#and i love the way my voice sounds when i get sick

[hoe4hotchner]

also this might be a weird one but could you write a story where the reader accidentally throws up on Hotch during you know what and he takes really good care of her

In Sickness and Health | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader | WC: 0.7k | CW: Vomit, the flu

A/N: I'm fairly certain I know which you know what you're talking about, and if it's the one I'm thinking about I don't write about that….. So I made reader sick with the flu instead.

It was hard to argue that things could get much worse as you curled up on your couch, shivering despite three blankets piled on top of you. The flu had hit fast and hard — harder than you'd ever experienced before.

Hotch had insisted on stopping by to check on you after you’d sounded “off” on the phone earlier, but now you almost regretted accepting his kindness. The last thing you wanted was for him to see you like this.

There was a gentle knock at your door, and you heard his voice just outside. “Are you sure you’re okay? I’m coming in.”

Before you could croak out an answer, Hotch was already inside, his brow furrowing as he saw your bundled-up form. He was carrying a few bags from the pharmacy and some soup that smelled good enough to make your mouth water.

“I told you, you didn’t have to come,” you said, but even that small effort was enough to make your stomach flip.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” He flashed you a gentle, reassuring smile and dropped his coat on a nearby chair. “I couldn’t leave you alone in this condition.” He set the bags on the coffee table, pulling out a bottle of cold medicine, a thermometer, and a box of tissues. “I thought these might help.”

You managed a weak smile. “I think I love you.”

He chuckled softly and brushed your hair back, his touch cool against your fevered forehead. “I’ll take that as the fever talking. Now, let’s get you sorted out.”

He knelt beside the couch and carefully held the thermometer under your tongue. You felt embarrassed under his watchful eye, but he was nothing but warm and reassuring, his hand never leaving yours. When the thermometer beeped, he read it with a frown. “One hundred and two. Let’s get some fluids in you.”

The soup smelled like heaven. You tried a few sips, managing to keep it down, but just as he leaned in to check your forehead again, your stomach twisted in that familiar, dreaded way.

“Aaron, I—”

But you didn’t get the words out in time. Before you knew it, you were heaving, and the soup — and whatever else was in your stomach — landed squarely on his shirt. You were mortified, eyes wide, but Aaron just blinked in mild surprise. “Oh.”

“I’m so sorry!” You groaned, feeling your cheeks burn hot with shame, despite the fever.

He was surprisingly calm, just dabbing at his shirt with a tissue from the box he’d brought over. “It’s fine. Clothes can be cleaned,” he said in that calming, matter-of-fact tone he often used at work. “But you need rest. Come on, let’s get you settled.”

He didn’t hesitate for a moment as he lifted you up, blankets and all, and carried you to your bedroom. You felt the blush creeping up as he set you down on your bed, adjusting the covers to make sure you were warm. Even in your fevered state, it was hard not to be acutely aware of his gentle touch, the way his hands brushed against you so carefully.

He quickly changed into one of his t-shirts that he'd left at your place — leaving his soiled dress shirt in the bathroom — and then came back with a cool washcloth. “This’ll help with the fever,” he said, dabbing it gently against your forehead, cheeks, and neck. His hands were steady, his gaze so soft that you almost forgot the embarrassment.

“You’re… really good at this,” you managed to say, voice muffled by exhaustion.

He chuckled. “I’ve had my fair share of sick days with Jack.”

You smiled weakly. “Thank you, Aaron. Really. I’m sorry about… you know.”

His fingers brushed against your forehead again, tucking a strand of hair away. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m right where I want to be.”

With him by your side, you felt yourself start to drift off, lulled by the soothing rhythm of his voice. As you slipped into sleep, you swore you felt his lips press softly against your forehead, his whispered promise lingering in the air:

“Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

little things daddy!chan would do for you

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

ᯓᡣ𐭩 opening doors - main doors, car doors, fuckin.. revolving doors! any door, he’s holding it open for you.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 and on the subject of car doors, seatbelts - one of my favorite things. when he’s opened the car door for you and made sure you’re comfortable, he reaches across to buckle you in himself. he has to make sure his princess is safe.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 touching you - any chance he gets, this man’s hands are on you. and i don’t mean in a sexual way. (tho there is plenty of that too) i mean.. holding your hand (or letting you hold his pinky), his hand on your thigh while he’s driving, his hand on the small of your back as you walk through a crowd, his arms wrapped around your waist from behind as youre standing and waiting in line for coffee. he’s constantly touching you. it’s comforting for him but also, he knows it’s comforting for you to know that he is always right there.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 carrying things for you - this is kind of broad, but anything that needs carrying, he’s got it. oh you went to the store and got some things? he’s got all of the bags. even if you offer to help. he’s got it. is he struggling to carry everything up the stairs? yes. but you will not lift a finger. he knows you are more than capable of doing it yourself, but he wants to be the one to do it for you.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 paying for you - no matter how many times you tell him you can pay for yourself, that your feel bad when he constantly pays for you, he’s going to do it anyway. because you’re his baby and that’s what daddy’s do. it’s just another way for him to feel like he’s taking the best care of you.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 making your appointments/ phone calls - maybe this is just my personal fantasy, but if you’re uncomfortable making phone calls, he’s got that for you. need to schedule a dentist appointment but you’re too scared to call? he’s got it. you’re feeling sick and need to call out of work? he’s got your boss’s number saved in his phone already. but he would do it in a way that doesn’t reveal that you’re too nervous to make the call yourself. he knows that can be embarrassing.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 cycles! - if you’re someone with a menstrual cycle, he’s got that figured out. may even have an app on his phone that helps him track it. and when he knows that time is close, he’s ready. he’s got all your favorite snacks, your preferred hygiene products, and your favorite movie loaded up on the tv already.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 checking in - he’s a very very busy man. but that doesn’t keep him from checking in on you. just random ‘i love you’ or ‘i’m thinking of you’ texts throughout the day, texting you at meal times to remind you to reheat the food he prepared for you. calling when he has time just to tell you how much he misses you. but also just checking in on your feelings. “are you having a good day, princess?” “oh you’re feeling down? let daddy help.”

ᯓᡣ𐭩 listening! - always makes sure he’s listening to what you say. your voice is one of his favorite things. you always have his full attention. his phone is down, his eyes are on you.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 and speaking of his eyes being on you, that’s another thing! eyes on you at all times. if he absolutely has to leave your side, you’re always in his line of sight. and if he isn’t physically with you, your location is on and shared with him. this is just his way of comforting himself, knowing that you are safe and sound.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 activities - anything that makes you happy. he just wants to spend time with you. you want to lay on the floor and color in your coloring book? he loves that. you want to sit on his lap and watch while he plays video games? he loves having you close. you want him to paint your nails? he hopes you pick the pink color because it’s his favorite on you. anything your little heart desires.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 making sure you’re basic needs are met! - this one might not be considered a ‘little thing’ that he would do for you. because to me, this is a huge thing! but making sure you’re eating, making sure you’re getting enough rest, helping you wash your hair or shave your body. helping you out of bed and helping you to get dressed.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 constant reassurance - he knows how your brain works. so to combat that, he’s constantly telling you things like: “im here, im not going anywhere.” “you’re doing such a good job.” “im so proud of you.” “i love you so much.” lots of head pats and holding you as he sways back and forth, lots of soothing circles on your back and loving smiles sent your way.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

okay i should probably stop now. this has gotten longer than i intended lol here’s my masterlist if you’re interested in my other work, and here’s my kofi if you’re interested in sending me a tip. reblogging is a great way to support me also! thanks for reading :)

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

[frudoo]

Husband Kyle has my heart

Warnings: Baby is sick (teething). Heavy topics: postpartum depression, allusions to self-harm/suicidal ideation (but none actually). Smut at the end—cunnilingus. Tagging as DDDNE although it’s not a dark!fic. Fem!Reader.

MDNI

Baby boy has not stopped screaming since he woke up at the crack of dawn this morning. The fever and runny nose are making him miserable, and you’re positive he’s trying to cut a tooth with how much he’s been gnawing on your fingers. Kyle, bless him, has been called away to the base since early yesterday, leaving you to care for the unwell infant in your arms all alone. It’s uncertain when he’ll return home. Usually, the work of being a stay-at-home-mom doesn’t bother you, but today just feels overwhelming.

Postpartum hasn’t been the best experience for you and without the usual support from your husband, it feels like your world is caving in and you and the baby you’re supposed to feel an abundance of empathy for are buried beneath the rubble. It makes you feel terrible, because you do love your baby, but every piercing little screech that leaves his tiny throat makes you want to rip your ears out. Setting him down only makes him fussier but your arms are exhausted and your head is pounding.

Defeatedly and with much guilt, you carefully set the fragile boy into his bassinet and shut the door to your bedroom. You turn on the baby monitor but lower the volume so you can make sure he’s alright without having to hear the shrieks. As you sit on the couch, the weight of your stress finally gets to you in the form of an ache in your chest and an abundance of tears bursting from your waterline. Burying your head in your hands, you can’t stop the sobs that escape you. In your grief you don’t hear the front door open or Kyle step inside.

