#cuddles like sandpaper

[catchastarorten]

hey lovely, i don’t know if you take requests but i absolutely love your works!! i wanted to see if you can do a jun ho fic x fem!reader where jun is in a coma after in ho shoot him on that island and reader has been visiting him every day since at the hospital. and one day he finally wakes ip and reader just takes care of him? just like a baby, food, kisses, cuddles. i feel like our man needs that :(

tyy if you would do this, have a great day or night 🩷🩷

Hello, anon! Here's your request :), I hope I did Jun-ho justice because you're absolutely right, the man needs some love and care, and he's gonna get it here. Hope you enjoy this — lots of love! <3

—Feels better with you.

Pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x lover!fem!reader

Summary: after everything Jun-ho went through, he was in a coma, you were there with him when he finally woke up. He needed you. And you took care of him while he was recovering.

Content: fluff, comfort, kisses, yearning, a little bit of angst, Jun-ho in a coma then waking up, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1.0k

Seeing him lying there, hooked up to machines, pale and fragile in a way you’d never seen before, broke something in you. This was the man who had once held you so tightly, who had whispered promises into your skin, who had loved you with a quiet intensity that made you feel untouchable. Now he looked so far away.

You visited him every day after hearing about how he'd been pulled from the ocean. He was in a coma.

You talked to him, your voice soft but steady, telling him about everything and nothing. You read to him, held his hand, brushed the hair from his forehead like you used to on those lazy mornings. And every day, you hoped he’d come back to you.

The day he woke up, it was like the world stopped. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and heavy with exhaustion. Your heart leapt into your throat as you leaned closer, your hands trembling.

Waking up felt like surfacing from a dream that had gone on too long—foggy and disorienting, the kind of dream where Jun-ho wasn't sure if he was still alive or dead. His body was heavy, every muscle aching, but especially from the shot on his shoulder, the weight that it carried.

For a moment, Jun-ho couldn’t remember where he was or why his chest felt so tight, why his head throbbed with such a sharp ache.

But then he saw you.

You were leaning over him, your eyes wide, tears brimming as if you held them back for too long. And when you whispered his name, the sound cracked something deep inside him.

“Jun-ho?” your voice echoed.

He tried to speak, but his throat felt raw, his voice coming out like sandpaper as he rasped your name back. Just your name, like it was the only word he'd held onto all this time. “Y/n…”

And just like that, the weight of the world fell away. You were there, holding his face, your touch soft and grounding, your presence the only thing grounding him to reality. “I’m here,” you told him, your voice thick with relief. “I’m right here.”

The look in your eyes nearly undid him. He wanted to say so much, to explain why he left, to apologize for everything—for leaving without a word, for the pain he knew he’d caused you—but his body betrayed him, too weak to form the sentences in his head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered instead, the words barely audible.

“Stop,” you shook your head, tears falling from your eyes. “You don’t have to explain anything right now,” you said gently, your voice a balm to his soul. “Just rest, okay? Please.”

He didn’t argue. He never could with you.

In the days that followed, Jun-ho spent more time watching you than anything else. He was too weak to do much else, and honestly, he didn’t mind. Every time he opened his eyes, you were there—staying with him, and he held your hand as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

You’d talk to him in that soft, steady voice of yours, telling him about the most ordinary things. It didn’t matter what you said. All he cared about was the sound of your voice, the way it wrapped around him like a blanket, comforting and warm. Like he was home again.

There were times, late at night, when you thought he was asleep, and he’d feel your fingers brushing against his, hear the quiet, shaky breaths you took as if trying to hold yourself together. Those moments broke him more than anything else.

He hated himself for leaving you. For disappearing the way he had, knowing how much it would hurt you. But the guilt wasn’t as strong as the relief he felt now, knowing that despite everything, you were still here. You hadn’t given up on him, and he loves you for it.

When he was finally strong enough to sit up on his own, you started bringing him food—simple things like soup or porridge. He’d watch you blow on each spoonful, your lips pursed slightly as you cooled the soup before holding it to his mouth.

He ate obediently, his eyes never leaving you, his gaze flickering to your lips like he was counting the moments until the bowl was empty and he could kiss you again. 

He wanted to kiss you so badly it hurt.

The first time he finally did, you were brushing your fingers through his hair. Without thinking, Jun-ho reached up and caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm, then your wrist, his eyes fluttering shut as if the touch alone was enough to heal him.

Your heart clenched as you leaned down to kiss him properly, your lips soft against his. It was slow, tentative. Your lips were warm, familiar, and he felt a shiver run through him as he let himself sink into it.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and raw with emotion.

“I missed you too,” you whispered back.

Jun-ho wanted to hold you properly, more than anything. To pull you into his arms and never let go. But the hospital bed wasn’t big enough for that, much to his silent frustration.

You let out a quiet laugh when he gave you a soft frown, but you gave him your arm instead, letting him curl up against you. He rested his head on your hand, his eyes focused on you as you gently ran your fingers through his hair.

The frown dissolved from his face, his eyes traced your features as if he was memorizing every little thing about you. His breathing slowed, and you knew he was at peace.

He needed this. All of it. And he needed you.

[plethorawrites]

Can you please write headcanons for other batboys+ Bruce when they turned into a cat like you did for Jason? Thank you ❤️

Absolutely!!! (This is a long one, so settle in!)

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who was attacked by some crazy scientist trying to create mutant animals but instead changed him into a Lynx with giant ears and massive paws.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who, of course, attempted to micromanage everyone as they tried to help him— walking over the batcomputer and messing up Tim's research, sitting on top on the batmobile when one of the kids tried to take it, knocking things off whatever table he perched on while still trying to feel tall.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who Alfred tried to calm down but ended up antagonizing further until he started meowing so loudly for so long they were all sick of him.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who Jason had to carry upstairs since he was the only one big enough to wrap his arms around Bruce, throwing him in his bedroom while he protested (but refused to use his claws) and locking the door.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who paced back and forth until he heard the door open and saw you walk in, having already been told what was happening, and immediately grumbled, hiding under the bed so you wouldn't have to see him.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who watched you lay on the floor, staring at him, telling him it was alright and they would figure it out, until he eventually became comfortable enough to come out and sit in front of you, staring at the floor in protest.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who ears perked up the second he felt your hands run through his fur, petting him and wrapping your arms around him, kissing the top of his head.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who had to eat deer for dinner and hated it, but was starving so he finished the whole bowl Alfred gave him, still humiliated, even if he was fed with a porcelain bowl.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who tried sleeping at the foot of your shared bed, curled up in a tight ball, but couldn't get away with it because you hauled him back to the top of the bed, clearly struggling to lift his weight.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who was hesitant but eventually stretched out, reaching nearly four feet from the tips of his tall ears to the bottom of his paws.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who let you wrap your arms around his enormous size, scratching his ears while he yawned, bearing his sharp teeth that would terrify nearly anyone except for you.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who purred like a regular cat, even if he had paws bigger than most dogs did, and used them to knead on the mattress while you cuddled him.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who licked your face, his tongue tougher than sandpaper and immediately stopped purring, feeling ashamed of himself until you began laughing and kissing his head and cheek again, finding it funny even if it hurt a bit.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who went back to purring the second he knew you weren't upset or mocking him for his unusual state, and kept doing so until he fell asleep with you holding him.

Cat Bruce Wayne: Who woke up the next morning with his head pressed against your stomach, and his arms wrapped around your waist and immediately nuzzled your warm skin, grateful to be back to his regular self, even if his kids would give him hell at breakfast.

---

Cat Dick Grayson: Who got turned into a sleek, blue eyed, Siamese cat when one of Raven's spells went wrong and panicked at first when she said she didn't know how to turn him back.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who was incredibly vocal, meowing at his entire team before realizing they couldn't understand anything he said and he wandered off to find you instead because he knew he was utterly useless to them.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who you immediately recognized as him when he showed up at your door, pawing it until you opened it and ran inside, rubbing his head against a picture of the two of you on the kitchen counter.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who was grateful when you didn't seem freaked out about him being a cat and trusted you to take care of him for the time being.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who had no shame when it came to sitting on your lap, or brushing his head against your legs while weaving in and out of them and following you everywhere you go.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who actually found himself enjoying how agile he could be and how stretchy his vertebrae suddenly was, giving him even more flexibility than he was used to.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who pawed at the television every time an ad for a cat toy at PetSmart came up until you caved and bought a laser pointer and electric mouse so he could hunt to keep entertained since there wasn't much to do as a cat.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who chose to perch on your shoulder, even though it was inconvenient for you, because he missed being tall and liked the challenge of balancing on you.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who missed being able to tell you how beautiful you are without his voice coming out a dry croak of appreciation for you, and wanted to hold you instead of having you hold him, but couldn't, so he'd settled for curling up next to you on the couch and in bed, pressing his cold nose to your cheek.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who you're petting while you lay on the couch, watching a movie when you suddenly feel his fur turn back into his soft, slightly wavy hair and look down to his head in your lap.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who sits up and stretches, making his muscles ache before he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a laying position while you finish the movie.

Cat Dick Grayson: Who can't decide while nuzzling your neck that night, if he wants to chew Raven out or thank her.

---

Cat Tim Drake: Who was messing around with an ancient artifact getting cataloged in the batcave when he accidentally turned himself into a slim Abyssinian cat with a long tail.

Cat Tim Drake: Who refused to give his family, especially Damian, the satisfaction of seeing him as a cat, and ran off before anyone could find out.

Cat Tim Drake: Who ran to you and scratched at your window to get in, carrying his utility belt in his teeth to show you it was him.

Cat Tim Drake: Who listened to you tease him for a full five minutes before nipping you with his teeth, not to hurt you, even though it did sting a bit, and simply held your hand between his teeth for a few seconds looking up at you in shock over his own actions as if surprised he did it.

Cat Tim Drake: Who you fed roast chicken to when he refused to eat any actual cat food because it looked gross.

Cat Tim Drake: Who ran back and forth from the batcave to your apartment bringing documents to you about the artifact so you could help turn him back.

Cat Tim Drake: Who micromanaged, pacing back and forth on top of the kitchen table while meowing and pawing at papers trying to get you to see the connections he did.

Cat Tim Drake: Who got tired after several hours of work because he didn't have any energy drinks to keep him awake and he knew from listening to Damian yap about animals that cats usually slept like 16 hours a day.

Cat Tim Drake: Who reluctantly curled up in your lap and napped while you continued to work, but bit and tugged at your sweater before he did so you would take it off and cover him in it for extra warmth.

Cat Tim Drake: Who lost all track of time and slept for so many hours he didn't even know what day it was (damn cats had to have different senses of time) when he woke up, finding you hunched over the table, sleeping in a way that was sure to give you an ache in your neck.

Cat Tim Drake: Who woke you up, pawing at your cheek gently and meowing in your ear quietly and saw your eyes flutter open, immediately causing him to start purring when he felt a rush of affection for your willingness to help him.

Cat Tim Drake: Who is sitting on the dining room table when you finally turn into a human again and he's suddenly staring at you with his sweet blue eyes, his legs dangling off the side of the table.

Cat Tim Drake: Who pulls you into the biggest hug, resting his head on your shoulder as he apologizes for making you help him and tells you he loves you for all you do for him.

Cat Tim Drake: Who is so exhausted from being a cat and stressing so much he shed all over your couch that he falls asleep at a reasonable hour for once, clinging to you tightly, humming instead of purring as a way to show his affection.

Cat Tim Drake: Who tries to lie to his family when he gets home, telling them he had spent the weekend with you, but is immediately caught when Bruce pulls up the security footage of him hissing at one of the mice in the batcave before trying to catch it.

---

(He's like 15-16?)

Cat Damian Wayne: Who is turned into a Bengal with bright green eyes and dark spots by some wizard from another dimension during a fight and runs away shortly after his family gets back to the cave after scruffing him to bring him back.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who knows his family well enough to know he wouldn't get a moment of peace with them poking him and making fun of him for his form while trying to fix him, so he goes to you instead, showing up at school in between your classes.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who jumps in your locker, rubbing his head against the picture of him you keep taped to the back of it and watches your eyes widen in realization as you reach into the locker to pull him out of it, slipping the rest of your classes to take him home.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who grumbles slightly when you shove him under your coat to sneak him past your parents, and to your room, but relaxes once he gets there, being dropped on your bed and immediately turning in circles before laying down for the first bit of calm he's had all day.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who kind of enjoys watching you pace and panic more than him, because in a weird way it's nice to know you care so much.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who already knows so much about cats that becoming one is a piece of cake, and he can pretty much control his feline self as best he would his normal self....aside from occasionally purring when he doesn't want to.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who jumps on your desk as you fret, bumping his head against your hand to get you to look at him instead of worrying and meows softly as an attempt to comfort you.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who allows himself to be pulled into your lap if that's what you need and doesn't try to escape, even though he easily could, because you are, he'll admit, pretty warm and soft and you smell quite good.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who hides under your bed when your parents come up to check on you when you choose to eat dinner in your room and share your steamed veggies with him because you know he doesn't eat meat, even as a cat.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who doesn't want to go home to face his family's ridicule so sleeps in your bed, maintaining a respectable distance... until he gets sick of sleeping at the foot of your bed and having you accidentally kick him. Then he moves to lay by your head on your pillow.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who jumps in your bag the next day, desperate to not stay here or go home and after some sad, pathetic meowing (that he'd lie about making if you ever brought it up) you allowed it.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who is so predictable that his family knew he'd be with you and sent Dick to wait outside the school after your classes were over because they found a way to fix him.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who scratches his brother when he tries to take him and has to be carried back to the cave by you instead.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who hears exactly one joke out of Timothy before his father gives him a glare that shuts him up, suggesting they had a conversation before about not doing that when he came back.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who finally turns back into himself again and the first words out of his mouth are "I handled the situation better than you did, Drake." Shortly followed by a quietly mumbled "Thank you, for taking care of me." In your direction.

Cat Damian Wayne: Who watches you shrug and act like it's no big deal but can see the blush creep onto your cheeks and walks you out, giving you a proper kiss once away from his family.

[bellsbookshop]

let the light in

pairing: frank castle x reader

all the little ways that frank clings ⋆˙⟡

authors note: i just love the idea of frank being a secret cuddle bug, so this was born ! warnings for a concerning amount of fluff, frank being ridiculously cute with his need to cuddle up, and me waxing poetic ! as always, feedback [likes, comments, reblogs + asks] is welcome and appreciated ! title from lana del rey’s let the light in. reader is not explicitly gendered in this !

wc: 727

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

you’ve always seen the light in frank, even if he’s convinced himself he’s nothing but darkness.

he’s rough and gritty like sandpaper, hard to love and harder to keep, but you touch him like he’s delicate, gentle and sweeter than anything he’s ever had. the first few months of dating you he’d been almost scared to touch you, afraid of staining your light with his blood soaked hands that’ll never be clean again. he tiptoed around you, treated you like fine china that he couldn’t afford, and he always woke up before you, disentangling himself from your cuddling arms as if he didn’t deserve them.

the frank you have now is worlds apart, like a stray dog who’s finally realized he’s home — there’s no more half worried glances after a hug, no shying away from your warmth with muttered excuses. now he craves your softness, burying himself in your light like he’s been born again within it. there’s hardly a moment where he isn’t at your heels, trailing after you with all the eagerness of a puppy; he’ll curl himself around you like a blanket, keeping you tucked up close under his arm without hesitation. his favorite moments are the simplest ones, the hints of domesticity he never thought he’d have again.

when you’re washing dishes he’s glued to your back, arms around your waist and big hands splayed out over your stomach. he’ll listen to whatever you’re rambling about, a few grunts and hums here and there so you know he’s listening. he’s got his head against yours, an unconscious sway to his movements as he soaks up all the love he can get before you start laughing at his clinginess, teasing the way he can’t let you move a step without being right behind you.

in the mornings he’ll drag you in closer when you try to get up, a firm denial of your need to get up and start the day — he never wants to leave the warmth and safety of your bed, not when the lights coming in so nicely, framing you in that golden glow. by the time he does let you up it’s nearly noon, and he’ll follow your every step even if he’s grumbling about having to get up, incapable of having you more than a foot away from him.

at the grocery store he’s boxing you in with his arms, pushing the cart with your back to his chest like a too big coat. it makes it a little hard to steer, but he’s making up for it by grabbing whatever you tell him, dropping kisses to the top of your head like he’ll die if he doesn’t; his warmth reminds you that you’re safe, no matter what or where you are. he carries all the groceries in one hand, the other arm wrapped tight around your waist keeping you tucked into his side even if the car’s only a few feet away.

he never lets you drive, says it’s because driving keeps him focused — but really it’s because of how perfect you look in his passenger seat, like you belong there with him in the setting sunlight. he’ll always have a hand on your thigh, thumb rubbing circles mindlessly against it, keeping him grounded. sometimes he doesn’t even know how the two of you got home safe, completely distracted by the warmth of your skin and the sweet way you smile at him, pressing a kiss to your cheek at every red light to see it again and again and again.

he can hardly sleep without you when he’s home, the bed too cold without you in it, and he’s not above physically carrying you to bed when he’s decided it’s bedtime. your laughs fill the air and he can’t get enough, twirling you around a few times before dropping you down into the sheets gently and kissing you till he’s dizzy with it, perfectly content for a few brief moments. he’ll pull you in so close there’s hardly any space to breathe, burying his face in your neck and letting your warmth settle over him like a weighted blanket. he never lets you get far, not even when you’re sleeping, strong arms seeking you out to bring you back to his chest where you belong.

you’re his light, and he’ll never, ever stop clinging to that. ⋆˚࿔

[anakinstwinklebunny]

SICKNESS

No warnings, pure fluff..this is awfully long

Your boyfriend was your complete opposite. In many ways.

despite being polar opposites, the two of you got along surprisingly well. However while you were more of a morning bird, anakin preferred spending hours in bed after waking up. You preferred salty and sweety food, while anakin was obsessed with spicy food. You preferred winter, while he liked summer. And when it came to being sick, you didn't really act overly dramatic about it, unlike anakin

"Gosh, I'm gonna die.." Anakin groaned as he shivered under the covers, desperately attempting to pull them higher and burrow deeper into them

you couldn't help but let out a light chuckle at his overdramatic display "ani, you're not gonna die"

"I am.." he rasped through a hoarse throat, his voice weak and strained "My throat hurts like hell..my head feels like it's about to explode and-" he was suddenly cut off by another coughing fit "...god..see? I'm about to die"

you chuckled once more at his dramatic declarations. the soft clatter of pills inside a plastic bottles echoed in your ears as you searched for the right medication to soothe his pain

"You're just sick.." you gently reassured him "you won't die, I promise"

"How can you be so sure?" anakin rolled onto his side, nuzzling his face into the pillow "..I'm seriously dying..my throat feels like a sandpaper!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry.." you giggled, approaching him with a glass of water and two pills "but i need you to sit up, baby"

"Do I really have to..?" he whined

when you gave him a firm stare, he begrudgingly pushed himself up to lean against the bed frame. He eyed the pills in your hand skeptically "what are those for?" he asked

"they're supposted to help beat the fever"

anakin had a habit of becoming extra dramatic when he was sick. He would act like he was on death's door over a simple cold, which was both amusing and slighty annoying at the same time

with a sigh, he reached for the pills and swallowed them with the sip of water. Afterwards, he slumped back down into the bed. You could see his body trembling under the thin layer of blanket and the idea came to your mind "I feel like hell.."

