ā¢ I'm a proud libra. My pronouns are she/her or they/them. I love tea and to write. I'm currently a stressed and tired student. I "understand" three languages (German, English, Italian). My boyfriends and girlfriends are from imagination. You can call me Nana or any nickname you would give to a granny, lol. This blog is 18+.
ā Request rules ā
(Request: OPEN)
- I'm pretty open about everything and I like to experiment so don't be afraid to ask.
- I feel uncomfortable writing about depression (panic attacks too)
- I will let you know by answering your ask if I feel uncomfortable writing what you request
ā Pairing: Robert Oppenheimer X babysitter!reader
ā Warnings: seduction, babysitting, marriage, thinking of cheating and infidelity, domestic, stubborn Robert
ā Summary: Robert is infatuated with his colleague's wife that babysits his kids.
ā Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. It's a bit short š« . @urnightmarebbg
It seemed like entering a whole different world every time Robert stepped inside the small house there in Los Alamos, New Mexico.
It was a temporary home but the young couple seemed to have settled well, creating a homey and pleasant atmosphere. Very welcoming and with a lingering smell of fresh cooked food that seemed always present. All thanks to her... one of Robert's colleagues' wives.
A lovely young woman named Y/n that had offered to help him and his wife by babysitting his children. Peter and Katherine loved her and Robert seemed to have been falling for her as well or maybe it was just attracting.... an infatuation. He couldn't help it.
Y/n felt like a fresh breath in the stressful situation they were living in. With her youthfulness, her soft spoken yet witty self and brilliant mind she was a catch.
The fact that she wore a wedding ring on her finger should already have been a good reason for a man to look the other way and not try their luck. But not for Robert.
Not when his body was pressed against her back when her husband was in another room, whispering her praises and grateful comments in her ear. His lips travelling on her warm skin ready to claim her each time but being stopped by her amused warm smile and a reminder of his wife at home.
Y/n was insufferable yet deeply fascinating to the scientist. A true glimpse of hope.
Hope to walk in one day and find her in the kitchen with a short summer dress and an apron, busy cooking for them. The kids chasing each other in another room.
Hope to be the man that could walk in the house and take her right there where she was doing the house chores.
Hope to be the one to hear her breathless laughter and melodious voice scolding him playfully as her body melted under his care.
Yet... she was already married and loyal, but Robert was a patient man when needed. Infatuated enough to enjoy the chase and treasure the brief moments she allowed him each day.
ā Pairing: Robert Oppenheimer X babysitter!reader
ā Warnings: seduction, babysitting, marriage, thinking of cheating and infidelity, domestic, stubborn Robert
ā Summary: Robert is infatuated with his colleague's wife that babysits his kids.
ā Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. It's a bit short š« . @urnightmarebbg
It seemed like entering a whole different world every time Robert stepped inside the small house there in Los Alamos, New Mexico.
It was a temporary home but the young couple seemed to have settled well, creating a homey and pleasant atmosphere. Very welcoming and with a lingering smell of fresh cooked food that seemed always present. All thanks to her... one of Robert's colleagues' wives.
A lovely young woman named Y/n that had offered to help him and his wife by babysitting his children. Peter and Katherine loved her and Robert seemed to have been falling for her as well or maybe it was just attracting.... an infatuation. He couldn't help it.
Y/n felt like a fresh breath in the stressful situation they were living in. With her youthfulness, her soft spoken yet witty self and brilliant mind she was a catch.
The fact that she wore a wedding ring on her finger should already have been a good reason for a man to look the other way and not try their luck. But not for Robert.
Not when his body was pressed against her back when her husband was in another room, whispering her praises and grateful comments in her ear. His lips travelling on her warm skin ready to claim her each time but being stopped by her amused warm smile and a reminder of his wife at home.
Y/n was insufferable yet deeply fascinating to the scientist. A true glimpse of hope.
Hope to walk in one day and find her in the kitchen with a short summer dress and an apron, busy cooking for them. The kids chasing each other in another room.
Hope to be the man that could walk in the house and take her right there where she was doing the house chores.
