#every time i think too hard about them i get so ill i fall over and die

[hellfirecvnt]

Don't Piss me Off (Pt. 2)

John Q. (Simon) X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, oral (female receiving), "public" sex, unprotected sex (don't do that), poor life choices.

Summary: You still can't stand sticking around your parents for too long, but you stay in town for a while longer just to see him play. PART ONE IS HERE!!

Notes: I love him. I'm gonna write a million versions of the same story I stg. I didn't proof read. I got like 6 ideas at once and they're all getting written at the same time.

In the basement of a warehouse you'd assume abandoned, Simon and his band consisting of a handful of less ill-tempered, but just as dirty and dead-looking men set up for their performance. They're all spitting insults at each other as they scramble to plug in each meticulous piece of shoddy equipment they've acquired.

Simon's preoccupied. Clearly stuck on the thought of you. He realized hours ago that he never told you about the show tonight. He's wrapping the wire of the mic around his fist when he overhears the stagehands. "I didn't make it to Y/N's last party, I figured there would at least be one more before she bolted."

"She went back home?" Simon interrupts.

"Yeah, man. She left today, I'm pretty sure." The stagehands hoist a large amp to its spot, leaving Simon in the silence of realizing you two have no way of contacting each other. That's it. He shrugs his shoulders, brushing off any disappointment, as he's used to things falling through. Nothing's special to someone like him, or that's what he tells himself. He reaches into his back pocket and reveals a pair of underwear that had gotten tangled with his clothes when you did his laundry. He chuckles at the thought of how he would've made you think he stole them on purpose. He stuffs them back into his pocket and gets ready to perform as people start piling in the small venue.

You're nearly flooring it back to that gas station. Once inside, you leap over the counter and snatch the poster from the wall. "God damn! You could've just asked for the fucking flyer, man!" The cashier exclaims, certain you were attempting to rob the store.

"I don't have time!" You yell behind you as you sprint out the door. "Old fuckin' Mill building? Where the fuck is that?" You mumble to yourself, frustrated. You read that Psyops isn't set to play for another 30 minutes, so you speed around town to every old and decrepit site you can find. Four failures before you find the warehouse hosting the show tonight. "Finally!" You slam the van in park before bolting to the door.

"It's $10 to get in," a nonchalant man at the door huffs. You shove the money into his hand and he opens the large, black, graffitied door behind him. You're not shy in a crowd, so when you hear the boisterous speakers blasting the sound of guitar riffs through the building, you start shoving. The vibration sends the decently sized crowd into a wave of cheers and you finally make your way toward the front. You can hear a voice over the speakers, Simon. It's hard to make out what he's saying, but once the song starts, the crowd starts moving.

You're being jostled around for most of the set. Song after song, you try to force yourself to the front, but to no avail. Finally, once Simon takes one step off the slightly raised platform on which they're performing, you can reach him. His grip is white-knuckled around the microphone, now's your chance. You lunge forward and wrap a hand around the mic, pulling yourself forward. Confused and annoyed by the sudden tugging, Simon pulls back, effectively breaking through the wall of people blocking you. The moment your eyes meet his, under his ski mask, he grins. In the moment bringing you before him, he'd missed a few bars of the song, but effortlessly picks back up once you're front and center.

It feels like his eyes are locked on you for the rest of their set. You hate to admit it, but it's a hell of a show. The energy of the crowd, their presence on stage. No wonder Simon feels so strongly about it. He's a different person when he's John Q. An alias you found out about when you were seniors, and you hoped staying quiet about it would've shown him you weren't the snitch, but instead it took a coke bender several, several years later. Plus, he wasn't much less of a loser than you were. Who fucking cared back then that he has a stage name?

After Psyops' set, you and Simon slip outside for a smoke. Riled up from the show, he's too abuzz to make sure his face matches the angry stare he usually wears. "Someone said you were headed home already, didn't think I'd see you at a show any time soon," he says, lighting a cigarette.

"Said I would," you echo his words from his promise to back you up next time you got yourself into an altercation. "Can't let fucking John Q. be more trustworthy than me." Simon laughs at the mention of his stage persona. "I like the mask, though."

"Oh, yeah? That do somethin' for you?" He teases, reaching into his pocket for the mask, but pulling out a different wad of fabric. "Oops," he laughs, dangling your panties in front of you.

"Is that my fuckin' underwear, you god damn pervert?" You curl your lip, put off by the invasive behavior.

"They might be yours, I don't know. I get a lot pussy." Simon smirks with his eyes darkened on you.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck-" you're ready to lay into him, too violated to make any excuses despite how attractive he looks with messy hair and drying sweat.

"Calm the fuck down, they got mixed up with my shit when you washed my clothes at your house," he laughs. You roll your eyes and jump to grab them, but he's too quick. You miss the swipe and are now a great deal closer to him. "I'm gonna hold on to these," he says with a low voice as he scoops you against him with a hand placed on the small of your back. A second passes like an eternity and the two of you lock lips as he stuffs your underwear into his pocket again, allowing some of the silk and lace detail to hang out. As the kiss deepens, his hands move down your body, to your thighs before he grips your ass roughly. Soft moans escape against his lips as he gropes various parts of your curves.

"Do you know how worked up you get me?" He whispers between the press of your kiss. "Thought you left before I could get a taste." He reaches for your eyelet belt, but you stop him.

"Someone's gonna see us."

"Call it an encore," he mumbles before going back at your belt, but you swat him away again.

"At least take me around back, dumbass." You grab a fistful of his shirt and nearly drag him around the corner. It's dark and concealed from any passerby. He lifts you up onto a pad-mounted transformer and wraps your legs around him, still moving his head in sync with yours as each of your tongues explore each other's mouths.

"I guess I was kind of a prick to you back in the day, huh?" He whispers, running his hand through your hair.

"You were an angry piece of shit, yeah. We fuckin' or having a breakthrough?"

"Shut the fuck up for a second," he snaps. "I'm trying to apologize." He slips your denim shorts off your legs and all but falls to his knees in front of the large metal, green box you're sat on. His nimble index finger hooks around your thong and pulls it to the side. You barely have time to process what his "apology" will be before he plunges his head between your thighs. You fight to stifle a surprised moan as he conducts his skillful movements against your sensitive skin.

"Simon, oh, my God!" You whine, arching your back against the friction. He laughs against your skin sending waves of vibrations through your legs. One of his hands is occupied holding your panties to the side, the other is hooked around your hip, holding you securely in place as he meticulously works you over the edge.

"You want me to stop?" He asks, lips framed with drenched facial hair.

"No! No, I-" he cuts off your plea, resuming his position.

"Then stop fighting me," he snaps, harshly pinning you to the metal with the hand he had hooked on your hip. The stimulation quickly builds up, becoming too much, too quickly. You throw your head back and tangle a fist in his hair as he guides you through the high. Your legs shake and threaten to close around him, but his grip is too strong. You remain exactly where he wants you until you've ridden out your orgasm. You're slumped back on your elbows with your head down, breathing heavily as you return to reality.

Simon towers over you where you lay, staring down at you with his dark-circled eyes. You look up and watch him teasingly wipe his mouth, licking his lips like you're the first thing he's devoured in months. He slips your shorts halfway up your legs for you, leaving the rest of the work for whenever you can feel your legs again. "Um," you sigh. "Apology accepted."

"Tits."

"Is 'tits' good?" You furrow your eyebrows. He sighs, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"You're leaving tonight, huh?" Simon lights a cigarette.

"Well... That's the plan." You feel a pit in your stomach when you think about going back home. The place is nice, it's far away. It's what you wanted, but life is full and meaningless. You don't have friends out there, it didn't strike you how hard it'd be to meet people in your mid 20s.

"You don't sound so sure about that plan, Y/N." He exhales a cloud that illuminates under the street lamp's orange glow.

"It's boring out there, but it's quiet. It's peaceful. My parents aren't in my ear telling me trying something new could kill me." You shrug.

"That's why you're running? Because of your frigid bitch mom and dad?" Simon laughs as if it's the funniest thing he's ever heard.

"Okay, well. You know, maybe don't call them that or I'll lay you the fuck out, but yeah." You stand and fasten your shorts and belt, knees still threatening to buckle. "You had a hand in me leaving too."

"I know, I apologized!" He gestures to your trembling legs and you laugh.

"Yeah, yeah," you wave your hand at him. "Where'd you go? I was in town for weeks. I thought you were in the pin."

"I didn't want to overstay my welcome," he chuckles. "Or watch another fuckin' 80s movie with the volume on ten." He turns to look at you and he smirks.

"Well, my parents are in town now. I still have the rest of this week off. I was gonna spend it getting unpacked, but-"

"Fuck that. Let's go, you're driving." He walks off around the building toward the parking lot and you're dumbfounded for a moment.

"Of course I'm driving, it's my van!" You scramble after him. He hops in your passenger seat and you pull out of the lot, leaving his disgruntled band mates to pack up their own equipment. "You're not gonna help them?"

"What for? My shit's in the van. It's a microphone."

"Yeesh, sorry. Forgot you're actually kind of the worst when your head's not between my legs," you tease and Simon can't suppress a smile. As you cruise down the dark road, bright blue lights ignite in your mirrors. "Fuck. Get it the back." Simon wastes no time, he throws himself in the spacious rear area of the van as you pull over. You both wait anxiously for the cop to approach the window. Everything feels silent, until you finally hear the footsteps.

"I'm gonna run," Simon whispers, hand on the rear door latch.

"Don't." You demand sharply, rolling down your window for the cop. The air feels still and tight. It seems like it takes hours for the cop to speak, but when he does it's a routine traffic stop. He asks you if you knew how fast you were going and you innocently explain the floating nature of your speedometer. The officer laughs when he reads your ID and sees your last name.

"You're Frank's kid, right?"

"Yeah, his one and only." You beam, proudly. Happy to name drop your wealthy family.

"You just try to slow it down and tell your dad I said hello, alright?" The cop taps your door twice and sends you on your way. As you pull off, Simon peeks out from under the blankets and sighs with relief.

"Holy shit, with the way this thing looks, you should've been strip searched." Simon tosses himself back into the passenger seat.

"Don't shit-talk my van," you hiss. Simon proceeds to tell you where to go, each turn and shortcut, until you reach a large white house, almost as status defining as your parents'.

"My parents are out of town." He points to a concealed area to park and leads you to a basement door. He fights with a key for a moment before leading you inside. It's a messy basement room with red walls and posters from ceiling to floor. Instruments take up most of the space, aside from the bed.

"Do you avoid your parents like me, or do your parents avoid you?" You ask, bluntly, not considering the weight of that question.

"Both, I guess." He says after a long pause.

"You... Wanna smoke?" You ask, unsure how to navigate the silence.

"Can't. Fucks with my motivation," he grins. You shrug, rolling and smoking a joint by yourself while Simon works on some songs. He's got an ear for every instrument in his room, and he layers them over each other, creating complex instrumentals. It's nice to listen to while you lie on his bed and watch the swirling tendrils of smoke twist into the light and air above you.

"It sounds nice," you hum, settling into the cozy divot in the center of his mattress-on-the-floor.

"Write something for it," he commands, tossing a notepad and pen at you.

"Like lyrics? Why?" You stare at the blank page, unable to read the layers and layers of writing indented into it from Simon's heavy, angry hand.

"You need an out, I'm giving you one." He leans back in the rolling chair he resides in, staring me down like a hawk.

"I don't think I'm a very musical person. I think I'm more of a doodler, really," you argue, scribbling in the corner of the paper.

"Just fuckin' write something down and stop being a pussy." He snatches the pen from you and tosses it onto the pad.

"Bitch- How does that make me a pussy?" Your eyes narrow at him.

"It'd be too vulnerable. You're no tougher than that kid you were in high school. It's all fake now." It's clear he's taunting you. Making a fair attempt at reverse psychology.

"Fuck you, give me a minute," you huff, writing a line or two to start with. "Play your shit again." And he does. Restarting the instrumental he put together just for you. After a while, you've written something and you sling the notepad at Simon. He takes a moment to read through it a few times, almost trying to decode the melody of how I'd sang it in my head.

"Perfect. Now sing it." He nods toward his microphone stand.

"Fuck's sake, dude. Are you serious?" You whine, pushed further and further out of your comfort zone.

"Come on, let's see what you got," he says in a tone that lets me know I've already lost the argument.

"It doesn't feel good to be vulnerable to you."

"Tough it out." You roll your eyes at his demand, but you do it. You tough it out and recite your song over the music he provided. He hits 'restart,' and then 'record,' and then he points to you. After a measure you begin to sing. Low effort, but still angelic. Your song is about the feeling of being homesick no matter where you end up. It's about running and putting up a face as a defense mechanism. It's about wearing a mask.

When you're done singing and the music fades out, Simon slides the headphones off his ears. "That... Was tits." He looks elated. Like a poor painter with a new pallet.

"Is 'tits' good?" You ask again, emphasizing the lack of answer last time you asked.

"Yeah, 'tits' is good." He grins. "That was good."

"Fuck you. Who's not vulnerable?" You curl your lip, clearly more moved by the challenge than the release he was offering. Simon just shakes his head.

"Let's mix it." He beelines for the computer and begins fine tuning the song. You're watching in awe of his quick skill at this craft. As if watching him play all those instruments wasn't impressive enough. The night grows older. Simon offers you your favorite party favor, but you're over it. So the two of you share a joint.

"You don't ever get tired of living in a circle?" You ask through a cloud of smoke.

"A fuckin' circle?" He looks at you.

"Just, still in this town, still avoiding your parents, still making music alone in your room."

"Fuck," he huffs, offended but acknowledging the truth in your words. "Do you ever get tired of running from it?"

"Touché." You bring the joint to your lips as you lie in his disheveled bed. His arm snaked around you ages ago, slowly pulling you closer and closer to him. Like he's worried you'll float away.

"If our only two options are run away or get sucked into this shit hole of a town, I think we're a little fucked, don't you?" He chuckles to himself.

