#I just don’t get it I know you think he’s hot and you don’t mind dating him but my god

[rindreamery]

hi, nishi!!

first off, congrats again for 300 followers!

so, for the event, my character will be: itoshi sae.

flavor: spicy

add ons: topping 1- eye contact. topping 2: best friend's brother.

thank you, and take your time.

ORDER 8: READY TO GO !

sae + spicy + eye contact + best friend's brother w.c. 800+

note. thank you ira 🤍 and thank you for your patience with this !! ik i've been slacking a little with my posting schedule, but i swear i'll prioritize the event fics from now on before posting other fics. (my own personal time-out 😞)

interested in more? check out the lounge !

stepping into the threshold of rin’s kitchen, the last person you had expected to see was sae. 

as far as you were aware, he was still supposed to be in spain for another two weeks. but rin had a habit of never telling you when sae had a change of plans, when he was was back, and, much to your dismay, when he was coming over. that was simply up to you to find out, for yourself, whenever you visited. 

like now. 

sae’s standing just a few feet away from you, leaning on the counter as he sips on the remainder of his water, eyes staring off into the window across the room. he’s clad in a plain tee and sweats, waistband hanging unreasonably low on his hips and giving you a clear view of his v-line, and his hair is unruly from having just woken up— yet, somehow, he manages to pull the look off. a little too well, you note to yourself. he looks a little too good, and it almost feels like a sin to check him out so blatantly, like it’s a sin to be thinking such things about him. maybe it is, in a way. 

you could already feel the pressure of rin’s judgemental stare, although not there physically, at the way you gawk openly at his brother. “gross, never call my brother ‘hot’ ever again,” his distant words echo somewhere in the back of your mind, reminding you that he’s not particularly fond of the idea of you cozying up with his brother. you had mentioned it in passing, once, as a joke, only to be met with distaste and a nasty side-eye. “it’s disturbing, so please, shut up.” 

you should take that as a sign; you should leave, clear your mind, and go back to minding your own business. acting like you don’t care all that much about him, despite your painfully obvious attraction. unfortunately, you were never truly known for your acting. because as you’re about to turn away, about to spin on your heel and walk back to rin’s room, you freeze in place.

your gaze gets caught on the way his biceps flex under the thin material of his shirt, the lines becoming more defined as he brings his drink up to his lips. hook, line, and sinker— the way you can’t seem to look away, even for just a second. your eyes hike down and then up the line of his bicep, and then his forearm, and then the hand that’s gripping onto the glass. equally distracted by the veins that decorate the skin on his hand, prominent as his fingers stretch around the glass. you’re distracted by him, in his entirety. 

you forget that you’re standing in his periphery, and the realization comes to you a second too late. 

sae’s eyes flicker over to you once he notices your presence, scanning down the length of your body as he does a brief once-over of you, one of his brows quirking up at the way you linger awkwardly at the entrance of the kitchen. he’s still sipping his drink, lips pressed tightly against the glass, but his eyes remain locked onto yours. they’re passive, unreadable like always, digging into your skin uncomfortably as the two of you stand there in silence. neither daring to say a word, or maybe, just not knowing what to say. 

you should feel embarrassed at the thought of having been caught, but you’re more flustered by the way he eyes you down. the weight of his stare is steady and intense, coupled with the dragging silence, and it makes you shift awkwardly on your feet. you’re about to clear your throat, come up with some lame excuse of forgetting what you needed from the kitchen, and booking it to rin’s room. but as your mouth opens to speak, sae cuts you off.

“nice outfit,” he says, voice low and even. you follow the way his eyes form a trail down your body, landing on the oversized shirt you were currently wearing. you can feel the way he lingers at the hem of your shirt, staring at the way it stops shy of your upper thighs. before they flick up back to meet your eyes, still passive, but now flickering with amusement?

you blink at him once, and then twice, and then a third time. “what?” you manage to sputter out, taken aback by the random compliment, feeling the surface of your skin burn from the way he had blatantly checked you out, too. but, also confused; you glance down at the shirt, noting that it was nothing worth complimenting. “uhm, thanks? rin lent them to me 'cause i spilled something on my clothes. they're comfy, at least."

the amusement flickers off into nothing, at your answer.

sae seems displeased, evident in the way he reacts to your words. he presses his lips together, and for a second, you see a flash of jealousy in his eyes. or maybe, it’s your delusions speaking. you’re not quite sure.

he gets up from where he was leaning on the counter, focused on you as he takes a tentative step towards you.

your feet stay locked in place as he closes the distance between the two of you with slow, calculating steps. “that’s my shirt you’re wearing, you know.” the jealousy in his tone is more apparent, putting emphasis on my and you’re, dragging the syllables on his tongue. "not rin's."

© rindreamery, 2025

[bombuni]

contains: jongho watching you use a dildo lol

minors dni

“Jjoo-ngie…”

Your pathetic, desperate whines are music to Jongho’s ears. It fuels his ego to see you so broken and needy, tear-filled eyes begging for him from where you drag the plastic toy over your slit. It’s disgustingly adorable, he thinks, how cute you look with a cock between your legs.

He’d found you exactly like this when he got home from work, wrecked and sweaty from hours of trying to replicate his touch on yourself. You’d cried and begged for him to finally relieve you and he almost gave in right then and there, but Jongho’s a man with a will made of steel. He’d only taken the purple, flimsy thing from your hands and pushed it gently back into your leaking hole. His mouth had watered at the sight of your mouth dropping open, as if just his presence had now changed everything for you. Your cute pleading eyes set his goal in mind: to enjoy the sight of your desperation. See how far he can get you before his urges take over.

“Just keep fucking yourself, sweetheart. Or is that too much for your tiny brain to understand? Do you need Jjong to do it for you?”

He swallows a moan when you unabashedly shout for him to take over, how sure you are that Jongho will take care of everything for you. He feels his hand twitch.

Your pussy is still wet as if he’d been playing with it for hours, and your chest is filled with waves of emotions, all surrounding the one man who’s eyes remain on you. You’re annoyed with how satisfied he is watching you be pathetic, embarrassed at how desperate you’re acting, but all of that is simply overshadowed by the straight flood of desire in you. Your mind only screams Jongho, Jongho, Jongho.

Your tiny hands shake in frustration with every push you give into yourself, “‘S so- I c-can’t! Jjongie, I can’t, p-please just-“

You’re so cute. So, so cute, and his cock jumps when a tear slips down your cheek. He sighs and moves slowly towards you, like you’re a nuisance, like his gut isn’t on fire right now and his mind is clouded with need. He finally reaches you, leaning down towards you and setting both arms besides your head, trapping you. The sound of your squelching pussy is still heard, and his tummy swirls with your adorably love sick grin.

The way your entire body relaxes once his hand reaches towards your clit makes him giggle, “So cute. You just wanted my attention, didn’t you? You want me to make you cum?”

“Please, Jjongie want it so bad-“

God, how he loves when you beg. He loves how embarrassed you get when he teases you outside of sex, how he’ll remind you of how much of a slut you are for him when you’re being a brat. He loves how you submit yourself to him, how much you enjoy being his plaything. It comforts him to know you trust him this much. But it’s also just really fucking hot how wet you get.

His pointer fingers rub at your clit, gliding easily in circle motions with the help of your slick, “Pretty, pretty girl…”

Jongho’s quiet praises push you off the edge, your entire body writhing as the pleasure takes control of you and makes you twitch in ecstasy. He mumbles more encouraging words that you don’t really hear, but the sound of his voice is just enough to push you through.

There’s a soft, timid thumb caressing your hip when you come to, “Couldn’t wait for me to come home?”

bom note: we are so back. i had to for my freakribos. anyways what r ur thoughts on mutual masturbation san or typical stuck-porn scenario san?

[summervb]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 | lee myung-gi (player 333) × fem!reader

summary | you and player 333, race against the clock to find a door. when all hope seems lost, he risks everything to save you

warnings | violence, implied death, panic, and emotional distress, kissing

word count | 1.5 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me thanks ᡣ𐭩

The echo of footsteps reverberates around you like a drum in the endless labyrinth. Screams, chaos... everything blends together, and your breathing becomes just another noise. You look around, searching for something—someone—to save you, but all you see are distorted faces, moving without stopping.

“Find a partner and a door before time runs out, or you will be eliminated.”

The words buzz in your head like a cruel hum. The timer on the wall, illuminated in intense red, counts down the seconds of your life.

00:58… 00:57… 00:56

You run toward a door, but someone else is already there.

"Please, wait for me!" you shout, your voice desperate and broken.

They don’t even bother to look at you. You feel a shove on your shoulder as someone else rushes past. Despair sinks into your chest, heavy as a stone, and you start to think there might be no way out.

00:45

You trip, and the cold, hard floor meets your knees. Tears burn in your eyes, but you can’t stop to cry. Not here, not now.

"I’m going to die."

The thought cuts into you like a knife. There’s no metaphor in it; it’s the most terrifying truth you’ve ever faced. If you don’t find a door, if you don’t find a partner, you’re done.

00:30

"Quick!"

A voice pulls you out of your trance. You lift your gaze and see him. It’s him: Lee Myung-Gi, player 333. His white shirt with the number is drenched in sweat, his dark hair disheveled, but his eyes… his eyes shine with a determination that throws you off.

"What are you doing down there? Get up!" he yells, extending his hand.

Your body reacts before your mind can process it. You grab his hand, his grip firm and steady, and he pulls you to your feet.

"Run with me!" he orders, and you do.

His hand doesn’t let go of yours as you sprint down the endless hallway. Every door you pass is already closed, its number dark. There are no options left, and you feel your legs about to give out at any moment.

00:15… 00:14… 00:13

"There!" he shouts, pointing to a door at the end of the hallway. It’s the last one.

Your heart speeds up even more, if that’s possible. But then you see it: someone else is running toward that door. A tall man, faster than the two of you, is only steps away from reaching it.

"No…" you whisper, feeling panic tighten your throat.

"Keep running!" Myung-Gi yells, suddenly letting go of your hand.

You watch as he launches himself at the other player, shoving him with all the force he has. The man stumbles and crashes to the ground, yelling in frustration as he tries to get back up.

"I’m sorry!" Myung-Gi shouts before turning back to you and grabbing your hand again.

"Run!"

You don’t have time to think about what he just did. Your feet move on pure instinct, and before you know it, he pushes you through the door and follows right behind you.

00:03… 00:02… 00:01… 00:00

The sound of the door closing is followed by deafening silence. Then, screams, gunshots… and silence again.

You collapse onto the floor, unable to stay on your feet. You’re trembling, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you try to catch your breath.

"I’m sorry about that…" Myung-Gi says, leaning against the wall as he breathes heavily. "I didn’t want to do it, but there was no other way."

His voice is calm, but all you can think about is the man he left outside. The tears you’ve been holding back pour out in a hot, bitter stream.

"I can’t… I can’t do this anymore…" you whisper, feeling your entire body shatter inside.

He crosses the small space in a couple of steps and kneels in front of you.

"Hey… look at me. We’re alive. We’re here." His hand rests on your shoulder, firm but comforting.

You can’t help but look at him, even though your eyes are blurred with tears.

"Breathe with me, okay? Inhale… exhale… like this."

You try to follow him. His voice has something in it that soothes you, something that gives you a faint glimmer of hope.

"Thank you…" you manage to murmur. "For not leaving me."

He shakes his head, as if your words weren’t necessary.

"I wasn’t going to let you die. Not you.

His words hit you harder than any shove or fall. You look into his eyes, searching for something—maybe a reason, maybe comfort—and you find a warmth you didn’t expect.

"I don’t know what I would’ve done without you…"

"You don’t need to know. I’m here, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you."

Before you can think of a response, you lean into him, desperate for something to hold on to. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you, warm and protective, and you rest your head against his chest.

The sound of his heart, strong and steady, is the only thing keeping you grounded.

"I’m here," he whispers, his voice soft against your hair. "You’re not alone."

When you finally lift your head, you realize how close your faces are. His warm breath brushes against your skin, and suddenly, the noise of the game seems to vanish.

He lifts a hand and caresses your cheek, his fingers tracing a delicate path.

"You have to be strong. For us."

And then, his lips meet yours.

It’s a kiss filled with everything you can’t put into words. Desperate, yet comforting, as if he’s trying to imprint on your skin the fact that you’re still alive.

When you pull away, your eyes meet his, and though tears still streak your face, they’re no longer from fear.

"We’ll get out of this together," he says, a small but firm smile on his face. "I promise."

[reidphobic]

crashing into him tonight (he’s a paradox) - s. r.

in which your lessons continue, and you want to be more than spencer’s teacher. 4004 words. part two to the neighbor!au.

inexperienced!sub!spencer x dom!fem reader, jealousy, mommy kink, mutual masturbation, fingering, praise, very very mild degradation, brief cumplay? i guess? no use of y/n, reader is still super condescending but it’s still hot

It starts to become a routine for Spencer to knock on your door late at night, wearing a nervous smile and offering a quiet plea for another lesson. It’s not every night he’s home, but it’s enough that you start to notice his absence after a couple of days. You try not to read too far into it, remind yourself that the two of you just have fun, that Spencer is just your little plaything, and it doesn’t matter if he’s away somewhere using tricks you taught him on other women. And, besides, you’re hardly celibate yourself.