“Fuck, dove, wha’ ‘appened?” Your husband is frantic, tossing aside his duffel bag and rushing to kneel where you sit on the couch.

The sound of his voice startles you, making you jump. Kyle steadies you with two strong hands on your waist, keeping you sat and encouraging you to explain the situation.

“I-I didn’t know what else to do,” you weep, and he cups your face with shaking palms.

“Baby, baby, talk t’me. Wha’s goin’ on?” You know your husband, and you know he’s thinking the absolute worst—it’s evident by the tremble in his voice and the way he yanks up your sleeves to check for injury.

“Did y’take summat? Dove, y’gotta tell me if y’did, now.”

You shake your head vigorously, trying to calm his nerves. It does little to help.

“N-no! The baby, Ky, he hates me!” You wail, grabbing the monitor and shoving it into Kyle’s hand. “I’ve tried- tried everything! Teething gel, Tylenol, d-decongestant salve… he just won’t calm down and I-I know it’s because I-I’m a- I’m a bad mom.”

Kyle’s heart aches at your words, and he makes sure to keep one of your hands in his as he looks down at the screen. The three-month-old is sleeping peacefully, sucking on his thumb without a care in the world. Your husband smiles a little, turning the monitor over to allow you to see the once screeching babe now at peace in his crib. Your eyebrows furrow and you take the device from his hand, raising the volume. Sure enough, tiny snores sound through the speaker and it makes you gasp slightly.

“H-he’s been…” you trail off, not wanting to seem crazy to the man you love. “I swear, he’s been inconsolable-”

“I believe ya, dove. Little guy was jus’ sleepy, yeah?” Kyle softly interrupts, stroking his thumb over the swell of your cheekbone. “He doesn’t hate ya, swee’heart, and you’re sure as hell no’ a bad mum.”

Your husband stands from the floor, carefully helping you off the couch so you stand as well. He nuzzles his nose against yours sweetly but lets you make the first move, chapped lips meeting full, pillowy ones. He allows you to take the lead, never going too far or holding back too much—just giving you the exact amount of comfort you need from him for as long as you desire. He massages your shoulders when you pull away from the kiss with a wet click, rich molasses eyes boring into yours.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, but Kyle shakes his head, swiping your bottom lip with his thumb.

“None o’tha’. Bein’ a mum is ‘ard work and you’re doin’ a bloody brilliant job. M’jus’ sorry I can’t be ‘ere with ya f’all of it.” Kyle whispers, wiping away the fresh tears that spill down your cheeks. “I love y’so much. I don’t tell ya tha’ enough.”

“You do,” you assure him, leaning in for another tender kiss. “I love you, too, Ky.”

“I’m so proud o’ya, dove.”

A kiss…

“My strong, beautiful wife.”

And another.

“Fuckin’ hell of a woman.”

Kyle’s fingertips dance along the sides of your neck, dimpling the flesh just enough to make you gasp.

“Gonna le’ me show ya ‘ow much I appreciate ya?”

Wandering hands move down to grope your full breasts over the milk-stained jumper you wear. You can feel their warmth even through the fabric layer separating skin from skin, and it makes you shudder. His eyes scan your face for any signs of discomfort and you realize you never answered him. Nodding, your fingers tangle into the hem of his shirt, still smelling like heavy machinery and day-old sweat—to you, it smells like heaven. Kyle chuckles, the pads of his thumbs rubbing circles over your pebbled nipples.

“Back on the couch, dove,” he instructs with a grunt, walking you backwards until the insides of your knees hit the cushion.

Instantly he’s on his knees once more, taking his time to push up your sweatshirt and tug off your panties, biting his lip at the sight of your cunt already glistening. Your husband leans in to take a whiff before pressing a long kiss to your labia. His stubble is dewy with your arousal when he pulls back to look up at you.

“Poor thing, so stressed. M’gonna help y’relax, swee’heart.”

Dexterous thumbs spread you open for his enjoyment. At the first lick from your entrance to your throbbing clit the two of you moan in sync. Your fingernails scratch at his scalp as Kyle wraps his lips around your sensitive nub, suckling softly, but the feeling sends electric sparks shooting throughout your body. His hands travel to your thighs and hoist them over his shoulders so that he’s entirely surrounded by you.

“S’fuckin’ sweet,” his voice rumbles against your pussy, the vibrations damn near making you wail.

His hot tongue dips into your clenching hole, gathering your slick to swallow down like honey. You’re already right on the precipice, grinding your hips against his pretty face, and it only encourages him to quicken his ministrations. Kyle drags his slippery tongue back up to your clit, giving it tight circles as he sucks it into his mouth once again. Chocolate eyes stare up at you in a silent plea to give him his fill, let him take you over the edge.

Your thighs tremble uncontrollably, violently, when you cum, heady rasps of pleasure leaving you as you squeeze your eyes shut. He works you through your high, licking and humming and savoring every little tremor that rocks through you. He only stops once your body goes limp, pressing a plethora of kisses along your spent seam as he gently removes your thighs from his shoulders. Kyle stands and carefully guides you to lay on the couch, your head resting on a pillow as he covers you with the blanket that was draped along the back of the furniture.

As if right on cue, the colicky infant starts to cry as soon as you get comfortable. Your heart races as you move to stand, but your husband stops you with a palm on your chest.

“No, dove, y’need ta get some sleep. Stay righ’ ‘ere, and I’ll take care o’the little guy,” Kyle leaves no room for argument, leaning down to press a prolonged kiss to your forehead. “I love ya.”

“I love you, Kyle.”

Sleep comes easy.

[heybobbygirl]

my voice may be deep for a cis girl and yes i may get self conscious about it sometimes but listen. listen. its not deep enough

[skrunksthatwunk]

RASCAL'S BACK

[fmhobeus]

fwb!suguru who knew he wanted to fuck when he first laid eyes on you. then wanted to take you out to endless dinners to chat his ears off when he first spoke to you.

fwb!suguru who grew to like you without fucking you, almost forgot it was what he wanted you for – a life together or a night together?

fwb!suguru whose dick got painfully hard when you taunted him, rolled your eyes at him or outwitted him. he lived for your sassiness.

fwb!suguru who happened to fuck you on a random night unexpectedly and it changed the trajectory of his life.

fwb!suguru who stayed after every dick appointment. cuddled with you on the bed, watched movies or your favourite TV show, ordered take out and held you in his arms till you both inevitably fell asleep.

fwb!suguru who couldve sworn he wasn't in love with you. he would still fuck other people (and then come back to you, poor baby was thinking of you the whole time)

fwb!suguru whose grown accustomed to your presence. he calls you when he isn't feeling okay, you call him when something bothers you. he's grown used to you telling him all about work, how you got your nails done, how you saw a cute cat near your apartment. trivial details, which coming from anyone else he would hang up, but he looks forward to them with you.

fwb!suguru who eventually stops fucking other people and is just your man, without you knowing.

fwb!suguru who is determined to mark you up in placed people will notice. your neck, your thighs, your collarbones.

fwb!suguru who believes in giving you his all. all of his long girthy dick that pumps you full it should be criminal, his long slim fingers that have made you orgasm so often and hit that deep spot with unbeat ease, his long tounge... oh god his tounge. he thinks maybe even his long life ahead is yours too, all yours. his little kids too maybe? he doesn't like to think too much about that.

fwb!suguru who has to have your pussy checked with his tounge daily. he has to lap up your insides no matter any circumstances. his voice purrs across your body when he talks you through your orgasm.

"mhmm yeah cum all over my face beautiful, I know you want to"

fwb!suguru who gets sick at the thought of you sitting so pretty for another man when you tell him you're going on a date. suguru who looks so disturbed at the thought of another man even looking at his pretty girl who isn't really his.

fwb!suguru who takes you to corporate events just so he can call you his girlfriend, even if it's just pretend. when you question him it's always "easier explanation than a friend i fuck on the regular, isn't it?"

fwb!suguru who knows how you like your coffee in the morning. he knows what you like for breakfast, your comfort food, your hobbies, your favourite movies, your least favourite movies, your icks, your past. he knows you like he knows himself. he thinks of you when he passes your favourite cafe, he texts you when he sees something in the colour you like.

fwb!suguru who is sure he hasn't felt this way before, who is so vulnerable with you that it scares the shit out of him.

fwb!suguru who is afraid, angered at everything about you. he's angry at how you lull him into a sense of security, how you hold him, how sweet your voice sounds when you call him by his name, how you take care of him, how you listen to him. he hates how your pussy clenches his dick for dear life, milking it dry and how you never let a drop of his cum go to waste, licking it up like a little slut. he's fearful too. about losing you. about where loving you the way he does leads. loving you? wait. he loves you? fuck. fuck. fuck. this hasn't been according to plan at all.

[lunaekalenda]

"i have to go to work" you whisper, trying to leave your bed once more, but satoru only grips your hip tighter, pulling your body towards his bare chest. he hums in approval when your body is pressed against his.