Hope to be the one to hear her breathless laughter and melodious voice scolding him playfully as her body melted under his care.
Yet... she was already married and loyal, but Robert was a patient man when needed. Infatuated enough to enjoy the chase and treasure the brief moments she allowed him each day.
Hiii! Im new to the writing portion of tumblr but not new to the reading part lol. Iām trying to grow my account and was just wondering if you had any advice? Iād love to get more moots. Love your writing also!š
Hello!!! Welcome š¤ I can share my pov, but can't guarantee that the advices will work.
If by moots you mean readers:
- Tags are a big thing, you have to balance the tagging by tagging a lot but not the wrong things. (I personally always put X reader, X you, X y/n. Sometimes you can specify the gender to add a few more tags and hope for the best. I normally tag the character with name and last name)
- the aesthetic is a big thing too. I feel more inclined to read fiction when the aesthetic of the post is beautiful. (You could try and find yours, and create a sort of recognizable "mark" for your blog)
- The fandom is always a big factor, sometimes there are peaks of readers and other times they decrease. So it's about timing and mostly luck.
- Mostly just have fun, avoid drama and write what you feel comfortable writing.
If with moots you mean fellow writers, you can always try to text them and interact.
I wish you goodluck! I'm very flattered that you asked me for advice. š„°ā¤ļø
ā Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Translation: Mon Ami (my friend), Oui (Yes), Mademoiselle (Lady), Mon Dieu (My God).
As usual, nothing was out of place for Mr. Poirotās breakfast. Each item on the plate was perfectly arranged, with meticulous symmetry. There was no room for careless spills or haphazard placement. Portions were carefully selected, measured, and balanced.
Two identical boiled eggs. Toast cut into precise squares. A rich, decadent hot chocolate accompanied by a buttery croissant.
The only thing that disrupted the harmony that morning was the second plate, set exactly opposite his.
āWho is coming over for breakfast?ā Hercule asked, his French accent curling over the question, a trace of annoyance in his tone as he glanced toward the butler.
The young employee had no chance to reply, for the sharp, familiar click of heels echoed across the floor, drawing nearer in measured, unhurried steps. Poirot shifted his gaze just in time to come face to face with an acquaintance from years past, someone he had first encountered during one of his cases.
āHercule, my friend,ā Y/n greeted warmly, lips curling into a grin as she removed the elegant hat perched upon her head. The fabric of her matching dress brushed lightly against her stockings as she stepped closer to him.
Poirotās eyes narrowed, though his mustache twitched with a hint of amusement as his friend lowered herself neatly into the chair opposite him uninvited, like years ago.
āMon Dieuā¦ and here I thought the second plate was an error of the butler. Yet it was destinā he remarked, though his tone carried a trace of fussiness as he glanced at the ruined symmetry of his breakfast setting.
āStill the same old Herculeā she teased, lifting the croissant delicately. āCounting crumbs while the world keeps turning. I must say that you havenāt changed muchā
āAnd you,ā Poirot replied, tilting his head with a scrutinizing look, āStill arrive uninvited, but always with purpose. Tell me, mon amie, why the fine dress? It is not for me, eh?ā
The young woman chuckled softly, brushing the brim of her hat against the table before setting it aside. āAs flattering as that would be, no. Iām undercover. Thereās a matterā¦ delicate, dangerous that I thought might interest you. In fact, I was hoping it would. But let's eat breakfast firstā
Poirot paused with his spoon halfway to his lips, then carefully set it down. His little grey cells, already stirring, seemed to spark in his green eyes.
The unusual presence of his friend, the elegant look and mischievous smile meant just a thing for himā it was something worth his time.
āThen shall we,ā he murmured. āYou have already made me curiousā.
Poirot adjusted the napkin on his lap, watching her bite into the croissant with an unceremonious crunch. His nose scrunched up at the view, his finger slightly twitching as to keep control. Failing miserably.