"I know," you sighed, heading to his wardrobe to grab another blanket. "Are you still cold?" you asked, raising your voice so he could hear you.

"Freezing," he mumbled, pulling the covers up to his neck. There was a brief pause before he spoke again. "Can you come here?..I need cuddles.."

"Of course, Ani" you said, leaving the wardrobe and approaching the bed. You spread the blanket over the covers to give him extra warmth that he craved so much

He looked like an overgrown child, buried beneath a heap of blankets. Only a few disheveled locks of dark blond hair and weary blue eyes could be seen peeking out from underneath. He grasped your arm gently and tugged you down onto the bed. "There," he murmured, “Now hug me.”

You chuckled affectionately at his neediness, crawling under the covers to snuggle up beside him. Anakin promptly enveloped his sore arms around your waist, resting his head upon your chest with a soft groan. Becoming his personal pillow, especially at these times, could be seen as your never ending job that you even enjoyed. But if anyone would pay you for doing it, you'd find yourself swimming in a pool full of cash, which wasn't the worse

"You're so warm," he mumbled, pulling the blankets tighter around both of you. "Why aren't I as warm as you are?"

"you're trembling.." your fingers brushed through his messy curls, taking note of his shivering body. Somehow you felt a pang of remorse for laughing at him earlier even if his behavior was specific to say the least

"Of course I'm trembling," he clinged to you as if you were a lifeline. "I've got a fever, I'm cold and sore and sick and tired and miserable..." he continued, listing off his symptoms with a pathetic whine. "..so I'll cling onto you until this stupid sickness is gone."

Unable to contain your amusement, a small smile tugged at your lips. Despite his childlike behavior, you couldn't help but find him utterly adorable. The way he searched for physical contact and clung to you for comfort and support made your heart flutter.

"God, I hate being sick," he grumbled, burying his face into your chest. "Being around you is the only thing I enjoy right now."

You soothed him with a soft voice, twirling a curl around your finger "It's okay, baby. The meds will kick in soon enough."

"Everything is just so annoying right now," he complained, his words muffled against your chest. "My head hurts, every part of my body feels sore and throbbing...and I don't know what'll kill me... a headache or the misery itself."

You planted a gentle kiss on his warm forehead, trying to soothe his 'concerns'. "It's just a fever, Ani. you'll be okay."

He grumbled in response, knowing you were right but still feeling entitled to exaggerate his discomfort. "But everything hurts," he whined.

You rolled your eyes playfully, already having grown accustomed to his dramatic antics. "I know, you've already said that," you teased.

"Don't stop rubbing my hair," he mumbled drowsily out of nowhere, relishing the soothing feeling it was providing to his tired head. "Feels so good..."

As the meds slowly began to take effect, you hoped they would soon lull him into a peaceful slumber. But before that happened, he piped up with an unexpected request.

"You gonna make me meatballs?"

You chuckled softly at his random craving. "You're craving meatballs?" you asked, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

He nodded weakly, his eyes practically lighting up at the thought of your homemade dish "Yeah..I always feel better after you make them. Make 'em extra spicy too.." he pleaded, his voice filled with hope.

"Ani, you know you shouldn't be eating spicy food right now. Not with a fever and a sore throat," you gently reminded him.

He pulled back from your chest and looked up at you with puppy eyes and an exaggerated frown. "Are you really going to deny me my favorite spicy meatballs?"

Despite knowing better, he wasn't above asking for special treatment, relying on his boyfriend privileges to get what he wanted, even if it wasn't good for his health.

You gently brushed a stray curl out of his eye and replied firmly, "You'll have to wait until you're healthy again."

Anakin let out a melodramatic groan and draped his arm over his eyes, flopping back onto the pillow with a heavy sigh. "But I want them," he mumbled pathetically

"It's for your own good.."

He let out another melodramatic sigh, realizing that you weren't budging. But, true to form, that didn't stop him from trying to persuade you.

"You're so cruel to me," he pouted, feigning a wounded expression. "Starving me and denying me my favorite food while I'm ill and dying..." His tone was playful, clearly enjoying the banter.

"You're so dramatic," you teased. "Is there anything else you'd like to eat?"

He paused for a moment, pretending to think carefully about his food request. "Well, nothing much. Maybe just some soup and tea," he said casually, before sneaking in a hopeful whisper. "And spicy meatballs.."

You dissolved into laughter at his persistent attempt to break the no-spicy-food rule. "Ani, no spicy food," you reiterated

He let out a frustrated groan, burying his face into the pillow and sulking like a child denied his favorite toy. It was adorable how his demeanor completely changed when he was unwell, transforming him into a grumpy, bratty boy.

He muttered sulkily, "You're mean...what if I said please?"

"We just talked about it,"

Another groan of disappointment escaped him as he, again, flung an arm over his weary eyes, acting like a frustrated baby who was just about fed up with everything. Despite his best efforts, his worn-out muscles and tired mind kept him from pulling off his usual whining and pouting. After a moment of silence, he slowly removed his arm again and looked up at you with hopeful eyes.

"Please...? Please, just a few meatballs. I'm craving them so much.." he pleaded, sounding like a sad puppy with his tired and raspy voice.

You sighed, knowing that there was no easy way to make him see reason. The basic, logical facts didn't seem to register in his sick-addled brain. "I'll see what I can do," you responded, resigned.

His demeanor instantly brightened, a small, victorious smile illuminating his face. He looked like a kid who had just won the jackpot, thoroughly pleased with himself. Suddenly, he remembered something else, and his expression brightened even more.

"..And I want cuddles.."

"you're so demanding, you know that?" it made you frown jokingly, letting him nuzzle closer once more

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @ysrjune @divineani @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @haydensprettyprincess @erosmutt @fuckmyskywalker

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for Nina

Request: Would sick or sleepy Reader being cared for (and/or "cared for") by their monster bf (big enough to be snuggled by is all I ask) work?

A bug?!

Werewolf x fem!reader || very fluffy smut, hurt/comfort, shower sex, (very light) praise kink

You were fast asleep when you heard hurried steps and your name being called.

You fell asleep in a blur of fever and snoot, and the sound of those steps is like thunder in your head right now. Fuck, you regretted everything in life right now. Especially calling your werewolf boyfriend during the full moon knowing he wouldn’t be able to reach for his phone until the morning. And he would most likely panic. But you were sick and miserable and you wanted all the cuddles, okay? So you called. And by the sounds of it, he just got his messages and ran to you directly from the pack night… Uh-oh.

At least he had your key and didn’t have to knock down the door to get to you. You had no doubt he would if he had to. “What’s wrong? You smell like pain? What happened? Who attacked you?” His questions were rapid fire, and your brain was too slow to be able to recognize them all.

But you just groaned miserably, half opening your eyes to look at him. “Sick,” you mumbled.

“What kind of sick? What’s happening? How do I help?” The way he sounded so worried almost made you smile. Almost. “Do we need to go to the hospital?” And if you weren’t feeling so bad, you’d laugh at your boyfriend’s antics.

“I don’t know, probably just some bug.” You swallowed, your throat feeling like sandpaper. You wanted water so badly.

“A bug? How did you get a bug? Aren’t you sprayed? Should I have taken you to get sprayed for flies?” That one did make you laugh, sending you into a coughing fit that left you breathless as your head pounded. You whined pathetically, your head pounding so bad a tear escaped your eyes. “Shit. Come on, lay down, I’m going to get you some soup and some pills. Is that okay?” You nodded, your eyes already closed.

You barely remember him coming back with water and food. He sat behind you, cradling you in his arms as he slowly spoon feed you and wiped your forehead with a cold towel. You moaned and groaned, complaining every step of the way, but he didn’t say anything. He stood there with you, caressing your hair and telling you stories about werewolves. You loved when he told you stories like that, werewolf culture and storytelling were so deep and complex...

At some point, you fell asleep, your body too tired and too cozy against his chest to remain awake even if you wanted to hear everything he had to tell.

You woke up again in a furnace.

You were so hot you felt like you were melting. But wait… It wasn’t a furnace, it was your werewolf boyfriend, your big furry boyfriend who irradiated heat exactly like a furnace. You tried to untangle yourself from him, but he only tightened his hold, his whole body plastered against your back.

Turns out the furnace was your boyfriend.

“How are you feeling, sweetie?” He asked with a worried tone, his whole body wrapped around you. “Are you feeling a bit better? You aren’t as hot anymore, I think the fever passed.”

His words made sense, but your body was focused in just one thing: “I feel gross.” Your whole body was sweaty and sticky and your clothes felt disgusting.

He kissed your forehead with a soft smile, his fangs glinting in the low light. “Wait here, I’ll run you a bath.” You tried not to pout as he got up and away from you. He might be hot as hell (innuendo intended), but he was comforting. “Don’t pout, sweetie. I’ll be back in a second, I promise.” He leaned down and kissed your forehead again. You sighed happily as he pulled the covers back up and walked to the bathroom. You heard the water running and he came back in a second. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned out.”

“Will you join me?” You asked, trying to be sexy, but failing when your voice breaks and you start to cough awfully. He chuckled with a nod, slowly getting naked as you stared at him with glassy eyes. You felt like garbage, but he was just so hot and sexy… damn.

He helped you get out of your clothes, testing the water before helping you in with an arm around your middle. You grabbed onto his chest-hair like a life-saver, it was so soft… You snuggled against his collarbone as he washed your head and massaged your scalp. You moaned, the feeling almost orgasmic.

By the time he was done with your hair, you were putty in his hands, your whole body relaxed against him, and your pussy so wet… You couldn’t avoid rolling your hips against his, so fucking needy. You could feel his hard on against your belly, and that only ignited your desire further.

“Let me make you feel good,” he whispered against your hair. You nodded, the cozy feeling of his body around you and the warm water cascading down your back made you feel boneless. “Just let me support your body as I make you come, sweetie.” You planted an open mouth kiss against his throat, making him whimper as his dick twitched.

You groaned, his dexterous fingers caressing down your back until they cup your butt-cheeks, making you shiver as his hand slipped lower, touching your opening from behind as he helped you up. Your legs wrapped around his middle, your pussy rubbing against his hard on as his hand explored your slit, the tip of his finger slipping inside your warm heat.

You let out soft moans as he kissed your neck and whispered sweet nothings against your skin. The pleasure was slow raising, building bit by bit as he rubbed his knot against your clit and his fingers fucked you lightly. The combination of sensations was driving you crazy, your moans getting louder and louder as he encouraged you.

“Come on, sweetie, let me hear you scream my name like a good girl.” His words were grunted against your ear, his chest vibrating in almost a purr.

The second the words good girl were out of his mouth, your eyes rolled back in your head and you arched your back, expecting him to catch you. He did. Of course he did. He rubbed your clit until you were whining in overstimulation. He let out an amused hug and stopped his movements.

You reached down to grab his still hard cock, but he stopped your hand. “Stop it, this wasn’t about me.”

“But I…” You tried to argue, but your body was suddenly so tired. You were so sleepy...

He calmed you, his hand caressing your sides as he turned off the water and walked out with your body still wrapped around him. “Shh, let me take you back to bed so we can snuggle, okay? You can make it up to me tomorrow if you are feeling better, deal?”

“Deal,” you whispered, your head hidden in his neck and your eyelids feeling too heavy to keep them open.

[maximoffwitch]

She’s the Best Remedy

pairing: emily prentiss x reader

warnings: slight mention of canon typical violence

summary: when you don’t answer your phone, emily thinks the unsub’s gotten to you. little does she know the only unsub that’s gotten you is the flu.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: so excited to be writing again! and for my fav fbi agent nonetheless :) and btw this is not rly proofread at all so pls forgive any mistakes !

request: not sure which character to choose for this prompt so feel free to choose whoever - it’s nearly winter where i am so it’s flu season and everybody’s got a cold and sniffling. so maybe r catches a horrible cold and is unresponsive to texts and calls because congestion, tiredness, all the symptoms we love so much so character comes to check on them and help them get what they need

As the morning light shone through the curtains, you let out a low groan.

Usually, you weren’t one to object to a slow weekend morning—a relaxing, warm shower and a nice steaming cup of coffee before heading off to do some errands. Mornings with your girlfriend were especially your favorite, when you could just cuddle into her side, basking in her warmth. However, unfortunately for you, neither of those were options today. Emily had been working non-stop this past week on a local case, and on top of that, your body felt like it had just gotten hit by a truck and then run over.

Pulling the covers over your head, you blocked out the light, trying to soothe the pounding in your head. You knew it was flu season, and as a pre-school teacher, you were bound to catch the sickness at some point. You just wish it wasn’t so bad. The occasional sniffles and cough you could handle, but this felt like death was on your doorstep.

You could barely breath out of your nose and your throat was dry as sandpaper. Another groan escaped your mouth, as the ringing of your phone echoed throughout the room. You had no energy to move, let alone talk to anybody, and you needed the ringing to stop, your headache only getting worse as the sound continued. Grabbing your phone, you blindly shut it off before throwing it across the room. Before you could hear it start to ring again, your body gave way and you fell back into a deep slumber.

— — —

On the other side of town, Emily was desperately trying to get a hold of you. Local cases always made her nervous, even more so when she started dating you. Knowing you could be put in danger, both because there was an unsub on the streets of Virginia and because you were connected to her, made her guts twist. However, this case particularly hit home, as the unsub seemed to be targeting women your age who worked with kids–pediatricians, nannies, teachers.

Emily needed to know you were safe; she needed you with her. After asking Hotch if she could bring you in, she stepped away to call you, only to be met by your voicemail. Any other time, Emily would’ve laughed, as she always did, at the ridiculous message you left on your answering machine, but now, she needed to hear your actual voice. Calling again, she was met with the same response. Emily tried one more time, biting her lip when you didn’t pick up, again. Typing out a few texts, she slipped her phone back into her pocket before rejoining the team.

“What’s wrong?” JJ asked, immediately noticing the worry knitted in her friend’s brows.

“(Y/N)’s not answering her phone,” Emily replied as pulled out her phone again to check for any message from you. “And she hasn’t replied to any of my texts.”

JJ frowned, knowing how that was unlike you. You would always respond to calls or texts, especially your girlfriend’s. Sensing Emily’s concern, JJ stood up and placed a soothing hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sure she’s fine. She probably just forgot her phone when she went to the store or something,” JJ said with an assuring smile. “Come on, let’s have Garica track it.”

Emily nodded, liking that idea. The two women made their way through the bullpen and into Penelope’s bunker.

“What can I do for you two lovely ladies?” Penelope chirped, not bothering to look away from the screen, her fingers still flying across the keyboard.

“Pen, I need you to track (Y/N)’s phone,” Emily said. At the mention of your name, Penelope immediately stopped typing and snapped her head around.

“What happened? Is she alright?” The technical analyst’s eyes were wide. From the moment Emily introduced you to the team, Penelope adored you, your bubbly personalities meshing quite well.

“She’s not answering Em’s calls or texts,” JJ explained calmly, ever the level head.

“On it.” Penelope swiveled back around. Emily rang your number again, so the blonde could trace your phone.

As the dot flashed on the map, Emily leaned forward, her eyes narrowing in on the location.

“She’s at home,” Penelope said lamely.

“Her phone is,” Emily corrected, her thoughts already starting to spiral. What if the unsub had kidnapped you? What if he’d hurt you? Or worse…

— — —

Back at your apartment, you had barely moved an inch. It was now nearly noon, and you knew you had to get up at some point, if not only to get some water. Mustering up all of your will and energy, you slipped out of bed and dragged your feet down the hall, steadying yourself against the walls.

After gulping down some water, you leaned against the counter, hanging your head in your hands. You could barely even think about anything other than your bed, the feverous state fogging your mind. As a wave of chills wracked your body, you knew you had to get in the shower and regulate your body temperature. Besides, your hoodie was starting to cling to the thin layer of sweat that coated your body.

Peeling off your clothes and throwing them haphazardly on the floor, you made your way towards the bathroom and into the shower. Somehow, you managed to take a shower–if you could call standing under lukewarm water, your head resting against the cool tile, for fifteen minutes a shower–without falling asleep. With a one track mind, you changed into another pair sweatpants and one of Emily’s old Yale t-shirts, and climbed back into bed, completely ignoring the flashing missed notifications on your phone.

