put to good use.
Your hands held his half-hard cock, twitching with the pumping blood that made him grow harder by the second, and you stroked him softly, gathering saliva to spit on his tip and spread down his length. Hobie shuttered under your touch, looking down at you through hooded lids as his tongue poked out to wet his lip then nip at it. "Go easy." He murmured, knowing he mercilessly beat his cock earlier to the thought of you, not knowing when he might see that pretty body of yours again.
You always start so slow, feigning a sort of innocence about the way you kiss his leaking tip and suckle on it as you look up at him through your long lashes. You'd keep going on like this forever if you had the choice but Hobie was impatient and restless. Grunting with pleasure and disapproval, he'd tuck his fingers in the curls of your hair and get a nice, firm grasp before pushing your head down further.
You'd relent, let your jaw slack so he could sink his cock further into your mouth, the sensitive tip of his dick dragging across the plain of your tongue. He'd let out something of a strangled, choking whimper before biting his lip. "Fuckin'-" He'd let out in a breathy moan as his head would fall back and he'd guide you head up and down the length of his cock.
It happened every time and this was no different other than the slight way from the waves rocking the boat. His fingers were in your hair, guiding your movements as his dick slid along your tongue against your throat. "Goo', kitty." He stroked your head and pulled your head away to stroke the tip of his cock against your saliva-coated lips.
You took him all the way to the hilt, let him settle down your throat before swallowing. It drove him crazy, made him shiver as he pressed your face to his pelvis and coaxed you to do it again. You swallowed and swallowed before pulling your head back and swirling your tongue against the head of his cock. You bobbed your head at a nice, steady pace, reveling in every hiss that escaped his dark, pretty lips.
He was losing himself to you, to that mouth, to that dark gaze of yours. Head like this made him fall in love. Made him completely mad for you. And oh, you were bad, so bad and he needed you. He needed to be inside you, needed you in top of him.
Hobie moaned softly. "Come'ere." He pulled you off his cock and pulled you up the length of his body.
You kissed him, hand stroking his length in gentle strokes while you sat on his thighs. His tongue found yours, your teeth nipped at his full lip. "You like to pretend you don't miss me but you gotta miss head like that."
"You have no idea, luv."
You climbed further on top of him, kneeling above him with your hands caressing the sides of his pretty face. "Just lay back and let me thank you, hmm? I'm not always so grateful." You pushed him back against his few pillows. Hobie lied with a hand behind his head, watching as you got up and turned around to give him a nice view of your ass from behind.
You pulled your thong to the side, that pretty pussy of yours on display for him, nice and wet. You reached back and took him into you hand to drag the thick of his cock between your pussy lips, stroking your aching clit with his tip. You got him nice and wet with the creamy juices of your cunt before lining him up against your wanting entrance.
He slid in so nicely, the tip stretched your nether lips apart. Your back arched subtly as you pushed your ass back more and let him sink deeper within you. Hobie pulled a single hand from behind his head and grabbed a handful of your ass to get a better view,
That pussy of yours could make a grown man weep. So wet, so tight, so mind-numbingly soft. You knew how to move your hips in just the right fashion to make him want to cum inside every single time. Just the sight of your lips hugging his cock was enough to make him crumble in ways no other could make him. He’s whimpered for you for fucks sake and one rested in his throat right at this very moment.
You sat in his lap with his member sitting snugly in you. You rocked your hips nice and slow, circling in a way that left you shuddering. Hobie squeezed your ass then smacked it with a sharp swing of his palm. “Don’ start teasin’ now, kitty. Show me.” He pressed his hand against your lower back just enough to get a nice view of his cock inside of you. His thumb rubbed circles against your asshole and earned him something of a whimper.
You placed your hands on his thighs as leverage and raised your hips, moaning at the feeling of his thick cock dragging against your sensitive walls. You went until only the tip remained before sitting back down and taking him in once more.
"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!" The last one was long and drawn out as you felt him nuzzle against your cervix and press against that soft place in your walls that made you grip his thighs tight and need him a little more.
Hobie cupped your ass with his hand, this thumb still tentatively rubbing circles against your tight rim of muscles as you took him over against and again. That pretty pussy of yours so idyllic it looked more like a fleshlight than anything. It gripped him like a vice, like a sin, oh you were such a sin and you felt so good.
"Shit, luv– fuck. Treatin' me good f'once aren'cha?"
You rose until your pussy let him go with a nice, wet pop and swiftly turned around to straddle him as you were before. "I can treat you so much better, Hobes." You reached back, let him take your cunt again and watched his face as his brows furrowed and his mouth fell open with the beginnings of a moan.
Your eyes rolled back as he entered you fully, lids fluttering. You stroked his head and rutted your hips against his own, your clit stroking against his pelvis. You moaned softly, looking down at his pretty face looking equally as fucked out.
Hobie's hands grappled at your hips, thighs, and ass, unsure of where he wanted his hands the most. "Keep fuckin' me like tha'." His hands finally settled on your waist, forced you up and down on his cock like his personal sextoy. His hands were under that little baby tee you were wearing, squeezing handfuls and fondling your breasts.
Hobie's head rolled back, his eyes fluttering shut with the pleasure of it all. With a pussy like this, if you asked him to give up being Spider-Man, he would. With a pussy like this, you could ask him anything and he'd agree with you. So nice and tight and wet. He could feel that slick of yours dribbling down his length, rolling in clear pearls over his balls.
You grabbed his jaw and forced him to look at you. "Keep those eyes on me, Bee. Pretty eyes like those, I wanna see'em." Those eyes that look at you in a hooded daze, not a thought in that brain of his just you, you, you. His hands stroked the sides of your body, cupped your tits, grappled at your hips, forced you to fuck him harder.
He reached between your legs and stroked your swollen clit with his digits. He needed you to cum for him, before him, you had conditioned him like Pavlov. He can't cum unless he knows you've cum first. He needs to see that expression of absolute euphoria across your face to finally know relief himself.
"Please cum f'me, luv. Please, please, I need i'. Y'know I do. Please." Hobie panted and begged. And oh the way your pussy squeezed him in segments, pulsing and quivering with the beginnings of an orgasm.
You squeezed his jaw harder, looked him in the eyes with your forehead pressed against his. The tips of your noses touches, the heat of your breath met the others and you felt the desperation in his breath.
He pinched and rolled your clit between his fingers, watched you lose your breath and ride a little harder. "Come on, luv. 'm good fo' i'. Jus' cum f'me." He kept murmuring, watching your expression, playing with the clit he knew from top to bottom. Your pussy was beginning to make a nice, creamy squelch around his cock, your cunt quivering with your climax.
Your hips bucked as you sat in his lap and pulsed around his cock. "Fuck, Hobes. Shit, oh my- fuckin' God." He stroked your clit through your orgasm, your rocking hips milking his dick, a womb begging for his load. You were left shuddering uncontrollably with eyes barely able to stay open. Oh you were high on it, dick like this doesn't come by often and you were intent on enjoying it as you always do.
You fucked him hard, left a creamy ring around the base of his cock, fucked him because you needed him to cum because that was the whole point of this. You liked the face he made when he came. The slight smile, a daze in his gaze, the complete loss of control of every extremity.
He submitted himself entirely to you, let you spit in his mouth, slap his cheek, do whatever you wanted to him because he can feel nothing but the way your pussy milks him for all he's worth.
