#i say this in my head every day and then i turn around to do something and my mind blackscreens and i continue not doing anything

[ninikrumbs]

The look of love, the rush of blood

Sukuna x reader. est relationship. down bad Sukuna

BoyfriendSukuna wasn't clingy or needy. He's not the type to cry over a day without seeing you, nor is he the type to pester you with constant messages or calls about your where abouts and annoying you to come see him. A simple text about your plans for the day or even a post it note on the fridge -for the days you slept over which was almost everyday - was enough for him. He was possessive, but he can survive a day or two without you.

Or so he thought.

BoyfriendSukuna was dropping you off your best friends house for an impromptu sleepover. Your best friend just got dumped and now you need to be her shoulder to cry on or whatever. That was fine or at least it was until you mentioned that you didn't know when you'll be sleeping over his place cause apparently these things "take time" and are "unpredictable."

Surprising even himself, he didn't like that. He didn't like that at all. He realized if you weren't sleeping over his apartment, he'd usually crawl into your bed late at night. Still he thought it wasn't a necessity, that falling asleep next to you was a want not a need. Yet now that he doesn't have that option..

Vein throbbing, Sukuna can give your best friend tonight, but tomorrow you will be back on his bed where you belong.

You were saying your final goodbyes in front of his car window. Eyes bright and laced with a warmth he believes you only reserve for him, "Bye, Kuna! Ill give you updates everyday!"

He grits his teeth. Why did it sound like you were going on a month long cruise?

"Oi." He calls out before you could turn around.

Tilting your head, "Kuna?"

For a moment he kept quiet. Carmine eyes taking their time drinking you in, having his fill of you as if he won't see you for weeks. They snap to back to your pretty face, tracing every slope and curve. "Come closer, brat."

And you do which makes his lips curl a bit. Always so obedient for him.

With his left hand, his touch firm yet gentle on the back of your head as he pushes your face towards his.

Soft lips against his rough ones, kissing you long and fervently, devouring you whole in one kiss. He feels you melting into it, whimpering such pretty sounds into his mouth. The tension finally eases out of him and it takes everything in him to pull away.

"Ill pick you up tomorrow," He murmurs against your lips, breath mingling with yours.

You blink. Once. Twice, "But Kuna-"

He cuts you off with another kiss, but softer this time. Gentle even. "No buts, brat. Ill pick you up tomorrow evening at the latest. She gets no more than that. You can visit here everyday for all I care, but you're sleeping with me."

A knowing smile teases your lips, "Are you gonna miss me that much, Kuna?"

"Shut up." He grunts, rolling your eyes at how pleased you look.

You burst out laughing and he hates at how pathetically melts at the sound. How it makes his insides warm like some love sick fool.

After brushing a imaginary tear from your eye, you lean back to his face and press a soft kiss on his cheek. "Don't worry. Ill have one of our other friends sleepover tomorrow night."

"Whatever."

Your smile widens into a grin, "I'll just tell them my big bad boyfriend can't sleep without me."

"Don't you dare-"

You run towards the door before he could do anything, laughter ringing out the driveway. And the way you smile makes his chest tighten in the most pathetic way.

The moment you disappear from view. He groans, dragging a hand down his face.

Fuck.

He didn't realized he was so down bad that going home without you felt like a life sentence.

So pathetic. So damn pathetic for you.

[buck-star]

Put your hands in mine

He can’t breathe. His lungs burn and the water above his head gets darker and darker. Theres no more light. Until there is again.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Wordcount: 2.263 Words

Warnings/Tags: Anxiety, hurt/comfort, crowds, established relationship, fluff

Authors Note: Part of the works for Mai — month of mental health awareness! You’re not alone and I’m proud of you! Divider made by me. Shout out to my favorite person @thevillainswhore for brainstorming, the aesthetic and for all the love and proofreading! I adore you, te iubesc.❤️

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“Put your hands in mine.

And I will pull you out of the darkest waters.”

Loud noises. Crowded places.

Bucky hates it, and yet, he still tries to live his life as best as he can. He keeps trying to get out of your shared apartment more often, to be around people for longer periods of time. But somehow, it only makes him want to curl in on himself, with you wrapped in his arms in the safety of your apartment.

He’s not ready for the world just yet. He’s not ready for the business, the noises of the actions. He had them long enough — for years and years. And now, finally settled down with the woman he loves, he wants to keep the peace a while longer before he’s ready to face the loud world outside.

But somehow, sometimes he still manages to interact with the outside — as long as you’re by his side he knows he can do more than he believes.

Bucky’s fingers cling to the shopping cart he’s currently pushing through the aisle of the grocery store. His ocean blue eyes dart from one side of the aisle to the other and back to the cart as he takes in the different products.

Lots of jam, way more than he used to know back in the days. Bread — delicious and softer than he knows, and so many variants — you always buy different ones. One better than the other. But his favorite one is still the brown bread with the star on top. It reminds him of his childhood, and it tastes almost the same as remembers.

Maybe if he just keeps his mind busy enough he can try and mute the noises around him. If he just —

“Buck?” You ask softly, your warm fingers circling the back of his hand and his white knuckles. Your voice is soft and soothing, just like the smile that’s spreading on your lips.

You’re smaller than Bucky, but you’re standing perfectly in front of him to bring his attention to you. You’re blocking the people around you from running into your boyfriend, making it easier for him to focus on you — and only you.

“Do you want to get out of here already?” You offer but your boyfriend shakes his head and turns his head to interlace your fingers with his thicker ones.

You’re always so soft with him, sweet and loving. Bucky could melt with you around. The understanding and support you offer him causes his heart to clench every now and then, the insecurities growing stronger. How does someone dark like him, deserve someone so sweet like you?

Never pushing him, never judging him. Bucky wonders what he did to make you fall in love with him. But no matter what it was, he’s glad he was able to get your interest, to get the love you show him.

Bucky takes a shaky breath. You offered him to go shopping by yourself, but he didn’t want you to do it alone — he wanted to come with you. And even though he regrets his decision slightly, he’s grateful to have you around.

“N-no,” he says, forcing a smile on his plump lips. You sigh but nod, knowing that Bucky’s feeling overwhelmed already. But you also don’t want to act like he’s a kid who doesn’t know his own limits well enough to decide himself.