— — —

“Hotch, I need to go over there,” Emily argued as she paced in the roundtable room, where the team was working through existing evidence. “She is not answering any of my calls or texts, and she fits the victimology. I was going to have her come in to keep her safe, but now the bastard may already have her.”

Hotch remained silent, his eyes narrow and stern, as he weighed his options and observed the woman before him. He knew Emily was too emotional to be anywhere near your apartment, especially if it was in fact a crime scene, but he also knew that she was too stubborn to stay away.

“Fine,” he relented, his voice calm and quiet as usual. He turned his stare towards Derek. “Morgan, go with her. And vest up. If the unsub is or was there, I want this done by the book.”

Derek pushed himself out of his chair and quickly followed Emily, who was already out the room and halfway down the stairs.

“Prentiss, wait up,” he called after her as he narrowly slipped through the elevator doors. Seeing the ground level button was already lit up, Derek turned his attention to his partner. “She’ll be okay.”

“You don’t know that,” Emily snapped, still staring ahead.

Derek remained silent, knowing she was right. He knew better than to make false promises, but it hurt him to think of something happening to you.

The two agents made their way over to your apartment, turning on the lights and sirens as they weaved through traffic. Not wanting to make a scene and disturb the rest of the residents, Emily and Derek calmly but quickly made their way into the lobby of your apartment building and rode up to the eighth floor, not drawing their guns until they reached your door.

Emily knocked loudly first. “(Y/N)! It’s me!” She was met with silence. Leaning in closer to the door, she heard no motion whatsoever, causing her insides to twist. “(Y/N)?” Emily tried knocking again. Still no response.

Derek started to back up, getting ready to kick down the door. But before he could even lift his leg, Emily swatted his shoulder.

“Don’t even think about it,” she scolded him, knowing how pissed you’d be if he broke your door. “I have a key, dumbass.”

Derek furrowed his brows as an offended look appeared on his face. “Okay, ouch,” he mumbled, but nonetheless straightened and redrew his gun.

As Emily unlocked the door and entered your apartment, Derek close behind her as he cleared the first room, the silence enveloped her body. It was too quiet; something was off. While Derek was clearing the kitchen, Emily observed your apartment—clothes strewn on the floor, dirty dishes in the sink and on the counter, your unfolded blanket tossed over the side of the couch. The mess was so unlike your usual tidy apartment, and it made Emily even more on edge.

“Prentiss,” Derek called, catching her attention as he motioned towards the hallway. “Bedroom?”

Emily nodded and followed him down the hall. When the reached the cracked door to your bedroom, she moved to enter, but Derek stopped her. “Let me.”

Emily gulped, knowing her partner was looking out for her. If something had happened to you behind that door, she shouldn’t have to be the first one to see it.

Derek slowly pushed the bedroom door open, immediately checking the closet for any sign of you or the unsub. When he turned towards the bed, he noticed somebody was in it, buried under the covers. Cautiously, Derek pulled the blankets back, his gun still pointed at the figure.

You immediately noticed the lack of warmth and the sudden brightness. Groggily, you opened your eyes, ignoring how heavy your eyelids were. You saw a face standing above you, one you recognized.

“Derek?” You croaked, your brain still catching up with what was happening. When you saw his gun pointed at you, you woke up, your eyes widening. “What the hell?”

Hearing your voice, Emily rushed into the room, pushing Derek aside, who immediately lowered his gun, turning on the safety. “(Y/N),” she sighed in relief as she kneeled at the side of your bed, carefully caressing your face. “Are you alright?”

“Besides being bedridden by a nasty flu and waking up to a gun in my face?” You tiredly let your head drop to the pillow, leaning into Emily’s cool touch against your skin. “Just peachy.”

“You’re sick?” Emily asked, another wave of worry washing over her.

“Mhm.”

“Oh, thank god.” She sat up and pressed a long kiss to your forehead, which had cooled since this morning but was still quite warm.

“Relieved I’m sick?” You quipped, though you lacked your usual sass and playful smirk, too drained for a real conversation.

“Relieved you’re not dead,” Emily deadpanned, causing you to open your eyes and frown.

“Dead?” You frowned, clearly confused.

“Yeah, sweet cheeks,” Derek piped up from behind your girlfriend, where he stood holding your phone. “You weren’t answering your phone, and we thought the unsub took you.”

He tossed the device over to you, narrowly missing your face. As you turned it on, you winced at the brightness, but then your lips parted when you saw the amount of missed calls and texts from Emily, and even a couple from JJ.

“Sorry, Em,” you said sheepishly, offering her a small smile, hoping she wasn’t mad at you for wasting her and her team’s time.

“Don’t apologize, honey,” Emily soothed as she brushed your hair from your face. “I’m just glad you’re here for me to take care of.”

You hummed contently at the thought but then weakly protested when you remembered why she was there in the first place. “Don’t need to stay. Have work and chasin’ bad guys.”

Derek snorted amusedly. “Eloquent,” he teased, earning a glare from Emily.

Turning back to you, she smiled softly. “You’re sick, (Y/N). Of course I’m gonna stay and take care of you.” She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and you felt your body warm—this time not because of your fever.

“Sure?”

“I’m sure,” Emily chuckled as she gave your forehead another kiss. “Let me just wrap some things up with Derek.”

You nodded, closing your eyes blissfully. You could hear the two agents murmuring about something–probably Emily leaving work in the middle of a case–but you could barely make it out, as you drifted back asleep, feeling a lot better now that your girlfriend was here.

— — —

The next time you woke up, your head felt a lot lighter and you could tell your body had returned to a normal temperature. As you opened your eyes and saw the sun had long set, you felt a presence weighing down the other side of your bed. Rolling over, you were met with a sight you’d never tire of.

Emily had changed out of her button down shirt and dress pants, settling for some yoga pants she’d probably left here and an old crewneck of yours. She’d pulled her hair back into a loose messy bun and wiped off the light makeup she’d been wearing earlier. You swore she had never looked prettier.

“You stayed,” you whispered as you nudged her hip with your head, causing her to look away from the files she was reading and down at you.

“Hi, my love.” Emily ran her hand through your hair, scratching your scalp. “How are you feeling?”

“Better now that you’re here.” You moved so you could rest your head in her lap, her warmth comforting you. “‘M sorry about earlier.”

“Don’t worry,” she cooed. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“Well, tell Hotch I’m sorry.”

Emily couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her. She knew you felt bad about the whole misunderstanding and were probably embarrassed. She’d tell you later that the team was just as worried about you and just as relieved when it was only the flu. “Okay, I will, honey,” she agreed.

You stayed quiet for a moment, doing your best to breathe through your lingering congestion. Despite the horrible day you’d had and the ache that persisted throughout your body, you knew there was nowhere else you’d rather be than here with Emily.

“You didn’t have to stay,” you mumbled as you traced patters on her thigh.

“Of course I did,” she said, tossing her files onto the side table. “You needed me, so I stayed. Where else would I be?”

You turned your head so you could look up at her, meeting her gaze. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Emily affectionately poked your nose, causing you to scrunch it. “Do you want anything to eat? I made your favorite.”

“Not yet,” you replied as you closed your eyes, the feeling of Emily’s fingers combing through your hair soothing you. “Can we just stay here together for a little?”

“Of course, darling,” she agreed, content to just cuddle with you. “As long as you want.”

Feeling loved and cared for, the illness starting to slowly leave your body, you knew that Emily Prentiss was absolutely the best remedy. Thankfully, she was yours to keep.

[strawberrykidneystone]

fall right into me

lest x female reader

summary: after waking up with lest still on your chest and still a little hazy from the shimmer in your system, her eyes tell you everything you want to hear

a/n: part 2 of our her canine teeth in the side of my neck!!! tysm for all the love and support!!!

tags: cowgirl, couch sex, kissing, touching, tit play, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cuddling, scratching, smoking

part 1

ao3 version

slowly waking up from your slumber, you realized you were still in lest’s apartment. honestly, it wasn’t a surprise, you were here more often than you were in your actual apartment. what did surprise you were the golden feline eyes that were zeroed in on your sleepy face. once she noticed you were awake, a soft smile graced her dark red lips that were slightly smudged around the edges. you’re sure that if you looked in a mirror you would have the same lipstick smeared on your lips and neck.

grabbing her waist firmly but with a soft touch, you slowly switched your positions with her lying on her back with you now straddling her hips. she lounged back against the random throw pillows on the couch, staring into your eyes with blowout pupils and a smirk on her lips that showed off her sharp canines, the sharp teeth reminding you of the throbbing in your neck from the night before.

you could feel her half-hard cock pressing against your groin, making your lower stomach feel fuzzy with arousal. your panties were still soaked from the night before, it didn’t take much for you to get riled up again. slowly rocking your hips against her cock, you relished in the pleasurable sigh that left lest’s lips. her hands trailed up your thighs and settled on your waist, squeezing the soft curves of your body in her hands.

looking up to you for permission, she palmed your breasts in her hands as soon as you eagerly nodded in affirmation. you pathetically whined as she pinched your nipples in her nimble fingers, instinctually arching your back into her touch. she started squeezing the pliable flesh in her hands in such a rhythm that it reminded you of an actual cat kneading a pillow. pushing your shirt over your breasts, she sucked softly on one bud while twisting the other in her fingers, languishing her rough tongue around your areolas. she intentionally scraped her fang against the tip of your nipple, pulling a gasp from your lips. your hands instinctually tangled in her hair and have a sharp tug, drawing a groan from the cat hybrid below you.

with your hands in her hair, you massaged the outer part of her pointed ears and teasingly flicked your tongue against the soft cartilage of the tips of her ears. a loud purr sounded in her chest that vibrated your nipple in her mouth, her hips jolting up as her length grew harder beneath you. her thick fluffy tail swished back and forth under the two of you, tickling the back of your thighs.

you tugged her head up and connected your lips to hers in a searing kiss. she nipped at your bottom lip and you happily opened your mouth at her wordless request. she massaged her sandpaper tongue against yours and you responded in kind by curling yours against hers, giggling at the soft scraping of your two tongues. reaching under her shirt you buried your hands in her speckled fur and massaged her waist, drawing a purr from her chest. you pulled back from the kiss impatiently and shifted back on her thighs, “clothes off, now.”

lest smirked up at you and snickered, "eager today aren't we?"

you sucked in a sharp breath and pulled her skirt down with her underwear in one fell swoop, "you have no idea."

lest sat forward a little and slipped her shirt over her head, her nipples covered by the fur decorating her chest. her sides had matching speckles sprinkled down her torso that looked like a painter flicked their paintbrush at her from a distance. she had darker fur around her crotch that was neatly trimmed, the pattern in her fur creating a delicious landing strip that you couldn't help but stare at. god she had such a pretty cock, standing tall at 7 inches with a slight curve to the left, you swear you've memorized the shape and could pick it out of a lineup with your eyes closed. you leaned down and made direct eye contact with her, giving her tip a few poised kitten licks. her breath caught in her throat, a guttural growl coming from her chest as he hips bucked up against your mouth.

you shucked off your pants as fast as you could, rubbing your clit a few times in preparation but you were already so wet from the night before, you efforts were somewhat in vain. your clit was aching, so swollen from your unfinished business last night that you didn't even bother making lest beg to be inside of you like you usually did. scooting forward to be directly over her lap, you lined the tip of her cock up with your slit and rubbed the oozing end back and forth through your slick, relishing in the delicious groan that left lest's lips below you. her hands flew up to your hips and dug her fingers into your flesh, her cock twitching impatiently against your folds.

"please.. put me inside."

you hummed and sleepily smirked down at her, "who's the eager one now?"

she looked up at you with those desperate gorgeous orange eyes that still had a slight purple hue to them and you knew you couldn't resist anymore. lining her cock up with your opening, you slowly sunk down on her length with a high-pitched moan. lest wasn't fairing much better, resisting the urge to immediately start thrusting into you when you looked so ethereal above her, a high that she could never reach with shimmer. you could feel lest's nails leaving crescent marks in your skin, cooing down at her in appreciation of her willpower allowing you to adjust to her lengthy cock.

you sunk down all the way to the hilt of her cock with a satisfied sigh, let's hips slightly shifting to be comfortable under your weight. slowly starting to rock your hips, lest pulled you down with a hand at the nape of your neck and buried her face into your neck, littering your skin with kisses and small nips wherever she could reach. her hands traced up to your shoulder blades, her nails digging into your skin and running down your back as she started shallowly thrusting up into your heat. you groaned and threw your head back, goosebumps forming on your forearms as a shiver went up your spine. lest let her neck fall back and planted her feet into the couch, her hips adjusting as they angled upwards. cupping the back of your neck, she pulled you down into a breathy kiss as she started to thrust up into you as you simultaneously rode her cock, each contact of your skin creating a delicious slap that started to fill the room.

all you could feel was how hot your body felt and the new humidity in the room, her thrusts were making you dizzy as her cock always stretched you out so well. you pulled away from the kiss and leaned back, your hands gripping lest's knees behind you. lest continued roughly snapping her hips into you, her eyes mesmerized by the bouncing of your tits with each thrust.

"doing so good for me baby, you always take me so well," she praised you and let out a choked moan as she felt you clench around her.

"rub that pretty little clit for me baby, wanna see you cum on my cock," she said breathily, her thrusts becoming more shallow and frequent. you nodded and followed her command, reaching between your legs and rubbing tight circles on your protruding clit that was practically begging for more.

almost as quickly as you touched your sensitive button, you felt the tight coil in your abdomen snap as the curve of lest's cock perfectly brushed against your g-spot, your walls contracting around her girthy length. lest wasn't fairing much better, her thrusts getting more sporadic and feral as your walls hugged her in close. her chest involuntarily jerked forward with her mouth hanging open in a silent scream, her hips twitching as her cum painting your walls white with a quiver of her cock.

you shivered as you felt her juices dribbling down your thigh, both of you focused on catching your breath and recovering from your respective orgasms. her gently rocked her hips back and forth to work both of you through your aftershock. she leaned forward and pushed your hair away from your sweaty face, kissing your forehead tenderly, "so good for me, every time." your brain was still fuzzy from the high of coming on her cock, all you could respond with was a nod and a happy hum.

she wrapped her arms around your neck as she laid back down, her tail curling around your thigh as you laid down with her. you nuzzled your face into her sternum and clung to her torso. lest pulled a stray blanket over the two of you and rubbed her nose against your scalp, cradling you in her arms. she reached over to the table for her pipe, taking a few puffs and filling the room with a lavender haze.

good thing she worked at night, she'd hate to disturb you when you looked so peaceful in her arms, even if it was just temporary.

a/n: lest what are we... i also listened to one of your girls a lot while writing this so do with that information what you will

[roseghoul26]

Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x fem!Reader

Tags: Title From A Fall Out Boy, Fame < Infamy by Fall Out Boy, Takes Place Before The Destruction of NCR, Jealousy, Someone Else Flirts With You, Derogatory Language Towards Women, Bisexual The Ghoul, Because Walton Goggins Said So, Arguments, Confessions, First Kiss, Sub Ghoul, Poor Man Is Desperate, Teasing, Edging, Oral Sex, Blowjobs, Cowgirl Position, You Wear His Hat, Light Dom/Sub, Cuddles Synopsis: After two weeks out on the job, you and The Ghoul are spending the night at a bar in Shady Shands relaxing. The Ghoul has always flirted with you, but he never meant anything by it, never did anything more, leaving you frustrated and desperately wanting the man. So when you meet someone who acts on his words, you nearly agree to spend the night with him, hoping to fill your lonely nights with another person instead of thoughts of The Ghoul. But any prospect of enjoying his company is destroyed when The Ghoul beats the man for even looking in your direction. Rightfully angry, an argument between the two of you ensues, leading to things that you only imagined would happen in your thoughts during your lonely nights.  Author’s Note: alright so normally i’m like meh about my own smut writing but i will admit i am a bit proud of this one :D Taglist: @ancientbeing10 @alex-does-art-things

The bar you were currently sitting in was dingy, seedy, and smelled like old food and piss. You didn’t even remember the name of it, too excited for the prospect of a cold drink to care, and you let The Ghoul drag you in. You were sourly disappointed when the Mr. Handy behind the counter handed you a lukewarm beer, not even a single drop of condensation on the brown bottle. 

So here you were, leaning back against a moth-eaten and weathered couch tucked in the corner, nursing a drink that just made you thirstier. He sat next to you, his legs lounged up on the low table in front of you two like he hadn’t a care in the world. You supposed that being alive for over two hundred years would do that to someone. 

The Ghoul had his own drink, a glass of whiskey, more specifically. It used to have ice in it, about ten minutes ago, but it had quickly melted, no doubt watering down the drink. Still, he continued to sip at it, his eyes roaming the crowds in the bar. Your eyes were shut, head resting against the back of the couch, catching up on some much-needed rest.

The Ghoul and you had just come back from a two-week-long excursion of the Wasteland, hunting down a group of escaped convicts from the jail in Shady Sands. Most of the time had been spent walking, searching for clues in the ending sea of sand. It had almost been impossible, but you were able to pick up a trail. It had led you to a long-since abandoned town near the shoreline of California, and after an intense firefight the two of you managed to slay them all; there was no way in hell you were escorting alive prisoners all the way back to Filly. Carrying the heads would be easier. 

And it was, except for the plethora of animals and insects it attracted, but you’d take that over the prisoners fighting you the entire time. Eventually, you and The Ghoul had made it back to Shady Sands, sweaty and covered in blood and exhausted, and dumped the heads onto the desk of the deputy. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a man pale so fast. 

After The Ghoul received the cap reward, he paid for two rooms for the both of you and some sleazy hotel, and after getting washed up he had dragged you to the bar further down the street. You hadn’t had the energy to fight him, but you almost wish you had now. You were barely staying awake, head bobbing as you forced yourself to concentrate on the chatter of patrons to keep you conscious. 