"don't go." he murmurs, half asleep half awake. you draw circles on his arm, slowly, sweetly. his breath collides with your neck, and his chest rises with every calm breath he takes. he kisses your nape. "stay here, yeah?"

you turn around between his arms to face him. his handsome features are relaxed, as his blue eyes are closed. his white hair falls on his forehead without order, in a complete mess, giving him the look you like so much. your hand finds its natural way to his cheek, and your thumb quickly finds his lips, caressing gently. "you also have to go to work, satoru."

his face becomes a pout when he hears your words, and the hand resting on your hip moves to your ass, pressing you even more against him, making you move and put one of your legs on top of his hips. he groans.

"i'm sure the kids will be happy i'm not going today. as much as yours will be." he whispers, softly, getting closer to kiss your neck, your jaw. "they need to rest, don't they?" his hand caresses your lower back, up and down, softly. satoru's way of convincing you is slowly working. "it's been so long since we spent a day together, just for ourselves." he murmurs, his sleepy voice making you search more comfort between his arms, wanting to hear him more. "we can sleep a bit more, hugged, like this. then, i would wake up you with kisses, a lot of them, before bringing you the breakfast i would have prepared for you." you smile, even though you're sure you'll be the first to wake up. "then we can cook together, eat together, and spend the afternoon doing anything you'd like, but by my side." his fingers lazily lift your t-shirt, only to press his big, hot palm against your skin, directly. "we can watch that movie you wanted to see, or play that game we bought and we weren't able to try."

you kiss his chest, purely, before pecking his lips. "love, it surely sounds nice, but we have to work." satoru wrinkles his lips. he sighs.

"you're not gonna let your rich boyfriend spoil you by calling once sick?" even when that's not true - you just want to spend the day by his side. - the excuse tempts you. satoru passes you his phone. "c'mon, love. you also need to sleep. resting is also important. you've been stressed"

well, he's right. he knows you better than you know yourself, and it's true that you have been having problems sleeping. you sigh while pressing the number of your boss, under the attentive gaze of satoru, whose blue eyes shine under the early morning sunrays.

"good morning, sir. i don't think i'll be able to work today." your conversation flows as background noise for your boyfriend, who hides a triumphant smile on your neck.

[inkedells]

pairing: old!logan x f!reader

Logan is sick and tired of you treating him like he's fragile. He'll ignore his relentless pain to show you what it's like to be taken apart, rough and slow, then fast and agonizing.

wc: 3.5k of pure smut

warnings: heavy smut, lap sitting, fingering, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), dirty talk, facials, p in v, ruined orgasms, snowballing, kind of angsty, the claws come out, logan is angry with you, kinda toxic, definitely mean, but still kind of sweet, pwp basically, blood, but it's not bloodplay, it's just logan not caring if he's hurt, if i missed any let me know.

Logan comes home and throws himself back on that torn-up leather sofa, thumb flicking his lighter while the other holds a cigar. It’s less of a distraction from the ache in his bones, and more of a device to push you away. Because if you think he’s tired or angry or hurting, you won’t ask him to fuck you.

It’s not like he doesn’t want you. Of course he does. It’s the sympathy in your eyes when he gets tired from just a couple of minutes of thrusting that he hates. The whispered, “It’s okay. baby, I can ride you.” The gentle touches across his body and his neck and his face and his beard. It all reeks of pity. And if you were to sit him down one day and ask him why he hates being taken care of, he wouldn’t have an answer. He would push the voice in his head down into the void that all the strength he had left fell in, the voice shrinking until it’s nothing as it screams, because I’ve never been taken care of, and I would’ve loved it back when being taken care of wasn’t my only choice.

But it’s fine. You wouldn’t ever ask him that question because he knows for a fact that you don’t know. If you did, you wouldn’t be climbing onto his lap quietly, hands rubbing his sides as you press kisses to his neck.

“I missed you, Logan,” You whisper. Your hips aren’t moving; He knows he sat here like this to avoid fucking you, but he almost wishes you were seeking exactly that. Sex, as embarrassing as it would be for him, is better than your sick love. He doesn’t think you love in the way lovers do. It’s the kind of love meant for sick puppies, or the lonely old woman sitting on the bus with all her belongings in plastic bags.

He turns his head to take a drag of his cigar. Silence.

You hold his face, forcing him to look at you as you kiss him. Slow, chaste, no tongue. He feels scrutinized by your touches, and something nervous seats itself deep in his belly.

“How was your day?” You ask, your gaze snapping between his eyes.

Logan closes them. “I’m tired,” He says flatly.

“I know. It’s okay.”

There it is again. Pity.

He scoffs. It’s quiet. Barely there. He didn’t mean to. He watches your face fall the smallest bit. A year ago, he wouldn’t have noticed, and if he would’ve, he would blurt out an apology. Now, he does notice, but he secretly wants to watch it fall even further if it means you’ll realize how much you’ve been hurting him.

You swallow, your thumb rubbing his cheekbone. “I found an American poetry anthology in the basement today. 20th Century. My favorite poem was in it.”

He mumbles, “In a Station of the Metro. T.S. Elliot.” Remembering the poem you told him about months ago sounds too much like sorry. He wishes he’d pretended to forget.

“Ezra Pound,” You correct. Your smile tells him he’s forgiven for an apology he never offered. “If you can recite it I’ll be impressed.”

“I’m not reciting a goddamn poem.” He sounds sarcastic, and it relieves you, but then you kiss him and he’s wound tight again.

You sigh as you pull back. “What’s bothering you, baby?”

“Nothing’s bothering—”

“What’s bothering you?” You interject.

He shakes his head, clenching his jaw. He makes the decision to sacrifice his dignity for the sake of stopping this conversation. You never could resist an orgasm, especially one caused by him. “Enough of that.”

“What?”

But he’s putting out his cigar and lifting you off his lap with a suppressed grunt, then pushing you down on the couch.

“Logan,” You protest.

He continues undoing the drawstring of your pajamas, with a kind of slippery urgency that tells you he's trying to shut you up more than he's trying to satiate his own desire.

You sit up straight, swatting his hand away. “Stop.”

He withdraws immediately, breathing hard through his nose as he looks down at the floor. He was wrong, before, about you not knowing. You definitely know, because you don’t place a loving hand on his thigh and you don’t kiss his shoulder. He’s grateful.

Instead, you observe his profile, then the quiet tremor in his hand. The impossible stillness of the rest of him. He tends to do that when his nerves are on fire. Thinks being a statue is what people who aren’t in chronic pain do.

“Don’t do that,” He mumbles, feeling your eyes on him. “I don’t need you feeling sorry, or whatever—whatever the fuck else goes through your head when you’re around me.”

You say nothing. That’s the most he’s said about his feelings in a while. He knows it, so he forces himself to say nothing, too. It doesn’t last long.

“I’m not dying.” His voice cracks a little at the end and he fights the urge to squeeze his eyes shut.

“I know.” The words come out in a tumble, as if you’re rushing to participate in his lie.

“Then stop looking at me like I’m dying.”

“Okay.” Tears prickle your eyes but you blink them away.

“Okay,” He repeats.

You take a deep breath. “But it’s okay to be cared for, Logan.”

He laughs incredulously, and suddenly his volume is rising and his voice is firm. “Would you just—Would you just quit being my fuckin’ mommy? Would you?”

He only lets your silence marinate for a second before he rushes in to kiss you, ignoring the cramps in his muscles as he tugs your neck forward roughly. You squeak against his mouth, fighting his impossible grip on you, but you give up with a shaky exhale through your nose when your efforts prove useless.

“I can take care of you, too,” He grits out. It would sound sweet if it weren’t for the frustration in his tone. He pushes you onto the couch the same way he did moments before as he opens your legs by your knees and settles between them. He sucks a dark mark onto your neck, his fingers digging bruises in your ribs.

“I know you can,” You reassure him. You can see where this is going. “And I love when you do.” You gasp when he pulls your shirt up over the curve of your breasts.

“No. You don’t.” He pinches one of your nipples and sucks the other into his mouth for a brief second. “It’s okay. I’ll show you so you don’t forget again. You won’t want to get ruined any other way.”

“Logan,” You sigh.

He hums against the soft skin just underneath your breast as his hands ravage your body. He begins to unsheathe the adamantium claws in one of his hands so he can rip your top open. It’s slow and excruciating, so he closes his eyes, but the pain is over too soon and his suspicions are confirmed when he opens his eyes to see them stuck halfway.

You don’t expect him to lean back and individually tug each blade free. There’s blood, and now it’s dripping onto your belly, and he mumbles something that sounds like an apology as he wipes the dots of red away with his thumb.

But the hazel in his eyes is alive again. You hope it’s you that did that. Hope it’s not the pain or the sight of his own blood. You want to ask him, just to make sure. You don’t like hurting, right? You just really like me—

He slices through your shirt, careful not to graze your skin, and you try to ignore the fact that he’s never that cautious with himself, but you can’t.

“Logan, you’re bleeding.” Your voice is unstable.

“It’ll heal,” He says quickly, passively. He wipes his burning palm on his wifebeater.

“But that takes a long time now.”

He meets your eyes, his movements frozen. He’s angry and you’re not stupid. You’re pitying him again. He needs you to stop fucking pitying him. When he speaks, his voice is deep and rough and slow, and you would be scared if he wasn’t your Logan. “Are you done?”