Bucky can decide when his limits are reached. And as much as he tries to push them every now and then, you know he would never lie, would it really be too much for him.

His eyes are slightly narrowed and he tightens his grip around your hand. “I-it’s fine, babydoll. A bit loud and crowded but not too much.”

You hum softly, followed by a soft giggle. You lean closer to him, standing in your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips before you wrap one of your arms around his waist. The other still interlaced with his thick fingers to sooth him and keep him calm.

“You’re doing good, Buck. I’m proud of you and I’m glad you decided to come here with me,” you mumble while you push him with you through the aisle. Bucky sighs softly, relaxing with your arm around him. He knows you will catch him when he feels like he’s going to fall and drown in his fear again.

When you finally reach the section with fruits and vegetables, you look for a quiet corner, pushing the cart and Bucky there to keep him away from all the noises and business of the other people.

A soft, warm smile spreads on your lips as he leans down to kiss you softly. Bucky’s blue orbs light up slightly when he can focus on you and the music of the store but nothing else.

It’s quiet. He can watch everyone and it’s less crowded. Perfect for him to wait for you to get a few fruits and vegetables.

You move through the aisles to take some apples and bananas before you move further to the vegetables. It’s a bit crowded but when you look up to Bucky you see him still softly smiling at you. There’s not many people around him, only an elderly lady and a mother with her kid.

So you look back to the vegetables and get some peppers and cucumbers too. You can still feel his intense gaze on you, taking in every detail.

Bucky’s tapping his fingers against the cart, keeping his focus on the music and on you so he won’t be too overwhelmed, until —

“Ow! I’m sorry, sir,” a lady apologizes as she pushes her cart with force into Bucky’s side. The kid on her arm is crying loudly, and the moment they notice their mother's attention on someone else — and not on the gummy bears they want — they start screaming.

The pain in Bucky’s hips is nothing compared to the noises that crash down on him like a heavy weight. The music from the loudspeakers is suddenly way louder. The mother talking to her child. The child that’s still crying and screaming. And suddenly he’s aware of every noise around him.

Bucky can hear every little noise in the whole shop. The people around him. The people on the other side of the shop. Even the registers and the cooling systems of the fridges.

His breath hitches, his chest tightens as he wraps his fingers tightly around the cart. His blue eyes are widened as the noises become even louder. Bucky can hear his heartbeat so loud and clear like every other noise in the shop. And there is no way for him to mute all these noises.

“B-ba…by-do—“ Bucky chokes, his hands shooting to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly. He tries to pull on it, to rip it off his body but it doesn’t budge. It only tightens and becomes heavier until he feels like he can’t breathe anymore. “P-ple—“

And there it is again — the feeling of the dark water around him. Only a small amount of sun is shining through the darkness but it’s fading slowly. And he’s sinking, further and further while he feels like he’s drowning.

Bucky never thought it would be possible for him — or for anyone — to feel like they could drown without physically being in a body of water. And yet, he feels as if he's sinking into the depth of the ocean, the water surrounding him everywhere and there’s no place he could grab a hold on.

The water is hugging him like an old friend, but it isn’t an old friend. It never was and it never is — it never will be. It’s only his darkest enemy, his fear of losing control, of losing himself.

He gasps loudly, his eyes scanning the people around him to find you but everything is blurred. Everyone looks so similar, the voices mix with the others. He just can’t make out where you are, he can’t hear your voice, he can’t see your face, your worried expression or maybe your soft smile — he can’t tell because everyone looks just like the others in the shop.

“B-babydo-ol-l…” he whispers, tugging harshly at the collar of his shirt. A soft whimper leaves his plump lips as he feels his lungs burning. The darkness of his thoughts became worse. Even the corners of his view turn a few shades darker, supporting the feeling to sink further in the ocean.

The sun — actually the light of the shop — disappears with every second. The weight that’s pulling him down becomes heavier and heavier, his breathing unsteady and frantic as he tries to grab for anything so he won’t drown.

“Buck,” your soft voice is audible. It’s so close and yet so far. He can’t reach for you, but he wants to — he needs to. “Bucky, hey, baby. You’re safe, try to take a deep breath for me, please.”

He can feel your warm hand reaching for his. Your fingers curl around Bucky’s thicker ones as you pull his clenched fingers off his shirt. He doesn’t want to let go of his only grounding source but he also doesn’t stop you — deep down he knows you’re his real grounding, his anchor.

“Loud noises are overwhelming, aren’t they? But it’s okay. I’m here, I've got you. Just try and focus on my voice, I know it’s hard but you need to listen to me otherwise we can’t get out of here,” you say. Your voice is still so soft and soothing, warming his chest as he feels his eyes moving toward yours.

Bucky’s mouth opens before he closes it again. He remains silent but you can see his eyes flickering from yours to your fingers before they settle back on yours.

He takes in the soft smile that’s tugging at your lips as you stand in front of him — causing his heart to flutter slightly. Your fingers interlace with his as you rub soothing circles over the back of his hands. Bucky notices your lips moving, trying to calm him down and even though the noises are still louder than your voice, he can make out some of the words you’re saying.

“I know you listen to me, Buck. Maybe not completely but I know you try. And I’m proud of you, you’re doing so good, baby,” you assure him, hoping it will help him to calm down.

While dating Bucky you learned how to handle his anxiety and his panic attacks. Not just because of therapy but also because of all the talks you have after such a situation — allowing Bucky to look back and help you both to understand what you can do to either help or avoid these situations.

From finding out what overwhelmed him to what he felt until he can tell you what he might have needed, you talk about every detail Bucky wants to share with you. So, with his help of what he could have needed in such a moment you can try different things out until you both are happy with the result.

“You have to stay calm. I’m not gonna hurt you, but I need to cover your ears. It might be a bit of pressure but then the noises will be quieter,” you explain before you bring his hands to your hips, placing them there for him to ground himself before you reach up to cover his ears softly.

Bucky flinches, his fingers digging almost painfully into your hips as he stares at you with widened, fear filled eyes. Your thumbs stroke softly along his cheeks, still covering his ears as you feel him relaxing softly into your embrace.