Bringing the drink up to your lips, your muscles cried out in protest, but you just ignored them. The drink itself wasn’t terrible, the flavor was almost citrusy, but it felt like sandpaper as it went down your throat. Wincing, you cleared your throat, garnering the attention of the man beside you. “Surly it ain’t that bad,” he chuckled, and you cracked an eye open at him. 

You didn’t respond, just holding out the drink for him to grab. You were sure to hold it by the neck so he had plenty of space to grab it below, but you felt him grab it in a way that made his gloved finger bush over yours. You kept your face neutral, but you certainly felt your heart react, ticking up in rhythm.

After taking a sip, a similar grimace crossed his face. If he had brows, you’re sure they would be furrowed, his lips curled up in disgust. “Even I can tell that tastes like shit,” he shook his head, forcing the drink back into your hands. There was only an inch of liquid left at the bottom, and so choosing to ignore the fact that his lips had just been on the bottle, you finished it off. 

Setting it on the table, you wiped the back of your mouth with your hand. “It’s not good, sure, but it’s better than anythin’ else I’ve had in the past weeks. “So, I,” you stood with a slight groan, “am gonna get another one.”

You didn’t get too far attempting to step around the table, his legs blocking the easiest way out. A hand grabbed your wrist, tugging you back down on the couch, very nearly toppling into him. You tried to break free, but his grip was unyielding. Not enough to hurt, no, but you were stuck. “Now, what kinda man would I be if I made a pretty thing like you get their own drink?” His words made you still, and you were grateful for the shitty lighting that hid your blush. 

Little did you know that he could see you clearly, an amused smile now on his lips. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured, and you were now able to yank your hand away, glaring harshly at him. “Now,” he lightly patted your thigh, making you jump, “stay here, sweetheart. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You were unable to resist the urge to flip him off as he walked towards the bar, before flopping against the couch with a huff. It wasn’t that you hated that he flirted with you. No, it was quite the opposite. You loved the comments and light touches, making your heart race and less-than-decent thoughts pour into your brain. But from the time the two of you had started working together, so roughly a year ago, that’s all it had been. Soft touches, empty promises, saccharine words and petnames that made you melt, but nothing more. He would always stop before it became more, his touch receding like you’d burned him, a witty remark that quelled the fire he stoked, an I’m just teasin’ ya, sweetheart. God, you hated those words specifically. 

 You wanted more, but it terrified you because you couldn’t tell if he actually meant something by his flirtations, or if he just enjoyed tormenting you. Friends were a rarity in the Wastleland, and you were screwed if you somehow managed to ruin things between you two. You’d be out of income, protection, and a genuine friend who (sometimes) had your best interest in mind.

So you bit your tongue, pretending like his words weren’t making you dizzy, that you wanted nothing more than to feel his body beneath you, to be able to feel his lips against yours. So many late-night fantasies that left you even more lonely in the morning, your knuckles bruised from where you had to bite them to keep quiet. Even though it hurt, you kept your desires close to your heart, treasuring the small things he did give you. Which, you’d come to realize, made it worse, but he had made you addicted to it. 

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t even detect someone approaching. You expected to see the familiar face of The Ghoul beside you, but you were startled to find someone else. He was a ghoul, and even though it was hard to tell you could see that he was younger, late twenties, or early thirties if you had to guess. He wore a simple blue shirt and some jeans, way too neat and hole-less than what you were used to. 

He had a beer in hand, and he used it to gesture to the spot beside you. “This spot taken?” He was the usual rasp of a ghoul, albeit a bit higher pitched than The Ghoul’s. God, you couldn’t stop yourself from comparing him to the other man. 

Speaking of him, you were able to subtly glance behind him to the bar, and you found the other man in conversation with some others. It didn’t look to be a confrontation, luckily, and you heard laughter from the group. You focused your attention on the stranger in front of you, smiling warmly at him. “Not at all,” you patted the space beside you, only barely warm still. 

As he sat beside you, setting his drink on the table, you let yourself take him in. He wasn’t unattractive, far from it. There was almost a playfulness to his features, his fully black eyes glimmering with mirth. His arm went around the couch, and you could feel the heat from it. Even though he wasn’t the man that had plagued your thoughts, you couldn’t help the way your body reacted to the stranger, breathing growing short, your cheeks darkening slightly. You were only human after all. 

“Can’t say I’ve seen you around here before, gorgeous.” He flashed his teeth, and you were pleasantly surprised to find pretty much all of them intact, and still in good condition. Another rarity of the Wastleland. 

“I’m just passing through. Just finished up some… work.” You turned yourself to face him more.

“Work, you say? Whattya do?”

“Oh, just some odd jobs here and there. Whatever makes me money.”

He chucked at that. “Can’t blame you for that. I’m Daniel, by the way.” He held a hand out for you, ungloved and bare. You shook it, giving him your name, and he repeated it back to you. It wasn’t the drawl of The Ghoul’s voice, but it was pleasant enough. 

You expect him to drop your hand, but something about them must’ve intrigued him, and you watched, quite confused, as he filled it over. His eyes ran over your fingers, especially your forefinger and thumb, before flicking back up to yours. He still didn’t drop your hand. “You use a gun a lot?” He smirked when you nodded, bewildered. “I can tell by the callouses here,” he dragged a finger along them, tickling you slightly. 

“Well, look at you,” you laughed. “What’re you, a detective?”

“Nah, nothin’ like that. Just… observant.” He flashed you another smile, completely confident in his actions. “So, you’re a bounty hunter then?”

You didn’t bother to deny his claim, knowing the expression on your face just gave you away. Thank goodness you weren’t a con artist. “Is it gonna be a problem if I say yes?” You asked cautiously, slowly retracting your hand, ready for this interaction to go bad. You let your eyes flick to The Ghoul, locating him in case you need help. He was still at the bar, talking with someone new this time, and you felt a pang of something as the man he was talking to brushed his shoulder, nothing innocent in the touch. 

“Not a problem at all,” he answered completely honestly. “Nasty business, though.”

You glanced back at Daniel, relief flooding you. You did not have the energy for a barfight tonight. “You don’t know the half of it,” you groaned. “It’s ruthless, but I enjoy it, weirdly enough. And I’m pretty good at it.”

The hand resting on the back of the couch shifted, and you felt his fingers brush over your shoulders, making you shiver slightly. I like a girl that can handle herself,” he admitted. “Strong,”  he gently squeezed the muscles in your biceps. “Confident. Powerful.” His voice turned into a whisper at the end, mouth pressed close to your ear. 

You were quite flustered now. “Well, you’re in luck then.”

“It seems I am. So, what say you, bounty hunter? Do you wanna get out of here in a bit, have some fun tonight before you head off?”

It had been a long time since you’d had someone in your bed. Since about when you started working with The Ghoul, to be exact. You’re not sure why you hadn’t in so long; it wasn’t for a lack of options. You just… couldn’t bring yourself to take someone to bed that wasn’t The Ghoul. Still, you hated waking up alone each morning, loneliness clawing at your heart. And when you’d see men and women stumble from his room, it felt like someone shot you, making you irritable with him for days to come. Maybe for once you’d have someone leaving your room, your heart content, if for a moment. Maybe you could imagine that it wasn’t Daniel, picture the other man’s features instead.

Maybe he would feel the same way you felt as he watched Daniel sneak from your room. That idea made you grin, and any hesitance about taking him to bed vanished. 

You didn’t get a chance to respond, though, before two familiar gloved hands rested on Daniel’s shoulders, making the man tense. He was forcibly pulled back from you, the force of the pull nearly making him fall off the couch. He caught himself, and you watched as he stood and faced The Ghoul. 

The shade from his hat hid most of his face, but even then you could see the hatred in his eyes as he stared down Daniel. The Ghoul was a formidable opponent, but you have to give some credit to Daniel as he squared up against him. “The hell’s your problem, man?” If the way The Ghoul had yanked Daniel hadn’t gotten the attention of the crowd, Daniel’s words surely did. Behind them, you watched a small crowd begin to form, and you wished to just let the shadows consume you. 

“She’s… off-limits,” he titled his head to the side. The action would make any sane person falter, and you watched as Daniel’s posture went rigid, fear hitting him. 

Still, Daniel didn’t let up, male pride and all that. “Maybe you should let her know, then,” he gestured angrily to you, and you shrank lower into the seat. “By the way she was lettin’ me talk to her, I can imagine the whole town’s probably had their way-”

His words, which had been so sweet moments ago, were cut off when The Ghoul grabbed him by the throat, slamming him onto the table in front of you. You jumped off the couch as splinters of wood and glass sprayed everywhere, narrowly avoiding you. Mortified, you could do nothing but watch as The Ghoul began to beat the man, blood joining in with the debris. If Daniel had a nose left, you were sure it would be pulverized. 

The Ghoul’s lips had curled up into a snarl, his eyes blazing as he leered down at the man, stopping his assault. Daniel tried to pry the other man’s hand from his throat, a choked gasp leaving him, yet that seemed to just make his grip tighter. “Gimme one reason why I shouldn’t just kill ya?” He growled, shoving Daniel’s head into the ground. He could barely garble out a reply, the words indistinguishable. 

Glass shattered on the floor as The Ghoul tossed the man into another table, another piece of furniture destroyed. As he stalked towards the downed man, he rolled over onto his hands and knees, rubbing at his throat. He was coughing and sputtering, genuine fear in his eyes as he looked up at the bounty hunter. Crouching before him, The Ghoul regarded him slowly, nothing but disgust on his features. 

“Fuck… she all yours,” Daniel managed to pant out between coughs. “Just… God, don’t kill me!”

Satisfied with his answer, The Ghoul kicked him one last time for good measure, sending him sprawling back. It was dead silent in the bar, and patrons gawked and shuffled away as The Ghoul walked to where you had been standing, only to find you gone. 

You had slipped out when he had thrown him, unable to continue watching. The streets were busy, and you kept your head down as you wove between people, heading to the hotel as quickly as you could. Too many emotions overwhelmed you, and you took a deep breath and began to collect your thoughts. 

First, you were embarrassed. 

You were embarrassed that they had been fighting over you. When you weren’t on a job, you hated creating conflict, not wanting to be the center of attention. You had plenty of that doing bounty hunting. This was supposed to be a night where you relaxed, to forget all about the horrors of the world you lived in, with or without The Ghoul, but that plan was tossed aside. 

Secondly, you were angry. 

Fuming would be a better word for it, and if you looked hard enough you could probably see the steam pouring from your ears. You were pissed that he had ruined a possibly enjoyable night with another person, ending your celibate streak. You were pissed that he felt like he could just take control of your choices like that. And you were pissed that you never got that next drink, although that was the least of your concerns at this point. 

Finally, you were confused.

Why had he reacted the way he did? It wasn’t like there was anything between you two, as much as it pained you to come to terms with it. Why did he care who you took to bed? He had taken plenty of people to bed during the time you’d worked together, and you’d never made a complaint about it. Why were you weirdly attracted to his display of… jealousy? Was it jealousy? You couldn’t even imagine what that could mean if it was. 

The sound of your name being shouted behind you forcefully tore you from your thoughts. You immediately recognized it, and you refrained from looking over at him. Ducking your head, you hoped that you blended in well with the others on the street, and you continued to briskly walk towards the hotel. 

You heard your name being called again, this time closer, and so you picked up the pace, nearly jogging at this point. You heard the sound of people crying out in alarm, and you knew that he was getting closer to you, barreling through the crowds without any thought. 

You could see the neon sign of the hotel, now lit, and you breathed out a sigh of relief. That feeling was short-lived, panic making your stomach drop when you heard The Ghoul right behind you. “Don’t make me fuckin’ tackle ya,” you heard him threaten. For a moment, you debated just ignoring him, but you knew that he didn’t make empty threats. Besides, the ground was dusty, and you’d rather not spend the rest of the night covered in sand.

Groaning, you finally halted, turning to face him with a scowl. You didn’t respond, just raising a brow and gesturing for him to ‘get on with it’. Your jaw was clenched so hard, and you could feel the headache that threatened to torment you later because of it. 

“The fuck was that about?” 

God, was he joking with you? “I should be the one asking you that! In what world was that a rational response?”

People stared as they passed, but you both just ignored them. “He was touchin’ ya.”

“And did I look even remotely disinterested? Was there any part of my body language that read that I was even the tiniest bit uncomfortable?” You laughed bitterly at the lack of response from him; you both knew what the answer was. “Why the hell do you even care if he was touching me or not?”

He was silent again, and you just scoffed, taking a few steps back. “Whatever,” you sighed in defeat, before turning and walking the remaining way to the hotel. You were almost disappointed when you didn’t hear him following behind you. 

The person behind the desk recognized you, and you were able to quickly make your way up to the second floor where your room was. You made sure to not let your eyes wander to the door where he was staying that night, a few feet down from yours on the other side of the hallway. 

When you were finally alone in your room, you resisted the urge to just scream angrily. Instead, you kicked off your shoes, which hit the walls with a loud noise, and you flopped onto your bed. Laying on your back with your arms spread, you stared at the surprisingly intact ceiling, frustrated tears stinging your eyes. Disagreements always upset you, but there was something about this one that made you feel ill, a sense of dread that you’d never felt before filled your body. 

You’re not sure how long you just lay there, calming your racing heart and your heightened emotions. It must’ve been a while, because you dozed off, the exhaustion in your body now taking control.

A light knock at the door woke you, and for a second you thought you had just imagined it. When it came again, more forceful, you sighed, knowing exactly who was on the other side of the door. Like before, you debated just ignoring him, but you didn’t want to be charged for the destruction of more property. “What?” You snapped out, still not in the mood to talk to him yet. 

“We need to talk.” The Ghoul responded, sounding less irritated than you. 

“Yeah, no shit.” I gave you plenty of time to explain yourself downstairs. 

You could hear him sigh through the thin wood door. “Sweetheart.” You hated that he knew how to get you to do whatever you wanted. You couldn’t even stop yourself as you sat up and made your way to the door. With no hesitation you opened it, his endearment almost putting you under a spell.

It was dissipated when you saw him, those emotions flooding your mind instead. The door was only open a crack, your body filling it as you glared at the other man. “Yes?

“Let me talk to ya,” he sighed in frustration. 

“You are.” You couldn’t care less that you were being stubborn and difficult. He deserved it.

His jaw clenched. “Inside.”

You didn’t respond, mulling over his words as you stared at him, fire never once leaving your eyes. Finally, you relented, against your better judgment. Stepping back, you left the door open, leaning up against one of the dressers with your arms crossed. You watched as he entered, the door clicking shut in finality, looking like he expected to be attacked by you at any second. You were almost proud to instill that level of fear in him.

He kept a respectful distance away from you, loitering near the foot of the bed. “Look, I’m… sorry.” He said the words like they were brand new. 

He left it at that, and you scoffed. You knew that you should just accept his apology and move on. You knew that you shouldn’t instigate something, to purposely start an argument with your traveling partner. But you were still too damn angry to care. You needed him to know what you felt.

“‘Sorry’? I get nothing more than that?”

“What’dya want from me then, sweetheart?” He growled, your anger rubbing off on him. “You want me to get down on my fuckin’ knees, plead for your forgiveness? You want me to promise I ain’t ever gonna do it again, even though it’ll be a damn lie? What the fuck do you want from me?” He spat the last sentence out, emphasizing each word.

The image of him on his knees before you flashed in your mind, and you had to admit it did seem appealing. But not now. 

He was getting closer to you now. Slow, methodical steps, but he was closer, and continuing. “I want an explanation.”

You might’ve as well just slapped him, the way he halted in his tracks, stunned. Words seemed to evade him, and the anger that had just been rolling off him in waves subsided, still there yet not as strong. It should’ve had the opposite effect, but your rage was growing, threatening to burst. “Oh, so now you can’t talk? It’s a simple request!”

“It’s really fuckin’ not.”

“Why?” Silence. “You’ve got two options here. You either suck it up and tell me, or you get the hell out of here. It’s your choice.”

You could tell that he hated the choice you gave him, but you didn’t care. You expected to watch him turn and storm out the door, leaving your relationship in tatters on the dirty hotel floor. So you were surprised when he took a deep breath and remained where he was. “I hated that he was touchin’ you."

“So you were jealous?” You ignored the way you were elated when he nodded, albeit with some hesitancy. The anger subsided, and you felt pure want take its place. “You wanted to be him,” you whispered, taking a step towards him. Your confidence grew at how hungrily he watched you. 

“You wanted to be the one whispering those words, to be running their fingers on my body.” Another step. “You wanted to be the one to take me to bed, to feel me, to fuck me.” You were finally close enough to him that you could touch him if you wish, but you kept your hands by your sides.

The Ghoul groaned at your words, and you couldn’t help the small smirk on your face at his reaction. “Do you want that?” You asked, needed to hear confirmation. 

It came almost immediately. “Fuck, yes.” His own hands reached out to touch you, but you swatted them away. That snapped him out of his semi-trance, his eyes flashing with confusion.

“You don’t get to touch me yet.”

 Something new flashed in his eyes instead, something you couldn’t quite name. “Sweetheart-”

“Sit down.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you just shot him a look, silencing him instantly. The bed groaned as he sat on the edge of it, eyes never leaving yours. It made him stand a head lower than you now, and he had to look up to continue holding your gaze. “How does it feel? To watch someone else get the things you want?”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond. “It hurts, doesn’t it? It feels like someone’s stabbed you in the heart, no? So,” you moved between his legs, “how do you think I felt? After you flirt with me, then take someone else to bed. After you touch me, toy with me, but then act like my body disgusts you, and you recoil away. After you say those things that leave me shaking and wanting, but then never act of them.” 

Your hands grabbed the lapels of his jacket, and you brought your face close to his. “I’ve seen you take countless lovers to bed during the time we’ve worked together, and I never said a peep. Even though it fucking killed me to see. That man in the bar, the one you beat senseless? That was gonna be the first person that’d occupied my bed in almost a year. And no, I didn’t really want him that badly, but maybe I could finally go to bed for one night and not have my thoughts be entirely of you.”