But after three nights of silence, you hear something so unfamiliar you almost don’t recognise it at first. A second voice in Spencer’s apartment — in his bedroom. You can’t quite make out any words, but you can tell exactly what’s happening, low murmurs giving way to soft moans, the shape of his name reaching your ear in a high, pitchy, voice. You scowl, huff. You know Spencer knows the walls are paper-thin. Has he even noticed that you haven’t brought anyone home when he’s there since you started sleeping together?

You lie awake, listening, until you can’t take the hurt any longer. You storm out of your apartment, drown the ugly feeling in the pit of your stomach in cheap, sour liquor. It’s not long before you’re leaving the bar again, head spinning, and back in your apartment with a willing body between your thighs. The guy — whose name you’ve already forgotten — is perfectly eager, all the right words, praises, moans as he touches you. His kiss is perfect on paper, just enough tongue and teeth and wandering hands, and you moan and stretch and purr when he fucks into you.

But it’s still all wrong. There’s too much of him; square shoulders and broad chest where you crave a slim, slight body. He praises where you want pleas, calls you baby instead of Mommy. The prospect of waking up to him in your bed makes your skin crawl, and you bundle the guy out of the door practically before he’s finished cumming. Sobered up and unpleasantly sticky, you stumble into the shower and try to scrub off the night’s sins. It doesn’t feel like it works.

Trying not to think about Spencer doesn’t work either. It doesn’t work as you toss and turn in bed, or when you’re getting ready for work, not even while your shift drags on and on and your mind is filled with a billion other things. You can half-feel the ghost of his presence, his favourite of your mugs undrank-from on the counter, one of his ties slung across a dining chair, a book he’d thought you might like resting on your coffee table.

It’s worse that he’s gone for so long — he’s been away on a case for ten days, and your lasting memory is the noise of him fucking someone else. The sound is still rattling dimly around your head as you stare aimlessly at the TV, your whole body sore after a long, late shift, when there’s a knock at your door. Unthinking, you open it, expecting your food delivery guy and instead coming face to face with Spencer.

You’re half-convinced you’ve fallen asleep, that he’s a cruel trick of your subconscious, and it must show on your face because Spencer’s face screws up in concern as he speaks. “Hi,” he murmurs. He’s disheveled in a way you’ve never seen him, bleary-eyed and shirt untucked, like he’s been sleeping in his clothes. “I, uh. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I came straight here, which sounds kind of stupid, ‘cause I live here, too, but, uh… I haven’t been inside my apartment yet.” You keep your face cool, impassive. “What… I guess what I’m trying to say is that I missed you.” Never mind that he fucked someone else the night before he left.

“Is that all?” you say, folding your arms across your chest. His face crumples, and you feel guilty all over again.

“Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?” he asks, innocent and forlorn, and, God, you just want to sink your teeth into him right then and there.

But if you bite too hard, he’ll bleed. “I don’t know, Spencer. Did you? Or did you have fun?” you snap. “Did you use what I taught you?” The words taste bitter as they spill free, but you can’t swallow them back down. Spencer’s mouth opens and closes, but he stays silent. “Or, what, she wasn’t happy with you? You after one last practice run before you give the real thing another shot?”

“I… What?” He pauses. “This is because I… slept with someone else?”

You roll your eyes. “Wow. That 187 IQ really works wonders for you, huh?” You move to shut the door in his face, but he blocks you deftly, steps past you into your apartment so quickly you barely realise what happened. Right. FBI agent.

Spencer crosses the room, sits down at your dining table, motions for you to do the same. Your feet carry you into the chair without your permission. “So, you’re angry with me for sleeping with another girl, despite never communicating or agreeing on any kind of exclusivity. After… this.” He gestures vaguely to the space between you. “All started because I don’t know what I’m doing and you wanted to teach me?”

You sigh, turn his words over in your head. When he puts it that way, you sound ridiculous. And his saying I don’t know what I’m doing isn’t lost on you either. “I don’t think I knew, honey. I thought, this is just fun, just friends helping friends. And then I heard you, and I got so… possessive, I guess. And I couldn’t talk to you, because you were gone, so I just got more and more bitter.”

Reaching a hand across the table, Spencer gives you a tentative glance before taking hold of yours, running his thumb soothingly across your knuckles. “So, that night, the guy you were with, that was…”

“Fucking awful,” you joke, but he just looks concerned, doesn’t pick up on it. “No, it was… retaliation. God, that’s so embarrassing. The sex was fine, but he wasn’t you, honey.” At that, he finally smiles, and you feel it warm you from the inside out.

“And that’s what you want?” He licks his lips, touches his hair. His particular brand of skittish nervousness looks so good on him that it’s almost unfair. “Me?”

The disbelieving look on his face, frankly, is criminal. “Spencer, sweetheart, I can’t think of anything I’ve ever wanted more.” Your chairs scrape against the floor as you scramble up, grab at him everywhere you can reach, crash your lips into his. It’s sweet, soft, and you fight to hold your hunger at bay, trace his lips with gentle affection.

You work your way through the room, bumping into every possible piece of furniture and giggling into Spencer’s open mouth until you land on the couch in his lap. “This is familiar,” he says, smirking a little. Grabbing his jaw, you scowl playfully, leaning in to peck him on the lips.

Experimentally, you roll your hips down, find him deliciously eager under you. “It’s so cute how hard you get just from making out, sweetheart. So needy, baby.” You lean down, kiss his neck, suck a bruise into his soft skin. “What’d you think about?”

“Huh?” he murmurs, eyes glossy and lips swollen, wearing a pretty, dazed face. He’s oh-so gorgeous when you’ve kissed all the thoughts out of his head, operating on pure impulse, uninhibited.

Your fingers creep up to loosen his tie. “You said I couldn’t stop thinking about you. What were you thinking about?” You pull his tie off, untuck his shirt, start working on his buttons. “Was it dirty? Details, honey, c’mon.”

Spencer smiles up at you, angelic. “Not all of it,” he says, tracing delicate little patterns across the small of your back. “Thought about kissing you. A lot. About you laying in my lap, and we’re supposed to be watching a movie, but I’m just looking at you.” Your chest clenches. “How you listen when I talk… I don’t— People think I can’t tell, if they just nod in the right places, but I know.”

“Spencer, honey,” you say softly, kissing and nipping gently at his chest as you unbutton his shirt, exposing inches of silken skin with each movement. “God, you’re perfect.” You sigh, resting your head in the crook of his neck. Spencer brings his hand up to pet your hair, blunt nails scratching soothingly over your scalp.

“But… I, uh. That’s not all I thought about.” He’s nervous, now, the embarrassment that always comes when he wants to voice his desires; you’ve been trying to train it out of him, but it’s achingly slow going.

You smile encouragingly, kissing at his chest and gazing up at him with your best fuck-me eyes. “S’alright, baby. Tell Mommy, okay?”

“Thought about you on top of me. Your pretty… How pretty you look up there.”

You grin wickedly. “My tits, is that what you mean to say? You love your Mommy’s tits, don’t you, honey?” Spencer nods, head falling forward to bury his face in your chest. You let him hide for a moment, collect himself, before you nudge him to speak again.

Spencer’s eyes are glossy, his mouth red and bruised. He looks so sweet, your pretty, pliant little toy, perfectly ready for you to sink your claws into. “Mhmm. Love your tits, Mommy. Thought about you touching me, n’when you’re all mean and you don’t touch me.” He pouts, just a little, and you can’t resist shifting your hips and dragging a thumb across his swollen bottom lip.

“You like it when I’m mean, sweetheart?” He nods, dazed. “You want me to be a little meaner?” Spencer freezes under you, suddenly seeming tense and afraid. Damn. And you’d just gotten him to relax. You stroke his face with the back of your hand to soothe him. “You can say no, honey, it’s okay, I won’t be mad. Just wanna find out what makes you feel good, alright, pretty?”

“No, I… I want it. But just a little. Please.”

“Yeah, honey, that’s alright. But you gotta tell me if it’s ever too much, okay?” Spencer nods, and you raise an eyebrow. “Words, baby.”

It seems to take him a minute to find the words, spit-slick lips parted as he stares at you with lust-blown eyes. “Yes, Mommy. I will. I’ll tell you.”

You grind your hips down in reward, let Spencer roll his up to meet you. Pressing your lips to his, you swallow his whimper. “Good boy,” you murmur, and he beams. “Love it when you get all dumb like this. S’good for you, honey, not to be the clever one all the time.” You pull off his shirt, slide off his lap to admire him from a distance. Before he can whine at the loss, you cut him off. “Did you touch yourself?” Spencer tilts his head. “Sweetheart, did you masturbate thinking about me?”

Spencer’s mouth drops in a soft ‘o’ of understanding, cheeks flushing ruby-woo red. “Yes,” he admits, avoiding your gaze until you force his eyes back to you.

“God, you really are just clueless, huh? C’mon, show Mommy, baby. Show me how you touch yourself.” Spencer blinks dumbly. God, he must be worse off than you thought. “Spencer, honey, I know you jerk off. I heard you every damn night. S’what made me decide I had to get you all to myself.”

At that, the corner of his lip quirks. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was smirking at you. “Is that why you had a box of lingerie delivered to my apartment?” It’s your turn to be speechless. “Profiler,” he adds with a shrug.

“Alright, smartass. It worked, didn’t it?” you scoff. “And stop distracting me.” You set to work on what’s left of his clothes, unbuttoning his pants and palming his cock through his boxers. “Do you take off all your clothes first? Or do you keep ‘em on, make a mess of yourself?”

“No, I… I take them off,” he says. You raise an eyebrow as if to say go on. “Oh, y- you want me to..? Oh, o-okay.” With shaking hands, he slips out of his pants, then his boxers, stained with precum; the evidence of his desire has you practically drooling. His pretty dick springs free, thuds sickly against his stomach with a wet smack.

You can’t help the pulse of arousal that throbs through you at the sight of him. “Good boys don’t keep Mommy waiting, Spencer,” you chide, careful to avoid touching him. It’s clear how acutely he feels the lack of a pet name, the implication of your words, and he babbles out an apology.

Eagerly, you watch Spencer curl his hand around his cock, but he doesn’t move. “I’m sorry. It’s just… it’s hard— Don’t,” he interrupts himself when you smirk. “It’s difficult… with you watching me like this.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you croon. “You like to think about my tits, right?” You pull off your shirt, flick it across the room. As if magnetised, Spencer’s eyes fall to your chest as you grab your tits, roll a nipple between two fingers. “There you go, honey. S’just you and your fantasy, okay? Now show me what you do when you think of me, okay?”

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, takes a steadying breath. He’s endlessly fascinating; he’ll stare down killers without so much as flinching, but a willing girl with her boobs out is just too much for him. Slowly, he starts to pump his cock, spreading precum down his length. You watch him speed up until he’s jacking himself furiously, hand flying along his dick so hard and fast he must be giving himself friction burn. He bites down on his lower lip, whimpers through his teeth, the sound familiar and erotic. “Mommy,” he whines, high and breathy, hips jerking up into his hand. You can’t watch this much longer.

Placing a palm on his thigh to still him, you slowly cover his hand with your free one. “Honey, is that how you get yourself off?” Brow scrunched in confusion, he nods. God, the poor boy is hopeless. “And that feels good?”

“It makes me orgasm quickly,” Spencer answers, as if that’s remotely the same thing. “I- I have trouble sleeping, and an orgasm releases endorphins that relax both the mind and the body. It helps,” he says placidly.

You nod slowly. “And when you make yourself come like that, does that feel the same as when I make you come?” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t, right? It feels better when I do it?”

“So much,” he breathes. “You’re so much better.”

You smile indulgently down at him. “Oh, honey. That’s because you’re doing it all wrong,” you say, syrupy and condescending. “When you get off, it makes you feel better, right? Yeah. And you’re so focused on that, you forget to make yourself feel good. That genius mind of yours’d be blown finding out how long I could spend getting myself off.” You pat his cheek. “Maybe I’ll show you someday.

A punched-out whimper slips from his lips, the sound falling straight between your legs. “What am I doing wrong?” Spencer asks, low and feeble.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Mommy’s gonna show you, okay?” He nods eagerly. Sure, you’ve jerked him off before, but this feels different. You’re not just giving him pleasure, you’re showing him how to take it for himself. “Show me again, but slow, okay?” Obediently, Spencer curls his hand again, pumps his cock. “See, honey, feel that drag? Hurts, right? And not in the good way,” you add with a grin, and Spencer gulps. A slightly wicked idea crosses your mind. “We’re gonna go to bed now, okay?”

Like a lost little puppy, Spencer trails after you, joins you on the bed. You let him kiss you again, until his whines get too needy and his hips start to twitch. “Will you open that top drawer for me, sweetheart? Got something in there that’ll help you, okay?” Obediently, he rolls over, tugs the drawer open. You study his face carefully, watch his jaw go slack as he realises what you’re showing him. Your collection of sex toys stares up at him, and he gapes like a fucking fish. An adorable fish, but a fish all the same.