You don’t know what to say, so you just close your eyes and nod. You hear his claws retract faster than when they came out, and almost simultaneously, he’s shoving that same hand under your waistband as two of his calloused fingers push themselves into your cunt.

You arch toward him involuntarily, a ragged moan falling from your lips as he tugs your pajamas off your legs and spits on your pussy to ease the slide of his fingers.

Each groan he pulls from your throat is a step toward dispelling the doubt from your body. Doubt of his capabilities, of his strength, of his devotion to you.

“Beg me to fuck you,” He demands, fingering you roughly.

Your mind is cloudy at this point, from sadness or arousal or both, but you give him what he wants. “Fuck me,” You whisper, your eyelids about to flutter shut as you shed a tear.

But then you catch Logan smiling.

He grabs your jaw with his free hand, and you look at him immediately. “You’re gonna let me use it, right? Get myself off?” You lazily trace his features with your gaze—His nose, his wrinkles, his beard—because you know if it were your fingers instead he’d mistake it for tenderness and get mad again.

You nod, but it’s weak with how hazy everything is.

“Good girl.” 

“Please,” You sigh, “I need you inside of me. I need to—I need it.”

“I know. I know what you’re feeling before you feel it.” He lets the pad of his thumb draw quick circles on your clit. “What? Thought I couldn’t hear you playing with yourself in the shower? If I can hear your heartbeat when I walk through the door, what makes you think I wouldn’t have heard you whining my name?”

“Logan,” You sigh, your hips lifting off the couch, coaxing his fingers deeper for as long as possible before he’s shoving you back down with the heel of his palm.

“I’m gonna play with you now. I’ll fuck you after, don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

“What do you mean, play with me?” You breathe, fighting to keep your eyes open as he finds your g-spot.

He grins dirtily, in a way that makes your head spin and your thighs clench around his hand. You’re barely processing his words as he bends down to mumble in your ear, “Right when you’re about to make a mess on my fingers, I’m gonna stop. Then I’m gonna go down on you. And I’m gonna lick your pretty pussy, maybe even fuck you with my tongue if you’re good. And guess what? Guess what I’m gonna do when you’re this close?”

“You’re gonna stop,” You whine.

“I’m gonna stop,” He nods, and it’s mocking, but it’s gentle, and he’s fucking killing you with the way he’s talking right now. “But I’m not mean. I’ll give you a break. You can calm down when my dick is in your mouth, okay?”

“Okay,” You breathe, your hips unabashedly grinding on his fingers. But you want to reassure him he is mean, and you especially want to tell him how much you love it. “Logan, I’m gonna—”

He withdraws his fingers from you so fast it almost burns. You clench around nothing, your lower half spasming as your orgasm barely approaches before falling away again. Only a hint of pleasure is able to make it through the cracks, and you cling onto it, hoping if you focus hard enough, the wave will come back. It doesn’t. You should regret warning Logan that you were about to finish, but all you feel is comfort now that he’s finally proud of you again.

Another tear streams down the side of your face, landing in your hair. Logan’s watching you as he pets your thigh, his lips parted when he leans down over you. He kisses your wet cheek softly, his beard rough on your skin. It’s unlike him to offer you affection this gracefully during sex. It’s always shaky limbs and suppressed groans and dirty kisses. Both of you know it. 

He moves down your body, until his face is hovering over your cunt. He doesn’t have his reading glasses on, so he has to pull his head back and squint as he spreads your folds with his thumbs, studying what you look like. He licks a stripe over you. A second, longer one, before he zeroes in on your clit. You can do nothing except lay there and take it as your hips twitch from overstimulation under his firm hands.

“Oh my god,” You whisper, your fingers twisting in his hair. “F-Fuck.”

He moans at that, pressed right up against you, the sound deep and delicious and vibrating. “Feel good?” He asks teasingly with a nip to your inner thigh.

“What do—What the fuck do you think?”

He breathes a laugh. It’s short and airy, not frustrated like before, and a warmth ignites itself in the back of your mind. It’s overpowering even the feeling of his mouth licking and sucking your most sensitive area; It’s the relief that he’s still hiding the Logan you fell in love with somewhere in there.

You wind your fingers in his hair and scratch his scalp. You try to do it lovingly, although it comes across as sexual and Logan’s breath hitches in pleasure against your pussy instead. So as you suppress a gasp from the pure skill of his tongue, you show your affection differently—you hold the wounded hand he has resting face-up beside your hip. The cuts embedded there are easy to avoid as your thumb rubs the lines of his palm, because even though you can’t see his hand, the puffiness surrounding each slash on his skin are your cues.

He doesn’t move his hand away, but his tongue falters for a fraction of a second before slowing down.

The kind of love you’re pressing into Logan’s skin with each gentle stroke is unrecognizable to him. It’s not the pitiful love he’s so used to. He thinks it might be the opposite. Admiration. Reverence.

“I’m so empty,” You whisper, bringing your hands to grope Logan’s biceps. They’re sweaty and hard and flexing under your touch, and you wonder if he would let you ride them one day.

When your climax starts to creep up on you, it’s thanks to the image of Logan forcing you to lick your arousal clean off his bicep. Indulgently swirling your tongue along his pronounced veins, savoring the taste of his sweat mixed with yourself. He’d probably say somthing like, fuckin’ filthy. Getting yourself off on my arm. Who does that? Are you that obsessed with me?

Logan feels you squeezing his tongue, harder than all the other times before, so he withdraws at the last moment, ruining your orgasm once again.

 You convulse silently, your breath coming out stuttered with your twitching jaw. As if he can read your mind, he unbuckles his belt and removes his pants and boxers. But he doesn’t strip himself of his wifebeater, stained with blood.

It’s the hottest thing in the world.

You blink, and suddenly Logan is hovering above you with his cock over your face. He rubs his leaking tip on your cheeks first, then your lips, and when you open your mouth to take him, he moves his cock away and nudges your jaw shut with his free hand, shaking his head.

“Not yet.”

A whine lodges itself in your throat as Logan spreads his pre-come over the plush of your lips. It escapes only when he lets go of his cock in favor of massaging his wetness across your lips and on your tongue with his thumb. His hard cock is bobbing above you, almost tantalizingly, the occasional drip of arousal landing itself somewhere near your eyes, then your hair, then your mouth, and you watch Logan’s brow furrow as you try to lick whatever you can.

His resolve snaps. A calloused hand squeezes at your cheeks until your jaw falls open. His cock is in your mouth before you can process it, thick and heavy and wet. So. Incredibly. Wet. You start to wonder how it’s even possible that he’s this hard at his age, but you know he wouldn’t want you to be wondering that, so you happily push the thought away.

You suck your cheeks in, swirling your tongue around his tip as you bob your head to meet the subtle, almost imperceivable thrust of his hips. You’re taking it well, you know you are. So you keep taking it, until Logan can no longer successfully suppress his moans and his hips are jerking out of rhythm.

He moves back until his cock slips out of your mouth. “I don’t wanna come like this. Wanna fuck you.”

“Yeah, yes. Fuck me. Please.”

He stands up and turns you on your front, your knees pressing into the soft couch cushions with your ass in the air.

“Logan,” You plead as you feel his tip pressing at your entrance.

“I’ve got you,” He says quietly, pushing in until half of his cock is comfortably squeezed by your cunt. Both your breathing is loud and labored, and there’s a specific kind of intimacy in knowing you’re both feeling this identical need. Overwhelming and hot and unquenchable by anything other than each other.

His first thrust is shallow, but it ruins you all the same. With how thick he is, it should feel like an intrusion, and it does. But all you can think about is how perfectly he fits inside of you, filling you extraordinarily with only a few inches.

“Fuck,” Logan breathes. “Look at that.” He traces around your entrance with his thumb. “Stretching so wide to take me.”

You moan, pressing your cheek against the sofa as you rock with his thrusts. He still hasn’t pressed all the way in yet, and you’re growing impatient. “Come on,” You urge, pushing yourself back to force more of his cock into you.

You expect him to chastise you for being so greedy, but he listens to you instead with a slow, full thrust. His tip nudges your cervix with how deep he is, and a ragged moan escapes you. “Yes,” You whine, “Oh god, yes.”

Logan’s breaths are coming out heavy through his nose, quick and occasionally intertwined with a grunt. His thrusts are getting quicker, and it’s starting to burn, but you welcome every sensation he has to offer you. He pulls out, spits on his cock, then shoves himself back inside, and this time you’re both unabashedly moaning the minute you’re joined again. 

His fingers dig in the plush of your ass as he observes himself disappearing into you. It hurts, but you love it. He knows you do, so he spanks you quickly before gripping you and rutting against you again.

“I love when you fuck me,” You whisper, feeling ashamed as soon as the confession leave you. “When you properly fuck me.”

He slows for a moment so he can watch his cock glisten with how wet you are. “I know.” He picks back up his punishing pace.

Your eyes begin to water, from pain or pleasure, you can’t tell. “I love you.”

“I know,” He repeats, this time breathier. His hips stutter. You can tell he’s close.