"My hero," you cooed. Stroking his cock as he came in nice, thick ropes inside you. His large hands squeezed your ass, your thighs, your waist, grappled at you as the very breath got knocked out of him. His lips sought out yours as they always eventually do with a wanton moan. He kissed you like he was in love, all tongue and teeth, all consuming. A kiss that says 'don't leave just yet, let's just sit here'.
You know for certain that he's in love with you and you find it adorable. You could say you reciprocated it, could say you wanted a nice, quiet life with him. But you both knew you weren't built for that, not when your allyship was so unstable and one moment you could be working together for a greater cause and the next you have a knife to his throat and intend on taking a little more than just a little blood. It's never hard feelings, a girl's gotta do what she's gotta do to get ahead under the oppressive eye of fascist government.
Hobie half wondered if you were just here to get the drop on him, make him let his guard down to attack him. There could never be trust between the two of you, not complete trust anyway.
"You know we can't, Bee." You pulled away from him, pulled off of his softening cock and laid down beside him with your thong settling back into place. "As much as I'd love to, you know we're not compatible."
Hobie scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I beg to diffa. We're compatible, we're fuckin' soulmates. I jus' can' figure out if we're sworn to be lovers or enemies." You look up at him, at his distant eyes that don't look back at you but instead out of a narrow window at the silver sea.
"What do you think's gonna happen while I'm here?"
Hobie finally looked down at you, his lips slowly pulling into something of a lopsided smile. "We're gonna fuck a lo', eventually hate each otha a lil' more, still fuck while we hate each otha. You'll probably try t'kill me at some poin' 'n 'm okay wit' i'. But at the end o' the day, I ain' gotta Scooby Doo, mate."
You sit up, lean in, and kiss him. In another universe, you could love him without hindrance. You've tried to love different versions of him but none compare to your Hobie, not even the Prowler Hobie you stumbled upon and made yours for a little while.
No one could compare to your hero.
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ghouljams · 10 months
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I got brain rot of Cowboy!König just being so fucking frustrated over his darling sometimes because she’s so sweet and trusting and just a bit naive so she does stupid things like leave her doors unlocked so he has to go and lock them for her just so that he has some peace of mind.
He will never know peace with Bee. Even when they get together she's the type of person to go, "Why would I worry about that? König will handle it." And he will but Christ woman, worry about something, please.
You are so interminably trusting it is bordering on insane. König twists the knob on your front door and sighs when it opens with little fuss. When you’d talked about how safe this town felt he really had hoped you didn’t mean it was “leave your door unlocked” safe. Apparently you had. He slid the door open enough to let himself in, and shut it quietly behind him.
He may as well, you practically left him an invitation after all. Stupid. Naive. You’re a woman living alone, shouldn’t you know better?
He thinks you keep your spare keys in your kitchen. Really you should have offered him one with how often you see each other, but it’s fine, he’ll grab one for himself and lock up while he’s at it. König is quiet searching your kitchen drawers, mindful of the clink of silverware as he eases each drawer open to look for your keys. It’s late enough that you should be dead asleep, but one can never be too careful. Nothing. He goes to check the table by the door, wincing at the creak of unoiled wood sliding against itself. He pauses, sliding his fingers carefully into the opening to feel for- yes, there it is.
A little ring with two pink metallic keys. He slides one off and takes a moment to put it on his own key ring before replacing the spare and sliding the drawer back into place. There, nothing left but to lock up. 
He hesitates, his hand on the front door waiting to open it. What is stopping him from leaving? No. What’s stopping him from staying? Your little orange cat winds its way around his legs, just as eager to see him as its mother always is. König bends down to scoop it up, feeling the rumble of its purr and scratching between its ears.
“Bringen wir dich zurück zu deiner Mutter,” He tells it with a low whisper. That’s what’s stopping him, he wants to see you. 
He knows where your room is, of course, up the stairs and at the end of the little hall. Your old floors may creak for you, but he’s never had any trouble. Your door is open, your windows are open, you are open. Sleeping soundly under the cool breeze from the ceiling fan, looking so sweet and soft, and vulnerable. 
This was the problem. You left yourself too vulnerable to threats. It’s just not healthy. What if something were to happen and he wasn’t here? He sets the cat down on the floor, and brushes a strand of hair off your face. Pretty. His pretty girl.
You make a soft noise as the cat jumps on the bed, and he- God- No, no, he has to go. He can’t stay. He can’t.
It is a long walk back to the front door, but he doesn’t forget to lock it behind him.
König is such a worry wart sometimes, you think it’s funny that a man his size is worried about safety. He looks like a one man army, but he always double checks that he locked his front door before he leaves. You just wait for him in the truck, eager to get to town and get your weekly shopping done. When he finally gets in the cab and turns the truck on, you catch a flash of pink hanging with the rest of his keys. It looks just like one of your house keys, but that can’t be right.
“Is that my key?” You ask, feeling something pull in your gut, König glances down at his key ring, “How did you get my key?”
“You gave me one, did you forget?” König says with a frown, “You said you needed someone to feed the cat when you go into the city.” You nod hesitantly, thinking. Did you give him a key? You do need someone to feed Spot when you have to make the trek out to civilization. 
“Huh, yeah I- Thanks for that, I guess.” If König says you asked him you must have. He’s got no reason to lie to you.
946 notes · View notes
ziggyzolch · 1 month
Text
Queen Bee-atch III (Regina George x reader)
These chapters have been up on ao3 and wattpad but I figured i'd put them here as well.
Warnings: Cursing, use of F-slur but its kind of stupid so dont worry
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“You look like hell.” It was Thursday and Janis had invited you over. “Thanks,” you mumble out while pushing past her into her house. You could navigate her house blind, it's basically your second home now. You go into her room and flop straight into her bed. “You still having trouble sleeping?” Janis asks while plopping down onto the floor. She was surrounded by music sheets and crumpled up paper, her guitar on the ground next to her. You sluggishly sit up and look at her, “Yeah, I just can’t stop thinking.” “About what?” “Nothing, I don’t know,” You push the palms of your hands against your eyes.
You and Janis have weekly jam sessions. Chilling with your best friend and learning new songs to play together was your favorite pastime. Damien joins occasionally and sings along since you and Janis can’t sing for shit. At least you think so.
“Let’s just find a song then you can nap on my bed or something.” Janis proposes. Getting up, you pick up the acoustic guitar at the corner of the room and make your way to where she was seated. This week was your turn to pick a song.
“You’ll love this song. I discovered it recently and-”
“It’s Alex G again, isn't it? The chords he uses are so weird!”
“Yeah but-”
“Please tell me you have another song.”
You sigh, “I really thought you’d agree to that one. Let’s just play ‘Where is Your Mind’ or something.”
Janis is tuning her guitar when you get a text from your mother.
-We’re going shopping. I expect you to be at the mall in 20 minutes.-
You groan and lay your whole body onto the ground. “I know I’m already here but can I get a raincheck on the session? My mom is dragging me to go shopping” You sigh while getting up. “Yeah, no worries.” Janis replies, unbothered. God you really needed to sleep.
✮✮✮
“Seriously, mother?” Your mom was holding up a pink shirt with ‘baby gurlz’ plastered on the front. She had dragged you to the mall to upgrade your wardrobe. You needed new clothes because, according to your mother, you looked like an ‘emo beggar’. Your mother rolls her eyes “You dress like a hobo that lives at Hot Topic, baby. No offense.” It’s been 3 hours since you came in and you hadn’t found anything you liked. You take the shirt out of her hands and place it back on the rack.