Bucky’s breath slows down, the noises are quieter. Once again — like so many times before — your hand reached out for him when he was drowning. It’s your hands that take a tight hold on him, making sure he can’t drown in the darkness.

You move your hands down his cheeks, wiping away a few streaks of tears before you settle your hands around his neck.

“I-I’m sorry…” he mumbles, leaning his head against yours. Bucky takes a shaky breath, way more steady than before but still on edge with his emotions. “I shouldn’t have gone shopping with you… it’s only… I’m only in your way.”

“You will never be in my way. I’m glad you came to the shop with me,” you mutter, pressing your lips to the tip of his nose. “I don’t like you suffering like that, Buck. But you went out with me, you should be proud.”

“Are you proud?”

“Of you?”

Bucky nods softly. His blue eyes flickering to yours, uncertainty written all over his face. How can he possibly be proud of himself when he just had a panic attack where he needed your help to calm down?

“More than anything,” you say with such a softness and honesty that Bucky feels like he’s melting in your arms. He nods, sighing softly. “I’m really proud of you, Buck. You’re so much stronger than you think. You went to hell and back, and yet, you’re still so lovely and caring about the people you love.”

Bucky smiles softly, a soft pink creeping onto his cheeks as he tries to hide his face in the crook of your neck. “Don’t say that…”

“Because you know it’s true?”

“No… because it makes me blush,” he whines playfully. Bucky leans back a bit, his ocean blue orbs flickering to your lips, then back to your eyes. Within another second his warm, plump lips press against yours, pouring all his love and adoration into the kiss.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @rnurse-kole @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @alexxavicry @gremlin-girly @grilledcheesewithjalapeno @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @irisk12 @lilyalone @thenameswinter99 @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @hisredheadedgoddess28 @princesscore-angel @casa-boiardi @blackhawkfanatic @mrsalexstan @thesarcasmqueen-22 @bamitzzsam @feynightlight @ethanhoewke @kandis-mom @peachy-satan00 @armystay89 @queen-honeybee-stories @p1nkgirly333

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: daddy kink, overstimulation, forced orgasm.

“I don’t… I don’t know. This is stressing me out.” 

The box in front of you is labeled ‘kitchen’ and you’re staring at it like there’s a bomb inside. 

“Good job with your rule baby. What don’t you know?” 

“This… the appliances, and the bowls, and everything… where do I put it? I don’t want to move your stuff and I don’t want to take up too much space I…” His hands cover yours, thumbs moving in methodical circles across your skin. You’re overwhelmed. You’ve been on the brink all day, dialed down after he took over packing up your apartment, now ramping back up as you try to unpack it and put it away. It’s been a lot, all day, and you’ve taken it on the chin. He’s proud of you.

“Would it help if I did it?” Your lower lip trembles, and you nod. 

“Yes. Please.” 

“Okay.” He kisses your forehead, wiping away one of the fat tears falling down your cheek. “It’s alright. Go upstairs, get in the bath, and relax. I’ll take care of everything that’s left.” You already did your clothes and personal items, things brought over from your bedroom and closets, but the rest of it is too much. You’ve deliberated everything, and he’s happy you’re making his house your home, but you’re getting tired, and anxious. “It’s okay, go on baby.” You sniffle, turning in his arms to rest your cheek on his chest with a sigh. 

“Thank you daddy.” 

“You did a good job today.” You shake your head. 

“I didn’t finish.” You press closer to his side, leg hitched up across his thighs. 

“But you told me when you were stressed and trusted me to take care of the rest. It’s okay if you need my help, you just have to tell me, which you did. I’m very proud of you.” He rubs your back, your hip, kneading as he goes, slowly moving down between your legs, feather light touch ghosting over your panties. He’s been doing it for twenty minutes, teasing you, working you up, and when he finally presses his thumb over your cloth covered clit and you gasp.

“Daddy…” 

“Are you wet for me?” He turns you on your back, peeling your underwear down and off so he can spread your knees open. You’re fully exposed like this, little clit swollen and hard, pussy soaked and glistening, squirming as he studies you. “Oh baby. Look at you.” You throw your arm over your face, trying to hide in your elbow and he chuckles. “Why are you embarrassed?” 

“You’re looking at my… at me.” 

“At your what, sweetheart. Tell me what I’m looking at.” You drop your arm and stare at him with wide eyes. “Do you want me to touch you?” 

“Yes daddy. P-please.” You shake a little, hesitant, nervous, and he rubs your leg encouragingly. 

“You have to say where.” It’s a coaching game. He pushes you step by step, always there, always urging you forward, proud again and again when you rise to whatever challenge he’s posing.

“My… my pussy.” 

“Good girl.” He presses down on your clit, sliding two fingers inside you at the same time, drinking in your gasps and moans. He’s thoroughly enjoying taking things slow, working you up to your first time, soaking up every single moment, every single orgasm along the way. 

But tonight, he’s going to push some boundaries. 

“Your little pussy is so greedy, baby girl. Should daddy make you come?” You lick your lips and nod quickly.  “What do you say?” 

Please daddy, make me unf-  make me c-come, please,” you clench, naturally trying to squeeze him, your body instinctively knowing what to do. Already so close. 

“What a good girl, asking so nicely.” He gives it to you, harder, faster, and your back arches, thighs locking around his arm, the sheets twisting in your grip. Your pussy tries to milk his fingers for something that’s not there, fluttering as you come for him.  

“Oh- Oh my god,” you’re still riding his hand as it ebbs, but when you come down, he doesn’t stop, even as you try to run up the bed and close your legs. 

“You’re going to have one more.” You shake your head frantically. 

“N-no, it’s… ow- ah- it hurts,” He pins you by your hip, preventing your escape, and you shriek. “D-daddy, please-” 

“I know it’s a lot, sweet girl I know. One more, you can do it.” One more orgasm, and one more finger. It’s an overload, and your foot kicks when he pulls back, just to push back inside you with three fingers, groaning at the sight of your tears. “Look at you,” he coos, pumping his cock, “daddy’s girl stretched around his fingers. Are you nice and full?” You groan, the overstimulation bringing tears to your eyes. 