“What do you… you want me to..?” he says, still staring like he couldn’t possibly compute what you’re asking of him.

You laugh, only a little meanly. “Don’t worry, honey,” you say, padding around the bed to help him out. “You’re not ready for that stuff. Not yet, anyway. You’re such a good boy for Mommy, Spencer, such a quick learner. Pretty soon I’ll have you begging for ‘em. But not tonight, alright?” You lean down to pluck a small plastic bottle from the drawer. “This is all we need tonight. Do you know what that is, baby?”

Squinting his eyes, Spencer inspects the bottle. “Lubricant?” he says, mouth forming the word into a question.

“Such a clever boy,” you croon, settling yourself between his legs and taking his hand. You turn it palm up and squint a generous amount of lube into Spencer’s hand. “Spread that on your pretty dick for me, okay, baby?” The slick sound of it fills your ears, pulses in your cunt, and you can see on his face how much better he feels even from a scant touch. Eyes fluttering shut, he groans, but waits obediently for another instruction. “That’s it. That’s Mommy’s good boy, huh? Alright, honey. Now stroke yourself for me. You wanna start nice and slow, okay?”

You’re transfixed as he begins to touch himself, cock wet and glistening as it disappears into his fist. Lube drips out across his fingers, slick noises filling your room. “Feels so good, Mommy,” he whimpers, free hand fisting in your sheets.

“Oh, honey, I know,” you murmur, sitting up and sliding your hand into your panties. You moan as you brush your clit, collect your wetness on your fingertips. “Okay, I want you to just draw some little circles across the head, yeah? Like you do on my clit. Just try it out, see what feels good.” The sight is fucking mesmerising, and from the sounds spilling from his lips and the flush in his cheeks, it’s a miracle he hasn’t cum all over himself yet. “Alright, baby. Doing so good. You can make yourself cum now, alright? Just keep doin’ what feels good.”

Your lips part around a moan as you watch him. He speeds up, slows a little, experimenting with pace and pressure. You’re strangely proud even as you rub frantic little circles into your clit, slowly start to fuck yourself on your fingers. Desire pools at the base of your spine, and you moan his name as you speed up, cunt pulsing around your fingers. It seems like that’s what does Spencer in, a pathetic whimper of Mommy, yes spilling from his lips as ropes of cum splash up against his chest. His body convulses, gasping and moaning incoherently as his orgasm takes over.

Still panting as you finger yourself, you smile blithely over at him. “Still with me, pretty? How was that?”

Gasping, Spencer blinks helplessly at you for a moment. “Thank you.” Suddenly dismayed, he looks down at himself. “Gross,” he mutters.

Your grin widens. “All messy, aren’t you? You want Mommy to get you cleaned up?” He nods, expecting you to get up and fetch a washcloth. Instead, you press him down until he’s lying supine, lean over him so your boobs hang in his face. Like he can’t resist, Spencer licks a stripe along your chest. You giggle softly, press a kiss to the hollow of his throat, start to work your way down. Carefully, you lap up the mess dripping across his chest, and he moans brokenly. Your eyes flutter closed as his taste hits your tongue, a needy ache burning between your thighs the longer you lick him clean.

He chokes on a breath when you wrap your lips around his head, clean up the last drops of cum beaded on his tip. “I can’t-” he clears his throat. “I can’t… go again… yet,” he says, cheeks pinking up adorably.

You pull off, lick your lips exaggeratedly. “S’okay, honey. I don’t need you to. Yet,” you add with a wink. “Just wanted to get you cleaned up.” Still desperately horny, you crawl up his body, kiss him furiously. “Spencer,” you moan against his lips. “I want you to make me cum. Do you wanna make Mommy cum, baby?”

“Mhmm. Yeah, I want to. What do you…? Can I, uh… Eat you out?” he asks timidly, the final few words unfamiliar on his tongue and belying his desperation.

God above, where did you find this boy? “Another time, honey. Later tonight, if you’re lucky. But I’m planning on keeping your mouth nice and busy for now, okay?” You grab his hand, slide it around to the front of your panties, grind your clit against the heel of his palm through the lace. “Want you to fuck me with your fingers, okay, sweetheart?”

Nodding frantically, Spencer tugs your panties down just enough that he can fit his hand against your cunt. You cup his jaw, kiss him hard as he slips a finger inside you. “You’re so warm,” he breathes, rubbing delicate circles into your clit as your cunt pulses around him.

“That’s it, pretty. Such a good boy. Just like Mommy taught you, alright?” you moan, arching your back as hot pleasure twists under your skin. Spencer slides another finger in, curls then expertly, as if he’s been practicing. Then, a blinding spark of pure ecstasy flashes through you. “Oh, my fucking God! There, baby, right there. Don’t stop, don’t you dare fucking stop. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you babble, your kiss more spit and moans than tongue and lips. Spencer doesn’t let up, hits your g-spot over and over, still rubbing soft circles into your clit. You were already close before he started, and his glorious, frankly brutal assault on the most sensitive places in your body leaves you powerless.

You surrender to it willingly, pure pleasure wiping your mind clean. It’s so forceful you almost black out, gasping into Spencer’s mouth and writhing against him. Ecstasy floods every inch of you, pulse roaring in your ears and hammering in your chest. Spencer’s fingers are still deep inside you when you come to, and he’s staring down at the point they disappear into your cunt. “Sorry,” he murmurs, gently pulling them out. “I just really like being… inside you.”

God, you can’t wait to teach him about cockwarming. “So sweet,” you coo. He lifts his hand, sucks your arousal off his fingers, and you groan. “I think we need to have a little talk, honey,” you murmur, brushing sweat-soaked hair out of his face. He nods.

“I didn’t enjoy it,” he says quickly. “The other night. I mean, it was… It wasn’t… I don’t know. All I could think about was that she wasn’t you. I was, uh… Sort of afraid?” he says with a humorless laugh.

You make a soft, concerned noise. “What do you mean, honey?” Your fists clench at your sides, head pounding furiously all of a sudden.

“Just that… I feel so safe with you. And it wasn’t that she made me feel bad, or unsafe, or anything. But I was so worried about doing something wrong, and I never felt that with you, and all I wanted was you instead.” Spencer curls his body into yours as you hook a leg over his waist.

Brushing your thumb over his cheek softly, you gaze into his sweet, long-lashed eyes. “You have me, sweetheart. I promise.”

[rorysburrow]

Sugar and Spice

Pairings ➼ Joe Burrow x Reader

Summary ➼ You and Joe are making homemade cinnamon rolls in the kitchen—well, trying to make cinnamon rolls. Amid the flour dust and rolling pins, things take a more playful turn when you get a little too close, and Joe realizes just how cold your hands are. Sweetness isn’t just in the rolls anymore.

Word Count ➼ 725

Warnings ➼ pure fluff , hint of allusions to something if you squint.

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The kitchen smelled like sugar, cinnamon, and butter—three of the best things in life, if you had to ask yourself. you and Joe were working on a batch of homemade cinnamon rolls, a recipe he had insisted you try together. Of course, the “together” part turned into him making fun of your inability to roll the dough without making it look like a crumpled mess, but that was beside the point.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Joe said, a teasing grin on his face as he peered over your shoulder. He was rolling his dough perfectly, of course, while yours looked like it had been through a war zone.

“Oh, really?” you replied while rolling your eyes. “I thought you were here to help, not critique.”

“I am helping,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “I’m just giving you the pro tips. You’ll get it next time.”

you shot him a playful glare, but just as you were about to roll your dough out again, You felt a chill sweep over you. Your hands, covered in flour, were cold—and Joe’s warmth was too tempting to ignore. Without thinking, You reached around behind him, sliding your hands underneath the hem of his shirt.

Joe went still, the sudden coolness of your hands against his warm skin sending a shiver through him. “Whoa, what are you doing?” he asked, voice a mix of amusement and surprise.

you grinned, rubbing your cold hands against his stomach. “Just warming up. You don’t mind, do you?”

He looked down at you, trying to hold back his smile. “You’re freezing me out here,” he teased, his voice dropping a little, more playful than I’d ever heard. “You know I don’t think that’s the reason you’re getting so close.”

you laughed, pulling your hands back to grab a new handful of dough, but not without making sure to run your hands briefly along his side as you did. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t getting too hot. You’re wearing a long-sleeve shirt while I’m here in a tank top. That’s not fair.”

Joe leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Oh, I see how it is. You’re using me as a human heating pad now.”

“Pretty much,” you replied, reaching for the rolling pin and purposefully nudging his hip with yours as you did. “And you’re a very good one.”

Joe’s expression softened, his teasing smile shifting to something warmer. “I don’t mind being your personal heater,” he said, his voice more sincere than before. “But, you know, next time, I expect you to cook a real dinner.”

you chuckled, adjusting the dough, which had now transformed into a much more successful roll thanks to Joe’s “pro tips.” “Don’t worry. After we finish this, I’ll make us something even better. How about a nice, hearty meal?”

“You promise?” He raised an eyebrow, his playful smirk making a return. “Because if it’s anything like this dough… I might need a backup plan.”

“Hey,” you nudged him again with your elbow. “At least we’ll have the best dessert in town. And maybe I’ll even make it up to you with something a little more spicy tonight.”

Joe’s grin spread wider, and I could tell I’d gotten his attention. “You’re on,” he said, leaning closer as if to share a secret. “But just so you know… I have a thing for spicy food.”

you laughed, brushing your hands off and glancing at the oven, which had just beeped. “Well, looks like we’ll be having cinnamon rolls first. Then we can talk about spicy dinner ideas.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he said, sliding his arm around your waist, pulling you into him for just a moment. “Now, you owe me for the kitchen hijinks. How about a taste test?”

you smirked, reaching for the first hot cinnamon roll fresh out of the oven, breaking off a piece and holding it out to him. “Taste test approved, huh? Fine by me.”

Joe took a bite, his eyes lighting up with exaggerated delight. “Not bad at all,” he said, his voice teasing once again. “But I’m pretty sure I was the one who made this happen.”

“Right,” you said, rolling your eyes again. “The cinnamon rolls wouldn’t be this good without your expert dough rolling.”

Joe grinned, leaning in closer. “Exactly.”

[palmerzy]

wait it’s funny you say that bc i’ve been in need for some fluff too!! i wrote a spencer fluff post on my side blog a couple months ago abt how he’d act and comfort you on bad days and i just need some fluffiness bc my period is acting up again :(

a little tmi but i’ve been bleeding for 3-4 months straight and the pain never goes away, so i’d like to imagine spencer being so prepared and so sweet when it’s time for your period, because he’d understand when you’re moody, get your pads and your heating pad and your comfort blanket, agh

love love love! spencer is soooo attentive for sure. also, anon, that sounds AWFUL and i hope it clears up at some point 😭

spencer would just be the sweetest when you’re on your period. he’s definitely memorised your cycle, purely because he wants to be prepared and make sure he has everything at his apartment for you.

he 100% has a drawer in his bathroom full of sanity products just for you, and they’re there month-round for whenever you may need them. he remembers what foods you like, the genre of movie you prefer during your period, even what smells throw you off, and he’s sure to only put out candles he knows you don’t mind.

the first time you’d forgotten your favourite blanket and a hot water bottle when at his place, spencer made the journey back to your apartment to collect them - and he was sure to buy exact replicas to keep at his home in case of another emergency like that.

nothing to do with your body could disgust him, and he’s very familiar with blood given his line of duty, so any laundry he has to do when you’re there isn’t a bother to him at all. he allows you your free time, letting you bathe in his bathroom for hours at a time, and he’s also happy to sit with you whenever you want it.

usually when you’re lying in bed, he’ll put your heat pad over your tummy, and then lay his head atop it, hoping to give you some comfort with his presence. it’s definitely soothing, getting to run your hands through his long hair whilst the pressure of his body soothes your cramps.

he alternates between talking a lot to keep your mind distracted and saying nothing at all, letting gentle touches convey his care and concern for you. when he’s talking, it’s mostly just him reading to you, or rambling about something he knows you enjoy, because he’s aware that the sound of his voice is soothing enough to you.

he’ll watch movies with you that he usually wouldn’t enjoy, or read a cheesy romance novel so the two of you can giggle together. when he’s reading to you, you’re both laying on your sides, pressed together with your face nuzzled in his neck as he peers over you to recite the words. his free hand gently caresses your waist and your back, thumb rubbing soothing circles until you’re falling asleep in his arms, pain forgotten.

if spencer’s on a case, he’s checking in with you pretty often, calling during any free time. he calls you a lot normally, so it’s doubled when he’s concerned over how you’re doing. usually just short conversations, but it’s comforting nonetheless. “hey, baby, just wanted to let you know i’m thinking about you,” “have you drunk enough water? if you’re dehydrated, your cramps will hurt more, take care of yourself,” and “i’m buying you takeout, it’ll be there in 30 minutes,” even when he’s on the other side of the country.

when you get snappy with him, he remains entirely patient. he doesn’t really try to mediate you, because he knows it’s probably best to just let you get it all out - and you’ll apologise anyways. you’re never actually mean to him, just irritable over simple things. by now, he’s learned what ticks you off, and he ensures his place is free of any annoyance whenever you’re due on.