āAh, but you destroy the architecture, mademoiselle,ā he sighed, gesturing to the crumbs now scattered messily
āThe croissant must be broken delicately, with the fingers, not bitten like a wolf.ā
Y/n raised an eyebrow, licking a flake of pastry from her thumb. Suppressing a smile at his odd antics before speaking āStill lecturing over breakfast, Hercule. Some things never change. But Iām glad, I missed your scoldingā
āOrder is the basis of all things,ā he sniffed, aligning his spoon precisely with the edge of the saucer. Then, more softly āAnd you, you are too elegant this morning to have come only for the croissants.ā he reiterated.
The young woman leaned back, letting him study her. He always did that but she was used to it by now. Her gloves, her hat, the silk of her dress, everything would be easily catalogued by those sharp eyes.
āSo tell me, Poirot,ā Y/n teased, āIām curious to know what your little grey cell say about this outfit?ā
His mustache twitched. āWell, Mon ami. It says that you are dressed for society. But the gloves are too plain, the shoes too sensible. You attend a gathering where appearances matter, but you expect danger. Perhapsā¦ an assignment, yes?ā
Her smile widened. āStill the best, I see. And yes, kind ofā¦. I've been working on it since about a month and I really think that it's a matter that needs your touch.ā
Poirot set his cup down carefully, perfectly centered. āThen you shall tell me all of it. But first, mademoiselleā¦ another square of toast?ā
āOui, Mon Amiā she mimicked his accent, repeating the few words in french she learned from him.
Hi nana !! My fave kind of sex is at the end of the day when Iām so sleepy Iām ready to pass out. I let the man just straight up take me like a ragdoll lol, could you write something like this for Jerome Valeska x reader ?? I also really like the pet names doll, babydoll, etc could you also incorporate those ?? I could see him telling the reader to go to sleep, doll after he does some light aftercare for the reader. If youāre not comfortable writing this I completely understand !! TIA !!
Sure thing! ā¤ļø
Just his ragdoll
ā Pairing: Jerome Valeska x girlfriend!Reader
ā Summary: After a tiring day at work Y/n finds herself being fucked to sleep by her boyfriend, Jerome.
ā Warnings: SMUT, shameless Jerome, lazy fuck, praising and brief after care.
ā Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Been a while since I wrote something for this character or something in general.
Bang. Bang. Bang. The kind of knock that rattled glass and made your neighbors think the apocalypse had arrived. That was your boyfriendās version of āhelloā.
Around 9 PM, the familiar noise returned. The window rattled in its frameā Jeromeās idea of polite knocking. You didnāt bother opening your eyes, though. Whether it was the balcony, the fire escape, or, God forbid, your dresser door, he always found a way in. Youād long stopped asking how.
It had become a routine. Whenever the GCPD wasnāt breathing down his neck, heād drop by to check on you, or more accurately, your fridgeā before crashing the night in your apartment.
Tonight was no different. Youād clocked out of work a few hours earlier, managed a hot meal, and slipped into your favorite pajamas before collapsing in bed. Eyes closed, the background noise of the city blurred into silence.
The bangs gave way to the creak of your window. Then... footsteps. Muffled clattering in the kitchen told you exactly what he was up to. Raiding, as always.
You didnāt react, just tugged the blanket tighter around you, exhaustion smothering irritation, until a flash of ginger hair popped up beside the bed, accompanied by a Cheshire grin.
āHIYA, doll! Whatcha doinā already in bed?ā His raspy voice rang in your ears, pitched so high it nearly counted as a yell. He was chewingā¦ a sandwich, probably, crumbs tumbling onto your poor sheets. You didnāt care. Too tired to fight him or scold the mess.
Thatās why just a single muffled groan slipped out against your pillow as an odd reply.
āAre ya dead, dollface? Ya look like a zombie.ā His scarred face hovered inches from yours, hazel eyes glinting with mischief. One gloved hand lingered above your skin before striking a sharp pinch to your leg, like a mischievous kid wanting attention.
āOw! Jerome! Stop it.ā You swatted his hand away, glaring weakly. He just smirked, energy crackling off him like static and like usual not a crumble of shame.
āThere ya are, doll. Too tired to even greet your man properly?ā His rasp curled against your ear, followed by the scrape of his mouth leaving a trail of damp kisses along your cheek. Your nose wrinkled, caught between disgust and reluctant amusement.