“It’s t-too much,” you cry, but even as you protest, your rhythm changes from tense to chase. 

“You can take it,” he fucks you harder, flicking back and forth across your clit, and your knees fall open, wails turning to moans. “That’s it, good girl. Such a good girl, listening to her daddy.” He tugs his cock free, letting it settle at the top of your slit, ready to explode, and just before you’re falling over the edge, he pulls away to settle his length between your lips, rutting forward to grind his cock against you.

“Oh god-” You fuck yourself against him mindlessly, screaming into your orgasm, crying for your daddy as you rub your clit on the head of his cock, sliding up and down his length, soaking it. It’s enough friction to draw his balls up, more than enough heat to bring his own barreling down, and he shoots cum up your belly and his at the same time. 

He covers your body with his immediately. Both of you sticky and sated, his lips dragging over the skin of your neck, your cheek, your mouth as he calms you down. “My precious girl,” you turn into his voice instinctively, searching for him with closed eyes, limp and exhausted. “Did so well.” You nod your agreement, grip still iron on his t shirt, fully out of it. You’ve already been in the bath once today, but he knows you won’t protest a second. “I’m gonna get you some water and then we’ll take a bath, how does that sound?” You pull him close, hands on his shoulders, and press your nose to his neck. 

“Sounds good daddy.” 

“I have a surprise for you.” You blink at him. 

“For me?” 

“Turn around.” The front door is half closed behind his back, and he can tell you want to peek around it or ask more questions, but you choose to listen. Good girl.

“I’m ready.” You announce, bouncing on your toes with a little squeak, and he laughs, pushing the door wide to let the floppy, giant, Great Pyrenees puppy inside.

“Okay, turn around.” Making you happy will never get old, and he knows these memories, the ones where your face lights up and your joy explodes, will stay with him for the rest of his life. 

“Oh my god!” Your excitement floods out of you as a high pitched squeal, and you immediately go to your knees in front of the white fluff at his feet, the puppy’s big pink bow flopping on her neck. “Oh my god, oh my god. Is she… is she ours?”

“Yeah sweet girl, she’s ours. She’s for you, actually.” You scratch under her chin, cooing at the huge white puppy that could easily pass for a baby polar bear, even at five months. 

“Does she have a name?” 

“Duchess.” You clap your hands together. 

“Duchess. Aren’t you just the cutest girl? Yeah,” the dog licks your face appreciatively, and you giggle, “you are. You’re the cutest.” 

“She’s not cute.” She’s not supposed to be cute, anyway.

“Yes she is.” You give her another pat. He has a feeling you’re going to turn Duchess into a lap dog. A one hundred pound lap dog. He pulls you over to the couch, settles you in beside him as the dog paws at your feet and you giggle.  

“She’s a Great Pyrenees. She’s not a pet so much as she’s a guardian dog.” You frown, pout already forming your lips. It was a tough decision. He almost bought a Mal, but the idea of you having to take care of a real life velociraptor when he’s not here didn’t sit well with him. “She’s going to grow up with you as her best friend, so she’s going to see you as her flock, which means she’s going to make guarding you her main job.” Not outright aggressive or high strung, but protective and territorial, and big enough to intimidate just about anyone once she’s full grown, a Pyr is perfect.

“But she’s still a pet.” He sighs. 

“Yes. She’s still a pet. We’ll take care of her together when I’m home, but when I’m away, you’ll have to do it by yourself. Do you want that?” 

“Definitely.” Good. It’s a dual solution. He needs to feel more at ease with you being home alone, and you need some gentle encouragement. Taking care of a puppy is a lot like taking care of a human. They need food, water, enrichment. Naps. Walks, exercise. When he’s gone, you’ll be the primary caretaker, for both Duchess and yourself, and he thinks, he hopes, having her will help you take care of yourself. 

You also need food, water, enrichment. Naps. Walks. Exercise. 

“And she can sleep in the bed with me while you’re away!” 

“Well, we really need to teach her to sleep in her own bed…” 

“Sure daddy.” You ruffle the top of her head. “We’re going to be best friends, aren’t we girl?” She paws at you and you smush her face, dotting a kiss right between her brows. He sighs.

That dog is definitely going to be sleeping on his side of the bed. 

[science-hoes]

Gorgeous

Michael Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: language, objectifying an old man, the slightest mention of smut, this was very self indulgent so I do apologize if y’all don’t care for it

Description: Robby loses in fantasy football and pays up. Somehow, his loss is making your life a lot more difficult.

Michael Robinavitch Masterlist

—

There weren’t many times that the night and day shift united aside from real emergencies. Well, depending on who you asked, this was a real emergency.

“Where is he?” Shen murmured, holding onto his backpack, wearily leaning against the high counter of the desk hub.

Jack checked his watch. “He’s got about three minutes before I show up at his house after work and finish the job myself. And I won’t do a good job.” He threatened.

There was a thrill in the room, similar to the countdown to Near Years. Except that was a few weeks ago. Dana crossed her arms. “Do you think we can sedate him and do it? Technically, he already gave prior consent when the season started.” She noted.

Mel walked up to the mass of nurses and doctors starting at the entrance to the Pitt, slowing her pace at the oddity. “What’s going on?” She asked.

Langdon waved her over, and she happily met him next to a computer station. “Our fantasy football season ended a few weeks ago. It’s time for the Loser to pay up.” He explained.

Mel tilted her head. “Pay up? Is everyone here waiting for money?” She asked.

Santos shook her head. “No. This is better than money.” She replied.

“Priceless.” Collins chipped in.

You weren’t aware of the barricade of healthcare providers protecting the desk hub as you walked through the entrance of the Pitt. When the doors swung open to reveal you, bundled in your pink winter coat, everyone let out a disappointed groan.

You froze in your tracks, offended by the greeting. “Good morning to everyone, too.” You said, rolling your eyes.

Dana shook her head and threw an arm around your shoulders. “No, sweetie, it’s not you. We’re waiting for the Loser.” She explained.

You smiled slightly, not sure what she was talking about. “Who’s the Loser?” You asked.

Ellis grinned and pointed to the door as it swung open. “Him.”