“Can we just go home? I have an English test tomorrow and I haven’t started studying.” The lie comes out easily. In reality, you just wanted to nap. It’s been 3 days and you’ve gotten a total of 2 hours of sleep. A sigh comes out of your mothers mouth, “You know what, go sit in the car, you’re wearing whatever I buy you. Your outfit is going to be on your desk tomorrow morning.” She could buy you a dinosaur onesie and you wouldn’t care, you just wanted to nap.
✮✮✮
Unsurprisingly, the nap plan didn’t work out. You passed out eventually though, an hour before school, but at least it was something. You were now at your locker, clad in a white crop-top and baby blue skirt that was way too short. You hadn’t actually realized what your mother had picked out until a wide-eyed Damien grabbed your shoulder and dragged you to the bathroom. “Girl, what are you wearing? Also, did you lose weight?” You look at Damien confused, until you turn to the mirror. “Oh what the f-”
“Damien? What poor girl did you drag- the fuck?” Janis looks at you in shock, Cady standing behind her, while you stare back equally mortified. “You look like a pastel emo, dude.” Janis says while walking up to you and spinning you around. You stomp your foot. “Stop! I already feel bad enough.” You whine while pushing Janis off you and turning back to the mirror. Damien walks up behind you and stops your hands that were pulling at your shirt. “Girl you got bod, and those clothes lowkey look good on you.” Your eye roll is interrupted by the bell ringing. Shit.
Your thoughts start going crazy as you’re walking to English class. God they can see my legs! They probably know you don’t usually wear skirts. They’re probably all like: ‘look at her. You know she usually doesn’t wear skirts?’
Before you know it, you're sitting at your desk in English class, looking at your notebook. When did you get here? Huh, time flies when you’re having fun. You’re giggling at your own joke when you hear someone clearing their throat next to you. Regina?
“Did you hear anything I just said? Are you even actually physically present? It’s like I’m talking to a wall.” Regina raises an eyebrow waiting for a response. “Oh uh, hi.” You mumble out pathetically. She lets out a mocking ‘hi’ before continuing, “Anyways, I’ll pick you up after school for our project.” Project? What? You look up at the board and finally notice the list of instructions written down for a book report you had to do, with details of the partners the teacher had assigned. How much of the class had passed? Your question is answered when the bell signaling the end of the period rings.
You stand up too fast and start swaying before Regina gets up and holds you by your waist to steady you. “Woah there, slow down babe,” She pauses and looks you up and down. She bends down slightly to stare directly into your eyes and taps your cheek, “Cute outfit. See you after school.”
She packs her things and walks past you into the hallway.
You really need to sleep.
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It's like the bottom of your skirt was a mountain climber the way it kept hiking up with every step you took. At least it's almost the end of the day. One more period and you'd be on your way home. You were dragging your feet across the hall when you felt a slap on your ass. You turn around to see one of the jocks ,that you couldn't for the life of you remember the name of, smirking down at you.
Curse him out! Why are you just standing there? Your mouth flops open and closed like a fish, trying to come up with a devastating insult.
"F-Faggot."
...What the fuck? Your eyes widened. Before you could properly process what you said, you were pushed up against a locker with the jock impossibly close to you. "Say that again, slut." He grits his teeth, pushing you further into the locker. You're suddenly released and a very angry Regina was holding him by his shirt collar. "Apologize to her." You'd hate to be on the receiving end of the glare she's giving him. He scoffs, "You've gotten soft, Regina. Anyways, I was just giving her a compliment!" Regina's eyes somehow harden even more. "If the next words that come out of your mouth aren't an apology, Shane. I swear to god." His confidence falters and he eventually mumbles out an apology. "Walk away, and take your micro-penis with you."
Regina hears a giggle from below her and her eyes soften as she sees you on the floor. She helps you up and adjusts your clothes.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, it's whatever."
She stares at you for a second.
"Take out your phone."
"What? Why-"
She pulls your phone out of your hand.
"I'm putting in my number, idiot."
What?
"For the project? I'm picking you up after school, remember?"
"Oh yeah. Pfft. Totally."
Giving your phone back and rolling her eyes, she turns away and leaves. From the corner of your eye you catch Janis and Damien stomping over. "Dude, why were you talking to Regina? Also our plan is working, Caddy's growing on them." You look at Janis, confused before she continues, "You need to sleep dude. Whatever we have health together let's find Caddy and get to class." Damien puts his arm around you and you all start walking. "What were you talking about with Regina, by the way?" He questions while adjusting his arm around you, "We got paired up for a project. A book report or something." You avoid bringing up the fact that you got harassed.
You love Janis and Damien, truly, but they tend to be a little overprotective. "Hah! What a nightmare!" Janis laughs. You look down at the floor, your face turning slightly red, mumbling, "She isn't that bad." The conversation dies out as you approach the classroom, Cady greeting you at the door. "Hey! So, Aaron invited me to this Halloween party..." Cady's voice fades as you sit down and put your head down onto your desk.
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"Nice room, Blondie." You say, going further into Regina's room. She had been waiting for you outside the school in her convertible, making it impossible for you to get out of spending time with her. Despite her recent tolerability, you couldn't forget how she used to treat you.
Regina smiles, "Thanks, Y/N. It was my mom's but I made her trade it."
"Woah. 'Y/N'? Are you going soft on me, Blondie?"
"Shut up."
You walk around her room and spot a couple of vinyls. Green day? My Chemical Romance? The Yeah Yeah Yeahs? The Strokes! What!
"Blondie, you have taste?"
Regina flips around and stomps towards you, taking the 'Stereophonics' vinyl out of your hands. "Stop going through my shit, Gerard." Back to square one.
She watches you adjust your skirt and pull at your shirt uncomfortably. Walking into her closet, she finds a pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt she hadn't worn in years. You were awkwardly standing in the middle of her room before you felt a bunch of clothes hit your face.
The shock passes and you smile at her gratefully while she rolls her eyes and takes a seat at her desk. Should you go to her bathroom? Whatever, she's already seen you shirtless. Her face turns red while she pretends not to notice you changing in front of her. You finish up and take out your laptop, taking a seat on the floor. She swivels her chair to face you, "So, what book were you thinking?" You look up at her, slightly shocked. You didn't think she'd give you a choice.
"Oh. Uh. The Bell Jar?"
"Too bleak."
"It ends nicely though!"
"No! Pick something else."
"Okay, uh, My Year of Rest and Relaxation?" You propose with an eyebrow raised.
She glares at you.
"Are all the books you read just about mentally ill women?"
You sigh, "Pretty much. Oh! What about Matilda!"
She opens her mouth to argue, then pauses for a moment.
"Actually that doesn't sound too bad. Matilda it is."
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An hour passed before Regina looked up from her report and found you curled up on her floor, your laptop discarded to the side. After putting away your laptop, she approaches you and stares down at you. Hands on her hips, she looks around before letting out a breath and picking you up. "Gina?" You mumble out.
She shushes you and places you on her bed. "No. No, it's fine. I have to finish the report." Attempting to sit up, you whine when she pushes you back onto her bed. "We have a week till it's due. Rest." She leaves no room to argue as she tucks you in. "No! Oh wow. Your bed is so comfortable." Your eyes start drifting close and the last thing you see is Regina placing a kiss on your head.
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"I mean I've been dressing up as a mouse since freshman year, why would I change now?" Karen's voice takes you out of your blissful slumber. How long have you been asleep? "You're barely even a mouse, Karen." You could hear Gretchen reply. The sun had started setting, from what you could tell. You sit up, rubbing your eyes and looking around the room. Gretchen and Karen were sitting on the floor while Cady was laying above the sheets next to you. "Hey sleepyhead!" Cady pinches your cheek and tackles you when you try to push her away. She straddles your waist and starts tickling you. "Dude!...Stop!" You say in between giggles.