āJeromeā¦ā you sighed, unsure what else to say, surrendering as your body sank limp against the mattress again. His kiss continued its own path, creating a composition of biting, nibbling and wet kisses. But you didnāt mind, you liked when he was like that. When the atmosphere was calm and relaxing. The bed... warm and soothing, and Jerome there to ābotherā you in an exquisite way.Ā
This situation always ended the same way every time. Mostly with you lazily laying thereā as your man took care of you and himself as he pleased.Ā
You already felt the rough fabric of his glove against your bottom, his grip firm enough to part your thighs without you moving a muscle. Lucky for you, he was strong enough to handle it all himselfā and it felt good.
His index finger brushed against your bare folds as soon as the thin fabric of your panties slid aside. His warm breath fanned over your cunt, his nose brushing against it as he sniffed shamelessly like a hound.
It never failed to leave you drenched and aching.
Usually, it started the same way: your back arched, toes curled, a moan spilling outā and that was Jeromeās cue to bring out the main act.
His personal record for belt removal and ācock exposureā? Exactly three and a half seconds.
By the time you noticed, the tip was already pressing at your entrance. Then, with one sharp, oddly precise thrust, he buried himself inside you completely.
His size always stretched you, thick and long enough to hit spots that made your eyes roll back and your brain go blank.
One snap of his hips and your body melted.
Two snaps and you were already salivating.
Three, and you lost the game ā every thought shattered, your body surrendering to his brutal rhythm.
The sheets burned against your skin, reddened from the heat and friction. The bed slammed against the wall as Jerome pounded into you like a madman. You could already imagine your neighbors complaining in the morning. But right now, you were nothing more than his ragdoll.
Every nerve in your body burned, your mind blank with each sharp snap of his hips. And then it slowed. His pace faltered, the growl in his throat fading into a shaky breath. He stayed buried deep inside you, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades as sweat dripped on your skin.Ā
His gloved hand reached quickly to pinch and rub your clit, making you quickly reach the sweet and overwhelming release. Your muscles kept shaking as the ginger head kept thrusting a few times.Ā
Then the warm feeling of his release gooshing inside you, followed by a guttural and feral growl of pure satisfaction, made your body fully relax back into the covers.Ā
For a brief moment neither of you moved, just breathing in sync, making the room go completely silent.Ā
Jeromeās hands, once gripping your bruised hips, softened into an almost tender caress as his lips pressed a sloppy kiss to your temple. A low, boyish chuckle escaped him, his chest rumbling against your back with the vibration.
When your boyfriend finally shifted, it was slow and careful, pulling out before tugging the sheet higher around your body. He moved clumsily toward the bathroom to fetch a warm cloth, the heavy sound of his footsteps fading for a moment before he returned.
Collapsing beside you, he drew you into his chest, holding you as if he had no intention of letting go.
āYa good, dollface?ā he murmured, voice raw but lazy, his thumb tracing slow circles along your arm until your heartbeat steadied.
Hi nana !! My fave kind of sex is at the end of the day when Iām so sleepy Iām ready to pass out. I let the man just straight up take me like a ragdoll lol, could you write something like this for Jerome Valeska x reader ?? I also really like the pet names doll, babydoll, etc could you also incorporate those ?? I could see him telling the reader to go to sleep, doll after he does some light aftercare for the reader. If youāre not comfortable writing this I completely understand !! TIA !!
Sure thing! ā¤ļø
Just his ragdoll
ā Pairing: Jerome Valeska x girlfriend!Reader
ā Summary: After a tiring day at work Y/n finds herself being fucked to sleep by her boyfriend, Jerome.
ā Warnings: SMUT, shameless Jerome, lazy fuck, praising and brief after care.
ā Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Been a while since I wrote something for this character or something in general.
Bang. Bang. Bang. The kind of knock that rattled glass and made your neighbors think the apocalypse had arrived. That was your boyfriendās version of āhelloā.
Around 9 PM, the familiar noise returned. The window rattled in its frameā Jeromeās idea of polite knocking. You didnāt bother opening your eyes, though. Whether it was the balcony, the fire escape, or, God forbid, your dresser door, he always found a way in. Youād long stopped asking how.