Robby walked through the entrance, wrapped in his black winter coat, backpack slung over his shoulders, and his camping gaiter covering the upper half of his face. Only his dark chocolate eyes and swooping faux hawk were visible.

Jack shook his head. “Oh, fuck no. Take that shit off your face.” He demanded.

Everyone made similar remarks, commanding Robby to pull off the face cover.

Robby rolled his eyes and reached a hand to the edge of the fabric near his cheek. “Before I do this, just know that I hate every single one of you.” He grumbled.

But he still hesitated. Chants of “take it off” began, starting with Langdon and progressing through the rest of the staff. You watched intently, curious what the big deal was.

With a final sigh of defeat, Robby yanked the gaiter down. The Pitt erupted with screams, laughter, and cheers. But you were frozen. There he was. Your senior attending whom you had an unbearable crush on. Who you took months to get used to without embarrassing yourself or showing your intense attraction. Who you thought about when you were alone at night.

Clean-shaven. Not a trace of the forest of facial hair that was there yesterday. Moments ago, with his face covered, you knew exactly who he was. But now? He looked like a stranger.

“I can’t tell if you look older or younger.” Shen managed to say in between waves of laughter.

Robby’s mouth pulled into a straight line, a movement once concealed behind facial hair now overexpressed. “I don’t want anyone ever saying I’m no good on my bets.” He demanded.

Jack cackled as he made his way towards Robby to pat him on the shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve seen your jaw line in 20 years, brother.” He noted.

And, oh my God, you swear Robby had a pout on his face as his friends harassed him. That straight line turned downward into a real frown. There were only a few people who actually had a downward frown, and apparently, he was one of them.

Dana had tears in her eyes from laughter. She wiped a stray one from the corner of her eye. “I haven’t seen this man since Hurricane Katrina.” She recalled.

Langdon’s eyes were just blown wide in horror. “It feels inappropriate to look at him. It’s like he’s naked.” His voice was monotone.

Your eyes were riveted on Robby. His eyes were distant, taking the punches as they came. It was better to get it all out of the way before the shift started. His face was turning red with… embarrassment? Anger? You couldn’t tell, but the color change was way more obvious without his peppered beard to hide most of his face.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He grumbled, taking a step to the lockers.

But when everyone whipped out their phones and followed his advice, blocking his escape to the doctors lounge, he threw his head back in exasperation.

“If any of these pictures end up on social media, so help me God.” He hissed.

—

Your shift got off to a great start, but your positive streak could not last in the eyes of the emergency department gods. After a couple of pleasant, simple patient cases, you were assigned to Myrna. There was no issue at first. You took her patient history and evaluated her vitals. She had been brought in after a seizure and, of course, consuming an unknown cocktail of drugs. Same as usual.

“Alright, Myrna. Let me get an IV in you.” You mumbled, sorting the IV supplies on a metal tray.

Myrna groaned in a dramatic fashion, slumping in her wheelchair. “Great, let the fucking intern do it.” She mourned to nobody in particular.

You rolled your eyes as you tightened the blue elastic tourniquet on her arm, hoping that you would be able to find a vein in her used arms.

“I’ve started an IV on you before.” You mumbled.

She rolled her eyes. “And it took you five fucking sticks.” She hissed.

You shrugged. “If you stopped shooting up drugs, I wouldn’t have such a hard time finding a vein.” You replied with as much kindness as you could muster.

She laughed, throwing her head back against the wheelchair. “You’re a spicy one.” She complimented. “Consider me a teaching opportunity. That’s what Fruitcake calls me, anyway.”

You raised an eyebrow as you cleaned a poor excuse of a vein on her forearm with an alcohol wipe. “Fruitcake?” You questioned.

“You know who I mean. The tall one with the beard and-YOU FUCKING BITCH!”

Myrna recoiled when you slid the tapered IV needle into her skin, grabbing the metal tray and hurling it at you.

“Jesus, Myrna!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms up to protect yourself from the airborne IV supplies.

The metal tray fell to the floor with a loud clang. In a flash, Dana and Robby were by your side to help you.

“You’re supposed to tell me when you’re gonna stick!” Myrna defended herself.

Robby pushed you behind him defensively as he got closer to Myrna. “What did I tell you about harassing my interns?” He questioned, a sternness in his voice that made even you shiver.

Myrna didn’t say anything at first, just stared at Robby. “Holy shit. Is that you, Fruitcake?” She asked.

Dana began to pick up the supplies that landed on the floor. “Myrna, don’t throw shit. Or we’ll throw you out.” She warned.

Myrna waved her off and returned her attention to Robby. “Looks like you didn’t finish baking.” She teased.

“Thanks.” Robby deadpanned as he turned around to look at you.

Despite Myrna being handcuffed, you were still a little shaken by the incident. His lips pulled into a wide line on his face, his upper lip flattening. Usually, he would just ask if you were okay, to which you would say yes, and that would be that. But instead, he placed a guiding hand on your back and took you to an empty room. When the door shut behind him, he faced you, arms crossed over his chest, and narrowed his eyes.

“When you have a hostile patient like that, you need to ask for help, okay?” He lectured.

The way his lips moved when he spoke was enchanting. His bottom lip thicker than the top, shaping every word with precision that you hadn’t noticed before. Like maybe you had assumed that he had been cutting corners when he spoke with his beard. The freckles that dusted his nose seemed to reach farther down his cheeks than you realized. And the way his zygomatic arches at his cheeks looked like they were sculpted by Michelangelo himself…

Fuck, you had to look away. He was so gorgeous. There was no reason that a man nearly twice your age should have that effect on you. You scolded yourself internally for being so mesmerized by him, but then you wondered how that smooth face would feel between your…

“Are you listening to me?”

Your eyes widened, and your cheeks surely flushed. “Yes, sir.”

“Then look at me.” He demanded, voice tinged with authority.

Fuck. You hesitated, deciding if hiding your crush was worth the reprimand you would receive. Your eyes were focused on your hands, anxiously picking at the cuticles.

“I will not tell you again.” Robby’s voice was sharper now, threatening almost.

You clenched your eyes shut and buried your face in your hands. “I’m sorry, it’s just…I can’t look at you.” You confessed.

A silent beat. “Why?”