"Maybe those aren't the only options. We just don't have all the answers yet. I don't think anyone does." Your voice is wistful and quiet. You can feel Simon's eyes on you, but you stare at his dark ceiling. He rolls his eyes at your corny words, but he knows you're right. "It's funny, because if I could run from the uncertainty too, I would." You giggle, aware of your vices and poor coping skills.

"Yeah, you would," Simon mocks.

"And you? You're just going to live with it? Sit right beside the discomfort and accept that for yourself? Have you ever tried to give yourself more, even if it meant running?" You're slowly building up a sense of passion behind your words and Simon just listens, staring deeply into your eyes as you speak. Suddenly, you're cut off when he wraps a hand around the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss. His lips crash into yours and the two of you melt into each other.

You can't even remember what you were saying, you just know you don't want to stop touching him. The heat of the kiss begins to swell as Simon's hands trail up and down your body. He's grabbing at you in a specific order, like he's been waiting to get his hands on it. Really get his hands on it. You grasp at the hem of his shirt, tugging in semblance to take it the fuck off, and he does.

His broad, pale chest rises and falls with anticipation as you strip off the same article of clothing. "Jesus Christ," he moans, pulling you to him to shove his face directly between your breasts. He breathes deeply, taking you in. With one swift motion, he's hoisted you on top of him, your legs straddling his waist. Simon unfastens the button on your jeans before tossing you to the side to undress you.

You're both naked and greatly anticipating the next moment your skin will touch. Seconds feel like hours until you're pressed against each other again. Simon buries his face in the crook of your neck as he guides his throbbing erection to your entrance. You're squirming and arching beneath him, and he releases a breathy laugh as he watches you writhe. "You're aching for it," he groans.

"Fuck you," you hiss, pulling him closer to you by his shoulders. All he does is chuckle before slowly slipping inside you. You moan loudly as you adjust to his size. Something about a lanky, dead-eyed man. His pace is steady as he rocks his hips against yours, picking up speed as you gush around him. Soon his thrusts are hard and rough, and your loud, vulgar moans echo off his bedroom walls.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he huffs, pulling out of you and tossing you aside. Simon quickly repositions you in front of him, on all fours. You let your back arch naturally, putting on a bit of a show for him as he watches you. His eyes are darkened and his smirk sends chills down your spine. You can't help but smile wide in excitement. With two round hands, he grabs your waist and positions you at the perfect height. His hands wander the soft flesh of your ass as you press up against him. "You drive me fucking crazy..." He sighs as he slips inside you.

Simon digs the tips of his fingers into your skin, pulling you against him with every violent thrust. You do everything you can to contort your body to give him more of you. He throws his head back, falling into a sloppy, unsteady pace. His breathing is wild and primal all the way up until the point of climax. You release a loud, fluttering moan as he fucks you through your high, quickly withdrawing to finish on your back and ass. You're both breathless for a while, the room is silent but for the sound of your lungs filling and deflating.

Simon climbs off the bed, but you're too fucked out to even raise your head up to watch where he's going. Moments later, he returns, towel in hand. He cleans you up and lands a hard smack on your right ass cheek. The sound is thunderous against the silence. You yelp and break into quiet chuckles.

Finally, you have the strength to roll over. You sit up against the mess of pillows that became a sort of headboard for his bed, feeling beautiful and bare before him. It's a nice feeling that you're not used to. Sure you've had your flings, but it's never occurred to you how quickly you tend to leave or cover up after. Not this time. You're both fully exposed and Simon's eyes drink you in, one last time before he speaks. "Don't go back." You stare at him for a long while, silent.

"I won't," you gasp, surprised by your own promise. As soon as the words leave your mouth, his lips are on yours. In the next few days, you quit your job and Simon rides with you to go back and get the most important of your shit. The rest goes with the trailer when you sell it. You don't run a single thing past your parents and you don't tell them you're coming back to town. It's a new sense of peace and adventure, though it feels like abandoning your old life.

After a month of van living, you and Simon get an apartment and constantly receive complaints about the noise, but nothing stops the music overflowing from your floor of the building. A new sense of bliss. It's comfortable now.

[jazz-kitty]

could i request some elias content pretty please….

but both of us were lordless, lawless men. he had no purpose to serve but fighting his own, and we found common ground therein

[earthtooz]

cw: arranged marriage, fluff, neglect at the beginning, ratio falling hard, pining, ratio being jealous of aventurine, unedited bc i wrote this with my heart not my brain

my brain has been thinking about an arranged marriage fic with dr. ratio...

he isn't kind to you at first, less than happy to share a life with a mere acquaintance. he's heard about you before in passing, noting your achievements with a grain of salt because nothing about you particularly mattered to him, irrelevant against the mass of scrolls and books he needs to read.

you don't really disturb his normal routine too much. you move in to his estate with a fair share of your belongings, but none of them crowd his house too much. you have your own room, pristine guest room unearthed by your artistic touch.

aside from dinners, you don't get to see each other too much. he starts his mornings early, getting up at the crack of dawn to exercise and start his day with a hearty meal. you wake up later, partaking in a slow morning, and if you glanced out the window, you might be able to see your husband running laps around the expanse of his gardens.

you admire his dedication and routine, it's fascinating to live beside a genius. everyday, the chest table that sits in the living room changes, the black and white pieces never remaining where you last recalled. the size of his blackboard is impressive, and yet too small to fit all of the formulas his brain remembers, hands effortlessly dancing along the surface to scratch number after number.

a frequent order of his estate is chalk. a new pile is delivered every three days, and he goes through them without fail every time.

during dinner, he tries to spare some conversation with you. you don't tell him too much about your day, not wanting to bore him with your menial chores. he's only half-listening either way, so you'll feign understanding about his work when he explains what he's up to.

ratio is not an attentive husband, but he doesn't mistreat you, either. he allows you to spend his assets without too much care, doesn't police your everyday tasks, and also doesn't bat an eye at other men or women. his pursuit of intelligence is important, and your wellbeing would not come in between that.

your monotonous, distant routine changes one autumn dusk. you're perched in the front yard with an easel set up before you, the sky in front of you now a blend of pink-purple hues. he returns home earlier than you expected, carriage stopping at the front of his estate, and he witnesses you in your tranquil state.

the paint strokes on the canvas before you are skilled, and show years of dedication to the craft. you're so invested in the piece before you, that you don't even hear him approaching until he calls your name.

"the night turns colder with each minute. shouldn't you come inside before you fall ill?" the scholar greets, and you're snapped out of your creative reverie, looking over at him.

"oh, i had not realised. let me clean up here, first." you take your canvas off the easel, but to your surprise, your spouse kneels down to organise your oil paints back into their box.

"make haste, then," he urges.

during dinner, he can't help but be curious over your hobby, the stubborn splotches of paint clinging to your hands visible to him. that night, you engage in uninterrupted conversation, and discover that he's an artist himself- a sculptor. it calms him, and all the statues reside in a removed room, adjacent to his study.

despite your years of matrimony, you had never once dared enter his study, but the design is so fittingly him. it is organised (well, as organised a genius can be), with shelves and shelves filled with books, discarded scrolls lay around the room, but even then, his taste for greco-roman aesthetics are seen. roman dorics act like stands for little plants, and his many certificates are displayed, along with other achievements.

(his study is overwhelmingly filled with them. though you knew of the merit of the man you were arranged to be married to, you had never known just how expansive the list is. perhaps, that only made him more intimidating to you, standing beside a genius does not feel so light to say anymore.)

he shows you his sculptures, and though many of them are... self portraits... the likeness is disgustingly accurate. it was as if he had casted himself in plaster and displayed it proudly. you wonder how long he must have stared in the mirror to perfect their appearance.

but, there are also various other formidable statues. some of people you recognise. you compliment his skill and don't get to see the blush that spreads along his cheeks.

it seems that you've chipped a way into his heart, because between brushstrokes and chiselled marble, he falls in love with you.

ratio knows he didn't start off being the best husband, but he tries to now, and begins by being present. asks you to dine together where possible, listens when you're talking about your day, and the two of you can be seen venturing downtown together; an unbelievable sight for those who believed that ratio was romantically inept.

perhaps, an even more unbelievable sight, was the soft smile on his face that glanced at you very adoringly, and how you remained unaware of his affections.

and, maybe a jealous veritas ratio is just as unbelievable.

he is practically glaring daggers at the side of a certain blond's head. ratio has never been fond of the scheming businessman, aventurine, and is even less so of the fact that you seem so close to him, more than you are with your own husband. you're speaking with him like how one would with old friends, a peaceful visit to the markets turned sour by his presence.

when you finally, finally, finally, bid farewell to aventurine, who gave ratio a look that signified he was up to no good, your husband held your hand in his gloved one with an unforgiving grip. his mood is dampened for the remainder of the day, and is only made better when you enquire about his sudden glumness, visiting his office to see if he was alright.

you leave him with a kiss on the crown of his head, and a whisper of 'goodnight', before retreating to your chambers, and the only thought that circulates in his head for the rest of the night is you, and how he's going to sweep you off your feet.

[nanaslutt]

MDNI // NSFW

thinking about nanami…..

sitting behind you while you lay your back against his hard chest, his legs hooked over yours as he forces them to stay open while he pistons his thick fingers in and out of your pussy

loud squelches and drops of wetness spitting out from between you thighs as fat crocodile tears run down your cheeks. Nanami grips your throat harshly in his large hand, squeezing every so often to make you dizzy, your mouth falling open in a silent scream

“stop squirming, you can take it” Nanami whispers against your ear, followed by a harsh smack against your pussy after he abruptly yanks his fingers out before shoving them back in, continuing his brutal pace

“k-kento too- too much-“ you whine, your body shaking and jerking in his hold, trying to get him to ease up on you, but Nanami is having none of it

he removes his hand from your throat and presses it against your mouth shutting you up. he presses your head back against his shoulder roughly as your forced to look at the ceiling while his fingers abuse your g-spot rapidly, one merciless thrust after the other

“I said take it.” He groans, fed up with your complains. His cock is twitching so hard against the confines of his boxers as he feels finger fucks you, imagining how soft and warm you’re gonna feel around his cock when he’s done working you open

“cmon, squirt for me again and ill give you a break, my love” Nanami groans, pausing his thrusts to curl his counters rapidly against your gspot, making you cry out behind his hand, your whines muffled as you shake and shake and shake until-

a stream of clear liquid sprays out from your cunt, making Nanami groan in satisfaction as he begins pistoning his fingers in and out of you again, working you though your orgasm, getting your cum all over the bed sheets,

“good fucking girlll, good girl.” Nanami moans, his jaw slack as he watches you squirt for the second time all over him, his cock leaking pre-cum in his boxers. “proud of you honey, so proud.” he coos, pulling his fingers out of you as he wraps both arms around your torso, allowing you to breathe and whine freely now that your mouth is unobstructed again

“take a second and breathe before i have you squirt all over my cock.” Nanami whispers against your ear, the prospect of cumming again shaking you to your core but his deep voice vibrating through body sends a new wave of energy through you :3

[biteyoubiteme]

blue raspberry flavored

soobin x fem!reader

synopsis: he’s so cute when he asks, he’s even cuter when he doesn’t

warnings: 🔞!!! breeding kink, baby trapper, dubcon/manipulation, nipple/breast play, use of teeth, marking, no protection, creampie, talk of pregnancy, soobin calls reader bunny a few times prob forgot some sorry

wc: 1.5k

an: don't know how this one will go over but hope you guys like it feedback is appreciated :)) [m.list]

this is apart of my mini kinktober event check out the other fics here [dumdum m.list]

Soobin was never really forgetful of anything. He never forgot your birthday, missed an anniversary, messed up on your coffee order, he never even had to write down what he needed when he went grocery shopping. But bringing a condom always seemed to slip his mind. 

At first it was easy to write off in the beginning of your relationship, every time the two of you got closer to having sex and not just messy make outs every pouty ‘its okay ill just pull out’ sounded more and more appealing. But you bought a box of condoms for your apartment and didn't realize the way his jaw clicked at the sight of them. 

Soon after soobin was suddenly into pda. Purposefully teasing you out in public, hand slipping up your thigh under the table at a friends house, pulling you into heady kisses out at events, pushing you into bathroom stalls to try and undress you. You didn't make the connection until later that he was avoiding taking you home. ‘I just can't wait i need you right now,’ 

He knew exactly what to say for you to fold, slowly chipping away at the idea that the two of you even needed protection at all. It was so easy for you to remember when in your own bed, the nightstand right there. But in the back of the car with his lips all over you, hands kneading your thighs, pushing your knees apart; you let so much slide. Mumblings for him to pull out lost between moans. Where was he supposed to cum in the car anyways? He’d hate to ruin the interior or your pretty skirt. 

In the beginning it wasn't so bad, soobin could restrain himself. If you two didn't use a condom he would make sure to pull out and if you did use one he was easy to comply. But it only took one time and it was an accident, a real accident where he didn't pull out fast enough. It was in the mix of his fucked out apology that he realized he wasnt sorry at all, not when he was watching the way your abused cunt was pushing out his cum and all he could really think about was going right back in for more. 

post nut he was a bit ashamed but as soon as he thought about it for long enough he had his hand down his pants begging in an empty room to get you pregnant. And when you're ovulating it's only worse. Not only does he know it would be so easy to knock you up but it's like you're beckoning him to do it. Your hands squeezing your boobs, pushing up your bra while you're watching movies together. “Ugh im so sore,” the pout on your lips instantly makes him hard. His imagination taking over thinking about just how big they would get if he did get you pregnant. 

And when you wear that tiny little tank top he is insatiable. Nipples peeking through the thin fabric as you lay against the pillows on the bed. You didn't even notice that soobin is paying no attention to the tv, his eyes watching the way your chest rises and falls. Adjusting in his seat to not make it too obvious he was already leaking in his sweatpants. Only it does the exact opposite, your eyes drawn to the bulge outlined in the gray fabric. 

“Need help there?” it's the slight invitation he needs to roll over on top of you, lips working down your throat, hips rutting against yours. 