It had become a routine. Whenever the GCPD wasnāt breathing down his neck, heād drop by to check on you, or more accurately, your fridgeā before crashing the night in your apartment.
Tonight was no different. Youād clocked out of work a few hours earlier, managed a hot meal, and slipped into your favorite pajamas before collapsing in bed. Eyes closed, the background noise of the city blurred into silence.
The bangs gave way to the creak of your window. Then... footsteps. Muffled clattering in the kitchen told you exactly what he was up to. Raiding, as always.
You didnāt react, just tugged the blanket tighter around you, exhaustion smothering irritation, until a flash of ginger hair popped up beside the bed, accompanied by a Cheshire grin.
āHIYA, doll! Whatcha doinā already in bed?ā His raspy voice rang in your ears, pitched so high it nearly counted as a yell. He was chewingā¦ a sandwich, probably, crumbs tumbling onto your poor sheets. You didnāt care. Too tired to fight him or scold the mess.
Thatās why just a single muffled groan slipped out against your pillow as an odd reply.
āAre ya dead, dollface? Ya look like a zombie.ā His scarred face hovered inches from yours, hazel eyes glinting with mischief. One gloved hand lingered above your skin before striking a sharp pinch to your leg, like a mischievous kid wanting attention.
āOw! Jerome! Stop it.ā You swatted his hand away, glaring weakly. He just smirked, energy crackling off him like static and like usual not a crumble of shame.
āThere ya are, doll. Too tired to even greet your man properly?ā His rasp curled against your ear, followed by the scrape of his mouth leaving a trail of damp kisses along your cheek. Your nose wrinkled, caught between disgust and reluctant amusement.
āJeromeā¦ā you sighed, unsure what else to say, surrendering as your body sank limp against the mattress again. His kiss continued its own path, creating a composition of biting, nibbling and wet kisses. But you didnāt mind, you liked when he was like that. When the atmosphere was calm and relaxing. The bed... warm and soothing, and Jerome there to ābotherā you in an exquisite way.Ā
This situation always ended the same way every time. Mostly with you lazily laying thereā as your man took care of you and himself as he pleased.Ā
You already felt the rough fabric of his glove against your bottom, his grip firm enough to part your thighs without you moving a muscle. Lucky for you, he was strong enough to handle it all himselfā and it felt good.
His index finger brushed against your bare folds as soon as the thin fabric of your panties slid aside. His warm breath fanned over your cunt, his nose brushing against it as he sniffed shamelessly like a hound.
It never failed to leave you drenched and aching.
Usually, it started the same way: your back arched, toes curled, a moan spilling outā and that was Jeromeās cue to bring out the main act.
His personal record for belt removal and ācock exposureā? Exactly three and a half seconds.
By the time you noticed, the tip was already pressing at your entrance. Then, with one sharp, oddly precise thrust, he buried himself inside you completely.
His size always stretched you, thick and long enough to hit spots that made your eyes roll back and your brain go blank.
One snap of his hips and your body melted.
Two snaps and you were already salivating.
Three, and you lost the game ā every thought shattered, your body surrendering to his brutal rhythm.
The sheets burned against your skin, reddened from the heat and friction. The bed slammed against the wall as Jerome pounded into you like a madman. You could already imagine your neighbors complaining in the morning. But right now, you were nothing more than his ragdoll.
Every nerve in your body burned, your mind blank with each sharp snap of his hips. And then it slowed. His pace faltered, the growl in his throat fading into a shaky breath. He stayed buried deep inside you, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades as sweat dripped on your skin.Ā
His gloved hand reached quickly to pinch and rub your clit, making you quickly reach the sweet and overwhelming release. Your muscles kept shaking as the ginger head kept thrusting a few times.Ā
Then the warm feeling of his release gooshing inside you, followed by a guttural and feral growl of pure satisfaction, made your body fully relax back into the covers.Ā
For a brief moment neither of you moved, just breathing in sync, making the room go completely silent.Ā
Jeromeās hands, once gripping your bruised hips, softened into an almost tender caress as his lips pressed a sloppy kiss to your temple. A low, boyish chuckle escaped him, his chest rumbling against your back with the vibration.