“I want it on my face,” You tell him quickly, his impending orgasm giving you no time to worry about being too forward.

He pulls out again, letting you turn onto your back as he shifts up your body. He jerks himself furiously, but you swat his hand away and take it upon yourself to stroke him.

“Come for me,” You tell him honestly, softly. His eyes squeeze shut and his lips part around a trembling exhale.

He groans as his release coats your face in long stripes. Some of it even lands in your hair, but you don’t care. Your own fingers work your clit as you stick your tongue out and taste him. Logan bends down to kiss you, chest heaving and hands shaky, and you rub yourself faster as you swap his release between the two of you with a hum. He pulls back to let you swallow, then he kisses your cheeks with his rough beard, uncaring about the mess on your face.

You don’t know you’re coming until it’s over and you’re breathless, and it’s almost excruciating with how much he’s ruined you, but you’re so exhausted you can’t find it in yourself to dwell on it a second longer.

You wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down for another kiss because you can hardly remember the one he just gave you.

“I’m sorry I had been treating you all wrong,” You say carefully.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” His voice is rough.

You nod, your lips brushing his as you smooth sweaty strands of hair away from his forehead. These touches are hard for him. Any variation of your chaste affection is a reminder that he’s not really Logan anymore.

But the shame in it is gone. Replaced by the reassurance that he can still surround you with safety and firm hands and blatant desire;

And for a moment, he’s his old self again.

A/N: it's been so long since i've written anything, but logan has been consuming my brain for weeks so i had to get this out. i hope it's true to his character. <3 also, my asks are open, so feel free to request anything you want to read about.

[tender-rosiey]

Your husband, sukuna AU, is driving me crazy. That's like my 1st time ever experiencing what a comfort fic was. I have been re-reading them like crazy 😭

If it's okay with you, can you do a husband sukuna AU but with whatever scene you want? I really love the way you write him,,, it's just so perfect 🥹

dry your tears — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: i am so glad you like them omg srsly you're too kind <33 i really hope you like this too 🥹🫶🫶

“my lord, her highness requests your presence in the garden.”

said man’s eyes open slowly, and he narrows them at the servant who instantly kneels to the ground. he scoffs, “requests? she sure has become impudent.”

the servant trembles, “that’s how she worded it, my lord. I swear I have no role in it.”

“I didn’t speak to you,” sukuna replies as he gets up as places his foot on the servant’s head, pressing into the ground a bit more.

the servant whimpers but tries to be as quiet as possible.

sukuna warns, “and you’re to address her as ‘her highness’ or ‘the queen’ only. do you understand?”

“but—but I did?” he splutters.

“ ’that’s how ‘she’ worded it?’ ” sukuna sneers.

“I didn’t mean it that way! I am sorry! I am sorry! my apologies, my lord!” the servants chokes out, and sukuna takes it as the cue to kick him out of his way.

he starts walking towards the garden, while stretching and examining his surroundings.

the palace hasn’t changed in the time he was gone which was good. at least the human servants are capable of doing one thing right.

the gates to the garden open, and they reveal you.

deep down, the sight brings a bit content to sukuna’s heart, seeing you alive and well. however, that is a vulnerability that he would never admit, so he gets closer to you.

you’re giving him your back despite, definitely, feeling his presence.

he groans, “what do you want?”

“where have you been?” you reply with the same tone.

he rolls his eyes, arms folded on his chest, “fighting, obviously. I was passing time.”

he hears you take a deep breath before you speak up, “and you couldn’t tell me in advance?”

he can tell that you’re trying to sound calm and collected. yet, he still can’t pinpoint whether you’re angry or sad. either way, he believes that your attitude is unacceptable.

he chides, “don’t blow it out of proportion, and you have the nerve to ‘request my—"

“you have been gone for a month.”

the edges of sukuna’s lips quirk up just a little as he starts to understand why you’re acting like this.

“not the first time,” he hums.

he sees your shoulders raise slightly, and they seem to get tenser by the second. you speak lowly, “but you usually tell me before you depart.”

he closes his eyes in annoyance.

this looks like it will drag out longer than he prefers. what he expected when he returned was him spending time with you, his wife, not you giving him your back and seemingly lecturing him.

“stop beating around the bush,” he commands, “what’s wrong with you?”

you grip your kimono tightly in your fist and squeeze your eyes shut as you exclaim, “you had me worried sick!” your voice is watery and is shaky, but you couldn’t help it.

you had spent the past month alone, nobody knew of sukuna’s whereabouts not even uraume. were you supposed to just calmly wait for his return?

he may be strong, but is it always guaranteed? especially considering how the sorcerers are always planning a way to lead him to his demise.

you bite your lip as you hold back a sob. meanwhile, your husband quirks a brow, “you crying?”

you open your eyes and stand up abruptly, “no, I am not!”

throwing the hood over your head, you turn towards the other entrance and announce, “I am going inside!”

you start your march with determination, but as you get close to the gate, you hear your husband sigh and stop you by the arm. he pulls you towards him, tearing off the hood to take a good look at you.

your tears are not plentiful, but he can see their traces.

you frown and try to pull back, “let go, sukuna!”

he raises a hand to cup your cheek and squishes your cheeks like a pufferfish. your eyes widen, and you furrow your eyebrows in frustration.

“stop this,” you shoot.

he looks silently at you for a few moments, and it starts making you nervous. you finally decide to ask, but then he starts wiping your tears.

you blink in confusion as he lightly scolds you, “foolish girl.”

you register the insult after a few seconds, and it makes you frown and look away while grumbling, “shut up.”

you sniffle lightly and pull away from him. he looks down at you, silently watching you. you try ignoring his gaze, but then you just snap your head at him and huff, “what are you staring for?”

you study his face for bit then falter, “if it’s about yelling at you then I am sorry, okay? I was frustrated and—”

he pinches your nose, making you yelp.

“your worrying is unnecessary,” he says slowly, “I will always come back.”

sukuna, you realize, is comforting you. he lays a hand on top of your head and commands you, albeit gently, “so stop crying.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will send my cat after you

[sttoru]

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. nanami kento x pregnant wife!female reader. smut, pwp. cunnilingus. pregnancy kink kinda. not proof read. reader gets called ‘sweetheart, honey, darling’

kento nanami cannot leave you alone, even if you’re pregnant. he’s a natural provider and always wants the best for you. especially when you’re carrying his child—which he thanks you for every single day. one day he shows his appreciation through words of affirmation, the other day it’s with endless gifts.

this time it’s by relieving your stress underneath the table while you’re peacefully eating breakfast.

“fuck. . ken,” you tug at his hair with your free hand, the other holding the toast you’ve been nibbling on. your head rolls back and your breath comes out in short gasps as kento’s tongue flicks over your sensitive cunt.

you didn’t expect your morning to be like this, but you’re not complaining. kento always has to start off his day by worshipping your body in any type of way. he’ll rub your small baby bump while you’re cooking, whisper sweet nothings into your ear, kiss you all over while telling you how beautiful you look and even more.

this time his usual body worship had evolved into something more. from kissing your little pregnant belly and praising you for bearing his child, to him kneeling between your legs, slobbering all over your soaked pussy.

“i know, sweetheart. your dear husband will make you feel better, i promise,” kento coos, his voice muffled as his mouth collides with your glistening folds over and over again. he’s getting lost in your essence—the slick messily coating his lips.

his fingers rub your clit a little in the meantime, not forgetting to pleasure you to his best ability. your repetitive moans bounce off the walls of the kitchen, echoing in his ears. you sound like an angel and your body feels like one as well.

kento tries his best to keep his own grunts down. your cunt is dripping so much, amazing amounts of wetness cover his mouth to the point that it trickles down his chin. he’s without a doubt getting drunk on your essence.

the place between your thighs is considered a heaven on earth to the blonde man.

“mhh, are you feeling better, honey?” kento asks, opening his eyes halfway to look up at you, “am i pleasing my wife well?”

the sight of your husband kneeling in front of you, his hands holding your hips steady on the chair and his mouth ravaging your puffy folds makes you forget all about the morning sickness you’ve been complaining of.

“f-feels way too good,” your breath is shaky as you try to focus on eating. you can’t physically get that piece of bread to your mouth, your hand shaking from the pleasure you’re being granted. your pussy tingles and aches with each lick or suck—your hips trying to buck against kento’s mouth.

“that’s great,” kento murmurs, his nose bumping against the bundle of nerves that’s nestled between your folds. the place that makes you go wild, “that’s all i want.” you squeal and find yourself dropping your toast to place your other hand on kento’s head.

you tug at his hair and gain another groan from him. kento notices that you’ve stopped eating and he pulls away from your pulsing cunt for a second, kissing your inner thighs gently. “you need to eat up, darling,” kento’s hot breath hits your bare pussy as he stares at you with love and lust in his eyes, “you’re eating for two now after all.”

he taps your little bump and leans in to kiss your swollen skin. an affectionate smile appears on his handsome features, one that makes you melt immediately. you know kento won’t resume eating you out unless you take a bite of your food again.