“Please bunny, i need you,” he begs as you run your fingers through his hair pushing the strands behind his ears. Pleading brown eyes working on you instantly, he was always so desperate to have you and he knew it always made him get what he wanted. 

He tugs down your tank top far enough for your boobs to spill out, hands reaching up to cup them both, thumbs sliding over your skin as he groans. “Look at your pretty nipples,” he squeezes his hands, pushing them together to watch the way your cleavage deepens. 

You whine softly, “gentle i'm still tender,” the reminder only adding to his want, mouth coming down to suck on your nipple, your moan going straight to his aching cock. 

Kneading the handfuls he has of your breasts, your back arches, lips popping off obscenely from one nipple only to capture the next. He's rough as he massages, your nails scratching along his scalp, his moans reverberating through your chest as he swirls his tongue over the hard bud. 

He's humping you like you don't have layers of clothes separating you two, every slow drag of his hips pressing his hardness right against your clit, his teeth softly biting at your nipple tugging to watch how you react. Soobin knows that getting you off at least once before actually fucking you led to your inhibitions being weakned enough to forget about the condom all together. His hand slipped down between you two, pushing past your waistband to rub on your clit. 

Lips coated in his spit he starts sucking marks along your chest, watching the way your head rolls back, fingers sliding through your slick as your hips buck up into his hand. He knows your body well enough to see the first orgasm coming, relishing in the way you tremble against him. With no time to let you ride out your high he's pulling down your shorts and panties, kicking off his sweats using all your wetness to lube up his cock. 

But even in your haze you reach out beside you fumbling for the drawer to the nightstand pulling out the little shiny packet. You don't even see the disappointment on his face as you rip open the packet helping to slide the condom on him. 

And he wants to be good, truly, only when he slowly pushes in he cant think about anything else except fucking you hard enough the condom breaks, neither of you knowing until its too late, until all his cum is spilling out of you. It’s that thought alone that makes him pull all the way out, his fingers slipping along the condom as he tugs it off. “What-” 

“It's okay,” he mutters, tossing the condom to the pile of your clothes on the floor. “I need to feel all of you please,” and he tries to kiss away the worry on your mouth, and you shake your head. 

“No you need another one we have extra in the nightstand,” but he's already prodding your entrance, tip slipping in as he begs, "I'll just pull out I promise, please, please,"

You don't even get to respond before his hips slam into yours, fully seating himself inside you, promptly shutting up anything else you could say. Even if after the two of you were done you were upset it's not like you would leave him would you? Not if he got you pregnant, the two of you were ready, and he'd take such good care of you. “Fuck,” his drawn out moan pressed right into your neck as he bullies his cock into you, “you feel amazing bunny,” 

You're clinging to him, moans mixing with the obscene wet sounds coming from between you two. “Soobin s-slow down,” but you're not sure you want him to, not when he's hitting just the perfect spot inside of you, pressed so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach. 

“No,” he pants pulling you closer, “im going to stuff you full of my fucking cum, we will stay here all night if we have to,” your clenching gummy walls aiding him on. “Don't you want my baby?” 

You can't even think straight let alone answer his question, his long fingers moving to work on your clit, “you'd be so pretty full of me, my cum, my baby, everyone would know youre all mine,” 

The room is full of your desperate moans, your legs wrapping around him as if you could pull him any closer. “You like that idea huh?” 

“Y-yes,” you're practically crying, tears welling up in your eyes, “i want it, please,” 

That alone makes soobins balls tighten, cock jerking inside you before he spills the biggest load he's ever had inside you. He presses his hips against yours making sure you're flush together as you cum, fluttering walls sucking him in deeper milking him dry of all he has. He takes your hand in his lowering it to press over your pelvis, pressing it down enough to make you moan, “i don't think once will do it,” deep slow thrusts pushing his cum further in making you dizzy, “but you did such a good job im sure you can handle the rest,"

a very special thank you to @aduh0308 and @chyuuiung for beta/proof reading this for me ily you're the best

🏷 taglist: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @stwq2349 @isa942572 
@tomorrowxforever @beestvng @soobingf-blog @lovinjjong @lola-horore-553 
@cypher-03 @midnight-mochii @hueningwhy @choibeomning @soobinbunnie5 
@yunjinswifee @cupidtaehyun @bamgeutsz @prince-jjae

[winstonsns]

the gang with a soc!reader

authors note: sorry the last one was kind of all over the place. i tend to ramble when i write so ill try to stay more on topic this time. in this preference, you and the characters will already be a couple :3 im also wondering if people are clicking the hashtags then they see my posts?? so if that’s what’s happening and you can see my posts when you click the hashtags please tell me because i have no idea if it’s working LMAO

includes: ponyboy, johnny, darry, soda, dally, two-bit and steve

word count: 2.0k

warnings: mild cussing, mentions of fighting/getting jumped

PONYBOY CURTIS

you both are academic BEASTS so you’re somewhat rivals and trying to get to the top of the class

but you’re still together, it’s a healthy relationship

most of the time, you’ll actually walk him home from wherever you are since it’s safe for you to walk home on your own, but since he’s a greaser it’s not safe for him

when you met the gang they taught you how to fight in case some greasers or even some socs tried to fight you

by walking him home, you’ve actually prevented him from getting beat up

you like to take him out to get food or something he wants when he gets a good grade since he gets happy when they’re high

sometimes you’ll get lower grades than him and you two will study together, or reversed

you’ll get him a new book every time he finishes another one, by the end of the year he has a new shelf just filled with books you’ve given him

you occasionally read him to sleep when he’s having a hard time, or again reversed

he falls asleep pretty quickly when you do this and he really appreciates it

you always sit together during assemblies and choose to be each others partner in the classes you have together

if you don’t decide to do track one year you’ll go to his meets, and after you always take him out to eat since you’re proud

if he’s extra tired then he’ll ask to go home so you will

you learned how to cook so he can have big nice meals, along with baking chocolate cake when soda and darry aren’t there to make it

pony thinks you make it better than darry but will never tell him that

he really loves spending time with you and feels like you’re the first person besides johnny to really understand him

you made him think about socs in a different way too, in a good way

yall are just humans doing what you know best, some in different environments and had different parents with different parenting styles

you like to bring him to the best places in tulsa to watch the sunsets

you also get the best polaroids of the sunsets and the colors are so beautiful

JOHNNY CADE

as soon as he told the gang that he was dating someone they were excited for him, then they found out you were a soc

dally told him to break up with you without even knowing you, johnny told him to give you a chance

when johnny invited you to the curtis house to meet his friends, you brought presents for all of them since you wanted to make a good impression

you had your ways about finding what they like and don’t like

they immediately took a liking to you when you gave them presents and a kiss on johnnys cheek

you’d patch him up and give him bandaids to take home after getting beat up by socs or his parents

sometimes you’d give him money and he would use that money to get you something you’ve been wanting for a while

he’s always so thankful for everything you do for him and everything you give him

since your parents don’t really care about the differences between greasers and socs, they let johnny stay over since they know things are rough at home

sometimes they’ll take you and him out for dinner with them and you think it’s so cute

he was nervous your parents wouldn’t like him since most of the socs parents would think he’s gross

he’s always proud of you for naturally getting good grades and seeing the smile on your face when you get your report card

sometimes when he’s upset you two will cuddle in your bed or you’ll drive him to a restaurant or fast food place

he always feels bad about spending your money but you tell him not to feel bad about it since you have more

DARRY CURTIS

things got more financially stable when you came into his life

you’d help him pay groceries and the bills if he was struggling, you also helped around the house

sometimes he’ll wake up to the smell of bacon, waffles, eggs, etc and suddenly its like he doesn’t have to be the responsible one 24/7

having you in his life has improved everything, and his brothers are so thankful to have you there too

you’re like a mother to them and they’re comfortable enough to open up to you

sometimes you’ll ask him out on cute little dates randomly just so he can get a break of hard work

he’ll take the day off and get all dressed up since you told him you were taking him to a really fancy restaurant

occasionally you’ll get your nails done just for your dates and he always notices

you’ll ask him “which color is better” and he’ll say “aren’t they the same?” then you have to explain to him that one is darker than the other

he still doesn’t see the difference but chooses one anyway since he likes to see you happy

he’s literally so in love with you and how you’ll do romantic and domestic things for him

you’re so beautiful and perfect in his eyes, and sometimes he’ll stare at you and his brothers will tease him

he really loves being around you and having you by his side

you also helped him become calmer, that pony and soda have their own problems and darry yelling at them probably just makes them scared

he starts to actually communicate with them and you’ll give him gifts for completing or succeeding because why not

he’s always like “hon, you didn’t have to get me this…” but you can see he’s happy with whatever you give him

he just loves you so much and his brothers love you too but obviously not romantically

SODAPOP CURTIS

people actually think the both of you are socs, i mean they’re half right

they think soda is a soc since he’s so handsome and think you’re a soc because of your mannerisms and how you’re very beautiful

you’ll always visit him at the DX just to hang out with him

your parents love him and how he treats you so they also let him stay over at your house

sometimes when it’s sodas turn to get groceries from the store, you’ll go along with him

he just wants to be around you whenever he can

you’ll offer to pay for the groceries plus stuff he doesn’t need but instead wants

once he got a pimple and he freaked the fuck out

you bought him some cleanser, moisturizer, sunscreen and pimple patches

you taught him how to use them and when, and in which order to use them in

his pimple went away in a few days

since you’re so smart and get good grades, you’ll help pony with his homework sometimes

soda will stare at you helping him from far away, he thinks it’s adorable that you two are bonding

when the two of you are in your room, you’ll play frank sinatra and the little dippers while having a home-date with sweets :3

you two have so much fun and he even opens up to you about his problems

you offer to get him a therapist but he says it’s that bad, you tell him to talk to you if he wants to talk about it again

he legit treats you like a princess and you love it

yall are the most attractive couple EVER no one can tell if they wanna be you or be with you

DALLAS WINSTON

when he realized he liked you he knew he had to protect you with his life

he needed a break from loud and annoying girls, then he found you

you could get quiet at times and you weren’t constantly screaming and acting like an annoying 12 year old boy

you got him to steal less since you could pay for things on your own

he didn’t really listen and still stole money from other people so he could get you things

whenever he got put in prison you could always bail him out due to the money you have

if he had to serve time then you’d give him money so he could spend it and get necessities

you’ll also make diy crafts for him on your guys anniversary and his birthday

he brings you to meetups with the gang, and they love you being there with him

you spoil him rotten and he loves it

makes him feel like a princess, weirdly enough

he’ll steal money to spoil you too, pays for your nails sometimes

you told him you wanted specific flowers once and he got you flowers sometime the next week, he acted nonchalant about it but he loved the happy look on your face

TWO-BIT MATTHEWS

sometimes you’re quiet but he always finds a way to bring you to tears after laughing so hard

he’s literally the funniest person you’ve ever met

he never really expected a soc to get so loud since they were normally reserved and didn’t talk to many people

anyway you brought him to fucking disneyland once and he LOVED it

you booked a hotel and everything so yall saw mickey mouse

two-bit kinda laughed at him but he seemed happy so he didn’t care

he loves traveling with you and brags about it to the gang all the time

they say it’s cool then act like they don’t care but they’re kinda jealous he gets all that stuff

they’re happy for him though

sometimes you’ll get him little mickey figurines and he’ll put them on his nightstand, sometimes even carry it with him if it’s a keychain

he never would’ve expected a soc to be so nice to someone like him

he’s really glad that you love him and you show it

STEVE RANDLE

before you two started dating he tried to avoid you at all costs

he kinda thought you’d beat up him and his friends so he just stayed away from you

anyway when you guys started dating you’d drive him to the DX

you’d give him tips just for fun even if you didn’t buy anything from him

you’d buy him all sorts of little trinkets and such just so he’d have something to mess around with

i don’t have a lot of knowledge on him bro pls bear with me LMAO

he’s almost always with soda so you kind of became his best friend naturally

you’ll buy steve food on his breaks and drive him to restaurants or fast food places and you’ll eat on a bench or in a field together

you talk about some shit that happened at work while he listens

he’ll occasionally get you some food since he knows you like sweets

then you repay him with something he’s wanted for a while that he’s been asking for

whether it’s a book or food or a trinket idk

he loves you so much and is glad soda gets along with you so well

sorry this one’s shorter! i’ll try to make the preference longer next time. i’m gonna try to post at least twice per week but if im feeling good ill try to post more 💗 thank you for reading!