Shoving his back lightly, you stumbled back a few steps, the confession that had just spilled from your lips making you breathless. “I have to know; did you mean it? All the flirting, the touches, everything. Did you mean it?”

For once, The Ghoul kept any remarks to himself, and sheer honesty was written across his face. There before you, you saw a vulnerable man, gazing up at you like you hung the stars. “I did. I do.”

“Do you want me?” Cautiously, you began to move back towards him.

“Every fuckin’ minute.”

When you were back between his legs, you let your hands rest on the lapels, no longer strangling the poor material. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

A hopeful smile graced his lips, his eyes flicking down to your lips which hovered above him. After nodding lightly, you let yourself move closer until your lips just brushed over his, barely making contact. “A shame, then.” You pulled away before they could fully connect, a victorious smile on your face as you looked down at the confused man.

“Oh, you thought you’d be getting what you wanted tonight? You ran your hands up, resting on the sides of his neck now. You could feel his heart hammering. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not. No, tonight you’re gonna feel as desperate as I’ve felt for the past year. And,” you made sure that he was especially paying attention to your words now, “if you think that at any point tonight you’re gonna have control, you’re wrong. Any objections?”

His eyes had blown out during your little speech, small pants leaving his lips as he stared up at you. He was already so eager, and you’d barely done anything yet. Even still, you saw a flicker of uncertainty, and you realized he’d probably never given up control in the bedroom. You let the facade drop for a moment. “I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. Not ever. You just gotta let me know, and we’ll stop immediately.”

Any uncertainty left him, and something warmed in your chest at the fact that he trusted you enough to do something like this. “You ready?”

He nodded, and you shook your head. “I need to hear you say it, baby.”

You watched his throat bob as he swallowed, not expecting the name from you. “I’m ready.”

“Good.” You rewarded him with a soft kiss on the cheek before grabbing his hat off his head. “Go get comfortable on the bed.” 

Stepping away from him, you set his hat on the nightstand as he got situated, his now bare head resting on the pillows. Making sure he had returned his attention to you, you heard his gasp when you grabbed the hem of your shirt, turning into an appreciative groan when you tore it off your head. You wore a simple black bra beneath, but you might as well have been wearing the most beautiful piece of lingerie with the way his eyes widened, a smile on his face again. You made quick work of your jeans, and you refrained from shivering as the air hit your now-exposed skin, clad in only your undergarments. But how could you be cold when he was looking at you with such heat in his eyes?

The bed creaked again when you got on it, and you adjusted until you straddled his abdomen. His clothing dug into your skin, but you could hardly feel it. Planting your hands on his chest, you leaned forward until your face was only an inch from his. He watched you with hooded eyes, which fluttered close when your lips pressed against his jaw, moving up until you stopped right below his ear. 

Gloved hands rested on your bare waist, and as much as you enjoyed feeling his hands on your body, you couldn’t let up that easily. “Did I say you could touch me yet?” You whispered, and you felt him slowly rescind his touch, now resting on the bedsheets beside him. “Good job,” you praised, and you felt him shudder slightly. Interesting. “If you behave, I might just let you touch me,” you offered, like dangling a piece of food in front of a starving animal. 

“Yeah?” 

You just smiled against his skin. 

Continuing your exploration, you moved inward, barely feeling the ridges of the indents of his skin. Moving up his cheek, to across where his nose would be, then to the other cheek, you littered his face with kisses, purposely avoiding his lips. His eyes continued to flutter open and close, and at this proximity, you were able to see short, brown eyelashes. How… peculiar. And cute. 

You didn’t make any comment on them, choosing to move back down again. But you went past his jaw this time, down to his neck, and you felt his head roll back to allow you more room. You felt him jump when you sunk your teeth into the skin before moaning beautifully, and you ran over the hurt with your tongue. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as his hands instinctively went up to touch you, then resting back down on the bed, grabbing at the bedsheets instead. 

There wasn’t much exposed skin left when you reached where his neck and shoulders met, his shirt now covering it. Leaning back, you gestured for him to sit up, helping ease the jacket off his shoulders when he did. He pulled his arms out, and it pooled around his waist, still sitting on most of it. You didn’t care, as long as you could get his get his shirt off.

You hesitated a second before beginning to fiddle with the buttons, glancing up into his eyes. “Alright?” 

“You don’t gotta keep askin’, sweetheart,” he responded breathlessly. “I’ll let you know if I don’t want somethin’.”

You grinned at him, before quickly getting to work and taking off his button-up shirt. With every inch of his body that was revealed to you, you felt your heart accelerate, excitement bubbling in you. He had just gotten his arms out of the garment and had tossed it to the floor before you were forcing him back down on the bed with hands on his chest, loving how easily he complied. 

You let your fingers drag down the front of his chest, nails scratching lightly. Even with the thick scarring covering his body, he was still able to feel it, and he shivered. Your breath caught when you finally looked for yourself, instead of letting your touch see for you. To say he was gorgeous would be an understatement. All lean muscle, you could feel them flex and jump when you touched him, and for a moment you remembered how strong this man was. And here he was, submitting to your every request. You really did try to not let it go to your head. 

“You’re so beautiful, Cooper.” You hadn’t even realized you’d let his real name slip until he went deathly still beneath you. Glancing up at him, you couldn’t read the expression on his face, and you thought you went too far. Still, he had yet to say anything, and so you kept your mouth shut. You trusted that he would stop you.

Continuing to touch him, you barely heard the soft plea that he uttered. “Say it again.” 

The expression clicked now, and you smiled gently at him. You felt truly happy, knowing there was another thing he trusted you with. “Cooper,” you sighed, and you were startled when you felt his hands grasp at you, desperately trying to pull you towards him. You braced on his chest, stopping him, and you glanced at where his hands now rested until he tore them away. You made a disapproving noise as you leaned back down, teasing him by brushing your lips against his. But with the way you were sitting and the way you pressed down on his chest, he couldn’t meet you, and you heard him make a frustrated noise.

“Do I gotta tie your hands up, Cooper?” You semi-joked, gauging his reaction. When his eyes somehow darkened even more, you knew he was down. 

You both knew that he could easily “break free” from the restraints you’d placed on him; he had ghoul strength, and you were just a human. But he continued to play into your game, and you were grateful for it. You were having too much fun. 

“If ya keep sayin’ my name like that, then ya might have to.” 

“Oh, you’re too good to me, baby,” you praised, hands retracting so you could reach behind you. You smirked at his reaction when you tugged at his belt, being sure to purposely graze over the evident strain in his pants. You gave him the most innocent look you could when he glared at you, returning your touch to his belt. It took a bit of maneuvering, and with some help from him raising his hips, you were able to free it.

The headboard was made from metal bars, so you were easily able to secure his wrists to it. The restraint wasn’t tight, tight enough to keep him in place, but if he severely needed to leave then he could easily escape. When you sat back, you admired the sight before you. Your wildest dreams were playing out right in front of you, and you couldn’t be more excited.t

Starting at the base of his throat, you began to move down his body, pressing your lips against the skin as you descended. When you reached his nipples, you let your tongue flick over it, eliciting a whine from him. Your fingers toyed with the other one, making him squirm. You couldn’t deny that the noises he was making were making you dizzy, a familiar tension building in you. But you kept an amused and unaffected expression on your face, not wanting to break yet. 

You didn’t stay there for long, continuing your descent downwards. You scratched lightly over his abs when you reached them, and you figured goosebumps would be covering his body by now.

 “I could just leave you like this, you know,” you commented as you moved backward. “Hands bound, aching, wanting.” Your hands trailed down his thighs. 

“You wouldn’t,” he groaned, and you just flashed a smile at him.

“Oh, but I could.” You now rested just below his thighs, your own straddling them. “I could just sit here and make you watch as I touch myself, make myself cum, screaming your name.” You heard the belt rattle against the bedframe when you let one of your hands trail down your stomach, a gasp leaving you when you reached the band of your underwear. “Then leave you alone with just your thoughts, imagining all the things you could’ve done to me. Just how I spent every night this past year. Revenge is a bitch, isn’t it?”

“Sweetheart, please.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard something so wonderful, arousal spiking in your body. His eyes bore into you as you reached behind you, unclasping your bra. You let it slide off your body before setting it gently on the floor. Squeezing your breasts in your hands, you let your head roll back, his name tumbling from you. You debated moaning the other man’s name, the one in the bar, but you couldn’t remember it. Besides, you were torturing the man enough, and you assumed that he would tear through his bindings if you did. 

Eventually, you took pity on him, and your desire was starting to get in the way of your need to draw this out. He jumped when you rested your hands on his thighs, expecting you to do what you said, and you could feel the relief it brought him.

It didn’t take long for you to unbutton his pants, even less to unzip them. You tugged both them and his boxers down enough to free him. He was already rock hard, almost painfully so, and a strangled groan left him. The noise shot straight to your core, and you sighed in appreciation at him. He was long, not overwhelmingly so, but you knew you’d be feeling him for days to come. 

Keeping your eyes on him, you leaned forward and lapped at the tip, licking the bead of moisture there. You watched as he tried to move to touch you, and you grinned at him when the restraint stopped him. You could see the plea in his eyes, and you just shook your head at him. Not yet. 

Another run of your tongue made him curse, and you cooed at him. “Want me to take care of this, baby?”

“Please,” he gasped out.

“Well, when you ask that nicely.”

He didn’t get a chance to prepare before you were running your tongue along his entire length, base to tip, before taking as much of him as you could in your mouth. You took what you couldn’t fit in your hand, moving in tandem with your mouth as you sucked him. It was nearly unintelligible, but you heard your name being moaned by him. 

Bobbing your head up and down, you were unrelenting in the pleasure you were giving him, and you could feel his hips begin to buck and twist, and you moved your mouth off him before he could hit the back of your throat. 

Glancing up at him, he looked absolutely wrecked, and the fact made you smile cruelly. You could tell that he was close, by the way he pulsed and throbbed in your hand as you continued to stroke him. Your name was just streaming from him freely, straining and pressing against the belt. The bedpost made an awful noise, but it was covered by his noises. “You close, Cooper?”

His head had been thrown back against the pillows as pleasure coursed through him, but you watched as he flicked his gaze down to you. “Fuck, sweetheart, yes.” You hadn’t meant to, but you let it slip through in your expression what you were planning, and dread washed over his face. He groaned you name, almost in warning, but you ignored him. 

To his very evident displeasure, you let go of him, his incoming release ebbing away as you sat up. A string of curses left him, and a drop of sweat rolled down his face. His eyes were blazing with lust and anger, but they melted a bit when regarding you. At least the anger did. The lust seemed to just flare up, especially when he as you stood to slip off your underwear. “You only get to cum when I do, got it?”

He was able to see the evidence of your arousal on them as you discarded them, and even in the position he was in a cocky smile grew on his face. “Perfectly.” That cocky smile was wiped off when he saw you reach for his hat, putting it on your head as you climbed back onto the bed. As you straddled his lap, realization flashed on his features. “Are you tryin’ to fuckin’ kill me?” He wheezed, a mix of laughter and a groan. 

“I’m surprised I haven’t already,” you teased back, your hands bracing on his chest. Just like you thought, his heart pounded against your fingertips. Rocking your hips slowly, you began to rut against him, coating him in your arousal. 

You heard the tell-tale clink of his belt rattling against the bedframe. “Can I touch ya now, sweetheart?” He gasped out.

You seriously considered it for a moment, but you decided against it. “When you make me cum, you can. But if you finish before me…” You let the words trail off, the threat evident enough.

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he held his tongue, knowing that it would get him further away from what he wanted. You grinned at his compliance, rewarding him by getting on your knees and lining him up with your entrance. Sinking onto him, a gasp tore from you as he pressed into you. It had been so long since you’d been stretched like this, and it felt even better than you remembered. Or maybe it was because it was with him. 

His grip was vice-like against the metal bars as you slowly sank down on his cock, almost painful-sounding grunts and moans leaving him. It was a slow process, but eventually, you felt your hips go flush with his. “Oh, Cooper, baby,” you groaned, and you felt him twitch inside of you.

“You… you can’t say shit like that and then expect me to last,” he whined, and you laughed gently. 

“You need a moment?” You refrained from adding ‘baby’ to the end, knowing he was about to snap. 

A shaky exhale left him. “Just… just a moment.”

You hummed in response, letting yourself sit there for a moment. It felt like torture, wanting nothing more than to ride him, but you held back. You tried to not move too much, either, and you eventually felt his breathing calm some. It was still sporadic, but not as much as before. 

“Go ‘head now.” You didn’t have to be told twice. 

Starting with a slow roll of your hips, you began to move up and down. One hand was planted on his chest, the other on his hat to keep in on your head as it rolled back. It only took a few moments for you to fall into a rhythm, the slow movements gradually building to something faster. 

“Cooper, fuck, you feel so good,” you moaned, and you heard him make some noise in agreeance. Another roll of your hips made you see stars, and you could feel that familiar tension begin to build, slowly but surely. 

“What a sight you are,” he murmured between breaths, and you looked down to see him staring at you, almost mesmerized. “Wearin’ my hat while ya fuck yourself on my cock. Fuck, a man could die happy like this.”

You tried to grin down at him, but the pleasure became too much as you continued to rock, and you felt yourself falter. Instead, you just moaned out fragments of his name. He was all you could feel, pressing into spots that made you cry out, hitting them with each roll. “Baby.”

God, you loved the way he reacted whenever you uttered that name. His hips jumped, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. The hand planted on his chest dug into the toughened skin, nails no doubt leaving indents, but he didn’t seem to mind. Even though your legs were beginning to shake, you didn’t let up, moving up and down, your breathing becoming labored. You could feel yourself getting closer; you just needed a little more.

After angling your body to keep it steady, you let go of his hat, moving your hands to between your legs. It made you groan, feeling the way his cock moved in and out of you as you began to rub at your clit. The extra stimulation made you cry his name out loudly, and you knew there would be complaints from the other patrons of the hotel.

Your walls tightened around him, making him bite down harshly on his bottom lip to keep from cumming right there. His eyes flicked downward, his mouth going slack as he watched you touch yourself. He forced himself to look away, blown-out eyes staring into yours. You could see the tendons in his neck strain as he concentrated on controlling his release. 

The extra pleasure was what you needed, and you could feel your impending release inch closer. “You close, sweetheart?” His voice was hoarse, and you nodded furiously. “You gonna cum on my cock? Fuck, yeah you are.”

“Cooper, you can…” Your words were cut off with a whine. 

He seemed to get what you were saying, and he groaned in relief. “Can I finish in ya, sweetheart? Fill up that perfect cunt?”

“Please.” For the first time during the night, you pleaded for something. You were on the verge of release, your movements growing frantic as you chased your release.

“C’mon, sweetheart, lemme feel ya.” 

As you cried out his name again, you came, your body going slack as pleasure made you boneless. It wasn’t your first orgasm in a year, far from it, but it felt so much better when it came from another person. Your nerves hummed and you felt weightless, soft whines and pants leaving you. 

You barely managed to catch yourself before you fell on top of him, and the clench of you around him was all he needed for his own release, having staved it off for a long time now. He was even louder than you were, your name coming out like a sharp bark as he came, and you could feel his release seep into you, coating you. 

The room felt awfully quiet now, even though it was filled with the sound of both of you catching your breaths. With unstable legs, you lifted yourself up and off of him, and you watched as his spend dripped out of you and onto his abdomen. Groans both left you at this sight. 

You had been so caught up in the sight that it nearly startled you when you heard the clinking noise again. Glancing up at him, he gave you an expectant look, an almost teasing smirk on his face as he rattled the belt again. “You gonna release me? I’ve been good.” You scoffed at the way he pouted at you.

“You have been,” you agreed. “My good boy,” you added as you reached for the belt. His eyes widened, sucking in a gasp, and if could, he would be blushing. 

You just smirked down at him as you released him, but that victory was short-lived when you felt his hands immediately shoot to your body. He practically yanked you down to his mouth, desperately claiming your lips in a messy kiss. His hands roamed over every part of your body, the rough skin making you whine in pleasure, and you could feel his responding smile. 

As much as you were loving his attention, you had to admit you were incredibly exhausted, especially now. A yawn tore through you, interrupting the kiss, and you pulled back. “Am I borin’ you, sweetheart?” He asked, amused.

“You could never. But I don’t think I can do all that again,” you laughed breathlessly. 

“There’s always tomorrow,” he smirked. “And the next day. And the next.”

You slapped lightly at his chest, chuckling. “Eager, are we?”

“Desperately,” he growled lightly before pulling you back to his lips. This kiss was gentler, although no less passionate. He laughed boisterously when you pulled away to yawn again, fingers halting their exploration. 

When you tried to pull away, though, he didn’t let go, keeping your body close. “Baby, I need to get us cleaned up,” you laughed, trying and failing to escape his hold. “I’m not going to bed covered in…” You trailed off, too embarrassed to finish the sentence. You tried to wiggle free, and you sighed in defeat when he didn’t let go. 

“You’re blushin’,” he teased, making your ears burn more. “You were spewin’ those filthy things earlier without a second thought, but now you’re actin’ all shy?”

“I hate you,” you grumbled.

“Sure ya do, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “How ‘bout this? You finish what you were ‘bout to say, and I’ll let ya go. For a minute or two, that is.”

You sighed again. “I was saying that I’m not going to bed covered in your cum,” you said with major hesitancy, your ears on fire. 

“Why not?”

You slapped his chest again. “I did what you asked. Let me go, Cooper.”

He debated it for a moment. “Fine,” you felt his hand let up its hold, “but if you ain’t back in a minute, I’m draggin’ ya back to the bed.”