A disgruntled breath left your lungs. “Because you shaved.”

An awkward silence followed. That wasn’t exactly the response he expected, but Robby matched your irritated exhale. “Look, I know it looks bad. That’s why I don’t shave. But that’s no reason-“

You snapped your head up, eyes blown wide. “No, no! It looks good! It looks too good.” You cut him off.

Robby froze, and the annoyed face that you were initially met with began to soften. His slackened jaw relaxed, and his lips twitched at the edges. “Too good?” He repeated.

You felt your stomach jump to your throat as you realized the trap you had set for yourself. Tell your boss that he’s hot or that you were lying to get out of a lecture? Either path seemed like a dead end. Where you might actually end up dead regardless of the decision. “It’s just that…you look like a different person.” You confessed.

His lips were pulled into that long, straight line that you had seen this morning. Beginning to turn down in a real frown. “…so I looked bad before?” He concluded.

You groaned in frustration, tossing your head back, clenching your eyes shut. “Oh, gosh, Robby. You’re a very handsome man, and it was already hard for me to look at you without becoming a mess. I used to think, ‘it’s a good thing he has a beard because there’s no way he would look good clean-shaven.’ Then you come in, all baby-faced, and it’s like I relapsed on fucking heroin.” Your word vomit was too much to clean up now.

When you didn’t hear any words, a disappointed sigh, or even the characteristic sound of his short nails scratching his neck, you thought he had left the room to avoid an awkward conversation that involved telling his resident that he did not find her attractive. So you opened your eyes, expecting no trace of your attending, but there he was.

Smiling.

Smiling at you.

And you felt an unexpected weakness in your knees. It was the most beautiful smile you had ever seen. Not a grin, but certainly the last line of defense. His lips pulled impossibly wide on his face, his cheeks folding into smile lines to make room. Those lines framed his mouth like priceless artwork.

You felt self-conscious now. He must have been amused at your naivety. You definitely weren’t the first resident to obsess over that man. “Why are you smiling?” You questioned defensively.

Robby let out a chuckle that evaporated the stress in your mind. “I have a pretty young girl telling me that I look handsome. How can I not smile?”

Oh.

You closed the distance between the two of you. Your hands found purchase on his chest, which puffed out at the touch. “Pretty young?” You questioned, a playfulness in your eyes. “Or pretty and young?”

Robby reached for one of your hands on his chest, wrapping it in his own. “Pretty and young.” He confirmed. And this time, he showed off those pretty teeth, imperfect in all the right ways, the smile lines stretching almost all the way back to his ears.

Your free hand lifted, and your fingers hovered in front of his face as if they were not a part of your own body, like his smooth jawline was a magnet. Despite your bravery to touch his chest, you found yourself shying away now. “I’m- I’m sorry.” You stuttered, retracting your hand.

But Robby snatched your wrist with a firm gentleness. Slowly, he brought it closer to his face again, inviting you to touch. Your index finger grazed the contour of his cheekbone, met with not a hint of friction. His breath staggered, and you caught him fluttering his eyes at your electric touch. Like you were inching into a freezing pool of water, you cautiously added more of your hand to grace his skin.

“You’re so pretty.” You whispered.

Robby sputtered out a sheepish laugh, his lips stretching into that boyish grin that deepened every line on his aging face. “Pretty?” He repeated.

You nodded, now palming his jaw. Years ago, you were sure, it was probably cut sharp, but now the elasticity of his skin made it more mature and soft. “I’ve seen that picture of you. From the 90s. The one in the hallway. You looked like a TV show heartthrob.” You noted. “I could never convince myself that it was you, but now I can.”

His face continued to redden, the heat seeping all the way to the tips of his ears. There was no way to hide his blushing now. His head turned slightly in your grasp, his lips brushing against your palm, parting slightly as they dragged. Your thumb traced his lips and dragged his thick bottom lip, rolling it down slightly to expose his teeth. He let out the softest moan, almost a whimper. Your eyes locked with his, and the desperation was palpable.

“I feel like I’m cheating on my crush.” You finally admitted, letting your thumb linger on his mouth.

Robby’s lips pulled to one side in a half smile, but it looked almost like a full blown smile compared to what you were used to seeing behind his beard. “I’m your crush?” He questioned, like he was waiting to see if you had also lost a bet.

You laughed at the ridiculous question and looked up at the fluorescent lights. “I’m struggling to hold your eye contact right now because you’re so fucking gorgeous.” You replied.

Those ceiling lights blinded you from what came next. You could only see Robby’s hairline, but then you felt the warmth on your mouth. From his mouth. Maybe you didn’t register it at first because in all of your fantasies, you expected his kiss to be rough with scratches from his dense beard. Your tongue would graze the facial hair around his lips, burning your chin as he moved.

But this kiss felt so clean. So raw. So…exposed. Like insulation from a wire had been pulled away, leaving nothing but the full power of his mouth. You raised your free hand to his face now, seeking proof that the other side was just as smooth and soft. One of his arms snaked around your waist, and his free hand latched onto the back of your scalp.

Feeling emboldened by the returned affections, you moved your lips away from his and kissed the hollow of his cheeks, trailing down to his jaw. Robby shuddered at the sensation, a pathetic whimper leaving his mouth.

You giggled as you continued to worship his face with hot, open-mouth kisses. “You okay?” You teased.

He chuckled, but it was a higher pitch than you were used to hearing. “I haven’t…” He stuttered as you added more kisses to the underside of his chin, crossing to the other side of his face. “Nobody’s…” He struggled to find the right words as your soft, wet lips dragged across his skin. “You’re the first person in 20 years to kiss the skin on my lower face.” He finally managed to say.

You sucked gently at the angle of his mandible, savoring the taste of his elastic skin on your tongue, releasing soon after to protect him from a damning mark. “I’m honored.” You replied with a gentle tease.

Robby grabbed your face to hold you still, and you let out a bratty whimper of frustration that he had stopped your expedition. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip in thought. “We have to get back to work.” He reminded you, but the authority in his voice was dwindling.

Your eyebrows drew together in disappointment, but you could see in the way his lips were just slightly curved up that he didn’t want to leave you. You could read him before, but now he was as transparent as water.