[genderless-naper]

muddy problems

trafalgar law x gf!reader

warnings: fluffy law

sfw, wc: 1k, lowercase intended !

helping your tired law through shower time

law walks through the halls of the polar tang tirelessly. he didn’t expect the most recent encounter with another pirate ship to be such a headache to handle. the captain of the opposing crew was was a devil fruit user: the user of the mud-mud fruit.

needless to say, it was hard for anyone to contain their laughter when law walked passed looking like he just got out of a mud bath. he wouldn’t usually be this forgiving, but he was simply too tired to deal with them. he kicked off his shoes before entering his room.

he saw you laying in his bed reading a book without a care in the world. his gaze softened slightly while drawing a loud breath to release some tension. you looked up at the raven-haired man.

you stared. he stared back.

you hold a hand over your mouth to suppress a laugh. it took every fiber in your body to restrain yourself from rolling on the floor in laughter.

you cleared your throat to greet him, “who knew the tough trafalgar law would fall victim to a mud bath in the middle of a fight?”

law doesnt reply to your statement. instead he focuses on discarding ed his current wear to avoid getting the place more dirty. he had bigger problems to worry about than some rhetoric questions. he needed to get clean fast. the mud on him started to make him feel suffocated.

he looks for a clean pair of clothes to wear for post shower. you close your book and put it on the bedside table so you can follow him. still fighting back laughs you continue to ask, “how many shampoo rinses do you think it takes for that mess to get out your hair?”

law sighs in his tired state and mumbles, “hopefully no more than 3”

you cant help but let a laugh escape, “just 3?? don’t you think you’re being s bit too generous captain? i was thinking at least 5!”

he groans quietly. it was clear the doctor was more exhausted than he would like to admit. you felt bad for your poor lover. as much as you would like to pick on him and his unusual circumstances you knew that wasn’t what law needed right now. he needed your support.

you ran to the bathroom to get his shower started for him. you made sure the temperature was just how he liked it. he followed momentarily; throwing his clean clothes on the shelf of the bathroom as a yawn escapes his lips.

he continues to discard the remainder of his mud soaked clothes while carefully placing them in a bag. he checked the temperature before getting in. another sigh escaping his lips. you smiled contently watching the way the water rolls off his skin, his muscles stretching with every moment, and how his lips part perfectly.

his rinses his hair with shampoo over and over. each wash just made him feel like the mud would never get out. after a few more moments he gives up. he decided to sit for a moment and let the water hit his strained body as he rubs his tired eyes.

you sympathize with you poor boyfriend. you turn the water off and rub his tense shoulders, “maybe i should help you baby? you see like you’ve had a long day”

law, being too prideful to accept your help, shook his head and responded lowly, “i just need a second..”

you hum, “you take a second and ill work on getting this mud out your hair.” you lathered the soup onto your palms and massaged it into the raven colored hair. you were on your knees to match his height as he sat. you massaged his scalp in order to clean every strand.

law’s senses of alertness slowly slipped away. he closed his eyes, and tried his best to keep his head up straight. after swaying from side to side you decided its best to rest his head on your chest as you worked through his hair. he created a soapy mess on your shirt. the man was too engulf in his own drowsiness to notice. you hum a sweet tune into his ear and watched as most his tense muscles relaxed with your touch.

he would never let anyone close like he has with you. sometimes he feels stupid to let his barriers come down for you, and feeling too afraid that something bad will happen to you as well. as much as law protests against himself he still finds himself sharing cherished intimate moments with you.

you guide the heavy-lidded man through the rest of his shower while reciting words of encouragement. getting your shirt wet in the process was a small price to pay to help your lover. once the shower concluded you turn it off and hand him his towel.

the tattooed man dries himself with it slowly. he slightly furrows his brows and points to your shirt, “why are you all wet?” completely oblivious to the consequences of his actions. you shook your head and giggled, “no specific reason baby”

he gave you an apologetic look after realizing he was the reason for your current soaked state. you quickly disregarded with lines of ‘it’s okay’s and ‘don’t worry’s. you gave him his clothes once he’s ready.

he grabs your arms and holds them up to pull your drenched shirt off. he wore his clean shirt on you, “i dont want you to get sick y/n, especially if its because of me.” you were going to protest against, but after seeing the look of anxiousness taking ahold of him you decided its best to accept his acts of kindness.

he always does everything in his power to make sure you are well; afraid to live in a world where he has to grieve you along with other which were once present in his life. it shows very much during moments like these. you place a few kisses on his lips feeling luckier than a lottery winner. you helped your tired boy navigate through the rest of his routine before he fell into bed. he lifted the cover up to make sure you followed in his steps. the mud-soaked version of himself from earlier that day became a part of the past. he enjoyed what he had at that very moment, and that was your beautiful self with a smile that lights your face. it was truly able to cure any disease of his heart. that night law had no trouble falling into an imaginative dream where you two lived together without a care in the world

[rafeandonlyrafe]

sunsets warm embrace

words: 1.5k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, established relationship, p in v sex, male receiving oral, fingering, unprotected sex

“stop staring at me.” you giggle, pressing your hand against rafes cheek to turn his attention back to the sunset, but he only glances for a second before turning his attention back to you.

you accept his staring, watching the sun sink further into the waves.

“i think my favorite thing about being out on the yacht is always getting to watch the sunrise and sunset on the water.” you hum.

“you're never awake for sunrise.” rafe states, his thumb swiping over your bare shoulder as he keeps you tugged close to his body.

you turn to him with an over dramatic sigh. “it's because you keep me up late every night.”

rafe taking you for a romantic trip on the yacht quickly turned into the two of you spending more time hidden away in the bedroom than actually driving the boat.

“can't help how much i want you.” rafe shrugs, no shame in his voice.

“ill tell you what.” you turn to rafe, who is still ignoring the sunset to stare at you. “as soon as the sun sets why don't we head below deck?”

rafe smirks, leaning forward to press his lips against yours. all thoughts of finishing watching the sun dip below the horizon flies out of your head. 

you kiss him back, deepening the kiss as you slide even closer on the bunny pad, throwing your leg over his.

“now?” rafe hums out, a satisfied smile on his face knowing he's about to get his way.

“yeah.” you nod. “now.”

rafe picks you up and walks across the cushions, carrying you like you weigh nothing as he descends down the stairs and into the master bedroom.

“god, i want you so bad.” you giggle out, feeling drunk without having a sip of alcohol, it's the effect rafe has on you.

“you're not sick of me?” there's a vulnerability in rafes voice that has you pausing as he sets you down on the bed.

“ill never be sick of you rafe.” you answer honestly, placing your hands on his abdomen as you look up at him, making sure he's keeping eye contact. “i love you.”

“i love you too.” rafe never thought he'd say the words to a girl and mean it, but that was before he met you.

you keep your eyes on his face as you tug on the string holding your bikini together, letting it fall away from your chest.

rafe tries and fails to stay looking you in the eye as his tongue comes out to lick across his lip.

your hands return to his abs again but don't stay there for long as they're quickly moving down to tug at the waistband of his swim shorts, pushing them down his hips as his cock springs free.

you pay no attention to rafe kicking them the rest of the way off as you grasp his length.

you stroke him to full hardness, which doesn't take long, before wrapping your lips around the head of his cock.

you can't give him the full attention you want with your mouth, you need him inside of you too bad, but you need to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue, the warmth of his skin.

“ohhhhh, baby.” rafe moans out, his hand coming to your hair, but he resists the urge to push you down as you suckle on the head of his cock, flicking your tongue over his slit until you can truly taste him.

you relax your throat and push down, taking in more of his cock until your nose nuzzles against her skin. 

you resist the urge to gag, knowing your throat is constricting around rafes cock and hearing his moans of approval as you attempt to breath through your nose.

you stay down as long as you can before you have to pull off, sputtering and coughing but you wouldn't change a thing, especially seeing the way rafe looks at you.

“take your bottoms off.” he commands.

you lean back and raise your hips, pulling off your bikini bottoms and flinging them over rafes shoulder before you hold your legs up, pointing your toes just as your cheer coach taught you back in high school.

rafe places a hand at your ankle, slowly moving down until he's caressing your hip before moving inward.

rafe smiles at your sticky wetness already covering between your thighs. he wastes no time pressing his finger inside of you, feeling the way you squeeze around him as he pumps it inside of you.

“oh, rafe.” you moan, eyes fluttering closed.

“god, you're soaked.” rafe chuckles. despite how many times he's had you, he'll never get used to how perfect your pussy is for him as his finger moves from your entrance to your clit, rubbing over it to see the way your body physically reacts, the way you clench around nothing.

rafe doesn't leave your cunt empty for long, thrusting forward to bury himself inside of you as you both moan out in unison.

“fuck!” rafe grunts, immediately picking up the pace as he thrusts into you, keeping one hand rubbing at your messy clit while his other arm wraps around your legs, helping you keep them elevated as you're laid on the bed with your hips tugged all the way to the edge.

“shiiiit.” you whine out. “so big.”

you love the way you can tell rafe reacts to your compliment, fucking you harder and spearing in deeper.

“gonna take you out on the yacht more often if it means fucking you all day.” rafe chuckles. 

you barely make it above deck and into the sun like you expected, he spends far too much time taking you in different positions.

fucking you against the hallway or pressed up against the steering wheel, having you ride him in the guest bedroom or cram into the yacht shower to kneel down and suck him off.

the only place on the boat you haven't christened is all the outside areas, exposed to the open sea. you make a mental note to get that done tomorrow.

“acting as if we don't fuck constantly at home.” you laugh, but rafe is right, there's no responsibilities eating away your time and the privacy means no sneaking around.

“can't help that your pussy is so- fucking- perfect-” rafe delivers punishing thrusts as he grunts out the words, making your cunt flutter around his cock.

“can't last.” your body is in a constant state of overstimulation whenever you're around rafe like this, and you're honestly shocked you've lasted this long while he's been pumping his cock into you.

“hold out, baby.” rafe commands. he could have also busted instantly, but he's determined to stretch this out and make it last longer.

you can feel your leg begin to cramp as you keep your feet pointed towards the ceiling, but rafe is pressing so deep into you that you're not willing to put them down.

the slap of his hips against your skin echoes around the room along with your moans and the soft sound of waves lapping against the boat.

you reach one hand up to grasp rafes wrist of the hand helping hold up your legs, needing the physical contact of touching him.

“hold it.” rafe commands, able to tell from the way you're squeezing around him and suddenly silent that you're struggling to not cum, but he's not willing to stop playing with your clit, not when it's covered in your juices and the prettiest shade of pink he's ever seen.

you let out a mangled groan of frustration mixed with a moan of pleasure as he thrusts into you, his cock suddenly growing as a rush comes to the surface.

knowing he's seconds away from bursting, you let go on the wave of your orgasm, body shaking as rafe fucks you through it, your legs falling to either side of him as his hips press forward, body moving over yours as your chests come together.

rafe lodges his cock as deeply as possible as he cums so deep you think it may be right into your womb.

your moans grow louder before slowly subsiding as his finger moves away from your pussy, but his body stays over yours as his cock begins to soften.

“if i wasn't on birth control i would think that you brought me out here to get you pregnant.” you chuckle.

“i think you'd be pregnant with quadruplets the way we've been going at it.” rafe chuckles, looking up at you with a goofy smile and you don't even bother to correct him that that's not how it works.

“i love you.” you cup his cheek, somehow managing to press a sweet and gentle kiss against his lips despite the acts you've just performed.

“wanna fuck out on the bunny pad tomorrow?” rafe asks.

“must you cheapen the moment?” 

“baby, my cock is still inside of you.” rafe laughs.

you hum as he slowly slips out, his cum spilling out but will be left to clean up later as you move further up the bed, knowing the routine by now. rafe is going to hold you and touch you until he's hard again and then fuck you into oblivion again, then repeat, then repeat.

“but seriously, the bunny pad?” rafe questions.

“oh, absolutely.”

[ma1dita]

BABEEE happy birthday!! (i'm so terribly late i'm so sorry) congrats on 23💖

🐥 so i'm having thoughts right now about luke x reader and physical affection. like maybe one of them being touch starved and always craving the other person's touch and the other person noticing it and doing it more? maybe from platonic (i will go down with best friends to lovers) to romantic, i'm just on this brainrot tonight

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

luke castellan x reader

a/n: back from the klerb but here with a classic 4am post 🥂 but the hangxiety wont let me rest until this is out! ill edit this in the morning... or not 😗

wc: 1.1k

—

It’s hard to miss what you’ve never had.

Luke Castellan was never a touchy guy. Sure, he’ll hold a new camper’s hand during welcome tours (especially the little ones who can barely keep up with his long legs; if they’re lucky they get a piggy back ride), and he won’t shy away from a clap on the back when his strategies for capture the flag bring his team to victory (they always do, mind you), and when he feels like it, he’ll even shove Annabeth playfully to show her he adores her (but she packs a punch now that she’s older).

It never really goes past that, and he’s never had to think too hard about it—physical touch.

He’s the one who takes care of others—a part of his nature like it is for Hermes’ cabin to take in unclaimed demigods. But something changed in the months that he’s gotten closer to you. At first, he’d bite his tongue at the way you’re so open to patting his cheek when he does something funny (which he doesn’t try to make a show of, but now…), how you choose to sit so close to him during bonfires that your knees touch (the Apollo kids could be singing about the heavens falling down on them for all he cares but he zeroes in on every word that leaves your lips), and the way you’d lock your fingers with him for a pinky promise after every little thing ‘to make sure it’s real’ (Luke didn’t understand the merit of a pinky promise over whether you could have his dessert for the next week if you took over arts and crafts with the kiddie campers for him; truthfully he’d give it to you anyway). It was unusual for him to have someone comfort him, to show care without a true reason. But he didn’t realize how much more it bothered him now that you wouldn’t even look him in the eye.

Silena and some of the other Aphrodite children had asked you the very defining question of, “Do you like Luke Castellan?” and having never thought of it that way, or being able to put your feelings for him in words instead of fingers in his belt loops or in the muss of his curls—that shit was terrifying!

You spent all Saturday afternoon at the docks with them belly down under the glare of the sun’s rays as they explained to you what the five love languages are. By the end of it, sunburn wasn’t the only reason you felt hot.

“Your love language is physical touch,” one of Silena’s older half-siblings—Connelly, says like he’s explaining that the sky is blue, “And Luke’s not that type of guy! Think he’s more acts of service…”

“Ooh, or words of affirmation….” another one of them muses, but the sound of your heartbeat tunes it all out. Well shit, have you been sending him the wrong signals? Or are there even any signals you want to send him? 

Nevertheless, in the matters of love or even the tiniest whisper of it—maybe there’s no one else you can trust with this stuff besides Cabin 10.

Wrong.

Absolutely wrong. Whatever the hell you’ve been convinced or whatever’s changed since last weekend—Luke just knows he hates it, and he’s angry. He’s angry at how you gasp in surprise every time you brush shoulders during archery practice when you used to let him fix your form, he’s angry at how you’ll squeeze campers’ shoulders to tell them they’re doing a good job carrying the strawberry crates—and all he gets is a mumbled ‘Thanks, Castellan’ when he stacks them up and takes your load.

Luke’s so terribly angry that Travis told him he’s been walking around like a big strawberry, face red and irritated—but not at you. 

He realizes he’s also angry at the fact that he can’t protect you from the onslaught of a rain cloud—or maybe it was the fact that you’re so okay with the rain touching your skin and seeping through your orange shirt like he wishes you’d let him. He’s angry at the way the wind blows your hair into your face and your fingers brush the strands away like he wishes he can. Most of all, Luke Castellan is angry that he didn’t know how good a simple touch could be until he lost it—before he even really got to appreciate yours.