“fine,” you pout and grab your toast. you take a small bite and at the same time, you feel kento’s lips kiss your core back. the tip of his tongue slithers up and down your slit, circling your pulsating hole before kissing your clit.

he’s taking his sweet time to make you cum. after all, this is meant to soothe and pleasure you. to take your mind off the negative aspects of your pregnancy. if there’s one thing kento can do as your man, as the father of your child, it’s to take care of you both mentally and physically, in any way you need.

“how about your breakfast, k-ken?” you ask through quick whines. your entire body feels like it’s on fire. kento’s large hands keep holding your body down on the chair so you wouldn’t have the chance to escape his loving gestures. your teary eyes look over the table, “your coffee is getting cold.”

kento chuckles at your worries. you’re selfless, even when he’s offered to pleasure you himself. he leaves a trail of kisses up and down your throbbing pussy, his saliva mixing with your slick and causing lewd strings of clear liquid to stick to his chin.

“don’t you worry. i got my breakfast right here,” kento answers softly while eating you out. every jaw movement is down with precision—it’s slow yet filled with passion. he slurps up any excess fluid every now and then, not caring if you’re making a mess on the chair or on his face.

kento smiles against your wetness when he hears you moan at his words. the way you look so ethereal, staring down at him with open lips, drooling a bit with bread crumbs staining the area around your mouth is absolutely endearing, “you’re so cute. keep looking at me, darling.”

you cannot believe this man. he’s so caring, so loving. you definitely chose the right person to marry and have children with. his rough fingers come up to rub your small baby bump again, not forgetting to show you his appreciation through subtle touches in the meantime.

“so sweet,” kento sighs as he swallows drops of your slick, “letting me take care of you like this . . . such a good wife.”

he’s getting drunk on you, definitely. the taste of your essence and the fact that you’re pregnant with his child right now—the fact that he’s the one who impregnated you and made you a soon-to-be mother—is driving him insane. his cock is dripping with pre-cum, ready to burst.

but, he’ll hold himself back for your sake. you’re going to be taken care of first since you’re his priority and always will be.

being pregnant is so worth it when your husband is kento nanami.

[a-b-riddle]

Part Four

Can't stop thinking about reader losing her cool.

"So we're closed, John." You said, trying to be cordial.

"Is that all you have to fucking say?" He practically growled before huffing. A humorless chuckle rumbling out of his chest. "I suppose not since you won't respond to any of us."

"Don't do that." You said taking a step back. Trying to create some distance between you and him. John would never physically hurt you. That much you knew.

"What?" He asked. His voice rising as he stepped closer to you. "Be angry that you pulled that shit and then left? Stopped talking to us. Changed your fucking locks. Last thing we even knew about you was that you got on a fucking plane and left. Even your friends wouldn't tell us anything besides that you were okay." "Which considering this came out of bloody nowhere, I find it highly unlikely that you are in any way 'okay'."

You took a deep breath. You wouldn't be intimidated. You wouldn't clam up. You wouldn't cry. You won't go back on your decision. You will be cordial and polite and not unleash everything you want to.

"I understand you might be upset, but it's for the best. It wasn't working out and I wanted to end on somewhat good terms. I would appreciate it if you lowered your voice and stopped speaking to me in that way." You could barely recognize your voice. It sounded so scripted. So robotic. But it was something you had been telling yourself. Excuses you had been telling yourself.

Because if you told yourself the truth. The picture you would paint would tell a different story. It wouldn't highlight the fact that John spoke to you like he was one of your men or that Johnny had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon. It wouldn't show what a flake Kyle was or that Simon was well and truly a mean-spirited person.

It would show how you weren't worth it. Four possible men. Four possibilities of happily ever after and none of them chose you. That no one ever did and no one ever would. You weren't worth it. You weren't loveable.

It wasn't right, but it was what the voices had been telling you late in the night. When you would crawl into your cold bed. The silence of the room not filled with John's steady breathing or the sound of Kyle's heartbeat as you laid you head on his chest. The absence of Johnny's occasional snoring or whatever Simon was watching playing in the background of your dreams.

In the void, all your dark thoughts came back at you.

"Upset?" He asked, his voice still louder than you would have liked. "An understatement considering the stunt you pulled."

"You think it was a stunt?"

"So Johnny thought with his dick and didn't plan things out. You should have told him instead of crying to Simon and then pulling this shit." "Christ, I knew you were still young, but I didn't take you for that immature."

"You know what?" "I'm done." "I am so fucking sick of making excuses for you all." "You want to act like I'm the immature one, John?" "You are 35-year-old man who cannot separate his work from his work like. You have continuously talked to and down to me like I am one of your men, only to turn around and always blame your shitty fucking attitude on work. I get that your job is stressful, but I did not sign up to be your verbal fucking punching bag."

"And this come and fucking go incident with Johnny. It has been a consistent issue with him coming over just to fuck. I've asked him for that last six months that 'hey, we've been seeing each other for a year and a half, I would love to meet your family' and suddenly the dates stop. He doesn't ask to see me until after 7 PM. He brings food occasionally, fucks me and leaves. Sometimes before I even wake up."

"And the only reason Kyle is the person I am the least pissed off with is because I haven't even seen him." You took a step closer, not noticing how the anger in John's eyes had softened. "I have not seen Kyle in weeks, to no fault of my own. I stopped reaching out to make dinner plans after the third time he canceled on a date night when I was either on my way or already at the restaurant."

"And Simon?" You scoffed. "Well, it doesn't really matter. After all, as he said I get mine. You all make me cum which is supposed to magically erase how shitty you've all been as partners. It's supposed to erase the nights I've cried myself to sleep debating on whether or not there was something wrong with me. How I'm not good enough to meet anyone else in your lives like some dirty fucking secret. How none of you can even bother to pencil me for a group dinner so I can tell you a publishing house picked up my book. How at some point you all stopped caring or maybe never did."

You took a breath. Blinking quickly to keep the tears at bay.

You wouldn't cry. You wouldn't cry.

"As Simon said it best, I should have known that spreading my legs wouldn’t end with one of you putting a ring on your finger.”

For once, John was silent. Unsure of what to say. An apology starting to form at the tip of his tongue before realizing 'sorry' wouldn't cut it. Not this time.

Had he really been that sharp with you? He knew that there were times he had gotten short, but he almost always apologized immediately after. If not at the very moment he took in your crest-fallen face, then definitely later. But he almost always told you he was sorry. Didn't he?

"So as I said," you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "I'm closed. We're done. Now get out." Your face held no sadness. Even though your eyes were nearly full to the brim with unshed tears, you weren't sad.

You were finally angry.

[yuujispinkhair]

its time for single dad!kuna and his albino kiddo, uraume x elementary teacher!y/n

OMGGG THAT SOUNDS SO COMFORTING AND SWEET 💗😭 Okay I had to write this! I hope you like it!

Single Dad!Sukuna x Reader (female). Fluff. 800 words. Divider @/chilumitos

When you start your job at the new school, everyone warns you about a certain pink-haired, tattooed dad.

"Oh you have Uraume in your class? Well, good luck then."

"Why?"

"Oh, it's not the child that is the problem. It's the dad!"

Your coworkers tell you about this huge, grumpy man who always barks out orders and complains left and right the whole time because he thinks his child isn't getting treated correctly.

When you first meet Sukuna, you really are intimidated by him. He is tall and muscular, almost filling out the whole doorway and towering over you. A very attractive man, but scary with those tattoos that tell you he must lead a life in crime or at least must have been involved in something like that at some point. He sneers at you while his eyes sparkle threateningly,

"A new teacher, huh? I sure hope you will do a better job than the ones before you. I won't accept any carelessness when it comes to looking after my child!"

Sukuna's voice is harsh, and his gaze is full of anger. But you listen patiently to him and realize that this is just a man who is worried about his child. A child who doesn't really have any friends and is sick all the time and gets bullied for it.

You can understand Sukuna. Can understand the helpless anger you see in those maroon eyes. Like a tiger who is ready to kill for his cub but doesn't know how to handle the everyday tragedy of his child being an outcast in school.

You smile warmly at him and tell him in a soft voice,

"I understand that, Mr Itadori. You are worried about Uraume. I promise you that I will have a close eye on them. I won't look away when someone bullies them. Uraume is a lovely child and amazing the way they are. I will do my best to guide them on their way to becoming a confident and happy person. Thank you for coming to me with your worries."

And you see this big, bad, angry man falter and blink at you in confusion because, apparently, none of the other teachers ever reacted the way you did. But he catches himself after a moment and tells you he will watch you closely before he leaves without a farewell.

You keep your word and look after Uraume, praising the child for the exercises they excel in and sitting the whole class down to discuss with them that it's not okay to make fun of others for the way they look, etc. Teaching them that everyone is different and that this is okay. You even assign group projects, where you pair Uraume up with some kids who you know are sweet and won't be cruel to them.

Three weeks later, you walk out of the school in the afternoon when all the kids have already left, jumping when a low voice speaks up next to you. Sukuna is leaning against the wall of the building, smirking at you, maroon eyes wandering curiously over you,

"I came to thank you, Miss. Uraume told me about how much fun they are having at school now and that they even found two little friends. They told me you are the best teacher in the world."