Now on a timer, you quickly got off his lap, not before pressing one last kiss to his cheek. On shaky legs, you made your way to the bathroom, flipping him off when he laughed at your inability to walk in a straight line. After using the bathroom, you used one of the provided washrags, dampening it before running it between your legs, and cleaning you up. Grabbing a new one, you dampened it as well before heading back to the bathroom.

He was now sitting on the edge of the bed, the rest of his clothing discarded on the floor, and he looked up when he saw you enter. “Thought I was ‘bout to drag you back,” he commented as you approached him, grinning when he saw your unabashed staring. “Like what ya see?”

You wiped that proud expression off when the cold washcloth made contact with his skin, and you quickly wiped him down. He hissed when it ran over his cock, and you muttered a small apology. You tried to move back to the bathroom to discard the cloth, but you felt him wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you back towards him. You felt him kiss the back of your neck, and you felt him yank the cloth from your hand, tossing it vaguely in the direction of the bathroom. 

He pulled you back onto the bed, adjusting the covers so that they covered you both, the one arm never leaving your waist, his face burrowed into your neck. Out of all the things you expected him to be, a cuddler was not one of them. But you certainly weren’t complaining.

Because of the heat of him behind you, and the exertion of the day's activities, you felt exhaustion take over you again, and your eyes fluttered close. “You still owe me anther drink,” you heard yourself mutter. 

The rumble of his chest from his laughter was the last thing you remembered before you fell asleep. 

Author’s Note: i stole the hat thing from one of my other fics, but i love it so much that i needed to use it again. also might write a continuation/pt.2 to this, idk yet.

also thank you @kinatanhi yet again for the comment that helped inspire all this <3

[m00nkissedlover]

・｡Sweet Dreams 🍫

You've ordered: a chocolate raspberry tart! enjoy!

"Need a little sweetness in my life~"

Leona Kingscholar x reader | word count: 848 words

Summary: halloween night with leona! 🍫

Warnings: a bit shorter than part 1, a little rushed. other than that, none! just fluffy fluff!!

Note: this is a continuation/ part 2 of my previous leona fic, Naps. and no, i'm not making his entire personality about napping. i just think cuddle/ nap fics w/ leona are rlly cute-

You had never seen Leona being so clingy. Ever. But ever since that day you comfortably napped with the beastman, he'd become almost entranced by you. It was almost as if he genuinely could not sleep unless you were in his arms. The others didn't know about this of course, he'd die of embarrassment.

It was finally the holiday the students and staff of NRC had spent weeks preparing for: Halloween! Everyone was dressed up in their best costumes and the smells of cinnamon and pumpkin filled the air. Everyone was packed into Mostro Lounge, drinks and food items going around, laughter and lively chatter filling the air. everything was perfect. You were currently chatting with Cater and Kalim, talking about how Professor Crewel had given you guys a pop quiz yesterday despite the holiday the next day.

As you were chatting, you couldn't help but scan the crowd a few times looking for a certain lion. You could've sworn you saw him a while ago.

"Y/n! there you are." you turned around, met by none other than Ruggie, seeming a bit out of breath.

"It's leona again." you playfully rolled your eyes, excusing yourself from the conversation with Cater and Kalim.

You made your way down the halls of the Savanaclaw dorms, the building rather quiet since most all of its students were attending the Halloween bash. Once you got to leona's door, you gave it a gentle rhythmic knock, one that Leona could always pick up on. A gruff "Enter" was heard through the door, and you stepped inside, closing the door behind you.

When you turned around again, you saw him: Leona Kingscholar laid out in his bed, costume and all. He didn't even have time to tell you to come over, you were already shuffling under the blankets and positioning his head in you lap.

"You didn't want to stay at the party?" you asked, gently running your fingers through his hair.

"Too noisy, couldn't nap properly." his answer made you laugh, your finger reaching over to poke his cheek.

"It's a party, you're not supposed to nap." but the beastman was already dozing off in your lap, effectively trapping you.

"Can't hear you, m' too busy dozing off." he teased, your fingers already braiding some strands of his hair. As you did so, you decided to eat some candy from your bag.

As the wrapper rustled from opening the candy, you could see Leona's nose twitch. He sniffed at the air a bit, his eyes not even opening when he started to speak.

"What are you eating, herbivore?" you took a bite of your chocolate, glancing down at him.

"Just some candy I got from Mostro Lounge. you want some?" Leona opened his eyes as you held the sweet treat to his lips, a look of mild disgust forming on his face.

"No. And you shouldn't be eating so much either, you'll get sick."

"Oh come on, try some! It's good, I promise." Leona looked between you and the toothache in a wrapper, sighing reluctantly. He broke off a small piece, popping it into his mouth.

You swore you saw his eyes light up, but he tried to hide it. Which failed as he kept asking for tastes as you pulled more candy out of your bag.

"You're gonna be the death of me, herbivore." he grumbled, reacting to the aftermath of eating a single sour gumdrop, of which you had already eaten five.

"How can you eat those? It's like eating sandpaper." "Well, back home I eat them all the time."

"You're crazy." he said, reaching over and pinching your cheek.

"Don't come crying to me tomorrow if your teeth start to hurt or if your stomach gives out on ya," Leona teased, earning a look of mock annoyance from you.

"Well, if I get sick, it'll be good for you. you can use it as an excuse to cuddle me more." you smiled cheekily, scooting a little closer to the lion man.

"Hmm, is that so, herbivore?" he mumbled, a soft smirk on his lips as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his lap.

You laughed softly, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning up to press a soft kiss to his forehead.

"Yes, I think a big, cuddly lion would make me feel better in no time." you hummed, moving to kiss his cheek.

You could see the color in his cheeks, immediately teasing him about it, only to met by his constant refusal.

This was probably the best Halloween you'd ever had. Curled up with the person you loved, eating candy, chatting, and teasing one another. You rested your head on Leona's chest, his strong arms wrapping around you. The sound of his heartbeat lulled you to sleep, just like that first day you'd napped with him.

Then, he was just Leona Kingscholar, house warden of Savanaclaw, the lazy lion man, the strongest junior at NRC. Now he was your comfort person, cuddle buddy, and partner that you loved with all your heart. 🍫

© m00nkissedlover, 2024

[kkanabel]

drunken confessions ✫ chapter ii

curly x reader

summary: Curly is the designated driver, so he’s helping you as you vomit your guts out because you pushed yourself too hard with the liquor. He knows you don’t like him the same way he does—right? At least he thinks so before you confess to him that you think about cuddling with him after sex. In this chapter, you both start to blur the lines.

directory/m.list ⇦ previous chapter - next chapter (comin soon)⇨

words: ~4.2k

t/w: friends with benefits!!, mutual(?) pining, confused!reader, hookup culture, slim jim exists (but isn't present in this chapter), pretty light yucky under the cut(very tame smut), gn!pronouns for reader (mostly, i think. if i fucked up somewhere, pls let me know), mention of s**ual harassment

a/n: more self-indulgent shit <3

The next morning greeted you with a relentless pounding in your head and a parched throat that felt like sandpaper. You groaned, shifting against the tangle of blankets before the events of last night hit you like a freight train.

At first, it had seemed like just a harmless, tipsy dream—a montage of Curly’s face, as breathtakingly gorgeous as ever. But as the dream played on, the edges of reality began to creep in. The heat in his cheeks, the incredulous look in his eyes, the sound of your own drunken voice slurring out “tiddiesss”—it wasn’t a dream. It was a memory.

Your eyes flew open, wide with horror.

“Oh my God,” you whispered to yourself, voice hoarse. You sat up so fast your head spun, and you buried your face in your hands.

I sexually harassed one of my closest friends, you realized, mortified.

What the hell is wrong with you? Curly was nothing but kind to you—always the one to look out for you when you drank too much or got yourself into some sort of embarrassing predicament. 

And last night? He’d been an absolute saint, driving you home without a single complaint. And what had you done in return? Made him feel uncomfortable and made a complete fool of yourself.

He wasn’t even interested in you like that—you knew that!—and yet your drunk self had decided to be the absolute worst.

You groaned again, louder this time, and grabbed your phone off the bedside table. Of course, Curly, ever the gentleman, had not only driven you home but also plugged in your phone to charge and even left a water bottle next to your phone. The reminder of his kindness only deepened the pit of shame in your stomach.

As you tapped the screen and drank from the water bottle, your faint reflection on the dark screen caught your eye. Your heart sank further. You looked like a disaster—deep shadows under your eyes, your hair sticking out in every direction, and your skin dull and puffy from dehydration. You sighed, resolving to pull yourself together.

Tonight, you decided. The group was coming over for dinner, and Curly would be there. You’d apologize—really apologize—not just for last night but for all the other moments when you’d let your insecurities spill over into bad decisions. But for now, you needed to get to the bathroom and make yourself look halfway human.

By the time the evening rolled around, the smell of simmering sauces and roasted meats and vegetables filled your small apartment, doing its best to mask the lingering scent of cleaning products from your earlier frenzy. You glanced at the table, double-checking that everything was perfect. Plates, glasses, and cloth napkins were arranged neatly, and you’d even lit a few candles in an effort to create a warm, inviting atmosphere.

You stepped back, pressing your palms against your thighs to keep them from trembling. Everything was perfect—at least on the surface. Inside, your stomach twisted like a wrung-out towel, the weight of seeing Curly again sitting heavily in your chest.

The knock at the door jolted you out of your spiraling thoughts. You smoothed your shirt and opened it, a bright smile already plastered on your face.

Daisuke was the first to step in, his easy grin lighting up the room. “I come bearing gifts!” he announced grandly, holding up a bottle of wine like a wizard revealing a prized elixir. He sniffed the air and let out a low whistle. “Wow, smells amazing in here!”

Anya followed close behind, giving you a quick hug before dropping her bag by the couch. “Oh my, you’ve outdone yourself,” she gushed, eyeing the spread on the table while placing down a pie she’d made on the kitchen counter. Everything about the pumpkin pie was perfect—a perfectly smooth surface with dollops of whipped cream that were piped on with precision.

“Don’t get too excited,” you said with a laugh, your nerves making it come out a bit stilted. “I might’ve accidentally over-salted the potatoes.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Daisuke teased, and you rolled your eyes at him, grateful for the distraction.

“And as if you didn’t overcook the salmon last time,” you shot back, elbowing him lightly. His groan of mock defeat made you smile, the exchange doing wonders to ease your nerves—until Curly stepped through the doorway.

The sight of him hit you like a freight train. His broad shoulders seemed to fill the doorway, and his casual jeans and perfectly fitted T-shirt might as well have been tailor-made for all the effect they had on you. His golden hair caught the warm candlelight, giving him an almost ethereal glow, and when he smiled—a small, shy one—you felt the air in your lungs turn heavy.

Your heart clenched. 

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sor— 

You tore your gaze away, fixating on the food instead, pretending to fuss over the table settings.

“Hey,” he said simply, his voice warm and unassuming, as though last night hadn’t happened.

The way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the soft upward curve of his lips—it all felt like too much. Your chest tightened, the sting of regret bubbling to the surface.

“Hey,” you replied, the word slipping out softer than you intended.

As everyone settled in, you found yourself stealing glances at Curly from across the table. He seemed relaxed, chatting with Daisuke about some new project he was working on, his easy tone lulling you into a false sense of security. But every so often, his gaze flickered toward you—quick, fleeting glances that made your pulse race. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to catch your eye or trying to actively avoid it.

You poured yourself a glass of wine, swirling it absently as you stared down at the roasted zucchini on your plate. Your mind wandered, already concocting a way to escape your spiraling thoughts after the night was over. Maybe you’d call one of the people you regularly hooked up with, someone uncomplicated who wouldn’t make you feel like this. But first—you had to apologize. Properly.

Anya leaned closer, her voice a low murmur. “You okay? You seem… distracted.”

You forced a smile, shaking your head. “Just tired,” you said, your tone light but unconvincing.

She studied you for a moment but let it go, turning her attention back to the table. Meanwhile, you busied yourself pouring drinks for everyone, clinging to the repetitive motions to ground yourself. 

You needed to find the right moment to apologize. You just hoped Curly wouldn’t leave before you got the chance.

Unconsciously, you refilled his glass multiple times, oblivious to the way his cheeks grew pinker with each pour. 

He wasn’t drunk—not even close. Curly had always been a lightweight with his emotions, not alcohol. It was you being this close, leaning over him with your hesitant, apologetic air, that sent his thoughts spinning.

When the plates were empty, you clapped your hands, forcing cheer into your voice. “Who’s up for dessert?”

“Pumpkin pie courtesy of Anya!” you added, smiling at her.

Daisuke perked up immediately. “Any dessert Anya touches turns to gold,” he said dreamily. “I still think about that key lime pie sometimes…”

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, watching him pat and rub at his stomach. Moments ago, he’d claimed he was too full to move, yet now he seemed ready to demolish an entire pie by himself.

“I’ll help,” Curly blurted suddenly, standing so quickly his chair scraped against the floor. He began collecting empty plates, avoiding your gaze as his movements turned brisk and purposeful.

The two of you found yourselves alone in the kitchen.

You watched him from the doorway, your gaze trailing over his broad back as he rinsed the dishes and placed them carefully into the dishwasher. So thoughtful, so helpful, so kind. Your chest swelled with something bittersweet—gratitude tinged with guilt. How could someone so lovely have been dragged into this… mess you created?

Your breath caught when you noticed the tips of his ears were pink. Why in the world-

“Curly,” you said, your voice soft, hesitant.

He stiffened slightly, pausing mid-motion. “Yeah?”

God, you felt so guilty. He must feel so uncomfortable.

“Later, when everyone’s about to leave… could I have a word with you? Privately?”

His shoulders twitched, and he tilted his head slightly upward, his blonde hair catching the light. You winced, imagining the worst—he must be uncomfortable, must hate this, must hate you. But then he turned to face you, his expression something softer, something… nervous?

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks a little red. “I’d like to talk to you too.”

Your heart plummeted to your stomach. What did he have to talk to you for?

You moved to the counter, your hands trembling slightly as you plated slices of pumpkin pie. “Curly, just to preface, I—” You stopped, your throat tightening. “I’m so sorry.”

His eyebrows flew up, confusion flickering across his face. His lips parted like he was about to ask you something, but Daisuke’s loud laughter from the dining room interrupted the moment.

You forced a weak smile, handing him two plates. “Let’s go.”

You carried the dessert back to the table together, but the knot in your chest only grew heavier. The words lingered on your tongue, waiting for a moment that might never come.

A couple of hours and a few glasses of wine later, Anya and Daisuke exchanged a glance you couldn’t quite decipher. Anya sighed—almost contentedly—while rising from her seat.

“Well, it’s about time for us to head out. Thanks for the amazing dinner!”

You walked them to the door, your mind already spinning from what was coming next. Hugging them both tightly, you forced a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks for the wine, Daisuke. And Anya, the pie was heavenly as always.”

“No problem,” Daisuke said, grinning as he patted his stomach. “And remember: dessert stomachs are a thing.”

As their laughter faded down the hallway and the door clicked shut, the air in the room grew heavier. Turning back, you saw Curly sitting hunched over on the couch, his elbows propped on his knees and his fingers laced together. His cheeks were tinged pink, and his biceps flexed subtly as he leaned forward, lost in thought.

Your gaze lingered on him—on the quiet strength he carried, the way the light made his hair glow like gold. But then you tore your eyes away, guilt curling tighter in your chest.

“Curly, I—” You hesitated, deciding to sit across from him rather than beside him, worried you might make him uncomfortable. Your hands fidgeted in your lap as you avoided his gaze. “What I did last night… It was so inappropriate, and I’m so sorry. I probably made you so uncomfortable, and—”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. The sound disarmed you, warm and low, like a summer breeze cutting through the tension in your chest.

“Hey.��� His voice was gentle as his eyes met yours. “I didn’t mind it.”

Your breath caught. You couldn’t look away, the way his gaze softened and lingered making your heart beat faster.

Before you could process his words, Curly stood up and walked over, taking the seat beside you. The couch dipped under his weight, and the warmth radiating off him was so tangible you felt your pulse stutter. You wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch him.

“Wait. What?” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“I mean…” His face turned redder, and he coughed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t mind if… you wanted to cuddle after… sex.”

Your mind froze, his words reverberating in your ears as your brain raced to make sense of them.

Cuddle? After what?

And then it hit you.

“Oh my God,” you shrieked, burying your burning face in your hands. “What else did I say to you while I was drunk!?”

The mortification was instant and complete. Your skin prickled with heat as your thoughts spiraled to the worst possible scenarios. Whatever it was, it had to be bad. You didn’t trust your drunk self to have any sense of shame or decorum.

Curly chuckled, the sound light and amused, and your heart twisted in response. “I don’t mind,” he said softly, gently prying your hands from your face. His touch was impossibly warm, firm but careful, as if you were something delicate.

You reluctantly let him, meeting his gaze with what had to be the most mortified expression he’d ever seen.

“I was hoping for it, actually,” he added, his lips quirking into a shy smile that made your stomach flip.

For a moment, you could only stare at him, utterly appalled. Sitting this close to you, holding your wrists, was the most handsome man you’d ever met. And he wasn’t just okay with what you’d said—he liked it? Wanted it?

This had to be a dream. Or a nightmare.

As if to confirm this wasn’t some cruel trick of your imagination, his hands shifted. One slid from your wrist to cup your face, his thumb brushing the curve of your cheek. His hands were big and warm, his touch tender in a way that made your breath hitch.

“May I kiss you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The words sent a jolt through you. His gaze searched yours, his eyes patient yet tinged with vulnerability. He wasn’t teasing. He was serious.

You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe.

“Yes, Curly, please,” you blurted, the words tumbling out before you could process them.

The corner of his mouth twitched into a soft smile before he leaned in. His lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, as if testing the waters. The kiss was so gentle, so achingly tender, it made your chest ache. 