no matter what, though, he’s there. one way or another, on the phone or in person, he wants to check in on you, especially during that week.

oh lord i definitely need to brush up on my fluff writing skills HAHA

[ifwebeinrealfics]

context- your boyfriend luigi is trying to help you study for your math finals but you guys get a bit distracted…

warning- fem receiving oral

“i’m sorry lu but i don’t understand” you repeat. he was helping you study for your math finals. “why don’t we take a break?” he closes the book resting on your lap and crawls in front of you on your mid sized dorm bed. “i’m gonna fail” you fall backwards laying on your back with a dramatic sigh. luigi climbs on top of you then sprawls out next to you. “look this is really hard stuff, with some more practice your gonna do perfectly fine” he reassures you, he was so good at that. “oh lu” you roll over, your eyes meeting. you stare into his deep brown educated eyes. he returns this eye contact and breaks the silence by letting out a little laugh “what’s funny? he keeps laughing while he gets on top of you. “your so cute when your stressed” “it’s not funny! i can’t concentrate and i’m gonna end up flunking out of school” you let out another dramatic moan. “your so dramatic” his hand trails up from your calf to your thigh slowly working its way to your panties. “maybe i can help you release a little of that stress?” his hand continues to trail further up to your waistline, your abdomens flinches at the touch. “lu” you protest. his large hands pull down your underwear, all while he hold intense eye contact. “let me take your mind off all this for a minute. let me make you feel good” you sink into the mattress feeling your body becoming more and more relaxed with every touch. “i really should study” you know you can’t resist him. “judging by how wet you are i don’t think this will take long” he pulls your sundress to the side slowly kiss in your inner thighs, working his way higher. you throw your head back with a soft moan in reaction. “you gonna let me make you feel good baby?” he looks up at you. you let out a soft “mhm” and the second the sound leaves your lips he has all the conformation he needs to press his hot lips to you. he teases you in that sensitive spot making you squirm beneath him. “you like that baby?” you let out another soft moan in response. he starts adding in his index and middle finger while circulating your clit with his tongue, initiated a dance you’ve done so many times before. he laps away pumping his fingers in and out of your wet entrance while moving his tongue in tight circles, creating the perfect rhythm. you’ve become a mess of moans and fingers gripping the sheets for dear life. you look down to see his head between your thighs. you gently place your legs on his shoulder feeling him grin against your pussy. he starts to speed up the pace pumping and licking faster and faster and you can feel your climax building. the sound of his fingers in your cunt drowned out by your moans. letting it all go you finally fall apart reaching your high and grinding into his hand for the last wave of pleasure. he pulls his fingers out of you and rolls off the bed. you lay there still hazy coming down from the high. once you’ve come back to your senses, you look over to meet his eyes. he’s grinning ear to ear no doubt smug about how good he knows he made you feel. “lu that was…” you both stay in the silence for a minute before you sit up pulling your panties and adjusting your dress. luigi walks over to your desk picking back up your notes and math book. he places them on the bed so you both can see them. “ok are you ready?” he looks at you with that grin he can’t wipe off his face. “we’re just supposed to go back to doing quadratic formula after that?” you let out a laugh. “like you said, you really should be studying”. you both laugh and get back to studying.

- i’m so sorry this is probably terrible but send me ideas/requests!!

[admirationandromantics]

O.M.G.

I FOUND THIS PROFILE A COUPLE DAYS AGO I AM IN SHOCK YOUR WRITING IS AMAZING. back to the request, how about a submissive Josh?...where he moans and begs to be fucked and looks at you with his puppy eyes? omg that would be perfect♡

p.s.: thank you so much for your work! it's really fantastic:)

You're too sweet!!! I can definitely see him just sitting on his knees, begging you to fuck his brains out, yes. I guess many see him as kinda dominant, but I personally think he’s a switch. Anyways, enjoy some sub Josh headcanons! 

Submissive Josh

You’ve been teasing him all day, knowing that he’s been hot and bothered, not having had a chance to do something about it. You arrive inside, and he immediately starts kissing you, hoping it’ll lead somewhere. You kiss him back, but pull away quickly to take off your coat and outerwear. Taking a long time so he just stands there like a lost puppy, waiting for you to give him attention again. 

“Something wrong, Josh?” “Fucking hell, I’ve waited all day, please, just please” “A whiny mess, are you?” 

You sit him down on the sofa, placing yourself on top, straddling him. His hands wander, of course, but you don’t mind. He’s allowed to this time. While kissing, you feel him twitch underneath you, hips starting to grind against you, begging for attention. 

“Josh… You’re not gonna get anything if you keep this up” He whimpers in reply, stopping himself from getting off on you. Your hand goes to the back of his head, grabbing his hair and pulling it back. He looks up, making you lock eyes with this adorable messy man. They’re glossy and desperate, wide-eyed like a puppy, begging you for satisfaction. 

“You want me to do something?” “Yes” he whimpers, hands going up your waist. You cup his bulge, the small touch making him let out a desperate moan for more. “Tell me how much you want it” “So, so much. I need you so bad” 

With a satisfied answer, you get off his lap, unbuttoning his pants painfully slow as he starts regulating his breathing. You drag his pants and boxers down, his dick popping out throbbing and red. You take hold of him, pumping a few times slowly, causing his head to fall back on the cushions as he moans your name. 

However, you’re not done teasing him, and your tongue makes its way to his shaft, small licks all over, especially on his tip. His hips bulge automatically, wanting you to take him fully. “Can you” “Use your words” “Please suck me off, get me off, right now, please” 

He looks down, breathing heavily, chest heaving and eyes pleading. How can you say no to that? Finally, you fully take him, letting him into your mouth and filling as far as you can go, hand still squeezing his shaft and other one massaging his balls. You suck your chins in, making sure not to hurt him with your teeth. 

He pleads for you to go faster, repressing the urge to hump his hips into you, grabbing your hair and forcing your head down on him. You sense his tension, steadying yourself on his thighs as you up your speed, making him finish not long after. It had been a long day teasing him after all, and you’re surprised he even lasted this long based on it. 

You take it, showing him your tongue filled with his liquid, and swallowing it right after. He looks at you in awe as you take your place on his lap again, kissing him deeply and letting him taste himself.

[omgahgase]

Charthur short

Charles breaks his bow and Arthur gets him a new very special one 🥰

hello there! sorry this lil ask took too long, and sorry that it's not short haha. i love the idea of arthur doing anything for charles bc He's In Love, so here's my take of their relationship before getting together. i hope you enjoy!

It’s a well-known fact in camp and by his friends and by just about anyone that’s asked Arthur for any help making anything outside his expertise of shitty knives:

Arthur ain’t no craftsman.

Yeah, he can chip away at a rock and wrap it around a stick then call it an arrow, and he can weave a basket—nothing else, though, that’s about as far as he can get without Jack or one of the girls aiding his helpless fingers—and, sure, he can tie up a piece of line to any broken branch and head on down to the lake with the world’s most God awful fishing pole, but the truth still stands.

If Arthur had to choose between crafting someone an item and not having it fall apart after its first use, or getting shot in the mouth…Well, then, Arthur’s making sure that bullet goes straight through his throat and out the back of his head.

So why, in God’s green Earth, is Arthur making a new bow for Charles after he broke his old one?

‘Because you love him,’ Arthur thinks, gentle in the same way his cheeks redden at the mere thought of Charles, in correction to Eagle Flies’ snarky, “I don’t know, you asked me for help,” that lights up a spark of irritation in Arthur’s gut, makes Arthur want to shove him off the log he’s perched on.

“This may be the most foolish thing I’ve ever done,” Arthur says, twirling the knife in his hand that’s speckled in his own blood.

He stares at the piece of chokecherry wood in front of him, the branch now thinner than when Arthur chopped it off and whittled it down to a poor, uneven shape that hardly resembles a stick let alone a bow. It took a little over a month to get the wood and then season it, this process he wanted to do himself because it’s special, Eagle Flies said, to put your emotions into a piece of Earth and ask the land if it’s okay to take a piece of its tree for his own desires—for Charles, his mind keeps saying. So he can’t screw it up unless he wants to start all over again. Arthur can’t afford mistakes, but his project laughs at him, it seems, and Arthur, finding himself comfortable in his frustration, wants to burn it.

“A fool in love is stronger than any beast or man he encounters,” Eagle Flies says, crafting improved arrows to Arthur’s right. He holds one up to his eye and stares down the line of it. “Your affection for Charles is deep, therefore, your actions are foolish.” He shrugs, and motions for Arthur to keep whittling. “Keep going. You're nearly there.”

“I almost lost a finger.”

“Your lover will thank you.”

Arthur feels his cheeks go from warm to uncomfortably hot. He tips his hat down over his eyes to hide the deep blush spreading over his face. “Charles ain’t my lover,” he mumbles, a correction to a hopeful assumption.

Eagle Flies only hums as he places his arrow in his pile and Arthur kinda wants to fire all of them into the distance just so his friend can feel an inkling of his annoyance. Arthur does understand that Charles will be grateful, however, no matter how shitty his new bow may turn out. Sadie gave Arthur the suggestion, said that it’ll take Charles months to construct a new bow while Arthur can figure something out and get a new one in his hands in less than that, and Arthur—with his squirrel brain that as of five months, two weeks, and six days ago (but, really, who’s counting?) hasn’t been able to keep Charles Smith out of his head—ran with it. He overestimated his abilities in the fine art of craftsmanship (and thinking with any logical parts of his brain when it comes to Charles) and damn near killed himself gathering everything he needed to make a bow.

Arthur sought out Eagle Flies not too long after Sadie planted the seedling of the thought in his head, asking him what it’d take to trade so he could get his hands on any materials ready for bow crafting. Eagle Flies, with a light in his eyes and a kick in his step, rattled off a list of items his tribe needed. Fresh berries from the West Grizzlies, wolf and cougar pelts, big game from The Heartlands, eagle feathers from the highest cliffs of Donner Falls. He even had to wipe out a few rowdy stragglers who were camped up too close to the tribe, something Eagle Flies said about his father not wanting to wander into outlaw affairs so Arthur best get the job done because it won’t be too suspicious if a Van der Linde boy does it.

After choosing his tree and setting it out to dry, Arthur spent the better half of the week hunting and gathering, putting his neck out on the line for anything that can make Charles a bow as good as the one he made himself, and by the time he had everything he needed in his possession, he was more bruised and bloody than a shitty bull rider at the state fair.

Arthur knows it’ll be worth it, though. If it means he can do something for Charles—and maybe crack a smile outta him, Arthur’s a greedy bastard down to his core and he needs to be on the receiving end of just one of Charles’ rare grins—then Arthur will gladly do it all over again.

He huffs, loudly, and gathers up the remaining incentive to keep going. Eagle Flies said he's almost done whittling, then all that's left is to string the sinew, and add little decorative designs along the shape of it because every bow is different, none is ever exactly the same. That’s what Eagle Flies told him when Arthur first started this journey.

‘Every bow is unique in its own way. Make it your own.’

‘But it’s not for me,’ Arthur had said. ‘I’m makin’ it for Charles.’

Eagle Flies only looked at him, wearing the same face Sadie wore when she gave him the idea. ‘Make it for him, then, but give a piece of yourself into every step. Put your emotions into your craft, and make it yours. Both of yours.’

‘Make it ours,’ Arthur reminds himself as he gets back to work.

---------------------------------

One month, twenty-six days, and seven hours. That’s how long it took him to make a bow.

Arthur has more scars on his hands now than he ever did before he set out to make this gift, which granted him the full understanding of the saying ‘putting in the blood, sweat, and tears’ into something you love. Arthur loves Charles more than he thinks is capable of a man like him, so why wouldn’t he put in all his effort?

He’d do just about anything for Charles, that’s been established a long time, maybe even back then in Colter when Charles suffered from a burnt hand and Arthur did everything in his power to make sure he didn’t injure it any further. That was the start of it all, Arthur believes, and now in the present time, Arthur isn’t tending to his wounds anymore, instead, he’s tending to the ache in his chest telling him to do grand displays of affection. Like crafting an entirely new bow when Arthur is the shittiest craftsman from here to Blackwater.

Arthur sucks in a deep breath to steel the jitters in his hands, his fingers clutching at the leather wrapping of the bow like a lifeline, and walks a little way down to the lake’s shoreline. Flat Iron Lake ain’t that much to look at it in the daytime, the heat of Lemoyne making the sand feel like hot rocks and the water like a warm bath, but in the evenings, when the sun’s setting just right, a blaze sparks across the horizon, makes the bright blue of the water’s surface turn a flower petal pink, then a dusky orange.

It’s pretty, hell, Arthur would even say it’s beautiful, but he won’t. Nah, the most beautiful thing about the lake is when Charles stands at the water’s edge, his features painted in the ever-changing color of the sky, his hair long and wavy down his back, the outline of his frame strong, sturdy like a mountain, and just as gorgeous. He just stares out into the water, soaking it in, eyes soft in the setting sun, and Arthur can’t think of anything prettier.

Arthur swallows down the nervous lump in his throat, then, “‘Scuse me, Mr. Smith,” he calls.