You break out into a big smile, eyes filled with happiness,

"I am so happy to hear that! Uraume is doing so well! I am so proud of them and so happy that they enjoy coming to school now!"

And Sukuna pushes himself off the wall, taking a step closer to you. So tall and broad, but he doesn't seem all that intimidating anymore. There's a little smile tugging at his lips, and his intelligent eyes are warm when he tells you in a low, velvety voice,

"All the other teachers ignored my complaints or refused to talk to me anymore and sent me to the principal, who was just as incompetent. You are the first one who took my words into account and let actions follow. I thought this school was a hellhole, but you changed my mind."

You chuckle softly, feeling a bit flustered at the intense gaze out of those beautiful maroon eyes and the praise coming from this attractive man.

"Thank you, Mr Itadori. I am glad."

"Sukuna."

"Hm?"

"Call me Sukuna, please. It will sound nicer if you call me by my first name while we have coffee together."

And with that, his grin grows broader, and he jerks his tattooed chin toward the little café down the road, making your heart flutter excitedly as you smile back at him and nod softly,

"Yes, that sounds really nice, Sukuna."

[luveline]

could you please write something with bombshell reader and spencer where there is a misunderstanding and she thinks he is cheating on her?? or anything angsty? love your work and just want to tell you how you are the best author in this fandom! besos <333

thanks so much, hope this is okay! fem, 1.2k

You bend forward and breathe. 

Rough breathing. Audibly disjointed, and panicked, and drawing attention. You clasp at the side of the counter in the office kitchen and everyone standing around you goes silent. 

Someone must tell someone who tells someone, because Anderson makes his way to your side soon after. “Y/N, do you need me to get someone?” he asks. 

“Hotch?” you ask. 

“Sure. Do you want to sit down?” 

Your mouth isn’t calibrated to your mind. Your answer takes time. “I’m okay.” 

You blink hard. Your lashes are sticky, mascara wet in the corners and pulling on each other as you force yourself to keep them open. When Hotch collects you, it is with an immense tenderness, and a poorly concealed confusion. “Hey, come on,” he says, guiding you toward the office doors, “let’s find somewhere quieter.” 

You’re three steps down the hallway when you stop. You cover your face with both hands. 

Your entire world just got rocked… you don’t even know how to say it. You can’t stop seeing it, his hand on her shoulder, his head tilted to one side like he always does with you, like he’s going to kiss her cheek. And she’d just let him do it. 

“What happened?” 

“They were kissing.” 

Hotch looks down at you patiently. “Who?” 

“Spencer and JJ.” You swallow down bile. Your voice sounds far away, “They were so close…” 

“Are you sure?” 

“No… Just, it looked like they were. She had her arms around him, he…” 

You blink hard again, but the panic, the agony remains. You could see it, Spencer kissing her, and it just tore you to pieces right then and there. How could he do that to you? The stereotypical you’d always expected to be above races through your head. Weren’t you too much to lose? 

“They were too close,” you say more firmly. 

“Alright,” Hotch says softly. Then, because he’s your friend, even if you’ve thrust him into an awkward position. “I can work this out for you, if you want. I can kill him for you if necessary.” 

“That’s not funny,” you say, because even if it were, it’s way too soon. 

“I’m not joking. If Spencer ever did that to you, I’d… well, I wouldn’t hurt him, but he would lose my respect, and he would lose yours. Do you believe Spencer would put that at risk?” 

“You think I’m overreacting.” 

Hotch gives you a look. Full Hotchner. Understanding, patient, a little humorous. “I honestly can’t imagine a world where Spencer does something that would hurt you, that’s all. I’m not trying to mock you. I’m not saying you can’t be upset.” 

You realise after a few deep breaths that he was trying to drive you from a panic attack, and he did it successfully. You swallow a nervous lump.

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.”

“I think I can kill him.”

“I don’t doubt it. Do you want to?” 

“Depends on what I saw,” you mutter, turning away from the glass office doors as they open. 

“Well… perhaps you can–”

“Hey, what are you guys doing out here?” Spencer interrupts, breathless as he slides around Hotch and takes your arm in his hand. “Angel, I need your help, urgently. JJ’s earring got caught in my hair, I’m pretty sure I’m bald.” 

You squint at him, still a little breathless yourself. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, looking between you and Hotch with regret. “What’s wrong? You look sick.”

“What did JJ do?” you ask. 

“Angel?” 

He squints. When you fail to offer a reason, he tips his head down to show you the top of his head. “Am I bald? She dropped her pencil case and I tried to grab it, and she yanked back. I tried to stop her from ripping it out, but she said I had to stop being a big baby.” 

He laughs. Hotch lets out an audible breath. 

“I’m hideous,” Spencer surmises from your silence. 

“I didn’t really look.” 

Spencer looks at Hotch. “Can you tell me what’s wrong? Please?” 

You send Hotch a look that says please, don’t.  

“I just felt a bit panicked,” you confess, a half truth to spare your dignity.

“I brought her out here for some quiet,” Hotch says. 

Spencer frowns and holds your arm again with more softness. “You did? Are you feeling better now? You know, the sudden onset of panic is often caused by a process called overbreathing, have you felt that happen to you recently? It’s accidental hyperventilation. Low carbon dioxide in the blood.” His frown deepens. “Unless it’s not that. Are you worried about something?” 

You watch as his hand glides further up, his thumb rubbing into the soft fat of your upper arm. 

“Worried about your hairline,” you mumble. 

Look, you’ll tell Spencer eventually, maybe. But for now your head hurts and you really had almost spun yourself into an anxiety attack, and you need the rest, and meeting his eyes isn’t easy. 

If he were lying about the earring, you’d be able to tell. If he’d kissed JJ, the guilt would be pouring off of him. 

“I can trust you to look after her?” Hotch asks. 

“When can’t you?” Spencer asks sincerely. 

Footsteps. A door opening. 

You and Spencer alone, his voice warm with concern. “Are you okay? Really okay?” 

“Can you hug me?” 

“Sure I can.” He slips his arms through yours and pulls you in. “Do you need something? Listening to music can help, I have my headphones on my desk. Or we can just– walk.” His hand spread wide over your shoulder. “You’re shaking.” 

“I am?” 

“Just a little…” 

You try your best to stand completely still. 

“Oh,” he says softly, pulling you with more force toward his chest, “I’m sorry, I had no idea you weren’t feeling okay today. But it’ll be okay, I promise. I got you.” 

It’s not often you feel like the smaller person in your relationship, and he doesn’t make you feel small, but the depth of his promise gives him this bigness that dulls the panic. Spencer… he really wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. You aren’t at fault for thinking they were too close, but there’s an explanation, and for now that’s enough to make you feel better. 

“How much hair did she rip out, sweetheart?” you murmur, leaning back just far to see his face, not wanting to disturb the stable quiet. “Does it hurt?” 

“No, I’m fine. Honestly I’m more worried about you than my hair.” 

“Can I explain it to you later?” 

“You’ll sleep over?” he asks, lips thinning into a smile. 

“Yeah.” 

“We’ll talk about it later,” he says. 

You close your eyes as he cups your face with both hands. Later, when you tell him, he isn’t offended, just sorry. Necessary or not, he apologises and holds you with so much tenderness you’re assured again that Spencer hurting you would only ever be an accident.

[aajjks]

Have A Baby By Me (m)

warnings: èxplïcït sèx, rïdïng hïs dïck, báby tràppïng, brèèdïng kínk, cöèrcátïôn, 18+ THÈMÈS, wràp ït bèfórè yôu táp ít, créàmpíe, yándèrè, èxplïcït thèmès, MDNÏ.

note: @looneybleus, I know it’s been so long but I finally got to finish this, forgive me if it’s shitty but I wrote this for you like you wanted 🥹🥹 ALSO SHARE FEEDBACK AND ENJOY! Ignore my mistakes. I’ll edit it later. I got sick. 💀♥️

note: Art by @/nada_ge on twt, this is not mine, cr to owner.

Geto just loves fucking you.

He loves being inside you, fucking you until his dick is aching and you’re full of his load. And now, he hates it when you’re on birth control,

He obviously hates wearing a condom.

And right now? He’s really fucking horny, he cannot stop thinking about fucking you raw, make you bounce on his dick the whole night and breed you like his little doll.

He’s sitting inside your shared bedroom, his shirt off, as he waits for you to finish changing, Geto is throbbing tonight, he will get a baby, he will make sure you get knocked up by him.

Because you’re such a good girl as well, Geto is so in love with you, he wants nothing more than to be with you forever and what is the best way to be with you forever than to have a baby with you?

He is waiting, eagerly. He’s freshly showered, his hair in a lazy bun as he stares at the LED. Even the TV is not interesting enough for him because he’s got some motives. He wants to fulfill tonight.

“Sweetie, where are you?” He suddenly asks, his voice a tad bit loud so you can hear him in the bathroom, he taps his feet on the marble flooring.

“Coming babe.”

He smirks, oh you definitely will be.

He smiles to himself, the thoughts only getting more intense in his mind, his patience is really wearing thin now you need to come here right now.