You’re sitting on the opposite end of the row in the amphitheater laughing with your friends and the furrow in his thick brow is a tell-tale sign of his discomfort. Luke doesn’t dare to remember what it’s like before you to be honest—he’d rather give up Elysium instead of having you ignore him like this. He calls your name, a tinge of both anger and desperation until you look over at him, eyelashes kissing your cheeks. The hold you have on him transcends the physical touch of your fingers but he wants, no—needs you next to him.

“C’mere! Why are you so far away?”

Luke hopes it doesn’t sound pathetic, but a crooked grin splits across his face as soon as you make your way over, sitting down and crossing your legs away from him. It’s still too far, even if he can feel your breath on his shoulder.

“Did I do something to make you angry? I…” The words escape his mouth in a jumble—quick wit from his father escaping him, though he knows not to rely on that asshole, god or not. You mutter words that almost escape him too, and he leans in, chasing your hands and putting them in his own until they’re gentle and soft in his lap.

“No, no…. I just… don’t want to push your boundaries. I know you don’t like it when I’m too touchy,” and he thinks his heart clenches a little like how you’re squeezing his hands. Luke shouldn’t feel instant gratification from a subconscious action. He wants to know you mean it with him—that’s what he can’t put into words.

“I….like it when you do.”

You notice the way his fingers tangle tighter with yours, pinkys interlocking with yours. When he lets go, Luke wraps his arm around your shoulders until you’re able to laugh in the crook of his neck. He chooses to place a kiss on the corner of your mouth when your head sways to face him at the silly tune about centaurs and then you realize that Luke loves the way you love him. You wonder if he accidentally missed meeting your lips, but then the noise in your head quiets down when he pulls you closer, lips locking tenderly, intentionally—as they were always meant to.

You both hear a giggle that sounds a lot like tinkling bells belonging to children of Aphrodite. 

For once they were wrong about love. 

Luke’s tongue parts through your lips and meets your own like they’re in a long awaited embrace, dancing and devouring you from the inside out but this, you— are what he can rely on. This, your touch, and how he chooses to let it consume him, never letting go.

[tales-from-elysivm]

★。／ falling in love with you ＼。★

ask: this was a request! but I can't find the ask on my old blog, but I do know that it was a quirkless!assistant!reader with midoriya, todoroki, bakugo, shinso, monoma, and kendo. I did cut off monoma and kendo since I feel like I don't know enough about their characters, if that's ok!

pairing: midoriya x gn! reader, todoroki x gn! reader, bakugo x gn! reader, shinso x gn! reader (separate)

fandom: boku no hero academia

word count: 3,722

tw: none, wholesome fluff with some swearing on bakugo's section

notes: this had taken a really long time on my original blog, so im happy to finally be able to share it, if you're from my OG blog, and you were waiting, im sorry it took so long! and since I can't get back into my old blog anymore (I lost the password), please resubmit your asks at anytime and ill try to get to them asap!

! be sure to like and reblog if you enjoyed !

~the meeting~

You’re first introduced to Class 1A/1B as a stand-in for a sparring partner in hand-to-hand combat. It was better - in Aizawa’s opinion - for you to brush up on your skills while also putting his students in a more hands-on approach to learning. You stand before the class, ready. 

You challenge whoever is confident with their skills so far to come forward and fight you. Over your shoulder, Aizawa stands huddled in his sleeping bag. He isn’t too worried, he trusts your abilities to handle his class, and besides, you needed to grow to tolerate them quickly.

None of the students wanted to fight you at first.

There was at least one of their close friends that teased them because they had noticed you staring at them out of all the other blue-clad students. So, of course, to avoid further embarrassment, they step forward to be the first example.

The rules are simple. No quirks. Just simple hand-to-hand. The first to pin the opponent for at least half a minute is the winner of the exercise.

I. midoriya 

~ after the meet ~

Izuku really didn’t want to fight you

He didn’t know your strengths, your weaknesses, your quirk, your skill set, how powerful it was versus what it looked like, etc. (cue the nerdy rambling). He had no notes on you!

Izuku had seen you in class every once in a while when he wasn’t busy. You sat by the teacher’s desk grading papers and sometimes assisting Aizawa by running errands or taking over while he took a nap on the floor. But based on your stature and appearance and the fact you were wearing a school uniform, you seemed to be a student as well.

That leads to plenty of interesting theories about you!

“I think they’re a villain!” Kaminari said light-heartedly. It sounded like a rather malicious thing to suggest, Izuku thought, despite his wider grin. “In like… a rehab program or something.”

“Why would they send a villain to a school for a rehab program though?” Iida pulls his drink from his mouth. “It’d be much more likely they be put on community service or in more safe environments.”

Izuku looks across at you.

You’re sitting away from the teachers at the moment, trading notes with a girl in class 2C, laughing as you both scribble away and discuss some class that he can’t quite hear. You wave her off before moving down the table to another group who are slurping ramen over a table full of messy textbooks and broken pens. Izuku knew these kids to cause enough trouble for everyone, but they push aside their bowls and utensils and kick off their bags so they can let you sit with them. 

Hm.

Have you always looked so pretty from this far away?

~ falling in love with you ~

My boy falls hard and fast… save him…

Izuku always pays attention during a class, but he always tries to pay a little more attention when it’s you that’s teaching <3

After assisting Aizawa for a few weeks into the term, Momo asked who you were. In all the “excitement” of having to shephard a class of hormonal superheroes around, you had forgotten to introduce yourself!

He pulls out his hero notebook and begins taking detailed notes on you

[Y/N L/N], your power stats and small doodles of you in the bottom corner. Some more detailed, some awfully sketchy, but he never feels he got it quite right

Aizawa pats your head and dismisses you from your teaching duty for the day

For the rest of the class you resign yourself to your desk and join the students in learning the next emergency protocol

He thinks you might be looking away when he glances at you

Are you looking at him too?

You’ve ruined him, he’d swear on it. He can’t help it, just by looking at you. The swell of your hips when he can see you walking in front or behind him, the way your eyes light up if he even gains the confidence to talk about his hero notebooks with you, the little shocks he gets when your knees touch on the floor of his dorm room. Or maybe he finds you distracting in some way? Your voice drags him from each lecture, even if it’s not aimed at him. Your smile lures him in. He’s sure you have to have a quirk somehow, hidden there that you haven’t told him about yet.

Do you find him as distracting as he finds you?

Among his many nervous habits, a new one is born. What is it? Well, drawing you in his notebook. 

It’s during one of these very creepy-sounding moments that he remembers he never actually asked you what your quirk was. Nor had he seen it in action before

Other people had wondered about it before, but no one had an answer

So he asks you

You laugh.

It’s almost shocked, but partly sad. You tell him, quite simply, that you’re quirkless. And that Aizawa gave you the position in 1A because you were willing to become a teaching assistant on the side. Though you suspect it’s favouritism, he wants you to have a good education, UA is a nice place, he’ll be close by in case any shit goes down. 

If anything Izuku falls even more in love with you. Hearing you ramble with him about your favourite heroes, how you want to be your own hero even if you can’t do the same things as they can, and you’re still here talking to him.

You’re one of the first people he tells about All Might passing on his quirk to him. He’s worried you might be envious of it, or hate him for lying his way into UA, but you beam at him and assure him he’ll be the best Number One Hero you’ve ever seen.

Yeah, he’s definitely fallen a bit harder, if the sweaty palms and nervous heart skip is enough to go off of.

~ fighting for your attention ~

Now imagine this poor, sweet, innocent broccoli-head of a boy finally falling in love with you! He’s smitten with you

But now he’s watching you interact with his classmates interact with you a little more closely

He doesn’t mind of course, he knows everyone loves your personality and just the feeling you give off. It makes them feel warm and safe and you being quirkless limits any sense of a threat to those who are more sceptical

What he doesn’t like is that he knows some of them fancy you

Some of them love you

He begins studying harder, training harder, works out more so he can make sure he can hear your sweet praises and warming smiles

Any “good job!” and “i’m so proud!” you can offer him is cherished. He cherishes you

So he gathers his courage to try harder just for you, so you can think of him as your number one hero!

Now the only question is; do you cherish him?

K. bakugo

~ after the meet ~

An unbridled opportunity to inflict pain on an (admittedly) attractive stranger?

Fuck yeah

Quirk or no quirk, he was going to absolutely destroy you. He was sure of it!

Shitty hair said you looked oddly familiar, but who cares?

Katsuki had seen you around in the dormitory building, of course, he never paid you much attention. You were wearing a uniform, so he guessed you were a student. He thought you were boring. 

Pretty, but boring. 

Not that he was looking, shut up–

Maybe if he kicks your ass a bit he’ll stop getting so distracted

Or…:

Are you fucking kidding?

You kicked his ass! Barely breaking a sweat! 

One minute he’s preparing to just kick you in the gut and land a right hook to your face, but then he steps into the field where white lines have been drawn and you smile at him. You wish him good luck and bow before getting into a fighting stance. 

He draws a blank after that. Sure, he lands the first kick, but gets your thigh instead so you skid across the pitch. Then you effortlessly sidestep his next swing and he just wants to blast your face off in embarrassment.

Then, most painful of all, you punch him right in the gut and kick him until he’s down. 

He’s butt-hurt, as expected and refuses to even look at you.

Shitty hair slaps his shoulder and laughs as he joins the rest of the class. You brush dust off your uniform and prepare to fight Mina next. 

“That was something huh?” Kaminari jests, snickering. “I should’ve gotten that on camera.”

Katsuki decides just then that he’s going to make your life hell for what you’ve done.

~ falling in love with you ~

He’s not falling in love with you, shut up-

Ok so he’s a grouchy boy anyway right so of course he’s not going to admit it as quick as the others 

In fact he makes it a goal in life to annoy you enough until you hate his guts, then he might feel better about wanting to grind your face into the pavement 

He kicks your chair out when you go to sit so you slam into the floor, shut the door to the classroom in your face, shoves you in hallways at every chance he gets, and even becomes so petty he begins stealing your favourite snacks and drinks out of the fridge and cupboards 

Smug bastard even devours them in front of you just so you know that it was him 

He hates them but that doesn’t stop him! 

And - as much as he doesn’t want to admit it - he kinda hates the small flicker of disappointment that flutters behind your eyes before you offer to go on a snack-run for everyone on your way 

Dammit!

He makes it sound like your idea that he stalks alongside you to the grocery store.

“You’d probably get lost if someone wasn’t around to hold your hand,” he’d mock you. If you inquire if he’d hold your hand around the store, he’ll definitely leave you behind. Don’t tempt him. And if you laugh he’ll walk back to the dorms and leave your ass to wonder where he went, searching through aisles for him. He knows you would.

Begrudgingly, he knows somewhere in him won’t let him abandon you there. What part? No idea but he hates it. 

Which is why he is now escorting you on the seventh snack-run of the month. You push the trolley around because even with all your begging he won’t do it. Shopping list in hand you throw in bags of snacks and surprise treats for your classmates.   

You have everything stacked up now. Popcorn for movie nights, and each person’s specific sweets, but instead of heading towards the cashiers, you’re turning towards the scoop-and-weigh section. 

“Oi, dumbass!” Bakugo doesn’t follow after you at first, and he doesn’t care that people are turning to stare at him. “Cash register is that way!”

“I know that.” You smile and disappear behind the aisle. He really has no choice but to drag his feet to follow. When he comes around the side you’re scooping a bag full of honey-roasted almonds - ones he knows you hate but his mouth waters at. 

“What are you getting those for?” He curses how soft his voice is now, but he can’t help but wonder why you’re buying them now.

“They’re your favourite, right?” You respond.

“Yeah?” How did you even know that?

You must be reading his mind with some hidden quirk or something, because you quickly explain that you had questioned Kirishima about the hidden stash in the cupboards one time and he had told you almost immediately. So, why not grab some more when you noticed that his stash was getting low?

Without letting him answer you walk past him to the checkouts. He watches after you, mouth dry. He can’t even think of an insult for you right now.

Fuck!

~ fighting for your attention ~

He still won’t admit it to himself so don’t expect a massive, dramatic confession from him (…yet)

No, he’s willing to fight anyone and everyone who wants your affections from the sidelines 

Someone looks at you a little too long? (Punch them)

Someone touches your shoulder during a PE class? (Make their life hell)

Deku asks for your help on an essay and you respond with an all-sweet smile that just rubs him the wrong way? (Kill him - but not actually)

Jealousy is a dangerous game for Katsuki 

(He’s not jealous don’t even ask—)

He’s willing to completely flip the tables so that maybe you’d notice that something’s different: he doesn’t kick your chair out anymore, or eat your snacks, or try to fight you in the hallways 

Instead he does all of that for pretty much everyone else—with exceptions for Kirishima of course 

Anything so he can deny that he’s gone the slightest bit soft for you when you both sit in the common room and eat your respective snacks, talking about some annoying classmate that had pissed him off for the fourth time that day 

And god dammit, won’t you just notice that he appreciates you? 

S. todoroki

~ after the meet ~

Now, my first question is, is it vague curiosity or a drive to urge his strength forward that makes Shoto fight you?

It’s the strength training, he reasons

He doesn’t need it of course, he’s capable enough, but that doesn’t stop him from arguing with himself that that could be the only reason

And no, it’s definitely not because he can see you giving him a curious look over the heads of his classmates, and certainly, not because Kaminari gives him a knowing grin because even he can see you staring at him

So he puts himself forward as a volunteer

For the training… sure

Even after you lose to Todoroki he’s courteous about it. You both bow out of respect and he rejoins the line. After that he doesn’t expect to see you very much after that, perhaps never again. He thinks, despite the theories, you might be a student-teacher from a different academy.

But no, the next week you show up to their regular classes. And not long after that, you’re both working on group and pair projects together.