His hand stayed on your cheek, his other resting lightly on the couch beside you, keeping his presence steady but not overwhelming.

Your mind reeled. You couldn’t reconcile this—the softness of his kiss, the warmth of his touch—with your guilt and embarrassment. But as his lips moved against yours, slow and deliberate, the world seemed to fade away.

When he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his hand lingered against your cheek. His eyes searched yours, his expression a mixture of hope and uncertainty.

“You’re… okay?” he asked quietly, his voice tinged with hesitation.

“I…” You blinked, still dazed, your heart thundering in your chest. “I don’t understand. Why would you want this? After everything I said—everything I did—”

He kissed you again.

“I know you’re embarrassed,” he continued, his voice steady but kind. “And I know you think you messed up, but you didn’t. Not for me.”

The sincerity in his gaze was unbearable. You wanted to look away, but he held you there, his hand grounding you as your emotions churned.

The kiss lingered in the air long after you’d pulled away. Curly’s gaze locked onto yours, searching for something—anything—that would anchor him in the chaos you’d just unleashed. Your expression was a mix of confusion and something else he couldn’t name, and he was sure his face wasn’t much better.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he cut you off before you could speak. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he said quickly, his voice lower than usual, rougher. His hand still rested on your cheek, the warmth of your skin seeping into his palm.

Your brow furrowed, but you didn’t push. “Okay,” you murmured, almost hesitant.

He exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Maybe we... take things slow?” His stomach twisted even as the words left his mouth. He wanted you—God, he wanted you—but not like this. Not with you still looking at him like you were bracing for a rejection that he’d never even consider giving.

But then you nodded, a small, nervous laugh escaping your lips. “Yeah, sure. Slow sounds good.” Your fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt, and he felt his confidence from the wine slipping.

The silence between you wasn’t awkward, exactly—it was heavy, charged. He could feel it in the way your shoulder brushed his when you leaned back, in the way your foot tapped anxiously against the floor.

“Curly,” you began, breaking the quiet. He turned to face you, his chest tightening at the seriousness in your tone. “About what happened. Where do we go from here?”

He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he waited for you to continue.

“We could...” He hesitated, biting his lip. “We could just keep it casual. No pressure, no expectations. We don’t have to make it... a thing.”

Although those words came out of his own mouth, it hit him like a gut punch, and he hated how quickly his brain latched onto it. He hated himself for even considering it, for wanting to be close to you in any way he could. “No expectations,” he said again, his voice flat. He was so afraid of you rejecting him that he ended it right there—putting you into a situation he knew you were comfortable with. 

After all, he knew you were completely comfortable with just hooking up with people. A part of him didn’t even consider that you’d ever want to be in a committed relationship. And honestly, you thought the same thing about him.

You nodded, expression unreadable. “Yeah, sure. I mean, we’re adults. We can handle it, right?”

He wanted to tell you “nevermind” and “no”. Wanted to tell you that he didn’t want “casual,” didn’t want to be another passing thing in your life. But the thought of losing you, the thought of not having what little you were okay with offering made his chest ache.

“Yeah,” he said finally, the word tasting bitter on his tongue. “If that’s what you want.”

Even then, his mind raced at the idea you’d even be okay with kissing him. Fuck, he thought you didn’t even find him attractive whatsoever.

The room felt smaller, the air thick with something. Curly’s hand started cupping your face again, his pretty eyes searching yours as if for answers to questions he didn’t dare ask out loud. His eyelashes brushed his cheeks as he blinked, watching the nerves show in your face.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

And with that, the dam broke.

With a groan that was half pain, half relief, he pulled you closer. Your mouths collided, the kiss deepening as he lost all semblance of control. His other hand found the back of your neck, pulling you closer still. Everything was so warm about him—his hands, his lips, his hold, everything. You found yourself trying not to melt in his hold.

It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken desires, of quiet yearnings kept hidden beneath a veil of friendship. Even then, it wasn’t honest.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you kissed him back with a passion that surprised even you. You felt alive, your body responding in a way it never had with anyone else. His scent was intoxicating, the warmth of his skin like a blanket on a cold night. You fumbled at the hem of his shirt, eager to feel more of him, to explore the muscular planes of his body that you’d admired from afar.

He broke the kiss, his chest heaving. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice thick with need.

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. “Yes,” you breathed.

With a gentle nod, he stood, lifting you in his arms with no effort and carrying you to your bed. For all you knew, you looked up at him like he hung the stars. The thought of it made your eyes wrench away from his face, still.

He laid you down with care, his hands roaming over your body as he removed your clothing. You felt a thrill of excitement as his fingertips brushed against your skin, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

He took in a sharp breath as he felt the planes of your body, thoughts conflicted but so satisfied all at the same time.

The room was a blur of sensations as you lost yourself in the moment. The weight of his body pressing down on yours, the heat of his breath against your neck, the way his hands moved with a confidence that sent shivers down your spine. There was no room for doubt, no space for regrets. Only the here and now, the feel of his skin against yours, and the promise of pleasure that grew with every shared touch.

He unbuttoned his jeans with a smoothness that belied his own excitement and then slid off your pants and underwear off in one fluid movement.

Curly’s eyes roamed over your naked body, a mix of hunger and awe in his gaze. He leaned in, kissing a trail from your belly button to your chest, taking his time to savor every inch of you. His mouth closed around one nipple, eliciting a gasp from you, while his hand explored further down.

The world outside the room ceased to exist as he entered you, filling you in a way that was both familiar and new. 

There were no words, only the sound of your breaths mingling with his, the slap of skin against skin, and the heady rhythm that grew faster, more urgent with each passing moment.

You felt the tension build, your body tightening around him like a vice. He kissed you again, his tongue mimicking the movements of his hips, and you knew you were close. So close.

And then, with a cry that seemed to tear itself from the very depths of your soul, you climaxed, the waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. He followed, his own release a silent exclamation of ecstasy as he twitched and thrusted once more.

As the aftershocks of passion ebbed away, the room grew still, the silence broken only by the sound of your unsteady breaths. You lay there, staring up at the ceiling, your body warm against Curly’s, his steady heartbeat thumping beneath your ear as you leaned against his chest. The weight of what had just happened pressed down on you—not in regret, but in the terrifying awareness that this wasn’t just physical for you.

Your chest felt heavy, though you couldn’t bring yourself to move. His hand rested idly on your back, his thumb tracing soft circles that you weren’t sure he even realized he was doing. The quiet intimacy of it made your heart ache. You tried to focus on the present, on the afterglow, on the way his skin felt against yours, but your thoughts kept spiraling.

This wasn’t supposed to feel this way. It never has when you hooked up with others.

“Stay the night, Curly,” you said suddenly, your voice softer than you intended. You lifted your head from his chest to look at him, catching the flicker of surprise in his eyes.

His brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he smiled—soft, hesitant, but undeniably warm. “You sure?” he asked, his voice low and still tinged with the rasp of moments earlier.

You nodded, biting back the urge to explain yourself too much. “I don’t want to have to treat you like... the others,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The confession hung in the air, vulnerable and raw. You swallowed hard, the truth settling uncomfortably between you. You already knew—you couldn’t even imagine sleeping with (or even holding—at this point) anyone else after him.

His chest rose and fell beneath your head in a steady rhythm, his gaze fixed on yours. For a moment, you thought he might push back, remind you of the rules you both agreed on. But instead, his hand slid up to your hair, his fingers weaving gently through it. “You don’t have to,” he murmured, the weight of his words carrying more meaning than you could unpack in that moment.

You melted a little at his words, your lips curving into a small smile despite yourself. The knot in your chest eased just enough for you to breathe again. You hadn’t realized how tightly you’d been holding on until now.

You were still staring at his face after it all, still trying to regain your bearings. Then, breaking the tension with a casualness that felt both maddening and endearing, he grinned at you, boyish and bright. “Wanna grab milkshakes?”

The abruptness of it startled a laugh out of you, your forehead dropping against his chest as the tension between you shifted into something lighter. “Milkshakes?” you repeated, lifting your head to meet his gaze again.

“Yeah, I know a place that’s open late. Best chocolate shake you’ve ever had. Trust me,” he said, his grin widening. “Though I prefer malt.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, the sound soft and unguarded. “Fine,” you said, shaking your head. “But you’re paying.”

“That was the plan anyway.”

And just like that, the moment shifted. The raw, vulnerable edges dulled slightly, tucked away for another time. But as he kissed your forehead and started pulling on his clothes, you couldn’t help but feel it—your heart was already too tangled for this to stay as simple as you pretended it could be.

a/n: let me know what you all think pleeeease!

big thank you to all the commentors, reblogs, and general LOVE that i've been getting from these fics. it means everything to me & keeps me writing <3

true curly tiddie yucky coming in the next chapter lol

taglist is open! lmk if you want to be on the taglist for just curly/mouthwashing characters or if you want the news on alll my fics.

also might be accepting requests hehe! i can’t guarantee that i can do em, but i’ll accept ideas!

as always, not beta read, please let me know if there are any typos/inconsistencies lmfao;; stay safe & hydrated as always!

thanks for reading! <3

crossposted on ao3

taglist: @m-carriaga2021, @skyeconch, @wolfsune09, @luvsymai

directory/m.list ⇦ previous chapter - next chapter (comin soon)⇨

[dokidokidraft]

MHA boys HC

Hello lovelies! This is my first post, I hope you enjoy! includes: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto todoroki

(more next time)

Does include swearing ;-; (because it’s Katsuki)

~Izuku Midoriya~

-ANYTHING will get this man flustered. Even if you wave at him, his face is already red, and as soon as you talk to him, he’s a stuttering mess

-he eventually warms up to you though. He’ll still get flustered but he will at least be able to speak now

-play with his hair. Please.

-hold on to his arm instead of his hand. He loves it

-he’s really sensitive, so try not to be too mean (^_^)

-if you kiss his freckles (or anywhere on his face, just especially freckles) he will blush like crazy (obvi) and the immediately pull you in for a hug. Now you won’t be able to go anywhere until he gives you all the love in the world

-style his hair. Those curls just need to be taken care of T~T

-def doesn’t do enough self care. Just help him out for me, alright? I’m talking face masks, top coat for his nails (PLZ- this man’s hands 😣), skincare, R+R

-speaking of R+R, his favourite way to relax is Netflix and chill, with his head in your lap and you playing with his hair (never going to stop with his hair I js love it sm)

-will literally throw himself out of the car just to open the door for you. Probably has hurt himself a few times from this

-super insecure about his scars!!! Poor baby. The first time you traced his scars, he cried.

-his hands are so rough! (In a good way obvi) like, they feel like sandpaper most of the time, and he’s really insecure about those too >_< -probably has written so much about your quirk that it takes up a whole notebook! You’re just so much more interesting to him than anyone else. Also has other notebooks filled with the things you like/dislike. Literally anything you told him about yourself is written down somewhere

-his laugh is the most heavenly thing. It’s so sweet and genuine. Same with his smile :)

~Katsuki Bakugo~

-this man is so angry all the time, but if you get close enough to him (takes a long time plz be patient) he has such a soft spot for you!!!

-literally the best cook in existence

-being together for dinner with him looks like him teaching you a new recipe, and you guys cooking together. Still yells a lot at you tho (we love him for it)

-hugs from behind ✨ (iykyk)

-brags about you to the bakusquad all the time. “did you see y/n on the battle field!?!? She totally smoked your ass dunceface!”

-swears a lot while talking to you about his day. “And then the fucking lady decided to steal that guys shitty bag! It wasn’t even a nice bag, it looked like it came out of the motherfucking apocalypse!”

-shows his love through actions. Words are hard for him (see the one above)

-makes fun of you all the time

-if he’s about to yell and he knows you’re sensitive, he’ll cover your ears before he yells (this one isn’t my hc, just something I’ve seen a lot)

-he’s a bit of a brat. He just likes seeing you pissed off. Thinks it’s adorable

-very affectionate when you’re alone. Other than that, PDA isn’t very good…maybe he’ll hold your hand or wrap is his arm around your waist so people know to back off, but he gets embarrassed easily.

-shows off around you so much. As soon as you show up to one of his arena fights (different headcanon, might elaborate later) he immediately wins.. you just give him the right motivation with you watching

-he hates when you play with his hair, but he LOVES to touch yours. If it’s long enough, he’ll braid it. Or if it’s not he’ll give you little scalp massages 😮‍💨

-bullies your bullies. He knows you can handle yourself, but you gotta use your scary boyfriend privileges sometime

~Shoto todoroki~

-if you’re too cold or too hot, he’ll use his quirk to help with that.

-also, it’s canon that he’s usually very cold himself, but can’t regulate his fire well enough to be a good temperature so he deals with it. So cuddles are a must to keep him warm

-he’s so insecure about it his scar, he thinks it makes him ugly and unlovable (canon) so he needs constant reassurance

-poor bae gets night terrors

-takes you to all the new restaurants in town. You guys have been every single one at least once

-make homemade (cold) soba for him or else *_*

-not that it matters to him, but Endeavor does not approve of him dating, so be prepared for arguments. You guys will win in the end though

-so sassy. Loves to back talk

-walks together late at night 😌💅

-not very talkative, he’d rather listen to you ramble. Literally the opposite of izuku in that way

-takes all your jokes way too seriously. You have to explain everything, but after that he’ll laugh with you about it

-SO oblivious. If you gave him a confession note, he’ll ask if you wanted him to proofread it. Or if you said it to his face, he’d be frozen and then ask “that sounds good, is it a line for a play? I didn’t know you did theatre…”

-rich as hell, takes you shopping and you’re not allowed to pay for anything. Treats you with endeavors credit card 👌

-literally best fashion sense. I’m talking flannels, baggy sweaters with cuffed sleeves, those cargo shorts that have the massive pockets.

Thanks for reading! I hope you guys liked them (>~<)

[lottiesboy]

under the weather

another mama lottie thing … whoops :} I MISS HER GUYS PLEASE 💔🥀 come home ur baby boy misses u :(( hopefully u mama lot enjoyers eat this up 🙏

pairing: cg!lottie matthews x little!reader

summary: lottie’s coming down with a cold and gets an unexpected surprise from her baby who’s taking care of her.

tags: sfw, fluff, a light sickfic, mama!lottie, reader reg to 3/4 years old, sick!lottie, regressor being the cg, pacis, sippy cups

it was a beautiful morning, you and lottie up earlier than usual. you kept hearing lottie cough and clear her throat next to you while you played with your toys on the floor next to her desk. she was on her laptop, probably doing important grown up things.

you spit your paci out, tugging on her sweatpants. “mama ‘kay?” you asked, looking up at her. lottie smiled, your innocence melting her heart like always. “mama’s alright, sweetie.” she said before immediately coughing again.

she could tell you were concerned, still feeling your grip on her sweatpant leg. “c’mere, you wanna come to the kitchen with mama?” she made grabby hands to pick you up, putting you on her hip.

lottie never gets sick, ever. she was going to the kitchen to make some tea because her throat felt like sandpaper every time she swallowed. you put your hand on her forehead, checking if she was warm. “mama sick?” you asked, noticing she looked paler than normal.

“yeah, mama’s feeling a little sick, baby. “but i’m okay.” she put you down on the couch to make her tea, but you had an idea. you ran off you get your blankie and a couple of your stuffies for lottie to make her feel better. after all, it’s what your mama would do for you when you’re feeling yucky.

when lottie turned around, you were gone. she furrowed her eyebrows, about to call out for you. then she heard you coming downstairs, seeing blankets in your hand. “what’ve you got there, sweetheart?” lottie smiled softly after sipping her tea.

you didn’t answer her question, walking back to her room, still holding those blankies. she followed with a curious smile, seeing you pat a spot next to you on her bed. “mamaaa,” you whined wanted her to play down.

she sat down finally, seeing your stuffies wrapped up in your blankies. she put her mug of tea on the night stand. “you brought your friends in here to hang out with mama?”

you nodded, pushing lottie down into the pillows gently. you wrapped her up in your blankies and gave her your stuffies to cuddle. “take care of you, mama.” you kissed her on the forehead.

lottie could feel her eyes welling up with tears, wiping one away discreetly before caressing your face. “you’re so sweet to mama. thank you.”

“gonna getchu snack, mama.” you hopped off bed, darting off to the kitchen. “don’t run, sweetheart.” lottie called out, making you slow down a little.

you poured out some of her favorite kettle chips in a bowl and poured her some juice in one of your sippy cups and a bottled water from the fridge. you came back with your hands full, setting the treats in lottie’s lap. “oh my goodness! what did you get mama, cutie?” she sniffled, grabbing a couple tissues from the beside table drawer.

“chips an juicy.” you pointed. “thank you, you’re such a sweetheart. my little angel.” lottie smiled, kissing your head. she didn’t want you to get sick, but you wanted to stay and hang out with your mama until she felt better. you cuddled up next to her, lottie letting you have her sippy cup of juice and turning on a show that you and her loved.

lottie took another sip of her tea, feeling the honey in it soothe her throat. “mama feel better?” you mumbled behind your paci. lottie kissed your head again, tickling your sides. “yes i am, darling, all thanks to you. thank you for taking care of mama.” she pinches your cheek, watching you blush.

it got a little later in the day, almost about noon. you kept looking at your mama, seeing her eyes get heavier by the second. “go nini, mama.” you brought the blanket up to her chest more, letting her rest her head on your shoulder.

lottie mumbled something incoherently before falling asleep, one of your stuffies clutched loosely on her arms. you gave her another kiss on the cheek before putting your paci back in and watching the rest of your show.

[marvelrivalsplayer69420]

gambit, daredevil, and punisher with a reader who crochets\knits

a\n: the gambit section ended up a little shorter than i intended. hope y'all enjoy <3

tags: gender-neutral reader, includes some knit\crochet terms, gambit's section is a bit short, just pure fluff.