And it’s like God heard him because there you come all glory in pajamas, your face without any make up, but eyes freeze on you.

You are so beautiful, so pretty and so perfect, the sounds of your steps are enough to take his all of his attention.

“Hi princess.” Geto smiles lazily.

You give him your gorgeous smile, which makes you look 1000 times more pretty, and he pats his lap. “Why don’t you come here hmm?” He speaks in a low tone, his eyes filled with a haze.

A haze you recognize well.

You approach him, Geto wants nothing more than to feel your weight on him, he spreads his legs, “come on pretty girl.” He coos, you are definitely blushing now, as you slyly sit on his lap.

The weight of your ass on him is absolutely delicious, he groans. His arms immediately settling around your waist as he adjusts you.

“Better?” He questions, whispering in your ear like the good caring boyfriend that he is, you nod, and that’s when geto grabs your face and pulls you in for a slow kiss.

His lips move against yours, gently at first, as you register his advance, kidding him back, he enjoys and savors the warmth of your mouth on his.

The kiss only kicks away his sanity, oh he’s so horny. “Mhmm yeah, pretty girl, I really missed you today yknow?” He begins a decent conversation with you, after disconnecting your lips,

You begin talking with him, but all he’s focusing on is being inside you. “Hmm yeah, today wasn’t so eventful, anyways, yn.. let’s focus on the night shall we?” He caresses your face, his fingers tapping your cheek.

“You see? I’m really fuckin needy right now, I’m pretty sure you can feel it.” He winks, hinting at his boner pressing against your ass.

“You look so hot to me right now, please let me fuck you.” He pouts, his tone getting softer yet pleading, but his moves growing bolder, his lips find your neck, as he awaits your response, pressing open mouthed hot kisses against your neck.

He groans again as he takes in your scent, “mhmm fuck.” He moans, his hand sliding inside your shirt, his eyes darken when he realises you’re not wearing a bra.

He starts to tease your naked breast, “oh baby you’re such a naughty girl aren’t you?” His hips start to move, and that’s when you finally mutter a ‘yes’

Geto smiles wide, making you stand up as he immediately kicks his pants off. His muscular thighs soon unveil and throws the pants away.

“Straddle me.” Geto pushes his boxers off soon too, his hard erection painfully obvious, his cock hard and ready. “See that, ‘s all because of you.” He purrs.

“Come on baby ride me.” He takes your wrist and manages to lift you up by your hips, his fingers take off your pajamas and he practically rips your panties off, slamming you down on his cock.

And he cries out in pain, soon replaced by a sound of pleasure as he finds himself inside you, you moan in pain and surprise, “mhm fuck ‘m so sorry baby.”

He’s acting stupid right now.

“Fuck you geto ugh.”

“Yes please fuck me.”

He begs, his grip on your hips tightening as he waits for you to start,

A moan of ecstasy leaves his mouth as you begin to move, “mhmm oh fuck.” He’s always so vocal in the bedroom, he encourages you to go harder, faster.

“Please please please make me cum yn.” He whines, making your hips move faster using his hands to slam you down on his cock.

You moan, matching him as you both give into the pleasure, you settle your hands on his naked shoulders, Geto buries his head in your neck “oh baby mhm yeah please please keep g-going ugh.” He mewls, the feeling your hips slam down on him.

Your thrusts get more aggressive and it makes his eyes roll back. He’s going to cum soon, and inside you.

“Yn oh ngh- mhm.” He wants to kiss you so badly but his mind is frozen, too horny to actually think.

“My ugh- my love you always make me feel so good.” He kisses your neck, his tongue licking all over the skin, his hips bucking up, you keep on riding him.

You’re clenching around him so tightly it’s impossible to last.

“‘M gonna cum.” It’s all he says before he’s exploding inside you, his cum painting your insides white, his orgasm is strong and mind blowing.

The pleasure only intensifies more when he feels you cream all over him as well, you get so quiet during sex, it’s endearing.

His whole body is shaking as he rides the aftershocks, you both a panting mess.

He’s still inside you.

But what’s really got him panting is the knowledge that you’re not on birth control and you didn’t even realize that he just came inside you raw.

Geto smiles, kissing your neck again.

Soon, you’ll be pregnant because he will make sure.

“Oh you’re so good, mhm got me fucked up.” He moans against your neck. “We should continue this hm? This time I’ll be on top okay? I love you.”

Feeling satisfied and accomplished.

[prongsx]

Jason todd who...

Who calls your office with a dying voice, sneezing and whining about how he's sick but can "try" to be fine alone at home. Your boss dismisses you because Jason's voice certainly sounds like someone who needs to be hospitalized.

So when you get home, Jason is comfortably lying on the bed in the shared room, reading one of his favorite books.

"Jay!" You say, running over to him and placing your hand on his forehead. He's at his normal temperature, not even at his normal temperature, the well changed things that should be normal for a human being. The thing is… your boyfriend is a normal color, tanned even, his eyes bright blue, his nose without any sign of redness. You've seen Jason sick, and he doesn't look like this at all.

"Jason?"

"Baby, hi," he says, having the audacity to fake a cough.

"Are you sick?"

When he opens his mouth, you can see the hint of a smile and you know what kind of illness he's going to say he's suffering from.

"Don't you dare say that."

He lets out a hoarse, loud laugh that hits right at your heart and gets in the way of your mission to stay angry. His large hands abandon the book and hold your waist, as he buries his face in your stomach, lightly lifting the hem of your shirt. blouse, his breath against your skin doesn't help your mission to stay irritated either.

"Sorry, honey. But it's not a crime to pretend to be sick, is it?" He says, a smile on his face that makes him look younger, even like a naughty boy who did something hidden from his parents. It makes him adorable, it softens his scars and makes his blue eyes sparkle. "What are you going to do? Call Red Hood to punish me?

It's a hard task to stay mad at your boyfriend.

"Jason Todd…" You start, but you can feel the smile appearing on the corner of your lips. Because months ago Jason would never do this, would never have the stupid courage to do whatever it took to stay by your side. And he looks so ridiculously happy with his ideia that it makes you equally happy, Jason looks alive when he smiles like that, his dimples appearing and you use all your strength not to kiss him.

He pulls you to the bed, curling up against you as if he physically depended on it, peppering kisses on your face.

"I got a break from Gotham today and I needed my favorite person by my side."

You let out a moan, he knows very well how to make you break. Adorable idiot with puppy dog ​​eyes. You let him wrap you in his arms, letting out a sigh of relief. giving up. It was too good to be hugged and kissed by Jason to be mad.

"When you're on Patrol, I'll call and say the house is on fire."

"I'll come running right away."

It was good to be loved.

I have a lot of drafts about Jason Todd lol, finally having the courage to post. I'm opening a box if you want to make requests, I just love Jason Todd so much

[multi-fandom-imagine]

If your requests are still open may I request Adam, Alastor or Lucifer doesn't matter which taking care of sick reader? I'm sick rn, like can't breath though my nose and sore throat all that jazz

A/n: I AM SOERY FOR MISSING THIS! Tumblr never lets me know! I hope you feel better!

Adam:

"Shouldn't you be resting? Didn't I order you get someone else to do this shit?!" Adam didn't mean to snap but you were sick and yet here you were working.

Wrinkling his nose, he took a step towards you then lifted you onto his shoulders. A small squeak left your lips as the angel carried you off towards his room.

"Adam" you let out a small cough, too weak to struggle. "Put me down! I have to work"

Nearly tossing you on the bed, you let a groan burying your face into his pillow as he slipped into next to the spot next to you.

"Didn't you hear me? Someone else can do it." He muttered into your neck. "Now get some sleep, when you wake up I'll get someone to bring you some shit to make you feel better."

Alastor:

Stopping his show, Alastor slowly made his way towards the sound of the constant coughing. Gripping his cane tightly the demon opened his mouth until he saw who it was. It was a pathetic sight really.

You curled up into a small ball coughing away, tissues all around you. He could see shivers wracking your body.

'Idiot, he told you not to stay out, he told you this would happen.'

Part of him wanted to brag about it, to gloat to you but how could he really gloat to someone he...cared about. { that was something he was still getting used too }

Now hovering about you, Alastor let out a dramatic sigh he lifted you up in his arms. "Let's go so you can be back in tiptop shape."

Groaning, you nuzzled into his chest as you let out another cough. "T...thank you." Your voice raspy as your eyes slipped closed.

"Oh dear, you do not have to thank me."

Lucifer

The moment you mentioned to Lucifer that you weren't feeling well the man whisked you away to the bedroom. He did his best to make you as comfortable as possible, he couldn't have the one he loved being sick.

Sitting on the bed, he pouted fixing the cold press on your head. You were still feeling warm, he hated that, he hated seeing you sick.

Flinching from your cough, he sat down on the edge of the bed holding your hand gently. "Do you need anything to eat? Drink?....how about another blanket?"

Letting out a weak laugh, you did your best to give him a smile as you squeezed his hand gently. "Can you cuddle me?"

Lucifer's eyes went wide for a moment though his gaze softened as he nodded his head. "Anything for you."