Like today, it’s theory. Emergency Evacuation in a Disaster. You pick some form of ‘emergency’ and then plot out an essay with detailed instructions for evacuation for the project. Simple. You pick a disaster and begin the essay.

You ask him questions in between, just general small talk, asking how his day is and the like. But he appreciates it. He knows that you know who he is and yet you just ask him normal questions. (Let’s say this is before his arc to make friends.)

You praise him for his strength in your battle and it makes his heart pound. Is he sick? What does this mean? 

What do you mean when you say you like his company? How does he get you to stop? He doesn’t like not being in control of how his heart is beating.

~ falling in love with you ~

I don’t think that originally it would be obvious to you that he fancies you

He’d be courteous at first, hold the door for you, compliment things about you, pull out your chair or save you a seat at lunch, it’s simple little things

You don’t notice of course, you just think he’s being nice

But to literally everyone else, it’s so obvious to them that he’s already completely smitten with you. He barely talks to anyone else… and yeah he doesn’t talk much with you either but he tolerates your company more than others

And he’s a gentleman so why would he outright say anything?

(That’s the reason and not that he’s afraid to, yeah totally-)

So instead he sits and listens to your conversations 

It’s not your fault he’s having a bad day, but at the moment he’s giving the cold shoulder to everyone in 1-A. 

That doesn’t stop you from dragging your chair up to his small desk during your break and eating there with him. He doesn’t tell you to leave, because he doesn’t think he can. He just watches you pull out utensils and begin to eat. He hasn’t even bothered with his own food, he can feel a pit swallowing his stomach, like he couldn’t cram anything in there if he wanted to.

“Bad day?” you ask, like you couldn’t already tell. “Don’t wanna talk about it?”

He nods at you. He can’t lie. And he sure as hell can’t ignore you.

“I understand,” you give a thoughtful hum, eating a bite of your food. “My day was pretty crappy too. It gets like that sometimes, you just gotta keep going. You can’t stop living just because your head’s a bit heavy.”

He didn’t ask for your advice, and maybe before that would’ve bothered him that you didn’t stop talking, but now he can’t find it in him to be frustrated. His annoyance deflates at your presence. You radiate this homely comfort he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Shoto goes through the effort of pulling out his food, just so you might feel better about it.

He forces out the words;

“And your day? Tell me about it… please.”

~ fighting for your attention ~

Now shoto is less likely to actually try and confront others about their shared affections

In fact in normally takes him a good while to officially realise that he loves you

But pretty soon he just begins to seek you out more

As he grows more social, earns new friends and becomes accustomed to everyone, you work with him closely to help him learn social cues and overcome his trauma

He comes to like touching you, whether it be a hand on his head, touching knees in the dorms, a simple hug, or you leaning on him until you fall asleep on him during the winter. He feels comfortable with you

But with this realisation comes one more;

He wonders if he could handle going back to living without you

H. shinso

~ after the meet ~

Now, shinso’s quirk is pretty hard to implement in a fight, which is why he mainly prefers hand-to-hand

Overall, he feels tired, if not a little bored, by the spar with you

He hadn’t noticed you at all before this lesson in 1C, but his teacher had said that you were helping by moving down from 1A

Why, he couldnt figure out

But nonetheless, he finds you watching him while waiting to spar you in your first physical education class together, so he volunteers

And he quickly gets disqualified– 

He swears he doesn’t mean to, but almost as soon as he begins the fight, you overwhelm him.

What you lack in a visible quirk, you make up for in speed, kicking and jabbing and ducking away before he can get a hit in. It’s when he finds you hovering over his shoulder, about to throw a punch to his face, that he panics and asks for your name.

A bit confused, slowing down a little bit, you give it to him, and almost as quickly, you’re under his control. The teacher immediately barks at him to release his control, and he obliges, but he’s still disqualified and you’re given an instant win. When you stumble, regaining your own self-control, you look up at him in bemusement. 

But you don’t look scared at all, instead you smile at him.

“Brainwashing? That’s a pretty cool quirk, huh?”

You confuse him, and he’s not sure if he likes it yet. 

~ falling in love with you ~

After you move down to 1C to work on your General Hero courses, you begin to grow closer with Shinso 

You don’t think that his quirk is any different to the others at UA, which he is somewhat confused by

‘Some of these guys can set people on fire! Brainwashing doesn’t sound too different to the others you see here’, was your only explanation whenever he asked about it

Overtime, you become one of his only friends in 1C, he tolerates you

He spends most of his time with you, studying, eating, talking, he helps you write papers on general hero practices, telling you about his history with children being scared of his ‘villain quirk’

All things considered, he trusts you, and i dont think he could say that for many other people at UA

You both sit cross-legged on the floor of his dorm room. He very rarely decorates it, but you begged him to let you set up the fairy lights and little cat decals that were meant for his wall. Begrudgingly, he agreed.

So that’s what you’ve been doing, arranging kitties on the wall over his desk. Cute little art pieces that resemble grey and calico cats. 

Meanwhile, he’s studying on his floor, laying back and occasionally sneaking glances at you to see if you’re tangled in the lights. Soon enough you have them strung up nicely in the corners of his dorm-room, sending soft gold light over his purple hair. He doesn’t move until you lay on the floor beside him, looking up at the ceiling.

“What do you think?” you ask, leaning up on your elbows to admire your handiwork.

He’s quiet for a moment, just looking at you, taking in the view of your side-profile. 

“They look nice.”

Shinso isn’t talking about the lights.

~ fighting for your attention ~

Listen, usually Shinso absolutely hates using his quirk for anything out of villain fights, because if he does he feels like he reinforces the idea that he might be a villain too

But, when it comes to you?

He’s relatively tame at first, he doesnt get too jealous or overprotective as someone else might (cough, bakugo, cough), but it doesnt mean that he doesnt need reassurance sometimes

If it gets to the point that another one of your suitors is making you uncomfortable, then by all means, hes asking them what theyre doing and forcing them to walk away

And afterwards, having that little moment of supposed villainy feels worth it

Just keep smiling at him

im sorry this took so long!

I hope you guys enjoyed

[lexirosewrites]

Steddie as rival lawyers who have very different careers.

Steve became a prosecuting attorney after graduating from a top school at his parents’ insistence. It pays well and makes them happy, even if it’s joyless for him to fight for things he doesn’t believe in.

Prosecuting innocent people and fighting for the sake of money without morals.

On the other end of the spectrum is free-spirited Eddie Munson. He’s a defense attorney who shows up in ill-fitting suits that show off his many neck and hand tattoos. Piercings in his ears and hair that’s not tidy or tamed in any way.

He’s a rebel who barely graduated from some lower tier law school with no prestige whatsoever.

Steve naturally assumed their first trial would be a breeze.

But somehow— sheer dumb luck, bad jury selection, or just stupid fate— Eddie wins. And he keeps winning.

Over and over for months.

Steve’s long uninterrupted winning streak becomes a losing one. If Eddie’s in the courtroom too, Steve knows he’s already lost his case.

It’s humbling.

Actually, it’s frankly embarrassing to lose to someone who’s so unprofessional and doesn’t take the law seriously like Steve.

Eddie is respectful of course, but he doesn’t use lawyer-speak unless he’s referencing a precedent of a law. Other than that, he’s overly casual and friendly. Everyone’s favorite lawyer.

He doesn’t lack passion though. No, the guy all but hops up on tables to make speeches about freedom or the American dream during every trial. Utterly ridiculous.

It works though. The juries fall for his bullshit about being down to earth and his clients walk free because of it.

Steve can’t stand it. He can’t stand Eddie and his mockery of his career.

This ultimately culminates in a confrontation in the parking lot one night after a particularly tense trial conclusion.

Once again, Eddie’s guy walked free and Steve knows he’s gonna hear about it from his boss (who also happens to be his dad).

So he might snap a bit when Eddie comes out whistling and looking happier than anything.

“Hey, jackass!”

Eddie looks around like Steve might be referring to some other jackass, despite the otherwise empty parking lot.

He points to himself in question and Steve rolls his eyes in answer.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Eddie finally greets him with a smirk. “Chinese takeout for tonight sound good?”

Steve’s stomach growls at the mere suggestion.

He’d accidentally skipped lunch earlier so he could make changes to his closing argument. Fat load of good that did him.

“Yeah, sure, whatever. You’re not off the hook that easily though. What the hell was that brutal cross examination on my witness, you dickhead?”

Eddie smiles extra sweetly and presses a quick but affectionate kiss to Steve’s forehead first.

“All’s fair in love, war, and court, baby. You can whine about it later when we’re home if you really want to. I happen to know some very nice pillows that would love to muffle your pretty little moans.”

Asshole.

He blushes, glancing around to make sure they’re still alone before he pulls Eddie into an embrace.

They’ve barely spent any time together this week because of the tense trial and he really missed his boyfriend (not to be mistaken for the jackass who argues with him daily in the courtroom).

As much as they can separate their personal and work lives, it’s hard to not be on the same side of things.

“What if I want you to hear me moan, Eddie? I think it’s only fair since you seem to get everyone else off and I’m the one always suffering for it,” he mumbles snarkily into Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie laughs at the pun. He knew that he would.

“Is that why you’re sulking, babylove? You want me to get you off too?” He nods with a pathetic whine. Not getting to cum for a few days can do that to a person. “I think that can be arranged. You’ve been such a good boy for me lately. You’ve earned a treat.”

Steve melts into his boyfriend’s arms, feeling loved.

“I missed you.”

Another kiss to the forehead, but this time Eddie’s lips linger there as he speaks.

“Missed you too, sweetheart. Not sorry for winning, but I am sorry that you lost.”

Steve knew the defendant was innocent. There wasn’t much of a case to be made anyway. It still stings though.

“Yeah... I’ve been thinking about that and it might be time to quit my dad’s firm. I’d much rather be on the same side as you,” Steve confesses.

Eddie pauses.

“Does that mean…”

Steve looks up smiling and confirms, “Yes. I’ll accept the job offer if it’s still on the table.”

The rival lawyer had offered him a job months ago, before they even got together.

By accepting the position, it means they’d finally be allowed to be a couple publicly and they’d be sitting on the same side of the court for once.

It would also free Steve from his dad’s control and disappointment.

“Stevie, I’d love nothing more than to have you as my partner. In both the court and life. I love you, sweetheart.”

He can’t resist.

“I love you too… jackass.”

Eddie makes good on his promise to get Steve off that night. He even brings out the handcuffs for accuracy sake.

[iifoundjoy]

BEAR WITH ME.

warning: spoilers for ep 75

i was just scrolling through tiktok and then the thought occurred to me that everyone grew up together (minus ben and aiden) and basically never interacted until the group project. yeah, duh, that's the whole premise of their strange group at first, but it just strikes a cord to think that these kids who have become so inseparable were so close to each other this whole time without even knowing it, without even knowing that they needed each other.

because why now, after all these years, would they? after all, they were just strangers who occasionally saw each other in the hall or during class, strangers that they could never understand, right? they were just too different.

i mean, just think about how taylor says she's always noticed ashlyn since they were kids and how she was always on her own. she didnt understand how ash could be content with that, isn't it lonely?

tyler is most likely, lets face it, pretty popular. when we're introduced to him and taylor they're in this huge group of typical jocks due to tyler being on the baseball team. ashlyn and logan must've known him before due to that, seen them parading through the halls. and seeing as how neither logan nor ash like loud noises or crowds very much they probably wrote him off as a loud jock and went about their day. maybe saw how cold and angry he was with everyone but his sister and thought he must be unpleasant to be around.

as for logan, he, like ash, is pretty obviously very much a background character in everyone else's lives. most likely a loner just like ashlyn, very shy. if the rest of the gang ever noticed him it was probably nothing more than a glance. because logan at the time was nothing more than barrons stereotypical nerd that does his homework because he's scared of what will happen if he doesn't.

it just makes me ILL that these people who would grow to care so much about each other were all so close without knowing it, hell, they probably passed each other in their towns grocery store multiple times before. maybe seen tyler play in one of his games with taylor yelling above everyone else because that's her brother, saw ashlyn perform and dance, saw logan reading in the astronomy section in the library.

and yet they didn't know they'd ever learn to trust these strangers with their lives every night. that they would learn that tyler is more than just a loud, angry jock. he loves and cares about his sister, took up being basically a parent from a very young age, and doesn't truly have any friends because they are just a distraction.

that taylor is every bit as friendly as she let's others believe, but if you mess with her brother or her friends that sun can cloud over so quick.

that ashlyn likes to be alone but given the time and patience, she would love to be alone with you. that she doesn't want to, but if she's needed, she will step up and be the leader you need. sure, she isn't good at "friends" and she'll make mistakes, but she owns up to them because she tries and she cares.

and finally, logan, who at first is so shy and unsure, yet is quick-witted and brave enough to make hard choices and learn where he fits in with a group. to stand up against someone who bullied him and threatened him daily and help someone else from going down the same path he did.

AND PLEASE don't even get me started on ben and aiden.

those two have been practically alone their whole lives until they met each other. all aiden had was the dark room that reeked of molding food and people he hung around just to pass the time because he knew they weren't permanent, nothing ever was with his parents.

and ben's only friend before aiden being the music he could create before it was taken away from him, and all he had left was the broken melodies that he tried to find in every punch he threw.

they were both so, so alone and seeking something that would stay, something that would last because everything else that made them happy seemed to fall just out of reach now.

but just one move away, one final move to a small town in georgia held everything that could hurt and heal them all in one. they were all what everyone needed, even if they didn't know it and it drives me insane that if these kids hadn't been put through hell, they never would have found each other.

and they're more than willing to claw their way out together, not because they have to to survive, but because they want to so that they can live.

red what have you dooone 😭/pos

[sailorholly]

Between Us Pt. 2

Summary: You and Spencer had a casual relationship. A misunderstanding ruins it all.

Pairing: Spencer Reid × F. BAU Reader

Warnings: Friends with benefits. Angst.

See My Masterlist Here

Part One

Tonight was the night you were going to confess your feelings to Spencer. You couldn’t keep it to yourself anymore, it was too painful. You were worried you would lose him when you told him, but you thought there was a good chance he felt the same.