Charles turns, his fair falling in front of his eyes when he sees Arthur, and, suddenly, it’s only them. Call it Arthur’s tunnel vision—hell, even call him crazy if it fits—but at the moment Charles fully faces him, the barest hint of a smile on his face (is he surprised? Arthur hopes so), the lake, camp, everything around them falls away.

“Hello, Arthur,” Charles greets, meeting him halfway along the shore’s edge. He stops just shy of a foot away, and Arthur has to resist the urge to pull him closer. “Aren’t you supposed to be working on that stagecoach job with John?”

“Nah, Martson can handle it.” Arthur clears his throat, then, before his brain can tell him to high tail it back to his tent, he thrusts out the leather wrapping. “I got somethin’ for you.”

Charles’ eyebrows knit together quizzically before he looks down as if just realizing it was there, his lips going all pouty in that way he does when he doesn’t understand something. “What’s the occasion?” He asks, gingerly taking the wrappings and undoing the ties.

“No occasion, Mr. Smith. It’s just—well, I thought that um—” Before Arthur can stop himself, his mind going from overly polite to ‘Don’t say anythin’ stupid,’ his mouth kicks into overdrive and rambles a string of words in a single breath.

“I know you broke your bow last time you went huntin’, and it’s hard tryin’ to find somethin’ like that in any ‘ol store, so I made you a new one—it ain’t as pretty as your last one—shoot, it probably don’t work much better neither, but I made it—for you—so I hope it gets the job done.”

Arthur’s head swims woozy by the time his words fall free, and his gut churns with anticipation as Charles looks upon the bow, his expression hidden by the shadow of the descending sun. Arthur’s feet are leaden to the ground, his hands trembling a shake so violent he hides them behind his back, and after a few seconds of agonizing silence, of Charles tracing the curved line of his new weapon with a delicate finger and tweaking the sinew strings, he lifts his head. Arthur’s heart jumps into his throat.

“You made this?” He asks, marveled, eyes the softest shade of brown Arthur’s ever seen on him.

Arthur clears his throat, manages a croaked, “Yeah.”

Charles just continues to feel it, grips over the leather wrapping of the middle part, and then, as if in a trance, his eyes land on the engravings just above. His thumb runs over it, gently, as if the bison might disappear if he’s not careful.

“You did this too?” His voice is so deep, so soft as if he’s speaking to Arthur in a dream that Arthur almost misses his question.

“Yeah. Eagle Flies helped, a ‘lil. Actually, he’s the one who taught me how to make it. I didn’t—I wanted to do it right.” The ‘for you’ threatens to barrel roll from his lips but Arthur swallows it down, forcing it to the back of his throat. “Bison are important to your family. So,” he shrugs, trying to pass it off as nonchalant when his body’s buzzing like a hummingbird.

Charles’ eyes land on the second engraving, a buck that sits just below the leather, and something in the way he spoke, like a gentle rustle in the grass, shook Arthur to his core. “Is this you?”

Arthur nods, steps a little closer so he can brush his fingers over the buck too, just shy of Charles’ own. “The lines took the longest. Almost lost a finger while doin’ it.” Charles chuckles, endeared, and he’s smiling, a small barely there upturn of his lips that Arthur wants to sketch and keep in his pocket forever. “Eagle Flies said to make it special, to, y’know, make it my own. It’s yours, though, but I still wanted to have a ‘lil bit of myself there. So it’s—it’s kinda like ours—in a way, I guess.”

Arthur bites his tongue, stopping himself from saying anything else that will make his face redder than a fire ant’s ass. He hopes the flaming rays of the sun can cover his blush, but even his luck can’t make miracles.

“It’s beautiful,” Charles says, so earnestly that Arthur’s heart drops from his throat and does a can-can number in his chest. “It’s like you’ll be with me wherever I go.”

“I’ll go anywhere with you, Charles,” Arthur counters, baffled by the thought that he wouldn’t follow Charles to the end of the Earth. If he asked or not, Arthur’s with him.

Charles stares at him, then, equally as mystified. “You will?”

As if Arthur would be anywhere else. “Always.”

It’s Charles’ turn to surprise him, then, by lunging into Arthur’s person with the force of a bolder. He hugs him tight, squeezes around Arthur’s shoulders, and tucks his face close to his ear. He doesn’t say anything, not until Arthur’s body catches up to his brain and he wraps his arms around Charles’ middle, holding on just as close.

“Thank you, Arthur. No one’s ever given me something like this, or ever treated me this nice before.”

“I will,” Arthur says, his voice muffled by the fabric of Charles’ shirt, but still holding so much weight to it that Charles steps in until the entirety of their bodies are pressed together. “You’re my friend, Charles. I would do anyin’ for you.”

Charles sucks in a sharp breath. “Thank you.”

They separate far too quickly for Arthur’s liking, the sun nearly gone behind the mountains and the moon already high in the sky. Charles continues to stare at his gift as if he can’t believe it’s actually his like he can’t imagine someone going out of their way to give him something as heartfelt.

(In the back of his mind, Arthur vows to break that train of thought, to make Charles believe he’s not just put on this Earth to hurt, but to live, and, hopefully, to love.)

But still, even if Charles likes it, Arthur still has to say, “Sorry if it ain’t as good as your old one.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Charles scolds, his eyebrows knitting together. “It’s perfect.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “You and I both know my craftsmanship is shit. You don’t even know how it shoots.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Arthur. You’re more of a wonder than you think you are.” He smiles, then, closed mouth and so sweet that his cheeks bunch up under his eyes, and Arthur officially goes dumb. “Come. Practice with me while we still have light.”

He brushes past Arthur, up the little hill towards the small clearing near camp. When Arthur doesn’t move because he’s too busy reeling at granted something so small and special, something no one else in camp gets to see, Charles calls out to him.

“You coming with me, cowboy?”

Immediately, Arthur is next to him, standing so close their knuckles brush and a spark shoots out somewhere in the distance.

“Always.”

[lunebulous]

How would Xavier react to seeing you dressed as a bride? ||

C.w: fluff, non-established relationship, xavier x reader, sfw, corpse bride mentions, not proofread.

Xavier walks confidently to the end of the hallway, paper bag in hands containing your favourite sandwich and a small bottle of orange juice. He also made sure to buy a little chocolate for you, he is sure you'll love it because it's bunny shaped.

He knocks, and after some time a familiar voice tells him to come in. It’s one of your friends, Lexy. He remembers her from a day where you all went to get some hotpot together.

He didn’t expect her to be here, so he thought that maybe this is a girls day. With this in mind, he turns the doorknob slowly, covering his eyes with one hand and looking down to his feet. You never know, he doesn’t want to interrupt anything.

He closes the door behind him, and Lexy tells him it’s okay, he can look.

“Hi.” he says softly, before letting his hand down and analyzing the scenario he encounters: The room is big, enough to echo a bit when you speak loudly. There’s too much photography equipment to get around, and he can’t see all of it. There are big windows, but all of them have blinds; only some of them are open to let some light in. His eyes now focus on Lexy, crouched in front of Sam, putting on heels on her. His eyebrows furrow, clearly confused. She’s dressed as… goth..?

“Hi Xavier. I’m Morticia Addams.” Sam smiles. “What are you doing here? Did she call you?”

“Oh. Nice to meet you Morticia.” He steps closer to her, showing the paper bag again. “No, I.. She forgot to have breakfast today.. So.. I brought her something. Where is..” he looks around a bit.

“Xavier?” You didn’t see him come in, but recognized his voice now. His head immediately turns to face the origin of your voice, but he only sees a big reflector. He nods to both girls before walking towards you, searching for your face as his eyebrows furrow and his eyes make him look like a lost puppy, trying not to step on anything.

He gets around the reflector, looking at his feet so as to not step on any cable, and as soon as he lifts his head, his heart drops.

Oh my. God. Oh my God, you’re beautiful.

He stops in his tracks as you smile at him with squinted eyes, his eyes scanning over your body, your.. dress. Your dress, white as snow, gradiently turning into blue like his eyes.

His lips part and his hands get weak - he’s putting in so much effort so his knees don’t give out -, feeling a warm feeling creeping up on his neck, something indescribable getting stuck on his throat as his eyes get warm and wet.

You’re. A Bride.

And you are the most beautiful one he has ever seen.

The light hits your face just right, and he’s hypnotized by your glowing chest, your plump rosy lips, the way your makeup is light, magnifying your natural and beautiful features.

He discreetly licks his lips looking at the nape of your neck, exposed because of your tied hair and oh-so delicate it looks like it might break if he dares to touch. Your hair..

You are so.. The love of his life.

“Xavier?” You call again, tilting your head. And as you do, he notices the blue hair pin, it’s a flower. His flower. It’s a forget me not. His feet are glued to the ground as he tries to breathe in, but his throat is now dry and feeling too tight to function. God. You were beautiful. He’d never get tired of telling you that.

Did you.. Did you do it on purpose…? Is he supposed to…? Should he..

His mind is trying to think of what this could mean, but he just can’t do it if you’re looking at him like that. Looking like this. He feels like his chest is going to implode, something warm and tight spreading over his whole torso, making his throat clench.

“You’re.. a bride?” His voice comes out too soft, almost a whisper, and you can only tell what he said because you were looking at his lips the whole time.

“Yes. I am. But I’m not ready yet! Do you know the Corpse bride?” You smile, feeling your cheeks hot from how he was staring you down. “I’ll be her today. I'll be painting myself blue for it.” You look down, facing the dress you just put on before he came in.

“Y-yes. I know. her..” He quickly looks away as he feels like his eyes are getting dangerously wet and a tear might fall at any moment. In reality, he has no idea who is the corpse bride. Isn’t a corpse supposed to be scary? How can you look so ethereal in front of him like that?

He looks down to see a small stool, and he figures he needs to get out of here as soon as possible. He’s not going to be able to hold back any longer. So he places the paper bag on it.

“I.. brought you food..” he touches the back of his neck, swallowing hard. “Please eat. I’m leaving now.” He takes one more glance at you, trying to commit to memory every single detail about you.

Everything around you is blurred like a halo, and it makes him feel so small - he's convinced the world could swallow him while right now.

He'd do anything for you. He'd be anything for you. And he wants to marry you. Now.

“Oh my.. thank you, Xavier!” You get up, walking towards him. His heart skips a beat as you place a hand on his bicep. “You saved me. Thank you.”

Saving you?! This is saving you?! You’re telling him that bringing you breakfast is saving you, when he’d burn the seven seas dry for you?!

He gulps down. You’re so close. He needs to leave, or else he might just propose right now. His hands itch, craving to hold you close and kiss you until you're out of breath and full of him. In all senses of the word.

“No problem.. I’ll get going.” He stares at your lips, walking backwards towards the door. “Have fun.” His voice falters but he can’t get himself to care as he grabs the doorknob like it’s his lifeline, walking out.

You're left confused, but all of your worries are lifted when you shift your attention to the paperbag in front of you.

—

Anne comes back, and as soon as she gets out of the elevator she sees Xavier as he is letting out a loud sigh and sliding down against the wall, hugging his knees. She rushes to him, worried.

“Uhm-” She doesn’t know his name. “Are you.. okay?” She asks, bending down a little to talk to him.

He looks up, eyes puffy and lips red. “I am. I’m sorry. I’ll be leaving soon. Don’t worry about me.” he starts masking his emotions again, feeling embarrassed of being caught like this.

But she can see how his chin imperceptibly quivers and how he’s breathing unsteadily.

“What happened? That is not the face of someone who is ‘okay’.”

She wonders if you broke up with him just now.

“I am.” He stands, now taller than her, patting his knees to see if they can hold him up again. He takes a deep breath in and out, and she looks up at him, confused.

“My girlfriend is beautiful isn’t she.” He smiles a little, convincing himself for a moment that you are, in fact, his girlfriend. He can't take it anymore, he searched high and low for you, he's never been so sure of something. Never desired something more than he does you. But for you... It's too soon. He'll wait.

He looks at Anne, waiting for an answer.

“Yes, she is…?” Anne answers after a moment, and analyzes his whole face, scanning for a reason for him to be like this. “Is that why.. you’re..?” She asks, placing a hand on the doorknob.

“Yes.” He dries up his eyes with his sleeves. “I’m leaving now. Please don’t mention it to her.” He bows softly, starting to walk away.

Anne is left in a mix of confusion with awe. Is this the real reason? How can someone cry so much over a lover’s appearance? She opens the door.

And as soon as she does, you’re eating a sandwich in your unfinished costume bride dress, laughing.

“Oh, I get it now.” She mutters to herself, shaking her head, smiling. "She's his bride."

Bonus part soon.

[missarchive]

No thought, head empty. Just daydreaming about coming home after a long day and getting face-down ass-up railed by Spencer because he knows you’re at your happiest getting your guts rearranged and your brain turned to mush.

*Sigh* this is what reading American Jesus does to a mofo… Think you straight up altered my brain chemistry with that one. If you wrote something for my little daydream I might actually pass away.

🙏 i will forever write spencer as a pleasure dom, that man would do anything to make sure you feel good, and he's so good at knowing what you need, when you need it.

i hope this satiates your little fantasy <3 thank you for the love on american jesus.

cw; +18 minors dni, fingering, pleasure dom!spencer, eating it from the back, taking it from the back, semi-rough spencer, unprotected p in v, aftercare

You’re exhausted. You drag yourself home after what feels like an eternity since you last saw the sun, the weight of your bag pulling on your shoulder as you slump against the wall and wait for the elevator.