“Okay.” You sighed dramatically and began to pull away from his grasp. “Guess I’ll just finish out my shift and head home. Alone.”

You turned away from Robby, but before you did, you saw him bite his bottom lip, anxious that he had just fucked everything up. His hands had grasped for your body, a little too late, and you were out of his reach. Hook, line, and sinker. Then you turned your head over your shoulder, just enough to meet his overly wide brown eyes, and smirked.

“Unless you wanna come along?” You added in a sing-songy lilt.

Robby’s face changed in an instant, breaking into that wide smile that you were becoming quickly addicted to. The kind of smile that could stop people dead on a sidewalk when he passed by. The kind of smile that people wrote songs about. The kind of smile that could light up a room in a hurricane.

And it was all for you.

“I’ll see you after work.” You confirmed for him.

Robby chuckled, a look of disbelief at your audacity washing over his face. “I didn’t say yes.” He retorted.

You smirked. “You didn’t have to. Your smile gave it away.” You opened the door to the rest of the emergency department, taking a step out. “You better watch that face. Can’t hide behind your beard anymore.”

And you disappeared back into the chaos. Robby remained in the room, smiling still to himself. He dragged his teeth across his bottom lip again. For the first time ever, he was glad that he lost in fantasy football.

—

A/N: Thank y’all for dealing with my slight obsession with clean-shaven Robby. I couldn’t help myself, Noah is just such a cutie.

[mihsella]

touch starved

Minors DNI!! Sub!Bob Reynolds x Female Reader

Summary: You had been seeing Bob Reynolds for a while now, and after a couple of drinks you invite him over to your place. Turns out the time at isolation made him more touch starved and submissive that you could ever imagine.

Warnings: fem reader, vaginal sex, dominant female and submissive male tones, submissive man, crotch grinding, male overstimulation, making out, slight mention of drinking, unsafe sex I guess

Notes: I really really took heavy inspiration on someone called @squinch-depraved who did a sub!charlie slimecicle fic but I'm pretty sure they deleted their blog. I also got some amazing one liners from @nightprompts, thank you so much!

If you are more into dom!void go read my other fic That other side of you. Love you!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------You had to admit it, you were head over heels for Robert Reynolds from the moment you first saw him.

Back then, you were just an intern at the Thunderbolts HQ, running errands, fetching coffee, organizing press conferences, whatever Mel needed. You weren’t exactly close to the team, though you shared the occasional chat with Ava or Bucky. Still, you’d stepped into their meeting room a handful of times.

It was on one of those cold autumn afternoons, the kind where you just wanted to stay at home and cozy up, when you were asked to retrieve some leftover merch from the meeting room. You went in, oblivious to the presence of anyone else, when you suddenly heard a shuffle from behind you.

"Oh...hi...sorry" A man's voice said timidly, stuttering over his words. A figure emerged from behind a panel. He wore a dark blue hoodie, and had thrown on a pair of sweatpants, clearly not expecting anyone. He slowly made his way towards you, and as he stepped into the light you started to distinguish his features. His deep blue eyes barely looked at you, avoiding your gaze as he fidgeted with his hands. His dark, long hair framed his soft face as his smile shined under the afternoon light.

"Oh, Mr. Reynolds. You scared me" You said, smiling at the boy in front of you.

"Oh I'm so so sorry, I was just uh...reading...you know"

You realized you had never seen him face to face, only heard the rest of the team mentioning him from time to time. And god, was he beautiful up close.

"Well, everyone else is at the press conference, are you not coming down?" You asked curiously.

"No no, it 's fine. I'm not big on being on TV or answering questions or well talking to people I guess" He replied, almost embarrassed at his own shyness.

"Okay then, uhh....see you around!" You smiled, making eye contact with him as he did.

"See ya then" He smiled back, making a small awkward wave as he did (and regretting it immediately).

From then on you saw him around more, in the cafeteria, in the training room, in the hallways, and you always hit it off. You talked about basically anything, and you ended up considering him your closest friend in the HQ. It wasn't until one day, when you were chatting in the tower terrace, that you realized he was more fidgety than normal. Tugging on his sleeves and tucking his hair behind his ears. He looked nervous, like if he wanted to say something but just couldn't figure out how.

"I'm sorry, do you, do you want to go out sometime??" He asked jumpily.

"Like a date??"

"Yeah I guess, like a date"

And so you two met, for coffee, for dinner, for a walk in a park. First a couple of times per week, then basically every night. He was a hopeless romantic, a surprisingly classical gentleman. He bought you flowers, called you beautiful, looked into your eyes like you were his world. And god, he was so nerdy and timid. "I'm sorry I just, I haven't been with someone for a really long time" He said, as he timidly leaned in for your first kiss.

It wasn't until a couple of weeks later, when he had completely broken out of his shell, that you decided to invite him over to your apartment. You both had a couple of drinks on you, nothing to make you drunk but enough to boost your confidence. And you laughed as you made your way in. Once you were inside, you both fell into the couch, laughing in each other's arms as you settled down.

You looked into his eyes,he was so pretty, so soft, he wanted you so badly, and he made you know it with every single stare. He tucked your hair behind your ear as he reduced the distance between you, leaning in to meet your lips. A slow couple of delicate kisses as he cupped your face, his hot breath against yours. You were hungry for him, he was finally there for you and only you. He slid his tongue through your lips, and you opened your mouth, letting him explore every part of it.

“You really wanted this didn’t you??” You asked, smiling at him.

“Y….yes” He replied, embarrassed at his own desperation.

You put your legs over his, slowly climbing on top of him as you keep kissing him. You ran your fingers through his hair, pulling his head back to meet your gaze. He looked so vulnerable, so pretty, his soft eyes looking up at you, glistening as they alternated between your eyes and your lips. He swallowed, looking up at you in desperation, begging you to keep touching him.

You made your way towards his neck, leaving wet kisses all over it. Your hot breath against his throat made him feel otherworldly, and you felt him shiver from just your touch. A pathetic whine escaped his lips as he threw his head back, looking at the ceiling. You started sucking on his neck, one hand scratching his torso and the other pulling on his hair, running your fingers through his scalp. "Y-you are so good at this" He said, stuttering and breathing heavy as he did. You started pulling on his shirt, signaling him to take it off, which he did desperately exposing his abs as you ran your fingertips over them. He sloppily unbuttoned your blouse, struggling with every button and apologizing, choking a groan as he got full view of your tits.