You spent all afternoon cooking his favorite foods, planning for a night of cuddling and love making after you got the confession out of the way. When you were finished getting dressed, Spencer knocked on your door.

You invited him in, taking your seats at the table. You ate in silence, your nerves making your stomach hurt. “I have to tell you-“ “We should talk.” You spoke over each other. You smile, giggling with excitement. Spencer wanted to talk too. This is going so well.

“You go first.” You prompt him, smiling wide at him. “These past six months have been so fun. But I think our time together should come to an end.” You try to swallow the lump in your throat, willing yourself not to cry.

“I want to keep it professional at work. We can still be friends, we will just take the sex out of it.” He explains, studying your face. All you can do is nod as he rattles on about how the statistics of such a relationship show that the longer you did it, the harder it would be to end it.

You used to love hearing him spout a million facts about whatever topic he was talking about. But not tonight. “So what did you want to tell me?” He asks, serving himself more food. “Um, I was just going to tell you that book I ordered you came this morning. I thought you would be excited.” You rise from the table, retrieving the thick book from the counter and bringing it to Spencer.

“Thanks.” His smile breaks your heart. You can feel that your attempts to keep the tears at bay are failing. “Why don’t you take the food with you? I’m suddenly not feeling well.” You tell him, as you turn your back to get the lids for the bowls. You hand them to him, turning your back as the tears start to fall. “I’m going to lay down. Lock the door behind you.”

If he thought your sudden illness had anything to do with him, he didn’t act like it. Spencer was right about nothing changing. He was the exact same as he had always been with you, just without the sex.

Spencer was heartbroken. He didn’t want to end his sexual relationship with you. But he couldn’t put himself through the pain anymore. He spent all of his spare time with you. He couldn’t keep you off his mind. Things had changed a few months ago. He had bent the rules he set in place so he wouldn’t fall for you.

You had started spending the night and cuddling. Spencer had fallen fast and hard. But he couldn’t go through every day knowing you didn’t feel the same. So he had to end it, as painful as it was for him. It was no secret that you had been hooking up. But he didn’t want to talk about it with anyone.

Until two weeks after he called it off, he was so upset, he broke down and talked to Derek. He wanted to know all the details, but Spencer only told him the important information. “I have an easy fix for you, pretty boy.” Morgan smirked at him. Spencer leaned in, excited there was a solution.

“You know what they say, if you want to get over someone, get under someone else. You just have to sleep with someone and she will be the last thing you’re thinking of. Works for me every time.” Spencer cleared his throat. “Easy for you to say. I’m lucky she agreed to sleep with me. I’ll never find someone else so quickly, and I’m not sure I would want to.”

“I know someone who has been into you since she started here.” Derek boasts, nodding his head to the blonde at the coffee pot talking to Rossi. “Ashley?” Spencer squeaked, while Derek laughed.

Ashley Seaver was one coworker you could not get used to. She was impulsive, always throwing herself into trouble. You couldn’t stand her. Not only for how she acted on the field, but for how she looked at Spencer. She wanted him, and she didn’t care who knew it. She was all over him from the second she started working at the BAU.

She even knew that you and Spencer were hooking up, but she didn’t care. She used every opportunity to touch him or say something flirty, making eye contact with you the whole time she did it. Luckily, Spencer was oblivious. When you mentioned how she hung all over him, he said he didn’t even notice. He was too busy thinking about the case or the thing you did with your tongue the night before.

So you stopped being jealous. It wasn’t like you had any right to be. You and Spencer were just hooking up. If he wasn’t interested in her, then you would just let it go. The last time she tried anything had been a month ago. You were sick and she invited Spencer to go eat after work.

Spencer being the nice guy he is, accepted her offer. While they were out, he talked about you the whole time. She had told him to stop talking about you, that she was right there and she wanted whatever he was willing to give. He politely turned her down, but she was furious. She kept her distance from both of you since then.

That’s why you were confused when you heard her squealing and giggling, saying Spencer’s name as loudly as she could. You looked up from your mountainous stack of paperwork that you came in early to work on to see Spencer hugging her.

There was a vase of roses on her desk. “I can’t believe you got these for me! What a surprise! I knew you would come around!” She almost yelled, looking directly at you. Spencer took her hand in his, “I wanted to get you something before our date tonight, but I wasn’t sure I would have time to get them after work.” He explained shyly looking at her.

That little shit! Was he actually blushing? Was he seriously going on a date with Ashley tonight? And what is with the roses? He never once got you flowers. Did he call things off with you to date her? Seeing them together made you feel sick. Actually, the temperature felt like it rose a hundred degrees. You needed to get up now. You ran to the bathroom making it just in time to throw up.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @spenciesprincess @kimm4710 @tmilover1993 @nomajdetective @cynbx @comboboo @13430ona @wannabewolf @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck

[notedchampagne]

What makes a tlt au work for you? Do u have any favourites out there/that you’ve thought of?

its hard because it can go down to the writing! i have a huge bias for things that put focus on the characters acting awful and driving the story forward- if a story has a plot thats great, but its the difference between "gideon and harrow keep meeting up at parties and fall a little bit in love every time" and "gideons angry she lost her childhood to the cult so she attends a party with the tridentarii to shotgun adolescent experiences, and harrowhark, frustrated that gideon is pulling on her metaphorical leash, follows to stalk her". the former retains a 5+1 fic format and is more bite-size, while the latter puts more focus into their growth as characters. im not great at articulating what i like specifically, but ill put my favorite fics below:

what if nona was dogs tugs at my heart: its post-canon, slice-of-life, and has a unique concept (said in the title). i judged a book by its cover because i thought the premise seemed too silly at first but ive been made a fool and its pet clown. it feels so true to nona the way its about all the things nona loves and how she gets to explore the world through new eyes. i love the way it explores characters softening up and getting hurt through a third person pov

we have always lived in the apartment by @thatneoncrisis i keep saying this but for the love of GOD guys this au is so good it makes me cry and feel such a deep catharsis from it. it takes gideon and harrow and the ninth as a cult and explores their struggle to adapt to a modern society when noone ever gets a break (WOW ITS JUST LIKE IN REAL L-). quinn writes the sides of griddlehark i think go overlooked in fanfic often: their codependency, their tendency to lash out when theyre defensive, their mutual paranoia and different coping mechanisms, harrows psychosis and gideons bitterness, their relationships to each other as being the only other person who really understands what the other suffered through. god. i feel lightheaded.

"but SAM, i dont like angst but i want to see this writing!" read gap between a tragedy and a comedy

"SAM, i also like when gideon and harrow are horrible because theyre maladjusted teenagers! but i want more antics where the characters drive things forward over angst!" read whats eating gideon nav

you just aint receiving is one of my FAVORITE modern aus of all time (and i heavily recommend the authors other fics as well!) if you really want to see how much i love this fic the fact that my comments take up the entire phone screen probably says a lot. its hard to put it concisely: it keeps harrows air of misanthropy and cruelty but redefines it as the result of her upbringing and personal struggle to live in a university while dealing with a backpack of mental illness and frustration. it changes gideons personality as the daughter of john gaius in a way that makes sense having her grow up with johns middling parenting skills and getting everything she ever wanted (connecting it back to kirionas personality in ntn!). it brings in side characters (specially palamedes. my beautiful boy palamedes) in ways that compliment harrow and gideon but not so obviously that they only exist to be supports. they have their own lives and ideals. its a modern au that brings in the boiling politics of johns cult uprising once again in a really novel way

semi charmed kinda life by @griddlebait. jesuchristo and all his middle names this fic is GREAT for you if you want a slice of life, coming of age type modern au that explores what its like for gideon and harrow if they actually got the space to see who theyd become outside of the stifling fate tlt has for them. as far as modern aus go im usually very hesitant to read them because im afraid modernizing the characters takes features away from their core but i really love and respect the way the author treats the 69ers with care and draws distinct lines that shows me how their grow and change while keeping a line to the anchor. also they write HIDEOUS (complimentary) PINING. DISGUSTING. some of these chapters were so chock full of dyke drama that they made me nauseous and whimsical. i think once a friend said this fic felt like if gh could be reincarnated and i like that descriptor a lot

til the cows come home is another postcanon fic that made me feel sick and crybabyish about it- i would definitely recommend it if you want to explore a happier ending with griddlehark! with this and what if nona was dogs the thing i like most about them is that they mix up vulnerability with pain and fear, so it feels more lifelike that way if that makes sense. i lost my taste in fluff fics over time but when its interspersed with struggle and characters causing problems because they cant cope with themselves it feels much more earnest and raw

this became very long. im not sorry

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Emily x Reader after Reader has a sh relapse, Emily patches and her up and assures her she's still beautiful by slow, gentle, loving sex and lots of cuddling please?

You got it, anon! Thanks for the request! :) Hope you like it!

Burning

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, NSFW, self-harm, depression, mental illness, sex, fingering, etc., injuries due to self-harm, brief mentions of an eating disorder, some explicit language (please let me know if I've missed anything!) Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: With Emily away on a case and a depressive episode hitting you hard, you fall back into a pattern you thought you'd kicked a long time ago. When she comes home and discovers what you've done, you're afraid it'll be too much for her. Emily does her best to show you that it's not.

You’d been standing in front of the bathroom mirror for what felt like hours, but was probably mere minutes. Time warped itself when the urges took hold, every second a lifetime of effort, until it became all the potential lives you might live stacked one on top of the other, and they were too heavy for you to carry.

The hand that held the unlit match was shaking, and you seesawed between the unbearable desire to scratch a painful itch and the knowledge that self-hatred that would flood you afterward. But at least the self-hatred and the pain would be something to feel, other than the abject hopelessness that had seemed to swallow you up over the last week.

You’d known a depressive episode was coming before Emily left. You could always feel them coming. But what were you supposed to say? Don’t go save people from a terrorist cell? Stay here with me because I’m scared I’m getting depressed and I need you? It’d be pathetic. You were pathetic. And it wasn’t Emily’s job to keep your mental illness at bay.

But she’d been gone longer than you expected–over a week now. And your depressive episode had hit you harder than you thought it would. You’d called out of work, you’d binged on food delivery, then hated yourself afterward, staring into the mirror feeling lower and lower and lower. Until the only way you could think to stop sinking was to shock yourself out of it.

You knew it wasn’t wise or healthy. You knew you’d feel even worse once the pain subsided. You knew that a relapse would make it that much harder to stop next time. You knew that if Emily was here, she would stop you, she would hide the matches and the lighters, she would be so, so sad that you’d even thought about hurting yourself.

But despite knowing all these things, the hunger for fire, for pain, was too much to resist. You scratched the head of the match against the matchbox and the flame leapt into existence. Your go-to spot in young adulthood had been your arms, but the burns wouldn't fade before Emily got back, and she’d notice them on your arms. This time, you held the match to the upper side of your abdomen, where your arms would hopefully hide the marks.

You scrunched your eyebrows and winced as the flame licked at your skin, the pain white and bright and hot. You wished you could explain to people that odd, addictive mixture of self-loathing and dopamine that hit you and made you feel simultaneously worse and better. You wished people understood the desire for it, that sometimes you wanted to feel worse because feeling worse made you feel better. But it was hard to explain. Even harder to understand. So you didn’t bother most of the time. You lit match after match until the box was empty, until your side was scattered with raised, red-white blotches, like a constellation of all the shitty things you’d ever been through or felt.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and hated what you saw. And it felt good to hate yourself, like a guilty pleasure.

You jumped at the sound of the apartment door opening and closing, and cold panic flooded your system.

“Hey, baby, I’m home!” Emily called from the entryway.

You quickly pulled a loose t-shirt over your head, wincing as the fabric brushed over the burns. She wasn’t supposed to be home yet. She hadn’t texted or called. She’ll hate me, you thought. She’ll hate me if she finds out.

Of course, Emily knew you struggled with self-harm. But you’d been in a really good spot when you’d started dating and had, for the most part, stayed in that really good spot for your entire relationship. You were in therapy. You had healthy coping mechanisms. You hadn’t relapsed in years. You didn’t know what had made today different from every other bad day in the last few years, but you knew you didn’t want Emily to know.

You silently cursed yourself for using all the matches; there were none left to light a candle in the bathroom to mask the scent of burning. You ran to meet her in the living room, hoping that by heading her off, the smell would have time to dissipate.

“Hi, honey,” you greeted her, forcing a smile. You took both her hands in yours to try and prevent her touching your side, which still felt as if it was on fire. You stood on tiptoes to kiss her, and she smiled, leaning in.

“I missed you,” she breathed, wrapping her arms around you. You flinched and inhaled sharply as her fingers grazed the burns.

She furrowed her eyebrows. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, avoiding her eyes. “I just, um… fell earlier.”

Her hands fluttered over you, a worried expression on her face. “You fell!? Where!? Like, how hard?”

“Not that hard,” you said, trying to squirm away. “It doesn’t hurt too bad. Ow!” Emily had placed a gentle hand at your side and you couldn’t help your outburst.

“Well, honey, if it hurts that bad, you need to let me see it. We might need to go to the ER or something.”

You knew you were done for when she grabbed your wrist, hard. Emily was much stronger than you, so instead of fighting, you went numb.

You felt your whole world stop as she lifted up your shirt to see the scattered burns. You felt tears prick at your eyes. There were too many marks, and they were too symmetrical to have been an accident. You knew it, and Emily knew it, too.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her, but if you did, you would have seen that her eyes were wet with tears she wasn’t going to let herself cry because you needed someone strong right now. If you’d looked at her, you would have seen a mixture of sadness and pity and heartbreak and undying love. You’d have seen the face of someone who wanted nothing more than for you to be okay.

“Y/N,” Emily managed after a moment. “Did you do this to yourself?”

You nodded, a tear rolling down your cheek.

“Today?”

You nodded again.

“How long ago?”

You looked at the ceiling, willing yourself not to cry. “Right before you walked in.”