"What's going on here?" Regina must've been in the bathroom, "Finally up? I was getting ready to call the funeral house, Gerard." She was wearing sweatpants and a tank top. You accidentally glance down at her chest and turn away quickly, blushing, unaware of Regina's knowing smirk. She must've changed when you wear asleep.
Cady finally stops her assault on you. "Ha. Ha" You roll your eyes, moving to get up when Cady grabs your arm and pulls you back down, "Did you wrestle a bear or something?" Looking down to see what she was talking about, you notice a huge hand shaped bruise on your shoulder. You can feel everybody's eyes on you. "Oh, I fell during PE. It's nothing" You shrug her hand away and rub your shoulder, walking towards the walk-in closet, ignoring Regina's eyes burning a hole in your back. Bending down to pick up your clothes, a bright pink book catches your attention.
"Hey. Why didn't you tell Cady about Shane- No!" Regina's eyes widen as rushes towards you and pulls the book out of your hand. It's too late, your page had been the first one you found when you opened the book. Standing up, your voice wavers, "Thank you for being so accommodating, I'll get out of your hair now." You bump your shoulder into her getting out of the closet, hurting yourself more than her.
The silence that followed after you slammed the door on your way out was loud. Regina plops down next to Karen and Gretchen, Cady following after her. Running her hands through her hair, Regina sighs and stares at her bedroom door.
"Fuck."
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georgiapeach30513 · 1 month
Text
With Your Touch, Part 2
Summary: Lloyd has some rules, and very little control.
Pairings: Lloyd Hansen X Au Pair!Reader
Rating: explicit
Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual tension, video sex, a bit of voyeurism, implied male masturbation, teasing, daddy issues, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 5.9K
Previous
Series Masterlist
*dividers created by @firefly-graphics
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“Shh, sweetheart. We’ve got to tell your daddy you need a proper middle name. Unless you’re European. Can you tell me if you are?” Lyla giggles a bit, reaching a hand up to touch your face. “Oh, I knew it. You want one. So what do you think your dad will like an A name? A B name?” The baby squeals so loud you hear Lloyd’s loud banging stop. Pausing while he focuses on Lyla’s voice.
“Was that a good sound or bad? I haven’t learned her noises. Cries. Voice. I don’t know what the correct terminology would be, but I haven’t learned it.”
“It isn’t bad. She’s communicating with me.”
“What?” His voice is laced in so much confusion that you find it so endearing. He was obnoxious, but trying. His rules for you as the au pair were a bit too much, but the pay was ridiculously good. And Chase didn’t live too far. He could sneak in.
You walk into Lyla’s room, wanting to laugh as Lloyd curses at the crib he was trying to put together. Looking down at the sweet baby in your arms as her daddy throws something else, “He’s pitching a fit.”
“No the — no, I’m not. This stupid thing is impossible with these dumbass directions. And she can’t sleep in her bedroom. I don’t want her to sleep in the portable crib anymore. I want her to have a space of her own. I highly doubt her whore of a mother gave her that. And yes, she is. Any woman that drops off a baby with their father who knows fuck all about kids is a whore and shitty human being. And Lyla, I apologize. I’m working on not talking like an asshole around her.”
Working on it, and failing miserably, it is still cute he thinks he’s going to change that quickly. Even just acknowledging that type of language isn’t suitable for her is a start. “And here I am in over my head, putting together an overly pink bedroom for her because she didn’t ask to be born, and I am extra.”
“Yeah, designer baby clothes aren't what a lot of parents do.”
“How did your father dress you?”
Chuckling, you put Lyla in her carrier. You place her slightly behind, but still beside Lloyd, and plant yourself beside him, grabbing up the directions. “Roman didn’t dress me. My mother did. Roman might have paid for things, but my mom was the one that was there always. So you’re doing a lot better than him.”
“Is this a moment you tell me you have daddy issues?”
Snorting, you look up at him, shaking your head no, “This is me telling you my experience with my father. Having a dad in a girl’s life makes a difference. I call him Roman. What do you want Lyla to call you?”
“Dad.”
“You know you didn’t hesitate?” Taking a deep inhale, Lloyd grabs the directions from you, busying himself in reading them. You don’t think he actually is looking at them, he’s absorbing what you said, while also refusing to look at you and show you his vulnerability. “Speaking of which, why doesn’t she have a middle name?”
“Why does she need one?”
“What’s your middle name?” You counter quickly, and he leans back. His eyes gazing over your body. Wondering where the hell you came from because clearly you didn’t know who he was.
He narrows his eyes, looking at you and then his daughter. Lyla can’t help but to giggle at him. Tiny little thing. You wonder if she was malnourished or just a bit miniature anyways. “Bennett,” he waits to see if you react before continuing. “Why does she need one?”
“Beatrice,” he looks down at the baby who chuckles again. “She likes you, and she told me she wanted a name that started with B, and now I find out your name starts with a B. I think you and your daddy are a perfect pair, don’t you Miss Lyla Bee?” Despite whatever nonsense her mother had her living in, she's a happy baby. One that is very much aware of her daddy. Her bright green eyes focus on him when he looks at her.
“Lyla Bee. I like that. She’s like my little bumble bee. Should we get rid of all the pink and change it to bumble bees? Did I make a mistake with the pink? What if she doesn’t like pink?”
You shrug your shoulders. It really didn’t matter what she liked. She seemed to like her dad, and he adored her, and wanted to do right by her. “I think we should keep the pink. Here, you tend to the baby, and let me have a go at this crib. You’re messing everything up. And she really likes you.”
“But you’re the au pair?” He says, holding onto Lyla. He gives his finger to her, and her little baby fingers wrap around him tightly.
“And you’re mucking up this crib. Can I? I helped my mom with my little brother’s crib. It was a long time ago. But,” you go silent, grabbing the directions back from Lloyd. Using the same tactic he did earlier. Focus on this and ignore the questions, “No, Roman is not his father.”
“Didn’t ask,” he didn’t have to. Everyone else did. Your brother was an angel, and his father was…well, he was there. He made sure that Vincent was taken care of. Might not have offered you any attention, but you weren’t his responsibility.
“You thought it, so that was enough. I like the simple, but extravagant theme you went for in her bedroom though. Even if the Dior bunny is a bit much.”
“She likes it,” he chuckles, looking down at his daughter. “My partner told me buying things is my love language.”
“You must really love your daughter then,” he whispers out ‘yeah’, not realizing how much it hurts you that he loves someone he just met. And your father knew about you during the pregnancy. You didn’t have daddy issues. You had men issues. Men couldn’t be trusted. There were to be looked at, and put to good use.
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You flop down on the seat next to Lloyd on the couch with a cup of microwave macaroni and cheese. You take a bite of the easy dinner, glancing at the television while Lloyd scowls. His eyes drift over your body, slightly confused. Watching as your jaw pulses with your chews.
“I feel you watching me,” he didn’t hide his facial expressions. You could read exactly what he was thinking by the quirks of his brows and mouth alone. Not that you had been paying attention to his mouth.
“What is that dreadful shit you’re eating?”
You turn your body towards him, and slowly take another bite. Noting how his eyes go to your mouth as he watches you chew in disgust. “It only took three and a half minutes to make.”
“It smells like it did. But what are you eating?” This man has been rich his entire life. Didn’t even know the joys of microwaveable food.