Gambit ♠️

Remy likes watching you move your hands. he especially likes having you in his lap with his head over your shoulder, eyes focused on your hands and the yarn. when you pull from the outside and it rolls, he always seems to catch the yarn just before it falls off the couch\bed and put it back where it belongs.

sometimes he asks what you’re making and how you’re making it, just to hear you talk passionately about it. he listens with intensity, leaning in and watching you show him your progress and nods along to your plans, a little smile on his face when you get excited as he encourages you.

“That scarf’s really comin’ along, non? Can’t wait ‘til you’re all bundled up in it, s’long as you still let me kiss the frostbite off your cheeks.”

whenever you finish crocheting, he’s taking your hands in his and looking over them, kissing them, and encouraging you to stretch so you don’t get sore wrists and fingers.

Remy loves anything you make for him and treats your projects with respect, like asking you how to wash that delicate wool scarf you made for him without ruining it or which pair of gloves he should wear if you made multiple pairs for him.

he loves how creative you are. he even likes to get a little involved in your creative process if you ask which color, stitch, or style you should make something in, he gives a second opinion. but his “second opinion” is mainly based on the fact of whether or not he thinks you’d like the outcome more— because he will memorize your favorite stitches, colors, and aesthetics. he just wants you to enjoy what you’re doing.

he loves to wear and model the things you make for him; sweaters, gloves, scarves, socks, hats— anything wearable, he is willing to model for you personally. especially if you have a small business, he is willing to model for a pattern you make.

“Merci, I’m lookin’ real fine in dis sweater, cher. Maybe you should get in dis sweater wit’ me so we can get all cozy together?”

“Remy, honey, I need you to stop moving. I’m trying to take your picture for the pattern. We can cuddle after I get these pictures taken.”

“Mmm, okay, whatever you need Gambit gon’ deliver, cher. You jus’ tell me how to pose for dem pictures.”

Daredevil ⚖️

once Matt knows the audible differences, he can’t unlearn them; the clicking of needles vs the barely audible sound of a hook moving through stitches. crochet specifically is so quiet that sometimes he forgets you’re even crocheting. that’s when he reaches for your thigh and finds himself with a fistful of yarn instead.

loves those super soft chenille or blanket yarns. he yearns for a huge chenille blanket for the bed but he doesn’t ask for one; the yarn just shows up randomly in your stash and oh look it’s just the right amount to make a blanket or a Matt-sized sweater with.

doesn’t like the texture of most wool, cotton, or acrylic yarns; he says it feels like sandpaper on his skin. but he’ll still cuddle close to you if you’re wearing a sweater made out of it. if you manage to find a wool\cotton\acrylic yarn that is soft enough for him, he’ll wear whatever you make out of it with pride.

sometimes when you’re making for hours and hours, he’ll grab your wrist and feel the strain in it before telling you to take a break.

“But I gotta finish this row, Matt—”

“Sweetheart, I can feel the strain in your wrists. Take a break and stretch. I know how much you need it.”

he loves the things you make just for him; the chunky knit blanket that he loves bundling up in when you’re away because it reminds him of you, those knit gloves that he wears every day in winter, and the tie you knit for him for his birthday that he cherishes. if you like gifting him socks then you’ll never see him without them.

always finds himself reaching for something you’ve made when he needs it. that blanket on the couch. that sweater you made for him. scrubbies and towels you made out of that harsh cotton yarn that he’d never wear but doesn’t mind doing the dishes with.

he finds himself appreciating the projects that don’t work out how you wanted them to, the stuff with flaws that are still lovable and practical. like that wonky pillow you aren’t quite proud of or your first project(s) that show all that inexperience and excitement you had when you started. he cherishes them.

he enjoys moving his hand over one of your projects and feeling it; fingertips tracing each stitch as he makes out a detailed image of it in his head, even if he can’t see it. color is always missing from this unfortunately, so he might ask you to describe the colors of the rows and stitches as he moves his hand over them. always smiles when you respond and you can see that warm look in his eyes as he listens intently.

you could detail an entire color graph stitch by stitch and he’d be able to guess what it looked like without you telling him. he could tell a checkerboard pattern from a complex fair isle if you gave him the color and type of stitch for each individual stitch in there.

Punisher 💀

Frank’s still not familiar with most of the terms, but once you explain the difference between knitting and crochet, he never mixes them up again. he doesn’t even have to look at you knitting on the couch to know you’re knitting because he can pick up the small clicking of the needles.

likes to watch you when he thinks you’re not looking, then he’ll sit nearby and ask some questions about your project; the type of yarn you’re using, if you’re going by a pattern or doing it freehand, and if you need more.

unfortunately, he’s always able to tell when you don’t have enough yarn even when you’re on the precipice of winning yarn chicken.

“You got enough yarn? Could get you some more. I don’t think you’re gonna finish that with that much, sweetheart.”

“It’s really close. I think I might have just enough to do it.”

loves to take you shopping for yarn and supplies. he’s actually very engaged in it; likes walking down the aisles with you, holding the basket or cart and watching your reactions so he can gauge what you like and don’t like. he likes pointing out the stuff you missed if he thinks you’ll like it. he also likes to insist you make things for yourself.

Frank will not let you pay for your yarn, no matter the price. in fact, if you only plan on getting a few skeins of cheap yarn, he will insist you the expensive hand-dyed yarn he saw you eying earlier.

the only way you can pay for your own yarn\supplies is if you order it online without telling him. he’ll catch the package every time because he insists on getting the mail every morning.

“Hey hey hey, what’s this doll? Got a whole box of yarn I didn’t know about?”

“Oh, I just bought some online from Hobbii— is that ok?”

“Yeah, but you didn’t pay for it yourself did ya? You used my card right?”

“Uh… no…”

“How much you pay for it?” Frank says as he’s digging through his wallet for cash, fully prepared to give you the amount with shipping included. If you refuse at first, he’ll just sneak twice the amount into your wallet when you’re not looking.

he makes sure you take breaks throughout the day. he’ll look up stretches specifically for knitters and crocheters and he will teach you them and every hour or two he’ll make you do them. the second you stop for a break, he’s making you do them again even if you just did them five minutes ago.

he will wear anything and everything you make for him. he’ll use only the dishcloths and scrubbies you made. the main blanket he uses to bundle up with you on the couch on movie nights is one you made. he only wears clothes you make for him at home because he would be heartbroken to stain or ruin any of them on missions.

one time you knit him a pair of pink socks with strawberries on them to match a pair you made for yourself, just to see if he would wear it. says he’s not gonna wear them but each time you’re both spending the day inside, he’s wearing them. eventually he wears them out to the point where you need to mend a hole in the toe or heel.

if you give a handmade gift to someone not knitworthy (someone who doesn’t appreciate a handmade gift and doesn’t understand the time and effort put into it) then Frank is gonna have a private talk with them and depending on how it goes, they’ll either be suddenly grateful OR it might end up regifted to Frank if he thinks they don’t deserve it.

“Hey Frank, isn’t that the scarf I gave to my boss for Christmas? Why are you wearing it?”

“Just thought I’d appreciate it more after the talk I had with him, ‘kay sweetheart?”

“…Please tell me you didn’t kill my boss.”

“What? No, I just had a talk with him about your gift and decided I’d be able to take better care of it.”

“I think that’s considered stealing—”

“No it ain’t, if anything he was stealing your hard work from you by not appreciating your thoughtful gift… and by making ya work overtime when Cheryl doesn’t show up.”

[spitefulsatanfics]

=°=°=°=°=°=°=°=°=

\ The Sniffle King ™ /

“You're gonna wipe my nose and everything, huh?”

— Dean Winchester, probably

=°=°=°=°=°=°=°=°=

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader (she/her)

Tone: Sick!Dean, Crybaby!Dean, Domestic Romance, Pure Fluff, Cuddles, Nurturing!Y/N, Carer x Sick, Established Relationship

Rating: M (Cursing, Sickness, Kissing/Cuddling, Mentions of Canon Supernatural Themes)

Based On: Supernatural – Seasons 11–12, non-episode-specific, canonical “Bunker Era” setting

Word Count: 6,800 words

Written By: Little Devil ♡

Synopsis

Dean Winchester could survive a Hellhound mauling, stare down Lucifer with only a flask of whiskey, and pull the trigger on a demon without blinking. But a head cold? That’s the real apocalypse.

When Dean catches a brutal cold, he folds like a lawn chair. With Sam away on a salt-and-burn run, the bunker becomes a battlefield of tissues and dramatic sighs—and Y/N, the only woman stubborn and tender enough to nurse him through it, becomes the general of this sniffling war. Between warm soup, quiet cuddles, and a few vulnerable confessions, even Dean has to admit: love might be the best medicine after all.

=°=°=° NOVELLA =°=°=°

= Scene One =

—Men of Letters Bunker, Tuesday Morning—

The silence was eerie.

Not “monster-lurking” eerie, but eerily peaceful. Sam had left early that morning, muttering something about grave dirt and vengeful spirits. Dean had waved him off, face already pale, voice already hoarse.

Y/N wandered the stone halls now, sweater sleeves pulled over her hands. Her breath fogged lightly in the cold air—down here, winter didn’t care about central heating.

She paused outside Dean’s door. The sound that met her ear wasn’t gunfire or snarling demons. It was worse.

It was the loudest, most miserable groan this side of the veil.

She knocked gently. “Dean?”

Another groan. “Oh god… tell Sam he can have the car.”

She pushed the door open with a soft chuckle. The sight nearly broke her: Dean, sprawled sideways on the bed, buried in blankets like a Viking ship sinking into the sea of cotton. His hair looked like it’d had a fistfight with the pillow. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, blinked sluggishly under puffy lids.

Tissue graveyard. Cough drop wrappers. One sock.

“Dean,” she murmured again, stepping inside.

“I’ve got… whatever the Black Plague evolved into,” he croaked. “It’s the end, sweetheart.”

Y/N arched a brow. “You have a cold.”

He sniffled so hard it sounded like sandpaper on metal. “Don’t minimize this. I’m on death’s doorstep.”

She laughed softly and walked to his side, hand smoothing his hair. “Poor baby. Need anything?”

“Soup,” he whispered, pathetically. “But the good kind. The one with the stars.”

She blinked. “Chicken and stars?”

He nodded like a martyr. “They go down easy. I don’t think I have the strength to chew.”

“Okay, hero,” she teased, kissing his sweaty forehead. “Stay here. Try not to die in the next fifteen minutes.”

=°=°=°

= Scene Two =

—Kitchen, 30 Minutes Later—

The clatter of pots and the hum of the stove softened the bunker’s usual cathedral-like silence. Y/N moved with purpose: dicing garlic into the broth, brewing his favorite tea—green with honey and lemon, soothing and clean.

Dean could survive anything but being babied. Which meant, of course, she was going to do exactly that.

She assembled the tray like a rite: soup in a ceramic bowl, crackers stacked like soldiers, tea steaming beside the note she scribbled in loopy handwriting. One little heart drawn at the bottom.

When she returned, Dean looked like he hadn’t moved—except now, he’d added a dramatic arm flop over his face.

“You brought a tray?” he rasped, eyes peeking from under his arm.

“Yup. Napkin’s even folded.”

“Why’re you so nice to me?” he mumbled, trying to sit up. She helped him gently, fluffing pillows behind his back.

“Because you always take care of me,” she said simply. “Now let me spoil you.”

He blinked slowly at her, and she caught it—just the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. That wall he usually kept ten feet high? It cracked a little when he was like this.

“Okay,” he murmured. “But if I die, bury me with Baby.”

Y/N grinned and handed him the spoon. He took one sip, paused, then whispered reverently: “You added rosemary.”

“Dean,” she said, laughing, “you’re crying over soup.”

He sniffled again. “You don’t understand. This is medicinal.”

She settled beside him. He leaned into her side like muscle memory—his cheek warm against her ribs, fingers curled around her thigh like a lifeline.

“You ever get sick as a kid?” she asked softly.

He was quiet a moment. “Once. Bad flu. Dad was gone, Sam was little. I stayed in the car so he wouldn’t catch it.”

Her heart ached.

“You don’t have to do that anymore,” she whispered. “You’ve got me now.”

Dean turned his head, pressing a soft kiss to her side. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Lucky me.”

=°=°=°

= Scene Three =

—Evening, Dean’s Room—

The bunker glowed with that strange, golden quiet that came only at the tail end of long days. Y/N lay stretched on the bed, Dean curled against her, blanket slung around them like a cocoon. His fever had dropped slightly, though his nose was still red and he snored like a congested bear.

He stirred with a grumble. “I’m leaking.”

She grabbed a tissue and dabbed his nose gently.

“Seriously?” he said, voice husky. “You’re gonna wipe my nose and everything, huh?”

“Shut up and blow.”

He obeyed, then groaned. “Dignity. Gone.”

“Dignity died somewhere between the second blanket burrito and the crying over soup,” she teased.

Dean smirked. “Sue me. You cook like a damn angel.”

He went quiet again, breath warming her skin where his face was pressed. She stroked his hair slowly, watching his lashes flutter.

“I’m sorry I’m such a baby,” he said finally, voice soft.

“You’re not a baby,” she replied. “You’re sick. You’re allowed to be taken care of.”

“I’m not used to it.”

“I know.”

He looked up at her then, truly looked. “You’re the only thing in this whole damn bunker that makes me feel safe.”

Her heart cracked open like thunder.

“You are safe,” she said, threading her fingers with his.

Dean reached up and brushed her jaw with the back of his knuckles. His voice, rough as gravel but soft as rain:

“I love you.”

She smiled, leaned down, and kissed him. It was slow and sweet and tasted faintly of honey and menthol.

“I love you, too,” she whispered. “Even when you’re snotty.”

Dean groaned. “You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

They laughed together, low and sleepy. Then she pulled him close, wrapping him in arms and blankets and home.

And in that silence, with only the sound of their breathing, the world outside the bunker could’ve burned and neither would’ve noticed.

\ “My baby’s sick, so I guess the world stops.” /

=° Written by Little Devil ♡ =°=

[fandomnerd9602]

Shedding Season

Bambi!Wanda x Reader

Request by @idkwhatever580

It was just a calm weekend Autumn afternoon at your home. Your doe wife was feeding your four month old baby girl in the living room. The twins Billy and Tommy were upstairs playing in their room. You were in the kitchen, sipping some decaf coffee and listening to the music on your radio.

And then came the screaming cry of your infant daughter. You ran in to the living room to find your little Natalie crying, your mate Wanda was trying to soothe her baby. And then you looked at Wanda’s head, one of her antlers had splintered and broke off.

“Detka, it’s okay. I’m fine and so is Natalie” Wanda lets out a nervous laugh.

“What happened?”

“Natalie reached up to touch one of my antlers and… I guess it’s shedding season already.” She shrugs, “poor baby must’ve thought she broke my antler.”

You gave your mate a kiss to the stump of her antler and went out to the garage. You grabbed a little hack saw and a thing of sandpaper.

Wanda was able to calm little Natalie down and put her in her crib for a nap. Wanda sighs and lays down on the couch as you walk in.

“Cut em both” she intones, “otherwise I’ll be walking around like Pietro at our wedding.”

“Your brother can’t hold down his wine” you chuckle before taking the hack saw to Wanda’s remaining antler.

It was a labor of love. You gently cut her full antler off and sand down the stump. Then you turned your attention to the remaking splintered one and did the same.

You kissed the top of her head and then her lips. Wanda smiled at you and kiss the palm of your hands.

“Thank you, detka” she giggles.

And then came the screams of your boys. Both of them ran down the stairs, each had one antler hanging off its stump.

“Poppa,” Billy whines, “did we do something wrong?!”

“We were just playing,” Tommy explains

“Boys,” Wanda laughs before hugging her twins, “this is natural. It’s going to be alright. This happens every year at this time.”

Wanda looks to you and smiles, “do you have another saw? I’ll get one and you get the other.”

You give a wink and head out to grab another saw and some sandpaper.

The boys were quick to head off to bed that night as was Natalie. You and your doe shared a little laugh as you cuddles that evening.

“You know what I like about shedding my antlers?” She smirks.

“What?”

“Now you can run your fingers thru my hair.” She gets real close, whispering in your ear, “and we can be as wild as we want tonight”

She playfully nips your ear. You can’t help but smile.

Shedding season. It’s natural. It’s messy. But it’s all part of the wonderful life you and your goddess of a doe Wanda Maximoff are building together.

Tags @lifespectator @aloneodi @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @mathxa @julieromanoff @olsenmyolsen

2nd Gif belongs to @bonniebirddoesgifs

[sea-lanterns]

Pleaseee lion! Jean and lion!dehya just keeping vet! Reader all snuggled and protected from their exhausting day dealing with everyone’s heats (gentle service doms my heart-)

Vet!Reader trying to leave cause they have to work but they be like “no- you tired, come sleep dear” and smoother reader in warmth again.

Vet! Reader being a workaholic who needs her lion girlfriends to stop her so she can take a break 🥺

I imagine that while Lion! Dehya and Lion! Jean are asleep, the Vet tries to sneak away back to her office, only for them to wrap a possessive arm around her and keep her there. “Stay.” Is all Dehya grumbles while Jean nuzzles the back of your neck and purrs for you to stay snuggled in their embrace, gently licking their sandpaper tongues across your head so they can entice you to stay for another cleaning.

While the Vet is pretty strong and can lift some of the animal hybrids with ease, she can’t exactly lift two lion hybrids at once, as she’s pretty much left pinned to the ground while Dehya and Jean flop down on top of her. Good luck getting out of the lion cuddle pile, they are huge nappers who just want to sleep with you 😅

P.S: I can also see Dehya bringing you the biggest piece of her hunt to feed you after sex. Unfortunately, the Vet is a human and can’t digest raw meat, so Dehya just breaks into your kitchen pantry to scavenge for you. Dehya proceeds to come back with a can of unopened Spaghettios to feed you.