It takes forever to arrive. You stare at the numbers as they flicker up the board and sigh. It’s not that you’ve never felt this tired before, but tonight it’s more than your body feels tired, it’s your mind.

You step into the elevator when the doors finally slide open and lean against the back wall. You let your eyes fall closed for a moment, letting out a soft sigh when you feel the cool air on your face, your skin. Your hand goes to the knot on your tie and you yank it loose, pulling it from around your neck and stuffing it in your pocket.

The elevator jolts to a stop and you step out into the corridor, running a hand through your hair when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror at the end of the hall. You look tired. Your eyes are sunken, the bags underneath making your eyes look darker and bigger.

You start down the hall, coming to a stop outside your door. You’re distracted, staring at the floor as you fumble with your keys and you don’t notice when the door opens, not until Spencer steps out and you nearly run into him.

“Hey, baby,” he says. “Long day?”

He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead. You melt against him, sighing happily when you feel his hand slide up to cradle the back of your neck. His grip tightens a little when you moan into his kiss, tilting your head and pressing closer to him.

He pulls away for a moment, studying you. You smile weakly up at him and he frowns. “Did you eat?” he asks, his brow furrowed. “You look exhausted.”

“Yeah,” you say, running your hands up his chest and wrapping your arms around his neck. “I ate at the office.”

He eyes you for a moment, and you know he doesn’t believe you. But he doesn’t press the issue. You’re so tired that you don’t even care when his hands move from your waist to grip your ass. “Bed, then,” he says.

He tugs you forward, kissing you again as he steps into the apartment. You follow him, letting him guide you through the apartment and into the bedroom. He pulls you close to him, kissing your neck as you reach for your shirt.

You shiver, letting out a low moan when he bites at your skin. You press your hands flat against his chest, shoving him back against the bed. He grins up at you as you strip your shirt off and then his, kicking your shoes off as he does the same.

“Take the rest off,” he murmurs, tugging on your belt as he reaches for his own.

You unbuckle it and push your pants down to your thighs, stopping when Spencer grips your hips and turns you to face away from him. His fingers press into your skin, sliding down over the curve of your ass and slipping between your legs.

He presses a kiss to the small of your back, his breath hot against your skin as he lets out a soft groan. “I love you so much,” he murmurs against your skin. “You have no idea.”

You shiver, letting your head fall forward. “I love you, too,” you whisper.

He laughs. “I know,” he says, nipping at your hip. “I know you do.”

He pushes you forward and you go easily, your hands coming to rest on the bed as he pulls your pants the rest of the way off. He runs his hand over your ass, then slips between your legs again, spreading you open with his fingers.

“Spencer,” you murmur, rocking back against him.

His tongue is hot and wet on your skin when he drags it up your inner thigh, nipping at you and making you squirm.

He presses his thumb against your cunt and you cry out, shuddering when he finally slides it inside. Your hand flies out behind you and you grab his hair, tugging hard enough to make him grunt.

“Spencer,” you plead. “Please.”

He kisses his way back up your thigh and you whimper when he stops, his breath hot on your hole. “Please,” you beg again, pushing back against him.

He growls softly and presses forward, his tongue dragging over your skin. You cry out again, your fingers tightening in his hair. “Spencer,” you say again. “Please. I’m begging you.”

He laughs softly and slides his thumb from your body. “Shh, baby,” he murmurs. “Don’t beg. You don’t have to beg, never have to do that with me. Gonna give you whatever you need.”

He pushes your legs open further, his breath hot on you as he presses inside. You arch up, crying out when he starts to fuck you with his tongue.

“Spencer,” you moan, pressing back against him. “Oh god, Spencer, I need you.”

“I know,” he murmurs against you, tongue slick against your wet folds, his voice vibrating through you and making your stomach clench.

You feel him pull away and you can’t help but push back again. He groans and then you’re being pushed forward. Your hands go to the bed and you feel Spencer’s hand curl around your hip.

“Fuck,” he grunts, yanking you back against him. You let out a cry of surprise when his cock slides into you with a small stretch, his fingers digging into your skin. He starts to move, pushing in deep before pulling out and slamming back in. “Fuck,” he pants again, his hand going to your back between your shoulder blades, pushing you down further, making you cry out when his angle changes.

His hips meet your ass with a soft smack every time, fingers dig into your skin and you can feel his nails bite into you. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growls, his hand moving to wrap around your throat. “Like this. Fucking yourself on my cock.”

You moan, pushing back to meet his thrusts. He lets out a sharp groan and then he’s shoving you face down on the bed, holding your wrists behind your back with one hand as he fucks you into the mattress.

“Spencer,” you cry out, arching up under him. “Oh fuck, Spencer.”

He growls and starts to fuck you harder, his thrusts becoming wilder and faster as he grinds into you. His hand slips between you and the bed, his fingers brushing over your clit.

“Spencer,” you sob. “I’m gonna cum.”

He lets out another sharp cry and then his mouth is at your ear. “Don’t you dare,” he growls.

You let out a frustrated noise, trying to pull away from his hand. He holds tighter and fucks you harder, grinding into you. “Spencer,” you whine, trying to writhe under him. “Please, please. I need to cum.”

“I said don't fucking cum,” his voice harsh in your ear.

“Spencer,” you scream, shoving back against him as he fucks you.

His hand slides back between your legs, his fingers circling around your clit. “Now,” he growls. “Cum for me, baby.”

You let out a loud scream, your body shaking violently as you come. You can’t hold yourself up anymore, collapsing face down on the bed. But Spencer doesn’t stop, he doesn’t slow. He keeps fucking you, grinding into you until you feel him shudder over you.

You moan, turning your head to look at him as he comes. His lips parted, eyes scrunched shut as he rocks into you.

He falls forward, pressing his weight into you. You gasp, but it’s not uncomfortable. It feels good. He kisses your cheek and then pulls away, flopping down beside you.

You turn to look at him, reaching up to touch his face. “I love you,” you say softly.

You’re still on top of him when he wakes you a few minutes later, gently rolling you over to your back and then sliding off the bed.

You blink your eyes open, watching as he disappears into the bathroom. You’re about to close your eyes and drift back to sleep when you hear him say, “Cmere, baby.”

You blink your eyes up again and look towards the bathroom. Spencer is standing in the doorway, a warm washcloth in his hands.

“Here,” he says again.

You get up, stumbling a bit on weak legs as you make your way to the bathroom. He takes your arm when you get closer, pulling you into the bathroom and then pushing you down to sit on the toilet. He kneels in front of you, gently pushing your legs open.

You close your eyes as he presses the warm cloth to you, biting your lip softly. “That feels nice,” you murmur.

Spencer hums, his hands soft as he cleans you. He’s so gentle and caring when it comes to you. He’s not a dominant person in most of your day-to-day life, but when he does get like that, you always know it’s because you need it.

He’s so good at reading you, at knowing how you need to be touched and taken care of. You’re always so happy and content when he’s like this, because you know that he’s giving you what you need in this moment.

He starts to clean his own body, but you reach out and stop him. “Let me,” you say, smiling softly as you pull the washcloth from him.

He smiles back and leans forward a little as he lets you wash him. Your fingers move across his body, running up his thighs to his cock. It’s soft and sated, but you still press your lips to it as you drag the cloth over him. Spencer lets out a soft hum and his fingers slide through your hair.

“Thank you,” he says as you finish up.

You smile and lean forward, pressing a kiss to his mouth. “I love taking care of you,” you say. “Especially after you treat me so well.”

He laughs and leans in, kissing you again. “I love that about you,” he says. “I love everything about you.”

You smile and kiss him again. “Come back to bed,” you say, climbing to your feet and then holding your hand out to him.

He takes it and stands, pulling you to him for one last kiss. “Of course,” he murmurs.

[elysianightsss]

WHERE THE LONELY ONES ROAM | PART ONE

You don’t remember much. Flashes here and there. A man with you, you’re happy. A fight. Running. Driving. Then the crash. Glass and metal flying everywhere. You’re upside down but still strapped into your seat. Warm blood dripping up your head. Footsteps. A light being shone in your eyes. The hospital. Beeping. Shouting in the distance. A big bang. Silence.

Then your eyes are fluttering open, vision blurry but slowly becoming clearer. Blue eyes and…you jolt, your hands feel burnt from the hot water they’re in. It makes you move quickly to rinse them under the cold tap and dry them.

You feel the metal around your finger through the towel and frown, pulling your hand up to look it’s a rectangular diamond with a silver band and a silver wedding ring after it. It was gorgeous but one problem, they weren’t yours. You never got engaged and you certainly weren’t married.

The tendrils of panic start to wrap around your limbs, tightening as you turn around running straight into a wall. You wince grabbing hold of your arm, but the pain is quickly forgotten when you spot the pictures. Photo frames you’d find in warm loving family homes, decorate the living room holding pictures of you and a man you don’t recognise.

“What the fuck.” You shudder, feeling like the ground is shaking beneath you. It’s like a dark cloud falls over your eyes as a ringing begins in your ears. Walls colliding in your head, you’re scrambling to understand, pulling open every file that’s been shut away in the far corners of your mind for this man, for this house, for this life.

For you.

It’s too much with too little information, you can’t do it. You don’t understand. Your brain trying too hard until everything goes black. Once again you hear the beeping of a machine, the fuses of a doctor M something. You hear a concerned voice you don’t recognise….

“Sweetheart?”

You startle because you don’t know who that is calling you a sweet little pet name, you flinch because you’re not in the hospital like you were two seconds ago. You feel a scream build and bubble in your throat because how the fuck did you get here in this gorgeous mid century modern kitchen with a ruggedly handsome man stood in front of you looking at you expectantly as if you had the answer to the question he was asking.

Staring into his hypnotising blue eyes you couldn’t help but think, did it really matter? Your conscience needed to shut it because of course it mattered. He was a stranger no matter how good looking.

“Honey is everything okay?” You blink at him too in shock to form words.

The man moved towards you and as much as you want to flinch away, to run, you’re rooted to your spot. He’s so close you’re breathing the same air, he lifts his large, silver wedding ring wrapped around his fourth finger, hand and presses it to your forehead bringing his other hand to press it to your cheek.

“You don’t look so good love.” He’s probably right, “you’re burning up.” You did feel like you could throw up, “let’s get you to bed, ignore what I said. I’ll do the dishes. C’mon now easy does it.” He breathes and picks you up, your eyes glance over his shoulder as he opens the fridge grabbing a cold bottle of water.

You manage to glance over an open recipe book on the kitchen counter. It’s not yours. It’s your handwriting on the pages but not yours. You don’t own a recipe book and never have, you like to wing it. Yet you can see when you’ve noted ‘needs more cinnamon’ on one of the pages. The curves and winds of the letters, it’s your handwriting.

You get carried up the stairs and into a bedroom, placed carefully on a big bed that felt like a cloud. “I’m gonna grab a cold flannel for your head, be right back sweetheart.” He leaves and despite the wooziness that begins to seep into you, you manage to look around.

The room looks well organised, a bathroom just opposite the bed where he went, soft bed sheets, photos everywhere, one that catches your attention the most is a photo by the side of the bed with a picture of a women and the man that’s in the bathroom both smiling and looking happy. The photo frame says ‘My John’ on it.

“John.” You mutter just as you read it.

“Yeah love?” The man that carried you upstairs comes back with a flannel in his hand. He looks at you expectantly just like he had downstairs, when you appeared.

“I-I’m tired?” You choke out sheepishly.

“Are you asking me or telling me?” He grins cheekily before coming over to you and pressing the flannel against your burning head, “You had another episode honey. Asking or telling, I think it’s best you sleep.”

“Episode?” You don’t understand. The twinges of panic started to explode into something more, you feel like you need air and you can’t get it. Your hands ball into fists, squeezing around nothing. Your shoulders are ridged the way your brain is, it feels like it’s not longer working that you’ve short circuited. It’s not right. Something is not right.

You’re pulled out of your frenzy by a bark, it’s makes you freeze eyes flitting to the perpetrator. A dog. But you don’t own a dog. “Easy Bear mums okay.” John soothes him, but the dog Bear, tilts his head as he sits in the doorway to the bedroom with a frown. A gurgled grumble comes out from him as he stares at you.

You turn slightly to look at John who’s already looking at you, his ocean eyes swirl with emotion. You recognise them, you remember them. They must be safe, he must be safe. Out of everything that doesn’t sit right that doesn’t seem right that’s out of place, he seems right. He’s what you remember. He must be safe.

“Okay sweetheart, you know I don’t like it but it’s probably best for you to take the medication Dr MacTavish prescribed you.” You watch almost as if it’s in slow motion as he grabs a small white cardboard box with blue and yellow strips on it. He opens it and pulled out the familiar plastic tray with foil covering the top. He pops one of the bumps and pulls out a light blue pill that looks tiny in the palm of his hand.