“It’s mac and cheese,” you giggle. Scooping out a bit, and you hold the spoon out for him. “Try it.”
“I’d rather not,” his face no longer disgusted, but more indifferent.
“Because you’re scared to eat after me?” He rolls his eyes as you take another bite of the sinfully delicious and preservative filled dinner. It probably had too much sodium in it, and the way you dressed it up surely didn’t help. But it was simple and comforting all the same. Lloyd could learn to loosen up a bit. Bring himself down to a ‘normal lifestyle’.
“While sharing a spoon with you does repulse me. The idea of eating something that came out of a microwave is just as disgusting. Did your father not feed you well?”
“Roman,” you emphasize his name. One day Lloyd would understand that Roman was nothing but a sperm donor and a bank. “He didn’t feed me. My mother did. And she wanted me to be normal.”
“Eating proper food is normal,” you liked him. Legitimately liked him. He also didn’t get offended when you popped back. He probably always had someone around him ready to take orders. That is until you.
“I mean have the American dream.”
“Yes, the American dream is definitely to eat food that is cheaper than toilet paper.”
Slowly blinking, you watch him watch you. Something that should be uncomfortable with the lack of a baby as a buffer wasn’t. You wanted to bring him back down to earth. He was a bit pompous and a lot of an asshole, and you still liked it. “I’m going to make you a cup.”
“Please don’t,” his voice is flat as he watches you jump up from the couch.
“And you’re going to at least try it.”
“I’d rather not,” he is too stiff and robotic with his movements. You want to reach over to his shoulders and make him slouch. Maybe if you made him laugh or shook him? Made him dance with you? You were going to make him break.
“And after you’ve tried it, if you still think the same we can drop it. But what I put into my body is my business. What you put into yours is your business. We won’t judge one another. You can oblige me by cooking me and Lyla Bee a delicious dinner one evening. I’ll humor you, and try your rich people food, mkay?”
This isn’t at all what Lloyd had bargained for. A girl who was given no boundaries. But you had helped him get Lyla’s bedroom in order. She was even sleeping soundly in her crib while a monitor sat on the coffee table. You hadn’t complained when he would start throwing things in a fit. And somehow managed to calm him down.
“Fine, but I don’t cook. I have a private chef,” he responds, following you into the kitchen. Eyeing you as you go into the pantry. “Where did this come from?”
Sighing, you open up the fridge producing a container of shredded cheese, and walk to the counter. “I had it delivered while you were taking a nap with Lyla. It’s really cute to see you sleeping with a baby on your chest. You know, I could watch her. Nap time leaves me nothing to do but use Roman’s card to have some food delivered here.”
“I read you should try to bond with your baby whenever you can. I missed time with her. Wait — you were watching me sleep?” It was quick, but you saw his smirk. Did he like you watching him sleep? That almost feels like an invasion of privacy. Or did he like that you looked at him? Called him cute? What was this?
“It got quiet in the apartment. So I went to find you,” and you might have wandered around the giant apartment as well. His bedroom was just the first place you looked. And you might have enjoyed what you saw, and you might have created a quick but stupid scenario of your husband doing that. Not Lloyd in particular, just a blank faced man who may or may not have had a mustache.
“You’re a snoop?”
“I’m curious by nature,” it wasn’t a lie. You weren’t looking for something to hurt or burn Lloyd with. Just wanted to give a gander through everything. “So what exactly are my hours? When you’re here do you want me to be here? Can I request time off? Have a social life? You won’t exactly let me have people here, and I do respect that. This is yours and Lyla’s space, and I know with your line of work discretion is advised. But I can’t have my only friends be you and a baby. I do have a boyfriend, and I fear I won’t if I don’t see him.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Lloyd smirks. That smile dies quickly as he watches you mix up the cheese concoction to the now completed noodles, and slide the disposable container to him. “You’re not going to put this in a real bowl?”
After washing your hands, you splash a bit of water on him. Giggling when his face turns into a snarl, “Loosen up. This is microwave food. And I need to see other people. Do you not like Chase?”
“His name is dumb,” rolling your eyes, you look away from him. Listening for any signs of movement on the monitor while Lloyd takes a tentative bite of the mac and cheese. Curling up his nose until the spoon touches his tongue, and you see his eyebrows go up. “But this isn’t that bad.”
“What’s wrong with his name?”
“Chase is a verb,” he answers matter of fact. He was going to be one of those. Complete alpha male, and you were bringing someone into his home that was hurting his ego. You weren’t even sure if Chase was the one, but he is definitely the one right now. You didn’t meet your forever person in college, and you’re not even sure you believe in that. You just find someone you tolerate and make sure the sex is good. Plus Chase was amazing to look at and a lot of fun.
“And I don’t want boys in and out of Lyla Bee’s life,” he liked the way the nickname you gave her sounded. It suited his sweet little bee. She had proven to be the sweetest and most cuddly baby he’d ever met. But he had only met one.
“I can respect that as long as you respect the fact that he is my boyfriend,” Lloyd didn’t really want to or have to for that matter. But you were new to this life and to him. You’d eventually see that Lloyd commanded all. Not that he would torture you like he did some. As long as you followed the rules.
“Fine.”
“Is it okay that I came out here tonight? Would you rather me stay holed up in my room? Alone?”
“No,” he answers, walking to the garbage can to dispose of the trash. He heads towards the sink, washing his spoon quickly before leaving you to go back into the living room. Leaving you with more questions than answers.
“No, as in it’s okay that I came out?”
“Were you supposed to stay in your bedroom and starve?” Well that was a simple question to answer. But it was your first night here, and you didn’t know what boundaries he had that you shouldn’t cross. “I don’t expect us to be best friends. But we live together. You’re the woman that takes care of my daughter, and I’m the man.”
Saying it in such simple terms made this arrangement sound strange. You didn’t want to be an au pair, and didn’t see yourself living with a man and his daughter. His baby daughter, who couldn’t even crawl. Currently you think about this weird living situation, and how lines could easily become blurred here.
“What are my duties?”
“You’ve already told me that you have daddy issues, and now you’re asking me what your duties are? Please. I’m going to bed. This line of question is — it’s not good for me. Goodnight, Dolly. Stay up as long as you like, but in the morning I’ll be gone. Tomorrow will be all your responsibility. I’ve added a monitor to your room. If it’s before five, I can tend to her.”
He walks off leaving you with even more questions. Why did he suddenly have that outburst? What had made him seem so sensitive? And you didn’t have daddy issues. You were just fine without your father. You didn’t seek the approval of a man, or needed one to keep you in line. Sure you might watch Lloyd with Lyla and wish that Roman had even an ounce of care that Lloyd had shown in the first few hours that you met him.
Lyla is lucky to have a man that stepped up to be her father. He didn’t have to. From what you understand he didn’t even know of her existence, but it didn’t matter. She was his priority.
Exhaling deeply, you turn off all the lights, and walk to your bedroom. You’d promised Chase you would call once you were settled in bed. You’d leave the awkward talk with Lloyd for tomorrow, or whenever he decided to show up. Giving a look towards his door instead of Lyla’s telling yourself you would crack him. It was one day, and things wouldn’t always be this awkward.
Sitting on your overly plush bed, you call up Chase, and he answers on the first ring, “FaceTime me. I want to see you.”
Flipping it over to a video call, you see his handsome face, and smile like a schoolgirl. “Nice room. Have you figured out how I’m going to be able to sneak in there?”
“Chase!”