You hated yourself. You hated yourself even more because you knew that Emily would feel awful. She’d think that if she’d just been a few minutes earlier, she could have prevented this. And you never wanted Emily to feel like your mental illness was her fault or her responsibility.

“Come here,” she said, gently taking your hand and guiding you to the bathroom. She turned on the shower, making sure the water was cool but not cold, then slowly pulled your clothes off. She nodded toward the shower and you got in, shivering under the chilly stream.

Emily sighed and sat down on the toilet lid, watching you. She looked tired, so tired. You hated to be another thing that exhausted her, another thing she had to take care of and fix.

“You should sit down,” she added quietly. “You’re gonna have to be in there for a while. Until they stop burning.”

You sat on the tiled floor, the water leaching the pain away from the burn marks, leaving only disgust and self-loathing in their place. You pulled your knees up to your chest and buried your face, trying and failing not to cry.

Your shoulders shook with the force of your sobs. You heard Emily stand and were sure she was going to leave. Why wouldn’t she? She deserved to. She deserved not to have to deal with you.

You jumped a little as Emily lowered herself into the shower next to you, clothes abandoned on the bathroom floor, and wrapped her arm around your shoulder. She pressed her face into yours as the shower drenched you both.

“Shh,” she soothed, careful to avoid your burns. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

“I’m sorry, Em,” you wept, rocking. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she repeated. “You don’t need to be sorry. I love you. You’re gonna be okay.”

“I hate myself,” you whispered.

Emily gently grabbed your face and tilted it toward her. There were tears in her eyes, too. “Baby, please don’t say that.”

“I can’t help it.” Your voice was so quiet, so small, the sound of the shower almost drowned it out.

“That’s okay,” Emily said, brushing strands of wet hair out of your face. “We’re gonna get you some help, okay?”

You looked in her eyes then for the first time since she’d discovered the burn marks. You didn’t know what you’d expected to see: annoyance, disgust, hatred, or worst of all, ambivalence. But there was none of that in Emily’s eyes. Only love and concern.

Even so, you were scared to ask what you needed to ask. “Do you still love me?”

“Oh, honey, of course I do. I could never stop loving you.”

And then you kissed her. You kissed her with the cool water pouring down around your bodies. With your skin hot from the burns and from your aching love for Emily. You kissed her desperately, hungrily, like someone clinging to a lifeboat, and Emily was. She was your lifeboat. And for Emily’s part, she was gentle, almost too gentle, as if you might break at any moment.

You wrapped your legs and arms around her and she held you so carefully, so mindful of your burns. You shuddered in the cool water as your hips pushed against her.

Emily moaned into your mouth, her hands faltering for a moment.

“Y/N,” she said breathlessly, pulling away to hold your face in her hands. “We don’t have to do this." She looked at you a moment longer, then added, "I love you.”

You kissed her again. Her mouth. Her forehead. Her collarbone. Emily’s chest heaved into you and your heart beat rapidly.

“Please,” you begged. “Show me.”

Emily pulled you into her, letting her tongue and her lips roam over your neck, letting her hips meet yours as the water surrounded you, soothing your burns the way Emily soothed the roiling, burning despair inside of you.

“I love you,” she whispered as she kissed your eyelids. “I love you,” she whispered as she pressed her hands into the soft flesh of your ass. “I love you,” she whispered as she slipped her fingers inside of you. You bit back a moan and trembled against her, your body pulsing around her.

She fucked you slowly, tenderly, as if it was both your first time and your last, though this was neither. And she kept saying it–“I love you”–again and again, never stopping, so that all the darkness in your mind, all the self-doubt, didn’t have any room to make itself heard.

You let out a strangled groan as your body tensed around her, and when your pleasure flooded you, it was like you were on fire. And this fire was so much better, louder, brighter, than any flame you’d ever held to your body. It was a burning that consumed you, one that would leave you new and glistening afterward instead of scarred and in ashes.

You fell limp against her as she removed her fingers, kissing your forehead, your collarbone, your mouth, swirling her tongue with yours until you felt drunk on her. “I love you,” she said, and you didn’t think you’d ever get tired of hearing it. “I love you.”

You were quiet as she turned off the shower head. Quiet as you both dried off, as Emily gently pressed a towel to your side, making sure your burns were clean and dry. She sat you on the toilet lid as she pulled gauze squares and antibacterial ointment out of the bathroom cabinet, spreading the ointment on the gauze, then pressing it gently to your skin.

“Lift your arms up,” she said quietly, as she circled your body with bandages, wrapping it just tight enough that it wouldn’t shift in the night.

She knelt down in front of you and caressed your face. “Bed?” she asked. You nodded.

“You go ahead,” she said, patting your leg. “I’ll be right there.”

You felt self-doubt start creeping back in as you laid in bed on top of the covers, your burns still too hot to sleep underneath. When Emily came into the room, she carried a glass of water and a bottle of pills.

“Take these,” she told you, handing you a few. You drank and swallowed obediently.

She lay down in the bed and motioned you over. “Come here and let me hold you.”

You rested your face in the crook of her neck, and she played with your hair, careful to avoid your burns.

“I love you,” she whispered after a few minutes, kissing the top of your head.

“You said.” You meant it to be funny, but your heart wasn’t in it. Not yet.

“And I’ll keep saying it until you believe it.”

You were quiet for a minute, then spoke. “I love you, too, Em.” You nuzzled your way closer to her, hoping against hope that her arms around you were enough to keep the darkness and the numbness away for the night.,

And as you drifted off, she kept saying it–“I love you.” And then a kiss on your head.

As your eyelids fluttered closed–“I love you.” And she pressed her face to your forehead.

As your breath slowed and evened, and your body went limp–“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

[cuubism]

HURT/COMFORT PROMPTS YOU SAY *pulls out giant scroll* okay what about (probably human) trans chronically ill dream dealing with a health crisis and hob is trying to support him through it? bonus points: maybe dream's parents are being shitheads so dream and hob have to get _married_ to make sure dream's wishes in hospital or wherever are respected?

(from meadow. i am not having feelings about anything in particular, Why would you Ask.)

@meadowziplines this was supposed to be angsty but it just ended up kind of wholesome tbh. that's the opposite of what usually happens to me

you've seen married for tax purposes before, now see married for next of kin legal rights

--

Hob knew he wanted to marry Dream within two weeks of their first date, but he tried to be reasonable about it. Dream was shy and guarded his hard-won independence closely, and Hob felt that just declaring his eternal love too quickly was a sure way to scare him off. So he didn't.

Now he's regretting it, because hell, it would have made this so much easier. That's not how he wants to think about marrying Dream, about it making being in a hospital easier, but here they are. And he is.

And it's why he's hiding around a corner as Dream's parents are "visiting"--more like being complete assholes--his hospital room. God, Hob hates them. This whole situation is the only reason he's even met them--Dream doesn't talk to them anymore, and for good reason, but the moment they caught wind of vulnerability they pounced on the chance to regain control.

Dream is an adult and can make his own decisions, but Mr. and Mrs. Cunt have proven very slippery and manipulative and have played the 'Hob's not family, we're family' card at every possible turn to get him kicked out of the room. Hob's gotten a couple of the nurses on his side on account of not being a complete asshole but he still doesn't like his chances duking it out in front of hospital administration over who gets to make Dream's medical decisions if he's incapacitated.

Dream's fought so hard to have control over his own life. Hob won't let him lose it.

Which is why he's currently hiding behind the vending machines until they leave, rather than going in there and telling them where to shove it.

He waits with bated breath until they're gone, then scrambles out, rushing down the hall with his paperwork and slipping into Dream's room. He feels like a criminal. Which is exactly why he's doing all this.

"Hob," Dream breathes, as Hob closes the door behind him. He looks exhausted. Terrible parents who insist on disrespecting you are not good for fragile health. "I thought you left."

Hob flashes him a grin, but feels how it wobbles. "Never. Just had to go get something."

He's so nervous about how Dream will react to this. It feels so likely to go wrong.

He sits in the chair by the bed so he's on Dream's level, takes his hand. "Listen, baby. This-- this really isn't how I wanted to do this. But I just-- I really don't want things to go wrong, you know? And if they do go wrong, I want us to be able to do something about it. I want to be in your corner."

His anxious rambling makes Dream's face start to fall. "Hob..."

Hob thrusts the paperwork at him. "Will you marry me?"

He had something so much more romantic in his head for the moment he finally asked Dream to marry him. He would have swept him off his feet and made him feel special. If only it could have been different.

Dream picks up the papers, seemingly in shock. "This is..."

"I did all the paperwork already, it just needs signatures," Hob tells him. "And I bribed one of the nurses to let us out for an hour to go to the registrar's office. If. If you want."

Dream keeps staring at the papers in silence. Hob doesn't want him to think this was just some act of desperation, even if it kind of was, at least timing-wise. God, this isn't what he wanted at all.

"I wanted to marry you anyway," he says, shifting nervously in his chair. "But now it's just-- I don't want you to be scared that something will go wrong with the surgery but I want you to know that someone will have your back and do what you want. Not--"

"--my terrible, terrible parents?" Dream finishes, lips finally quirking up in a half-smile.

"...Yeah." He swallows hard to calm himself. It's a lot, what he's asking, in a sense. All the legal rights it creates. But. "If you can trust me with this, then I'll protect you. I promise."

"You have already," Dream says. "As you did with the hospital admin. I think they hate you now." He seems quietly delighted about it.

Hob's always known he can be a bit annoying at times but this experience has taught him how truly annoying it is possible to be. When they got there, none of Dream's chart info was under the right name or gender, and nobody seemed particularly inclined to update it. At least not until Hob pestered them, and pestered them, and pestered them.

So yeah, they kind of hate him, but he got to be Dream's hero so it was all worth it in the end.

It's another reason he needs to get this legal shield in place now. Between Dream's slick parents and their money, and Hob who's being a continual nuisance, he thinks he knows who'll come out on top with the administration.

"...So?" he says. "Will you marry me?"

Dream starts tearing up, and Hob thinks, oh god, oh god, I've ruined it-- then Dream pulls him close and throws his arms around him. "Yes," he breathes. "I will. I-- I wanted to for so long."

That makes idiots of the both of them, then.

But Hob doesn't dwell on it for long. He hugs Dream back, then kisses him, pressing his face between his hands. Now that the stress of asking is over, the real feeling bubbles up inside him. Joy. Elation. He's marrying Dream.

"I love you," he says, and Dream smiles. "Now let's get out of here."

--

Their makeshift ceremony at the registrar's office is very emotional despite being completely spontaneous. It's just them, plus Death who Hob got to come along as their witness, and they don't yet have rings to exchange--but at the end of it, Dream is his husband.

Truthfully, Dream deserves better, he deserves a lavish romantic ceremony with flowers and fine clothes and desserts and anything he could possibly want. But... Hob is his husband now. He can give him better, later. And what a joy is that.

Dream is exhausted by the time Hob gets him back to his room, but seems happy nevertheless. He takes a nap while Hob goes to show a copy of the marriage license to hospital admin and gets them to update their records. The next time someone tries to kick him out of Dream's room it's fucking on.

And he doesn't have to wait long. He gets one peaceful day of being able to sit in Dream's room unimpeded, reading to him and just generally being able to enjoy his company without hiding behind the vending machines, before Dream's parents come back.

Dream tenses at the knock on the door, and Hob's never felt more powerful than when he stands up and says, "Don't worry, I'll tell them to leave."

"You needn't--" Dream starts, but Hob shakes his head.

"Oh, no, I'm looking forward to this."

He opens the door with a grin to find Dream's mother on the other side, and stands conveniently in the doorway, blocking her view of Dream. "Hey."

Hob can practically see her blood pressure rise at the sight of him. "You. I thought we had dealt with you."

"I'm hard to deal with," Hob says. "Sorry." He's not sorry.

She tries to push forward. "Out of my way."

Hob blocks her, and can't help a rather vicious smile. "Dream wants you to leave."

"You have no right to even be in here, never mind to tell me to leave," snaps Dream's mother.

Hob hands her a copy of the marriage certificate. He's got several. "On the contrary."

She stares at it, and is, for a moment, completely speechless.

"As Dream's husband," he says, and oh the words are delicious, "I'm telling you to leave. And I think you should do it before I call security on you." An echo of what she and Dream's father had said to him in the past.

Her jaw clenches and she shoves the paper back at him. "That they even let people like you marry in this country is an abomination. You are perverting the sanctity of marriage."

"That's my absolute favorite thing to do," Hob says, and shuts the door in her face.

"I think you enjoyed that far too much, Hob," Dream says as Hob turns back to him. Then he starts giggling. "Did you notice?"

"What?"

"Mother finally agreed that I am a man so she could be homophobic about it," Dream says, and dissolves into giggles once again. "She always said I needed to find a husband; I can't imagine why she isn't happy that I have."

"'Apologies, Mother,'" Hob says, doing his best imitation of Dream's posh accent as he sits down beside him again, "'I know you would have preferred that I marry a respectable young heir from the polo club but I'm afraid I'm shacking up with the guy running the local tavern. In lieu of a gift please just don't attend the wedding.'"

Dream laughs again, then says, "Will there be a proper wedding?"

"You want there to be?"

Hesitantly, Dream nods.

"Then there will be."

Dream smiles, and Hob takes his hand, squeezes it. "And think on what sort of ring you want," Hob says. "By the time you get out of surgery next week, I'll have it for you."

"I do love you," Dream sighs.

"Not regretting not marrying Lord Whoever from polo club?"

"There was no polo club," Dream says. "There was croquet, however--"

"Oh my God--"

"--however, you are the one I want to be married to."

Hob smiles. "Good." He kisses Dream's hand. "And you know, right? You know I wanted to marry you anyway? This was just a-- a timing thing."

"I know. But, I admit, I've found this all far more entertaining than I'd have thought." He smiles up at Hob. There's nothing better in the world than that clever smile. "You are a gallant husband."

If Hob can get Dream to keep looking at him like that, he thinks he'll be happy for the rest of his life.

"Promised to protect you, didn't I?" he says. "And so I will."