“I don’t condone this.” He mutters to himself but it’s loud enough that you hear it though you don’t say anything. “But maybe it is what’s best for right now like he said and who am I to argue with a Doctor.” He scoffs but smiles at you from where he’s sat next to you on the edge of the bed.

If he couldn’t argue with a Doctor, then you couldn’t either you suppose. You look into his eyes again. You remember them, you should trust what you remember. Nodding a little you take the pill and pop it in your mouth. It’s bitter and the chalky residue it leaves on your tongue makes your face scrunch up with disgust. John passes you a bottle of water and you move quickly opening the lid and chugging some of it.

“Good girl. I know that wasn’t nice but you did good honey. You need to lay down now, Doctor MacTavish said you’ll feel dizzy and most likely sleep straight away.” He explains, his voice soft despite the perpetual gravely undertone to it.

“Okay.” You snuggle down into bed, gripping the soft covers. A dizziness sweeps over you like alcohol suddenly hitting you all at once and then you’re out like a light. John’s smile disappears from his face the moment he knows you’re asleep. He chucks the pills haphazardly onto the bedside table before getting up.

“Watch her.” He commanded as he walked past Bear, the dog staying in place as John walks out of the room and down the stairs starting on the dishes you’d been arguing about minutes ago.

As he scrubs it feels like meditation to him, scrubbing and scrubbing the dishes clean. He wants to do this to your mind, wants to scrub all your memories clean and start over but he knows getting Johnny to perform a lobotomy on you like he suggested would only hurt him to see you in pain. Not worth it.

He can make this work, he planned it down to the last minute detail. And so far it’s working perfectly. No lobotomy needed. Hopefully it should never have to go that far.

John finishes the dishes, does the laundry, ignores the text from Simon, hoovers the living room and puts dinner in the slow cooker before going to check on you. Bear hasn’t moved from his spot, something John praises him for with a pat to the head. You’d turned in your drug induced sleep, the duvet pulled up under your chin while you lay on your side looking so peaceful.

He stares down at you. It feel wrong when it’s like this, when you’re not awake and distracting him. When he can hear the all the thoughts swirling, he can hear the voices, the screams, the gunshots… it’s all too much.

You quite the noise.

“I hope one day you understand…” he sniffs, eyes stinging, wiping a tear from his cheek, “and I pray you forgive me.”

[aleniaaa]

"I thought about this before" bsf!Rafe x kook!reader part three

summary: Party at Tannyhill where things get kinda messy, and the reader starts questioning her friendship with Rafe. There’s this weird tension, and now she's stuck wondering if something more is going on or if it’s all in her head.

a/n: heyy guys part three is here let me know whatcha think :**(kisses on y'all's foreheads)

read for context: part one, part two, part four

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

The next day, as I was lying in bed, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Rafe.

Rafe: "Hey, y/n. Come to the party at Tannyhill tomorrow. You gotta be there."

I stared at the message, my stomach flipping. He didn’t even ask, just assumed I’d come. That was so like Rafe—direct, confident, and frustratingly persuasive.

Me: "What party?"

Rafe: "Just a few people. Nothing crazy, I promise. Don’t make me beg."

I sighed. I knew how these “small” gatherings turned out—wild, chaotic, and usually ending with Rafe in some kind of trouble. But there was something in his tone, even through text, that made it hard to say no. Against my better judgment, I agreed.

The next evening, I pulled up to Tannyhill, already feeling a sense of dread. What if this was a mistake? What if tonight changed things between us? Shaking off the thought, I stepped out of my car and walked toward the house.

Music spilled out onto the lawn, and I could see groups of people laughing and drinking. I spotted Rafe immediately. He was leaning against the railing, beer in hand, looking effortlessly charming as always. When his eyes met mine, his grin widened.

"Well, look who finally showed up," he called out, striding over.

"You made it sound like I didn’t have a choice," I said, folding my arms.

"You didn’t," he teased, grabbing my hand to lead me inside. The warmth of his touch lingered longer than it should have.

A couple of hours passed, and someone suggested playing truth or dare. I hesitated, sitting back and watching everyone else jump at the chance. It felt risky—too many opportunities for things to go wrong.

But before I could slip away, Topper grinned at me. "Y/n, truth or dare?"

The room’s attention shifted to me, and I felt trapped. "Uh… dare," I said reluctantly, not wanting to spill anything personal.

Topper’s grin widened. "I dare you to sit on Rafe’s lap until your next turn."

My stomach dropped as the group erupted in laughter. My eyes darted to Rafe, who was smirking like he’d won some secret game.

"Come on, y/n. Rules are rules," he said, patting his lap.

I hesitated, my heart racing. Sitting on his lap felt… too intimate. Too dangerous. But with everyone watching, I couldn’t back out. Reluctantly, I moved over and sat down, stiff as a board.

Rafe’s arm wrapped casually around my waist, sending an electric jolt through me.

As the game continued, I couldn’t focus on anything but the weight of his arm and the way his fingers lightly brushed my side. Did he even realize what he was doing? I reminded myself it didn’t mean anything—it couldn’t mean anything.

Then it was Rafe’s turn.

"Truth or dare?" someone asked.

"Dare," he said without hesitation, his voice full of confidence.

A girl in the group smirked. "I dare you to kiss y/n."

The room exploded with cheers and laughter. My face went hot as I froze, my mind racing. Was this some kind of joke?

Rafe turned to me, his expression unreadable. "You okay with this?" he whispered, his voice softer than I expected.

I didn’t know how to answer. What if this kiss changed everything? What if it ruined our friendship? But with everyone watching, I gave a small, hesitant nod.

Rafe leaned in, his hand tilting my chin up. The moment his lips met mine, the world seemed to fall away. It was soft at first, almost cautious, but then he deepened the kiss, his hand moving to the back of my neck.

I should’ve pulled away. I should’ve stopped him. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

The cheers around us faded into the background as the kiss lingered. Longer than it should have. Longer than it was supposed to. My hands gripped his shirt, my mind screaming at me to stop, but my body refused to listen.

When he finally pulled back, I was breathless, my heart pounding so hard it hurt. The room had gone quiet, all eyes on us, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at anyone else.

"Well, that’s one way to win a dare," Topper said, laughing awkwardly. The group joined in, and the tension broke, but I was still reeling.

Rafe’s arm stayed around my waist, holding me close as if he wasn’t ready to let me go. I stayed on his lap, unsure of what else to do. My thoughts were a mess, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that we’d crossed some invisible line.

Eventually, the game fizzled out, and people began to leave. I got up quickly, mumbling an excuse about needing fresh air. My heart was racing, and I needed to clear my head. The kiss had felt so real, so charged, but Rafe had acted like it was nothing.

Stepping out onto the patio, I leaned against the railing, the cool night air doing little to settle the storm inside me. What had that kiss meant? To him, to me? I couldn’t figure it out.

A few minutes later, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned slightly and saw Rafe. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his usual smirk firmly in place.

"Hey," he said, his voice calm and light, as if we hadn’t just crossed a line I couldn’t stop thinking about.

"Hey," I replied, trying to sound just as unaffected, though my voice wavered slightly.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking out at the dark yard. "That game got out of hand, huh?"

I blinked, taken aback. That was it? That’s all he had to say? "Yeah… I guess," I said, forcing a small laugh that didn’t reach my eyes.

"Top always knows how to stir the pot," he added, shaking his head with a chuckle.

I waited, hoping he’d say something more—something about the kiss. But he didn’t. He just stood there, completely at ease, as if the whole thing had been a joke to him.

"So…" I started, trying to gauge his thoughts. "About that dare—"

"Don’t even worry about it," he interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. "Just some dumb party game. You know how these things go."

Dumb party game? My chest tightened at his words. That’s all it was to him? I wanted to press him, to ask if it had meant anything, but the casual tone in his voice stopped me.

"Right," I said quietly, looking down at my hands. "Dumb party game."

"Exactly," he said, flashing me an easy smile. "No big deal."

I nodded, but my mind was spinning. No big deal? Then why did it feel like such a big deal to me?

"Anyway, I’m gonna head back inside. You good out here?" he asked, already turning to leave.

"Yeah," I lied, forcing a smile. "I’m fine."

"Cool. See you later, y/n," he said, disappearing back inside without a second glance.

I stayed outside long after he left, the night air growing colder as my thoughts spiraled. Why had I expected anything different? Rafe was always confident, always smooth, always in control. To him, the kiss had probably been just another moment in a game, a fleeting, meaningless gesture.

But to me, it had been more. I couldn’t shake the feeling of his lips on mine or the way my heart had raced when he pulled me closer. Had I imagined the way he’d held me, the way he’d kissed me like it meant something?

Shaking my head, I tried to push the thoughts away. I couldn’t let myself get caught up in this. If Rafe wanted to pretend nothing had happened, maybe I should do the same.

But as I drove home later that night, his words echoed in my head. "No big deal."

Then why did it feel like everything was different now?

What would you do in this situation? lmk in the comments :**

[etherealmelodys]

Kang Dae-Ho

NSFW ALPHABET

A - Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Have yall seen how this man acted in the show? He’d definitely be a master at aftercare. Thanking you for allowing yourself to be at your most vulnerable with him, making sure you’re not in any pain, hot bath, whatever you wanted this man would do it for you asap. And trust when he’s done making sure you’re okay? Immediate cuddles and praise.

B - Body Part (Their favorite body part on you and themselves)

I feel like for Dae-Ho, his arms or hands would be his favorite body part. The arms he uses to cradle you in your most intimate and vulnerable moments, keeping you safe at all times. His hands are so much bigger than yours as well, always making you feel so so good. For his partner, I don’t think he’d have a specific body part he likes about you more than the others. Everything about you is perfect, so why should he have to choose one thing?

C - Cum (Anything to do with cum)

He’s definitely a big fan of cumming inside you. He sees it as a way to be more intimate and closer to you. If you’re not a fan of that, he’s always down to cum on your stomach and thighs. The way the milky substance coats your abdomen and thighs really gets him going.

D - Dirty Secret ( Self-explanatory)

He’s really into you taking the more dominant role in the bed room. It’s not that he himself doesn’t like to, but the thought of you bossing him around and using him for your pleasure really gets him hard.

E - Experience (How experienced are they?)

I think he’s relatively experienced, not as experienced as someone like Thanos, but he knows what he has to do to get you to cum as much as he’d like.

F - Favorite Position (What positions do they like the most?)

He’s definitely the type to love any position that gives him a good view of all of you, and welcomes as much eye contact as he can get. The best for these would be missionary, rocking horse, or the happy scissor.

G - Goofy (How serious are they in the moment? Do they tease you?)

Dae-Ho would try to be as serious as possible during the act. He sees it as one of the most intimate acts you can have with another person, and he wouldn’t want you to think he doesn’t take it seriously, or you serious. Now if his partner is more playful during the act? He’s all for it.

H - Hair (What’s the hair situation down there)

This might be me being bias, but I think he has quite a bit of hair down there. Now it’s not a jungle mind you, but he just doesn’t feel the need to go bald when nobody’s complained about it before. For his partner he does not care at all. You could be as bald as a Siamese or as hairy as a rainforest, he still gon eat!

I - intimacy (How romantic are they in the moment?)

I feel like regardless of his mood, he’s always going to bring that romantic energy. Whispering praises in your ear while he slowly thrusts up into you, holding you so close to him to the point you can feel each other’s heart beats.

J - Jack Off (How often do they touch themselves?)

If he’s with somebody, he definitely jacks off more than he would if he was single. Just the thought of you gets him so hard and whiny, he never feels the need to jerk off to porn or anything like that when he has you.

K - Kinks (What are their kinks?)

He definitely doesn’t have any crazy kinks, he’s pretty vanilla. Praise, overstimulation, and hair pulling, while be it lightly, are his major ones, he’s not a fan of anything that could harm you in any aspect.

L - Location (Where do they prefer to have sex?)

He’s not into anywhere public, he’s too nervous about potentially getting caught, most importantly anyone seeing you that vulnerable. The bedroom is where he’s the most comfortable at, but anywhere ranging the shower or couch is fair game too.

M - Motivation (What turns them on?)

Just seeing you in general gets him going. Whether you just got off of work, sweaty and exhausted from the days events, or if you just woke up in the morning, bed head and all groggy. He thinks you look sexy no matter what state you’re in.

N - No (What are some things they’ll never do?)

He would never do anything to intentionally hurt or degrade you. Being raised with sisters really instilled his respect for women. Degrading, choking, anything similar to that is out of the question.

O - Oral (How do they feel about oral? Do they prefer giving or receiving?)

He definitely prefers giving to receiving. While he loves the sight of you on your knees gagging on his dick, what he loves even more is the sight of your arched back and fucked out face as he licks and sucks at your clit for hours. He’s definitely a service top, putting your pleasure above his own.

P - Pace (How fast/slow are they?)

He definitely prefers a slow and sensual pace compared to a faster one. He just loves the face you make, one of pure bliss feeling him slowly fill you up and pull himself back out again, the way you look at him as if he hung the stars in the sky, and the way you thank him for making you feel so good.

Q - Quickie (How do they feel about quickies?)

He’s not the biggest fan of quickies, he prefers to take his time with you and wants to make sure you feel good to the fullest potential. But if you’re desperate and beg him for it? Who is he to deny you.