“Oh, come on. It will be fun. I’ve never fucked an au pair before,” you roll your eyes. Letting the camera drift a bit before pulling apart your pajama top. Giving him a quick flash of your chest. “Oh, princess, I like that. Is that why you called me? We’ve never had phone sex before.”
”Being around a baby and a man child today made me miss you,” you give him a little pout. The performance that he loved so much, and you just enjoyed to see him get feral. “All I could think about was falling asleep because you wore me out.”
”I could fucking wear you out.”
“Oh, yeah? What would you do to me?”
“I know how you like an audience. Maybe not actually seeing you, but you love when people can hear you. You think daddy Lloyd would have a problem hearing you whisper my name?” Daddy Lloyd? Now why did that give you a bit of a pause. A rumble in your belly that you hadn’t expected. Ignoring a few of Chase’s words as your mind ponders, going in so many different directions of why those words strung together made you…feel.
“He’d hear you gasping for breath as I stab into that sweet little cunt. Or maybe he’d walk in to see you riding me. Why don’t you remind me how you ride me,” you hum at him, and he pans the camera down to his lap, and he’s gripping the base of his cock so tightly. Beads of precum gather at the tip. Normally he’d have his cock already covered in a condom. But seeing him in all his glory is doing something to you.
“Grab a pillow, and pretend it’s me. I’ll stroke my cock to whatever pace you set.”
Lloyd flops to the other side. Grabbing his pillow he covers his head thinking about anything besides what he is hearing. He shouldn’t have added the camera to your room. But to be fair the cameras were in every fucking room in the apartment. How was he going to protect you and his daughter if he didn’t know what was going on?
Maybe the ones in the bathroom were too much, but they weren’t pointing at the toilet. My god, he wanted to look. Wanted to turn the volume down. Wanted to get that stupid verb out of his mind. But the verb wouldn’t stop talking. It isn’t even fair that you are whispering. It is normal for people to masturbate. You’d just sound better without his pathetic attempts at phone sex.
“Ugh,” Lloyd growls. He could exit out of the app if he wanted to, but he didn’t. Is it because he didn’t want to? Is it because he liked the sound of your sweet noises? Or is it because it had been too long since he had felt something besides his hand? He isn’t sure. The only thing he was truly positive about was you were killing him.
All fucking day. Acting all innocent and oblivious. He’d been away from women for too long, and you were…you knew what you were doing. Your cute little domestic moments with his daughter. You made him army ration mac and cheese that were at least edible. You helped him. You didn’t even ask, you just sat down and helped him. And you were sweet with his baby.
His emotions are conflicting with his need to…
He had to stop this utter nonsense. He isn’t a rational man, but he did what he had to do with the cameras. And now it’s backfiring on him because you can’t fucking whisper a moan. Why did your heavy breathing sound so sexy?
Why did he want to look? Were you topless? One peek wouldn’t hurt. But it would be crossing a line. How would he feel if someone was doing this with his daughter? He wouldn’t like it. You were Roman’s daughter. Even though he didn’t tell him you had the prettiest…
Nope. He is spiraling down into a sinful rabbit hole. His cock is too hard and angry and it is killing him to not look. He even fears grabbing his phone to turn down the volume will make him want to watch you. See you do whatever the fuck you are doing. Judging by the sounds and whatever The Verb was saying, you are grinding on a fucking pillow.
One look won’t hurt.
Nope, he can’t do this. He throws the blanket off him. Sitting up in the bed, he rests his elbows on his knees. Head in his hands as he tries to make his cock calm down. He was lonely. But it feels even wrong to fuck his fist because your voice is what got him hard.
This arrangement was needed, but this is difficult. Feeling a bit impossibly hard right now. Everything was hard. Including his fucking cock. It was quaking with the need to be dealt with.
Shaking his head, he stands up. His cock pressing uncomfortably against his boxers. A walk through the apartment is much needed. Get away from the noise. Maybe eat another somewhat edible peasant mac and cheese.
This was a bad idea. He sees the soft glow underneath your bedroom door, and has a deep desire to sling it open and get on to you for being…
No. He can’t do that. You’re not ‘breaking’ any of his rules. You’re just mutually masturbating with your boyfriend, and you’re taking too long. Not that he would make sure to fuck you quickly. He just doesn’t want someone else taking their time with you.
What the fuck is he even talking about? He can’t fuck you. You were Lyla’s. He just paid you. He could pay you in other ways.
No!
You fucking asked him what your duties were. He’d love for your duties to be getting to your knees and letting him see how pretty your mouth looked with his cock in it. His tip nudging the back of your throat while tears fill your eyes, and your lungs cry for air.
What the actual fuck? Why was he like this? Why was this a struggle? And why is he going the opposite way of the kitchen? Landing directly in front of your door? Listening to your sounds live. Panting. Whimpering. Not saying The Verb’s name. He’d have you screaming his name. He would have you begging for him to let you come. Have you edged all day because you wanted to tease him with silly little questions about your duties.
He’d have tears falling down your cheeks as he smirks down at you. Letting you know what a pathetic and needy little slut you were. Fuck you so hard your eyes are rolling into the back of your head, and you’re completely dumb. So dumb that you’re just spouting out random words until he’s left his seed inside your belly.
Walking to your bathroom to get a washcloth to clean you up before leaving you blissed out. Making you so needy that you beg for his attention. Start being a good girl so you get more time with is cock in — inside of you. Ready to crawl on your knees after Lyla was put to sleep, and telling him you’re his little sex doll. And he would make so much use of your body and holes. Fucking you every night. Special time just for you. Just so he can feel your tight…tight…tight walls milk him dry.
”Lloyd?” Your voice pants on the other side of the room. “Lloyd is that you?” Getting closer to the door. He tucks his cock back in his boxers. Not even realizing he had been rubbing one out to your sounds. Wiping his hands on the silk of his underwear when you sling the door open.
How did you become prettier? A sheen of sweat around your hairline, and yep…you’d been grinding on a fucking pillow. Your bed is a crumbled up mess and a pillow is right in the middle of the bed. “Is everything okay? Sorry, I was…I was telling Chase goodnight.”
The Verb. You had shorts on earlier. Now it’s this t-shirt that was barely covering your legs. Were you naked? Did you show him your pussy? Your chest continues to heave, and he hates The Verb. He despises him. He’s got to go. You can’t spend time with Lyla and him if The Verb was in the picture. “Lloyd, are you okay?”
“I’m hungry.”
”I’m confused,” what was his reason for being at your door, telling you that he was hungry.
”I like ramen. The gross kind. The kind that…”
”Like top ramen?” You ask him confused. Mouth still slightly open as you try to catch your breath and his eyebrow quirks up. Did you know he was listening to you and stroking himself?
“Yes. You made me your cheap noodles, would you like me to make you some of my cheap noodles?”
“It’s after midnight.”
“Fine, I’ll eat the noodles by myself,” spinning on his heels, he walks away from you into the kitchen. It isn’t long until he hears the soft pads of your feet following him. “I told you it was okay.”
“You — did you…I was almost asleep.”
“Yes, yes. I understand. You were almost asleep as you were telling your…boyfriend goodnight. That’s exactly what almost asleep sounds like,” that list bit of his sentence sounds a bit implying. Did he know?
“Did you hear our conversation?” Was it even a conversation? He couldn’t remember. He just heard you telling him you were going to come. Not The Verb, but Lloyd. You are a tease. He didn’t mean to get off on your voice. “How long were you out here?”
