"Fuck, still going?" Levi asks, chest heaving after coming three times tonight.
"Still not enough," you reply, continuing to fuck yourself on his cock, feeling his cum leaking out with every move.
"Fucking chocolate." Levi stays still while you're on top of him, letting you use him as you please because you unexpectedly ate a special chocolate that made you horny.
Then he pulled you into a deep kiss, feeling his still hard cock twitch inside you, ready to come again.
Levi decided to take a day off tomorrow, knowing damn well that you're going to milk him dry tonight.
Mature | Dr. Robby x Fem!Reader | 349 words
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Summary: You give Robby what he always wanted...without asking first.
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Tags: Female Reader, Reproductive Coercion/Baby Trapping
Read on AO3 or Return To Drabble Masterlist.
[ A/N: Under no circumstances do I support baby trapping your depressed doctor boyfriend...unless he's fictional. Then, by all means, throw that birth control away!. I'm kidding. Please don't create life to keep a man. ]
You’ve never talked about children.
You haven’t been dating long enough to really justify the discussion and Robby is too busy with work most of the time that it simply never comes up.
But you know.
You’ve seen the way he looks at kids. At babies. The way his entire face softens when he’s handed a sleeping infant. It’s like all that darkness in him—that pain and regret and cynicism—just melts away entirely.
So, no, he’s never told you he wants children…but he doesn’t need to.
Which is why, when he comes through the door one gloomy evening, you know what needs to be done.
It’s laughably easy to get him into bed that night—and the next one. And the one after that. You welcome him into your body the way you do your home: happily, and without reservation.
“Give it to me,” you whisper in his ear and he does.
(Even if he doesn’t know what it is he’s giving you. Or that you had your IUD taken out a week ago.)
You ride him in the mornings before work, making sure not to let a single drop escape when he grips your thighs and cums hard and fast. And at night you goad him into bending you over the counter and emptying all the day’s stress—and semen—into you.
I hope they get your eyes, you think once or twice when you watch his own squeeze shut in ecstasy.
And, when you finally place that positive pregnancy test in his hands one evening several weeks later, you see it there—that flash of hope, of want and greed—before it’s gone and he schools his face into a neutral mask.
“What do you want to do?” He asks, always the gentleman. Always deferring to you when it matters most.
Carefully, you close his fingers more securely around the pregnancy test.
“I think you would make a good father, don’t you?”
And when you see that spark of hope return to his eyes you feel your trap finally snap shut.
ive been skimming through your blog and im so obsessed with the way you write lestappen i adore them so much
im new, so maybe this has already been written and ive just missed it, but what do you think of innocent rookie charles being so determined to prove his worth (he HAS to get to ferrari next year no matter what) that when his drink system fails in singapore he just… doesnt mention it… and finishes the race in a solid p7, miles ahead of ericson. its not until hes driving the cooldown lap, blinking away the black spots that have been his steady companion for half the race, that he dares to open the radio and admit that he thinks hes a little dehydrated, and then in parc ferme he tries to get out of the car but his arms wont lift him up and his legs wont carry him and despite three attempts he slumps back in his car, eyes burning with humiliation as he opens the radio again to ask for assistance like a child, before the team can send anyone over though race winner max verstappen shows up, literally lifting charles out of the car and bridal carrying him to his drivers room to get him set up with electrolytes and lots and lots of water and ice packs, charles is dying of embarrassment, weakly claiming max should celebrate his win, hes missing the podium and his media duties and he feels so so horrified but max of course would never leave charles alone, he plans to have a very… enlightening… conversation with charles’ team when the rookie is settled about how the fuck they could let this happen in singapore of all races
Hi angel! Welcome to the blog and our crazy little corner of the internet 🤗♥️ I am so, so happy you sent in this ask because we absolutely need to pay more attention to our precious Innocent Rookie Charles!! This angel boy is the most adorable, naive, and darling little Omega who just wants to make his hero, 4-time F1 world champion Max Verstappen, proud 🥺
He's the sweetest babydoll who can't even begin to hide the growing crush he has on the outspoken Dutchman and...well...maybe um, maybe sometimes Charles thinks...Max may like him too? Just a tiny bit? 🥺😭
I can't recall if I've written this exact scenario but if I haven't, I'm going to circle back to it because this is just precious 🥹 furious Alpha Max being insanely impressed by what Charles has managed to do in that goddamn tractor Sauber gave him and also enraged that they were so fucking sloppy they couldn't be bothered to check the drink system?