R - Risk (How willing are they to experiment? Do they take any risks?)

Like I said before, he’s not a big fan of taking risks, or anything that might get you caught. He is however game to experiment in the bed room, but he’ll never initiate it himself, you’ll have to do that.

S - Stamina (How many rounds can they do? How long can they go for?)

Due to him being an ex-marine, I think his stamina would be extremely good, at least above average. Expect him to do at most 2-3 rounds before he starts to get tired. But before he does, it’s always his top priority to make you cum as many times as you can handle.

T - Toys (Do they have any toys? Are they willing to use any?)

I don’t think he has any of his own toys, but he’d always be down to experiment with the ones you have. He wouldn’t go out of his way to purchase any, especially for himself seeing that he has you already, so what’s the point?

U - Unfair (Do they tease you? How unfair are they in the bedroom?)

Just a tad bit, he loves you too much to do it excessively, but that doesn’t mean he won’t do it at all. Just when you guys are in a more playful mood does he really get into the role of teasing.

V - Volume (How loud are they?)

He’s fairly loud, he doesn’t do a lot of grunting, mainly whining and moaning. He’s always encouraging you to be as loud as you want as well, telling you the sounds you make are so pretty, telling you how it makes him wanna fuck you for even longer just to hear more of you.

W - Weird Fact (Self-explanatory)

He’d definitely want to try pegging, just once to see if he really is into it. But only with a partner he’s been with for quite a while.

X - X Ray (What’s it looking like in those pants.)

Dae-Ho is around 5’11-6’0 tall, and he’s quite beefy. He’s definitely above average, but he’s not huge. I’d say he’s around 6.5 inches, considering the average size in Korea is 5.3 inches. His tip is definitely a reddish pink color, about #EE9B9D, with a slight curve to the left. He had a few veins running along his shaft, noticeably a thicker one on the underside of it.

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive? How often do they have sex?)

He doesn’t have a super high drive, it’s about average, about every other day. He’d prefer doing other intimate acts with you, such as cuddling, watching a movie together, or just being around you in general in a non-sexual context

Z - Zzz (How fast do they fall asleep after sex?)

He usually falls asleep after a little bit of pillow talk, and of course making sure you’re comfortable and content with his performance in bed. He’d only be able to rest after making sure you’re fulfilled

(Thank you guys sm for waiting on this, I lwk fell asleep due to being sick half way through but I pulled through! This will be my first fic on this app so enjoy😼)

[nameuserlee]

Sylus — Night of Secrecy 💋❤️

❤️- Screenshots -❤️

❤️ - Kindled scene below the cut + my thoughts/rambling -❤️

.

.

.

Uhm. Wow. Just, wow. My sincere congratulations to Sylus and MC, the kiss card finally came and so did they, hallelujah.

I still can't believe this card is real, though. I'm genuinely dizzy, and I mean that in the best possible way. Because it’s sooo perfect. 10/10. No notes. Would swipe for again in a heartbeat.

I didn’t really know what I wanted their first kiss to look like. But I know that whatever I could’ve imagined wouldn’t have been nearly as good as this was. Now let me yap about this!

MC finally gets to bring Onychinus' leader to her place! After learning he needs a place to crash for 3 days before leaving for “business”, MC very generously offers her apartment as a safe house, both to keep him close and to figure out where he’ll be going since he won’t tell her (for her safety, of course).

And my god, these 3 days of them living together are the cutest, most domestic thing I’ve ever had the pleasure to read.

Shopping for groceries together, getting him his own pair of house slippers, him using (all of) her body wash. Sylus being in her space feels right, despite the smaller doorframes and treacherous bathroom cabinets.

(Grown ass man needs us to blow on his boo-boo. ADORABLE.)

But nevermind how cute this is, the situation is still unusual. Sylus and MC’s worlds kinda clash, despite how well they now get along and how much they care for each other. They are both aware of this, and no matter how fun this little play-pretend is, it’s going to have to end soon.

On their drive to the supermarket, Sylus prompts MC with a question: “When you’re in danger during a mission, do you think of anyone?” And the exchange that follows means a lot to me.

“But after my dirty work is done, I’ll wash my hands before going home.” I need this line tattooed across my forehead.

Sylus can’t leave his life back in the N109 zone, but he also doesn’t want to give up MC. And above all else, he wants to keep her safe. He tries to keep her away from his actual “business” as much as he can (which explains why he refuses to tell her where he’s going after their 3 days together).

If it weren’t for the N109 zone being risky for him to stay in right now and MC very conveniently proposing her place, he definitely would’ve found somewhere else to crash.

And so his best way to protect her while indulging their desire to see each other is to promise to “wash his hands before going home.” Whenever he gets to come back to her, he is not bringing his work to her. He will not allow himself to carelessly “taint” her life with his lifestyle. Very sweet, very thoughtful, very mindful (are we still saying mindful in 2025?) .

I’m gonna fast forward to their last night together/the kindled scene because I fear I could talk about every single line in this card.

Where to even begin.

BEST PROMPT IVE EVER SEEN ARE YOU KIDDING ME??

MC initating the kiss means everything to me. Thinking back to their first meeting, it’s him forcing her to resonate with her. Now, she’s pretty much the one who sets the pace in their relationship, which leads to this beautiful first kiss. It’s just too good.

“You really don’t want me to leave?” NO SIR SHE WANTS TO CLIMB YOU LIKE A TREE SHE WANTS YOU BAD and there’s no more denying it. She’s been worried sick throughout the whole card about him, trying to make the most out of their time together, and now that’s down to the last hours, she wants it all.

And when things start to get heated, our consent king doesn’t only ask her once, but TWICE if she wants to do it.

And it’s soooo HOT!

In the kindled, he hopes MC hasn’t changed her mind, since she kinda nudges him away right after saying yes. He wants this to happen just as badly, but no matter what he’s always, always going to put her first, and so he checks in again with her.

Is this the bare minimum? Well yes! But I still think it’s worth noting. Especially if, again, we compare to how cold he was with her at the beginning of the relationship and how he was forcing her to go along with what he wanted.

Consent is sexy, asking for confirmation is hot as hell. 12/10 would smash again.

[bad268]

I would love a story with Elastic Droid where reader is always cold and steals droid's hoodies and stuff to stay warm and one day during a group live stream reader walks behind them to get something and everyone including chat freaks out because they know it's droid's clothes

+ Could you write some living together fluff about elastic droid 🙏 -Anon

+ could you write something for droid with an s/o that’s really energetic all the time but just randomly crashes out and sleeps for hours 😋😋😋 -Anon

Domestic Bliss (Elastic Droid X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Youtubers

Requested: Clearly (Hope yall don't mind I combined these)

Warnings: None

POV: Second Person (You/you)

W.C. 1447

Summary: 4 things you and Droid do that's domestic

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~ (^Pinterest)

“Can I trust you to saute these onions without burning the place down?” You asked as you finished cutting the veggies for dinner. You were making dinner for the boys who were coming over to celebrate your engagement, but you had made cookies earlier with Droid. In true chaotic fashion, the flour had gone everywhere, and you wanted to take a shower before they got there.

“I think I can cook a few onions,” Droid scoffed, taking the spoon from your hand and lifting the cutting board to put the now-chopped onions in the pot. “It’s not like it’s rocket science.”

“Ok, I’m trusting you with this. Just please don’t burn the house down,” You replied before slowly turning and walking away. You were about halfway through your shower when Droid came into the bathroom. You peeked around the curtain to see him looking frantic. “Please tell me you didn’t burn it. That was our only onion.”

“No! It’s just not cooking!” Droid defended immediately as he stopped pacing and looked at you. “I don’t know why it’s not cooking! I turned the stove on, I turned it up when I noticed it wasn’t cooking, and I don’t know what to do now.”

“Give me the towel. I’ll check it out,” You climbed out and wrapped yourself in the towel before walking into the kitchen. Immediately, you smelt gas, and your eyes widened as you looked at Droid. Then you ran over to the stove and turned it off. “Are you insane!?”

“What did I do?” He shouted after you, following you into the kitchen. “The stove was on, but it wasn’t getting hot!���

“Droid, babe, you turned the gas on, so good job, but you didn’t light it,” You explained as calmly as you could. “Gas stoves need to be lit.”

“So I almost just gassed us?” He laughed, not realizing the severity of the situation. 

“You know what? Get out of the kitchen,” You said, snapping your fingers as you pointed for him to leave the kitchen. “Go order a couple of pizzas. You’re banned from the kitchen.” ~~~

“Droid!” You shouted from your bedroom. You knew he was in the middle of a stream, but you needed his help now. “Droid!”

“I’m here,” He sighed as he walked in, taking in the scene before his eyes widened, and he rushed to you. You just bought some clothes online, so you were trying them on. This one shirt, however, seemed to be 5 sizes smaller than you ordered, and you couldn’t get your head out.  “What the fuck happened?”

“I don’t know, but I need help,” You rushed out, starting to get claustrophobic. “I’m never buying anything from this store again! Their sizing is so off!”

“If it makes you feel better,” Droid started as he grabbed the front of the shirt and pulled it down just enough to meet your eyes, “it’s a cute top.”

“A cute top that doesn’t fit,” you rolled your eyes. “I buy clothes to fit me, not the other way around here. I don’t even know if I want this shirt anymore.”

~~~

A quiet knocking pulled Droid’s focus away from his screen. He was in the middle of editing a video, and there was this one part that was really pissing him off. He could not get this clip just right, and he was focusing so hard on it that he lost track of time. 

He leaned back in his chair with a sigh as he spun the chair around to see you wrapped in one of your throw blankets from the living room. You slowly waddled towards him, stopping directly in front of him for a second before sitting on his lap. You didn’t say anything as you simply laid your head on his shoulder.

“You tired?” Droid whispered as he wrapped his arms around you and swayed the chair back and forth a little. “It can't be that late, right?”

“It’s almost midnight,” You whined as you rubbed your face against his neck. “You said you would be done by 9, so we could watch that new movie.”

“I’m sorry, I got carried away with this video,” Droid apologized as he rested his head on top of yours before turning back to his computer. “You can stay with me until I finish up. How does that sound?”

“Better. The bed is so cold without you, and this blanket isn’t really helping,” You complained as you pressed your body closer to Droid’s.

“Maybe you're getting sick or something,” He commented more to himself than you as he pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. “You are a little warm. Here,” He pulled back, having to pry your arms from around him as he took off his hoodie and helped you put it on, “that should help you for a while. I’ll finish this up and tell the guys I can’t stream with them tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to cancel the stream,” You tried to object, but Droid just pulled you back to rest again. “The fans will miss you.”

“They’ll understand I gotta take care of you,” Droid replied immediately, planting a kiss on the crown of your head. “If anything, they'll call me a simp.”

~~~

Droid was, once again, in the middle of streaming Five Nights at Freddy’s with Puffer when they randomly heard a glass shatter, followed by sprinting. Puffer jumped in shock, thinking it was in the game at first, but when the running sounded too real, he turned to look at the door before back at Droid, who was unaffected.

“I think Oso broke something,” Puffer said before pointing at the door. “Do you wanna switch and go check?”

“It was probably Y/n more than Oso,” Droid chuckled under his breath, opting to just stick the night out. “It happens more often than you’d think. Now, if we hear a louder thud or it just stops, there’s a problem.”

Puffer looked between Droid and the door multiple times as he continued hearing running around the house. It went on for almost 20 minutes before it suddenly stopped. 

“Uh, I think something happened,” Puffer pointed out. Droid was back on the game after Puffer died at 2 AM. “There’s nothing.”

“Give it five minutes tops,” Droid replied after briefly pausing the game and listening. Then he went back to the game. Sure enough, about three minutes later, there was quiet knocking at the door. Droid quickly paused the game and gestured for Puffer to take over. “Here, you play.”

They swapped places before Droid continued to the door to see you sheepishly looking at him. He sighed, opening his arms for you to collapse in them as he rocked you back and forth for a bit.

“I broke that one vase you got me for our anniversary,” you whispered as you buried your face in his chest further, trying to hide from his reaction. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Don’t even worry about it. I’ll get you another one, but you’re not hurt right?” Droid comforted before changing his attention to look at your arms and legs for any cuts from the glass or bruises from maybe running into walls (one time!).

“I’m fine,” you chuckled tiredly trying to lean back into his body. “I slipped a bit in the kitchen and knocked my elbow, but other than that, I’m good. Tired, but I’m good.”

“Alright, come here,” he pulled you back into his arms after looking wearily at your arms. You wrapped them around his torso before he could scrutinize them too much. “You can sit with me and Puffer while we stream.”

“But I wanna sleep,” you whined, planting your feet at the door. “How much longer are you streaming?”

“At least another hour,” Droid guessed as he looked back at Puffer who just died again. “Dude, you suck at this game!”

“I don’t see you playing right now!” Puffer shouted back. 

“Fuck you, dude! I’m being a good boyfriend!” Droid shouted back before turning his attention to you. You were almost asleep against his chest so he dropped his voice to whisper, “Here, you can sit with me. If you fall asleep, I’ll try not to be too loud for you. Actually, I think you’re already asleep.”

~~~~~

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