“Grab me a pot?” Oh you were obedient, bending over to get a pot, and standing up quickly. Not quick enough. No panties. He pretends to see nothing. You can sleep with no panties. That’s a good habit to get into because he can just slide into your bed, and start fucking you. When you get there of course. Consent is key. And he feels like a bastard for what he did tonight. But that movement you just did was on your own.
“Sorry.”
“For what?” He asks with a devilish grin.
“Nothing,” it wasn’t just nothing. But he wasn’t going to make you feel guilty for the need to show him your cunt still glistening. He’d have your legs drenched. “Do you do anything special with your ramen? Or do you make it as is?”
“There’s some eggs and spring onions in the fridge. Does that answer your question?” He nods his head towards the fridge, trying to figure out what else he could make you do to get a little peek. He’d play oblivious. Let you decide what you are comfortable with. “Mind getting me some bowls from the top shelf?”
Standing on your tippy toes you dance around a moment. The bottom of your ass cheeks make a little appearance, and he steps behind you to reach the bowls himself. Taking too long to cage your body with your own. And when you gasp, pressing your ass into his crotch he bounces back immediately. Dropping the bowls into the floor and they shatter into thousands of pieces.
“Shit,” Lloyd whispers under his breath. And without asking, places his hands on your sides to lift you up onto the counter. “Stay there while I clean this up. I don’t need you stepping on glass.”
He doesn’t notice the odd glances that you give him as he picks up the larger pieces and starts sweeping up the rest. “My mom always uses wet a paper towel to get the tiny pieces up.”
“That’s smart,” he follows your instructions. And stands up straight. You have already gotten more comfortable, and your legs are not so tightly pressed together. He has to bite his tongue in order to not look. But as high up as that shirt is sitting on your thighs, he knows. And you are aware that he knows.
“Not that Lyla can even crawl right now, but the idea of there being these tiny pieces of glass for you to step on when holding her,” his words stop, and he stands in front of you. How did you not realize he was shirtless? Why is his chest so close to your face as he reaches above your head for more bowls? Why does he smell like a wet dream? Push the thoughts away.
“I don’t want you hurting yourself and dropping her in an accident.”
“I won’t drop her.”
“Knock on the cabinets immediately! That is bad luck,” you do as he says, not pegging him as a superstitious man at all. “I had some chance to think about it. I think on Sundays you should have the day off completely unless I’m out of town. Saturdays, is it fair to ask for you to work half a day? Just until around noon?”
“I think that’s fair.”
“And maybe we should not talk about The Verb?”
“The Verb?” What was he even talking about? You notice his eyes flick momentarily to your lap, and you realize how comfortable you had gotten on this counter. Your legs are too far apart. He had to have seen something. Was he disappointed? You didn’t want to disappoint him. You had just started to get to know him. You wanted to prove to him and yourself that you could care for a baby.
“That Chase boy.”
“My boyfriend?” You giggle. Why did he have such an issue with Chase?
“Why is he even your boyfriend?”
“He’s better than a dildo. I mean,” you feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment, and have to look at the floor. Missing how big Lloyd’s smile spreads across his smug face. Or the way he is stalking towards you like he’s ready to pounce on his prey. “We’ve been together for awhile, but it’s not that serious.”
“Sweetheart, don’t settle for better than a dildo,” he stands right in front of you. Both hands on your knees as he goes to push your legs apart. Inserting himself in between your thighs. The weird feeling in your tummy returns, and you hate having no panties on as slick floods to your core. Throat dry as his finger touches your chin and lifts your face up to look at him. “And when I’m speaking to you, I expect you to look me in the eyes, do you understand?”
You nod your head slowly, but he clicks his tongue, “And I expect you to verbally answer in my home. Little head gestures are easily misinterpreted, okay?”
“Okay,” he raises an eyebrow, wanting you to finish your sentence, but words are impossible, and your brain is mush. Everything is delayed as you feel the heat between you and Lloyd, “I understand.”
“If you need something better than a dildo and more than The Verb just use your words,” what the fuck does that even mean? He steps away from you much quicker than he inserted himself. The air in the room is heavy and stifling, and you wonder if you even knew how to breathe without reminding yourself to inhale and exhale.
“Do you like creamy ramen or brothy?” This bastard is really changing the subject. You can’t even think with the two heartbeats you feel. One inside your chest, while the other is between your thighs and throbbing. Why is your heart beating so fast? Why is your body betraying you?
“I don’t think I’ve had creamy.”
“You want to get me the heavy whipping cream?” He gives you a cheeky smile when you jump off the counter and head towards the fridge.
“Why are you asking me to do all these things?”
“Because you listen so well,” you pause before reaching for the heavy whipping cream, and turn to look at him.
“What is this?” He’s playing a sick game. He had to be. He saw this ‘vulnerable little girl’ that he had to save. You didn’t need saving, you were fine all on your own.
“You’re very well behaved. Your mother did a good job. Until just now you didn’t even question it. Just did as I asked,” what is he getting at? He is talking in riddles, or backwards, or you are just reading too much into whatever this exchange is. Keeping your mouth closed for the rest of the evening.
Keeping your eyes off him as you squirm around uncomfortably in your seat. Is this uncomfortable because of him? Or are you weirded out because you are feeling things because of him. If you look up, you’d see him smiling as he watches the weird inner turmoil going on in your head.
Finishing before you, he stands up to put his bowl in the dishwasher. Walking past you towards his bedroom, he stops. “And Dolly?”
“Yes?” You ask, turning around in your chair.
“When you leave your room make sure you have on panties,” oh. My. God. He knew. He saw. He didn’t say anything until now. “Because next time I won’t force myself to stop my need to lean you over the counter and spank your ass.”
“Okay,” you didn’t know how to respond to that, and you couldn’t believe how your body was internalizing his words. Heat. Fire. Desire. Embarrassment. Lust. How you have immediate visions of Lloyd doing just that, and spreading your cheeks to see if he made you wet. He did. Uncomfortably so.
“Good girl, I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he needs a cold shower. He needs away from you because his cock has been at full mast since you questioned why he was asking you to gather things for him. You could try to deny it, but he turned you on as much as you turned him on.
And yet here is your employer, and you are just the sweet au pair with daddy issues. No matter what you say. And he supposes he’s the sick bastard that didn’t mind teasing you. Giving you something to think about. Options? Something for the spank bank? He hopes you go to bed wet and frustrated. Wake up to needing to fuck your own fingers as you think about the close proximity he had to you.
He hopes that you are dripping with need for his cock, and his care and protection. And he hopes that a cold shower is enough to get visions of you yipping with every smack to your ass. That you would be the perfect and obedient girl for him. Woman. Girl sounded gross in this context. Thank you, Roman for making sure your daughter had daddy issues. But fuck him for not loving his daughter the way you deserved.
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peachesofteal · 9 months
Note
oooh okay but what if the guys find Darling right before she’s about to give birth?? She took off after the confrontation and just never went back, and they gave her space hoping she’d come back. So then they were actively looking for her and finally found her? What’s one of the ways that could go down? Sorry I’m sure your ask box is absolutely full of asks about the baby trap au and other things but this idea struck me and I had to get it down 😩
👀 these little stories have completely consumed my brain.
🩵🩵🩵
18+ / baby trap AU / mature/dark themes
Deep breath.
Just breathe.
You can do this, you can do this. It happens all the time. You’re not the first person on earth to have a baby, for Christ’s sake.
Your feet step one in front of the other in a pattern down the hall, to the kitchen and then back to your bedroom, over and over while you try to stretch your back. It’s been almost forty minutes since your last contraction, and your muscles are sore, everything from your fingers to toes cramps.