Sure Kimi Raikkonen's driven multiple races without the drink system (and so has Max's own teammate) but sweet, doe-eyed Charlie who's in his first season being forced to finish Singapore while slowly suffering dehydration and overheating?
Max's is literally growling with rage before he even gets out of the car.
He shoves past FIA personnel, pushes past his own team, and snaps at the one journalist who tries to get a soundbite out of him. His voice is almost a roar as he tells them to get that goddamn camera out of his face because he needs to take care of someone.
Someone important to him.
And so the camera crew watches, dumbfounded and baffled, as Max Verstappen walks over to another car.
Another driver.
And bends down, moving so carefully that it looks like he's cradling treasure in his arms.
And in a way, he is.
He lifts the red-faced and utterly dehydrated Charles Leclerc from the #16 car and carries him to his own trailer, not even bothering to explain what he's doing. He's whispering soft reassures to the increasingly dizzy young Omega, telling him how proud Max is, how well he drove, how brave he is for driving Singapore in this heat.
With nothing to drink.
With no team to support him.
Beautiful boy, the Alpha thinks as he gently lays Charles down, I'm going to take care of you now.
(Because the Max in this AU? He's dark. He's obsessive. And there is nothing he wants more in the world than to claim his innocent angel as his. Body and soul.)
I made a drabble compilation on ao3! If you want an easier way to re-read my Damian-centric drabbles you can find them here: link
I don't have all of them on there yet. I have quite a few drabbles I've posted over the months, as I'm discovering in the process of exporting them to ao3, but I will be updating the collection as often as I can!
Okay but this prompt is also me, I don't do hugs unless forced and I look like I am in physical pain every single time. Now if it was any of the men I stan yeah I will take a hug from them any day, any time.
Drabble Masterlist.
"I don't do hugs."
Everyone knew Quinn was the captain of the Canucks and hockey was everything in Vancouver. But you first met Quinn when you started working for the Canucks in their social media team. It was no secret the Canucks social media was just depressing. They needed help keeping their social media up to date on trends and stop being dragged on Twitter for looking like it was ran by a 45 year old man.
That was during last season when they entered playoffs. Quinn hated you when you were hired he thought it was stupid that you forced the guys to do TikTok's, and made dumb little polls on their Instagram. But somehow over time you both got to a point of mutual respect for each other. Both of you may not like each other but neither of you rolled your eyes when you both passed each other in the hallway. It was now September and the preseason officially kicked off in days. Media day was a such a long day for you, trying to fit as much filming as possible around players other obligations. Your day was filled with meeting with different members of the social media team, editing, trying to plan out all when you were gonna post during the season, more editing, and meeting with photographers to see camp photos that are being taken.
Caught up in all the things you had to do today you didn't even notice what time it was until you heard someone knock on your office door. Without even coming in you shouted "come in." The last person you ever suspected that would walking into your office / social media room would be Quinn Hughes.
"hey." His voice caused you to stop typing for the first time since he entered looking up making sure your ears identified the voice currently as Quinn. "I - uh - I noticed your office light still on and uh well it's almost 6 at night." You could tell he was getting nervous for some reason his hand going to the back of his neck as he continued to stumble on his words. "And I uh remember you told Petty last year that you don't eat when you get focused on work. So I - eh - I thought I'd bring you some food from catering staff. Hope you like salmon." As he put the to-go container from the catering department on your desk and suddenly you felt your stomach begging for food. Looking up at him your eyes soft in how much Quinn cared enough even though you aren't even friends. It just showed you agian that even though he hates the media aspects of his job he really is a sweet guy who cares about everyone in this franchise.
Standing up making a way around your desk you mumble out a thank you. "Honestly Quinn I could hug you right now." Taking a step forward and wrapping your arms around Quinn.
As you wrapped your hands around Quinn, it was the exact moment he said "I don't do hugs" and made a face that seemed like he was uncomfortable but you couldn't see it as your arms were wrapped around him.
"Well too late were already hugging." you mumble, your voice muffed by his chest. Even though Quinn Hughes hated hugs, he let you stand there and hug him. Just when he thought about hugging you back you pulled away and his mood became sour suddenly. Even on his way home that night he found himself annoyed for not just hugging you back and he's not really sure why.