When your boyfriend finally shifted, it was slow and careful, pulling out before tugging the sheet higher around your body. He moved clumsily toward the bathroom to fetch a warm cloth, the heavy sound of his footsteps fading for a moment before he returned.
Collapsing beside you, he drew you into his chest, holding you as if he had no intention of letting go.
āYa good, dollface?ā he murmured, voice raw but lazy, his thumb tracing slow circles along your arm until your heartbeat steadied.
Can you please do another part to Henry's babysitter with Joe?
Have a wonderful day āŗļøā¤ļø
Aww yes! Gladly šā£ļø
Henry's babysitter part 2
ā Pairing: Joe Goldberg X babysitter Reader
ā Summary: Joe's obsession gets worse and his impure thoughts get the better of him.
ā Warnings: dirty thoughts, infedelity, Joe, mentioned of a past kiss, boner, horny Joe, age gap (both off age).
ā Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Let me know if it's better third person or Joe's POV.
And there you are.... You.
You walk into my house every week with your sweet smile and perfect perfume. Carrying the kindness and eagerness that you show by taking care of what's mine, almost as if you were made for it.
And then that one night, when our guards were lowered and we shared a moment, letting our true desire take over in a kiss that you clearly regretted. But how could you not? I'm a married man after all. To Love. You pretend it didn't happen, burying it under dirty diapers and bedtime stories.
So I had to play the part of the good guy. I apologised. Made you feel safe again. Because that's what you need, Y/n. Someone who can take care of you like you take care of others. And you accepted my apologies with a smile, reciprocating it in a small whisper.
I've been good since that evening but what you don't know is that I can't stop thinking about you. The way your breath caught when we kissed. How the time seemed to stop just for a moment for us... You erased it but I can't and I won't, Y/n. Not when I know that you want it too, you're just too scared to act. Your believes are stronger than expected. But I'm a patient man, I won't push. So for now I'll live happily by simply watching you under my own roof.
"Hey" your voice interrupts my thoughts. You're standing in front of me now, a sheepish smile plastered on your beautiful face. You're holding Henry as if he was ours and he didn't seem to mind at all.
"Is it a problem if I play outside with Henry in the pool?" You're probably referring to the small pool for babies Love got a week ago, a stupid idea since Henry could simply bath in the tub and wait till he was old enough to go in a normal pool but now that you ask for permission... It didn't seem so stupid like it looked. So I shake with a smile, suggesting to you to put on a swimsuit because Henry tended to splash a lot when in the water. And you do as I told... Like always and I love you because of that.
And I love you because of lots of other things. The feeling, no, the need of shouting it to the world was getting stronger and stronger every day but I resist. For you, for us. Because I'm a patient man and I know that you want me to, we just need time.
My phone vibrates on the table, reminding me of my wife, who was busy working as I stay at home, watching you in your bikini playing with my baby outside in my own garden. I wish I could just ignore her presence but I can't, so I answer the message before heading to you.
"Pretty warm today, hm?" I prompted, kneeling down in front of the little pool to take a look at Henry... To take a look at you. In your sinful attire. God, you wanted my eyes on you and you have them... Fully. I can barely control myself, ready to pull you just right there in a kiss that would speaking more than thousands words. But cold water hits my face, reminding me that that wasn't the right moment, not in the garden, not with Henry there splashing like a maniac forcing me to take my drenched shirt off.
"Very warm, I put some suncream on Henry earlier" you said. Classic you. Very thoughtful and considerate. You ask me if I need help with my suncream and I say yes and I thank the sun and the season. Your hands feel like heaven on me as you rub the cold cream on my skin and if I wasn't there outside with Henry squealing in my ears I would have probably got an erection and you would have noticed. You would have sneaked your hands down my torso to reach my boner and help me out.... Then I would have done the same because you need someone like that, Y/n. Someone that knows how to take care of you and God I want to be that person. But I can't.... Not Yet.