It’s way too soon to go to the hospital.
But it’s not way too soon to be really uncomfortable, and nervous, and kind of freaking out, which you currently are.
You’re unprepared, even though you’re not sure there’s anything more you could do. You have the nursery set up, to the best of your ability. You even painted her room a soothing sage green color, and got all her clothes put away. You baby proofed everything. You have bottles, and formula, and nappies. Blankets and a boppy, even some pacifiers. On the outside, it looks like you and your little flat are totally ready.
But the reality, or at least how it feels, is the opposite. You don’t think you’re ready. You’re not even sure you can do this, if you’re being honest. You don’t know if you can be a mum, if you can take care of a baby, a defenseless little human who will need you for everything.
You struggled to take care of yourself half the time.
Your muscles tense, slow building pain splintering across your lower belly and you blink away some tears that threaten to form. It’s not just the pain… it’s everything.
You’re alone. You’re alone, after the two people you loved more than anything did the worst thing in the world to you. After they took your choice away. After they ruined everything, betrayed your trust, hurt you beyond repair.
Even worse was… you missed them. You hated them for it. Hated yourself for it. Everything felt so complicated, so fucked up. You were so angry, so heartbroken and still… couldn’t stop yourself from mourning their absence. Couldn’t stop from thinking about them at every doctor’s appt, every night when you closed your eyes to sleep.
You couldn’t even think about what was going to happen… after.
It was torture. It was hell.
It was affecting your health.
You had long been on restriction, light duty, almost mandated to bed rest. You had trouble eating, trouble sleeping, trouble with your blood sugar. It was exhausting.
Bee moves, not kicking but something else, a ripple pinging across your belly and you rub there soothingly.
“I know, I know.” You murmur, eyes wandering to your bed. Laying down sounds really good right now.
When you wake one hour later, it’s to pain. More intense, more sharp, lingering in the muscles of your back and thighs. It’s clearly a contraction, much more intense, and nausea rises in the back of your throat.
Fuck. That hurts.
You bite your tongue, heaving yourself out of bed as the pain fades, leaving you a little breathless while you waddle to the closet.
Maybe you could take a bath, or try to walk some more.
Just as you’re about to turn the tap on your tub, you hear a noise, a knocking on your door. That’s odd. You hadn’t ordered anything, food or packages. And you definitely weren’t expecting anyone either. Your stomach does a somersault, and you approach the door hesitantly, standing on the other side, staring at it blankly.
Without even checking the peep hole, you know who it is on the other side. You don’t need to look.
You always knew this would happen. You’d be lying to yourself if you said that sometimes, in the middle of the night, you didn’t dream about this. Even though it was wrong. Even if it meant you were weak. Stupid. Foolish.
You take a deep breath, and pull the handle.
Johnny’s holding his breath when the door creaks open. He doesn’t know what to expect, he just prays to nothing that it’s you on the other side. That after months of trying to track you down, they’ve finally got it right. He just hopes that you’ll give them a chance, that you’ll listen to them for even a second, so they can get down on their knees and tell you how sorry they are. So they can tell you they love you. So they can beg you to come home.
You peek around the door, just barely, enough for them to catch a good glimpse of your face.
He feels like he’s gotten the wind knocked out him. It’s been so long since they’ve seen you, too long, and you’re so pretty, so perfect he has to squeeze his hands into fists to try to calm his racing heart.
“Hi.” You keep the door more than half shut, and he swallows dry.
“Darling.”
“What’re you guys doing here.” You don’t phrase it as a question, and your voice is flat. Unenthused.
“We wanted to see you.” Simon starts. “We… wanted to check on you. See if you need anything. If you’re okay.” You give him a grim smile, and shake your head.
“Let’s not pretend.” You shoot back, and Johnny feels his heart wilt.
“We’re not pretending, love. We’ve been so worried. We’re so, so sorry. I cannae start to explain, how sorry we are. We did something awful. We-“
“I don’t want to hear it.” The door moves, just a little bit wider, and reveals more of your body, swollen belly, heavy on your frame. You look tired, like you haven’t been sleeping.
Johnny wants to break down. He wants to cry, if he’s being honest. He failed you. They failed you. They were supposed to love you, protect you, care for you. Instead… they allowed their twisted, selfish desires to influence their decisions.
He can’t imagine how this has been for you. Pregnancies were difficult for anyone as is, and you weren’t just anyone. You never have been.
“Can we come in?” Simon tries, voice soft. His eyes haven’t left your frame, taking in everything he’s seeing, Johnny’s sure. Coming to the same conclusion.
“No.” You bite out. “I don’t want you here.” He’s about to start begging, start pleading with you, but you make a face, brows pushing together, mouth screwing up like you’re in pain and his blood runs cold.
“Darling?”
“It’s nothing.” You breathe, but your hand cradles your belly, and your eyes are closed, face still screwed up in discomfort. “You should leave.” Not bloody likely.
“You’re in pain.” Simon summarizes the obvious, and you shake your head.
“I’m fine. I just uh- am having some cramps.” Cramps? He knows you’re pretty far along, by the math. Worry prickles along his spine.
“Cramps?” He takes half a step, not even. It’s enough to startle you, make you draw back, door jerking in your fist, closing it to only a crack, and he holds a hand out, cautiously. “Darling. Hey, it’s alright.”
“Go away.” You spit, but the words are choked out halfway, and they sound rough. Like you’re in pain. He tries to count, in his head. How far along you are, how close to a due date you might be.
“What’s going on?” Simon tries, and they can just barely see your palm press over your mouth. Johnny’s heart is galloping in his chest now, scared. Panicked. You’re in pain. You’re in real pain, and you won’t talk to them. Won’t let them in.
He’s about to ask you if it’s more than cramps, if you need help, or a doctor. But he doesn’t get the chance.
The door slams in their faces.
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theshinazugawaslut · 3 months
Text
"Are you trying to piss me off?" comes your husband's voice and you snicker from the bathroom where you can see Sanemi grumpily sitting on your marital bed, hugging a pillow to himself. "Who the fuck needs a self-care routine for a whole solid hour?"
"Me," you answer with a giggle, trying not to let out another gentle laugh at the immediate scowl on your husband's face.
It was a known fact to you that Sanemi simply cannot sleep with you, tossing and turning if you weren't in bed with him; usually staying awake till you came home for work just to throw you over his shoulder and take you to bed; but most popular was glowering at you as he waited you to finish your hair and skincare.
"Woman, 'm gonna..." He thinks for a moment, trying to come up with his best threat. "I'm gonna curl up into a ball and start crying."
"'Nemi! Do you want your wife to be pretty or not?" you say absentmindedly from the bathroom as you cleanse your face, splashing cold water on your face.
"I think you're the prettiest," he whines, standing up and coming into the kitchen, looking like a very upset man-child as he pouts at your reflection in the mirror.
"What the fuck are you- Oooh," he says, easily distracted as you pass him a tea tree oil serum to put on his face. His lilac eyes go wide as he looks at collection of skincare you have and he starts picking up random bottles. "Why the fuck are you putting snail remains on your face- There's bee pollen in this moisturiser by the way, you're scared of bees, ain't ya?"
"'Nemi... Just put it on your face."
He's shrieking as if you're going to murder him as you bring your hands to pat some serum onto his face but the minute it touches, he's immediately dunking the whole bottle onto his face much to your horror and dramatic screams.
"This shit feels good."
And so, it becomes a routine every night where Sanemi hogs most of your skin care and hair oils. Most of the time, you'll be chatting with him, sheet masks on both your faces.
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