You started grinding your hips against his crotch, a slow, tortuous rhythm as you moved towards his mouth, biting his bottom lip. He whined into your mouth, desperately trying to buck his hips into you to gain some friction. “You are so touch starved aren't you baby??” You smiled, looking down at him.

A whimper escaped his lips as you fastened your pace, pushing yourself harder against his growing bulge. You felt yourself starting to get wet, his crotch rubbing perfectly against your clit. He felt like he was gonna cum just from this, just from your touch against him. He was painfully hard, his cock pushing against his boxers, wishing that you would just ruin him already.

"H-hurts...p-please" He couldn't even get his words out correctly, whines interrupting every word.

"Please what baby? Use your words" You replied, shocked at your own sudden cockiness.

"Please touch me, please" He said desperately, his hips trying to increase your rhythm.

You got off him and started undoing his pants, noticing how utterly big he was. You ran your finger through his growth over his boxers, eliciting a whine as he shivered under your touch. "Please....I beg you." You smiled, slowly taking his underwear off, making him suffer with every single touch. His cock was glistening with precum, he looked down, almost embarrassed at the sight. "It's okay baby" You said reassuringly.

You got up, aligning him against your entrance. You were already wet from how desperate he was, yet he still didn't fit that easily. You slid down, slowly, taking in all of him. His cock sliding through your folds. "Oh...god" He choked out, throwing his head back as he did. You felt him hit your core, filling you in perfectly as you adjusted to his size. You grabbed his shoulders, slowly pumping in an out of him, each movement eliciting groans from him, You felt so perfect around him, he hadn't been touched in so long, and the way your walls wrapped around him was just ideal, his mind felt hazy, only thinking about fucking you. You increased your pace, filling him against your folds with every single pump. He whined with each thrust, a collection of desperate moans escaping his lips each time.

"What's wrong baby? Can't handle it?" You asked, pulling his hair so his eyes met yours.

"I can....fuck.....I can handle it" He said, out of breath as he looked at you.

You grabbed his shoulders, pushing yourself harder against him. He grabbed your waist, helping you steady as you found a perfect rhythm. Your moans syncing, each thrust leaving you two out of breath as he slid in and out of you, hitting that perfect spot everytime. "That's it baby, just like that" Your words made him whimper under you, as he fucked into you harder, feeling himself about to spill. With one deep groan you felt him filling you, his cock pulsating inside you. He was so overwhelmed, so overstimulated, gasping for air as he looked at you.

"Oh, but I'm not done with you yet." You said, digging your nails into his shoulders and pushing him down. "Just a little more, you can take a little more can't you baby?" You cupped his face with one of your hands, his eyes glistening.

"Y-yes, I can" He said, his mind hazy from how sensitive his cock was, from how tight your walls were against him.

"Such a good boy aren't you?"

You thrust yourself against him, each pump painfully wrapping around his over sensitive cock. He whined in pure desperation, not even able to hold you anymore, dropping his hands to his sides. "God..god I-" He gasped, unable to even form a coherent sentence by this point. You felt yourself about to spill just from how vulnerable he was being for you, your core tensing up as you felt that familiar feeling building inside you. His whines filled the room, his eyes stuck to yours, oscillating to your breasts from time to time. With one last thrust you collapsed into him, moaning and shivering as you fell into his arms.

You both took deep breaths, looking at each other and smiling. You got off him, kissing his forehead and putting his messy hair away from his face. "That...that was great baby" You said, still out of breath as you laid your interlocked his hands with yours. He looked at you silently, still hazy from all that you had given him.

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

This is my first time writing a sub!man and my second time writing smut in like 4 years, and I don't know I feel like i didn't do it that well so sorry if this doesn't live up to your expectations. English is not my first language and my brain is foggy and tired. Pleaseeee give me ideas and recommendations I'm willing to write anything you guys want but I'm strill trying to figure out how to put a requests button on my profile. Love you!!! (GIVE ME IDEAS NOW!!!111!!)

[rrysbabydoll]

Busy

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

CW: Explicit sexual content, dominant/submissive dynamics, spanking, power imbalance, emotional vulnerability, mild humiliation, tears, aftercare, consensual BDSM with soft limits.

Synopsis: Y/N gets bratty after Harry ignores her for a week.

You had a bad idea.

Not just any kind of bad idea, but the kind of bad idea that your sweet, sensitive self wouldn’t normally even think about acting on. Except… well, it had been a week.

A full, torturous week of Harry holed up in the studio, headphones half-off and hair a mess, obsessing over the final mixes of his album. He came home late. Ate silently. Fell into bed next to you smelling like vanilla and frustration. Every night, you’d curl into his side like a good girl, hoping he’d roll over, mouth at your shoulder and pull your panties down.

But every night?

Nothing.

So now, here you were, standing at the doorway of his at-home studio in your little sleep shirt, barely-there fabric, hem riding up every time you shifted your weight, sleeves falling past your knuckles, pouting so deeply your lip trembled. But not in the soft, sniffly way he was used to. No. You were being a brat.

"You're obsessed with that stupid album," you muttered, arms crossed.

Harry didn’t even flinch. He turned a knob and scribbled something on a notepad, his back to you.

You scoffed. “You're honestly being such an asshole.”

That did it.

His head turned, slowly. He looked over his shoulder, hair a little messy from running his hands through them over and over again.

“Come again?” His voice was low. Calm. But not amused.

You shifted on your feet, unsure now. This wasn’t your usual tone with him. You were the sweet one. The cry-easily one. The soft girl.

You swallowed. “Nothing.”

He leaned back in his chair and spread his thighs a little wider. His eyes dragged over you. “You’ve got about five seconds to come in here and say what you meant.”

You squirmed. Your plan hadn’t gone much further than this.

Still, your feet moved. You padded in, heart pounding. “I just meant… you haven’t touched me in days, Harry.”

He nodded, once. “I know, sweetheart. I’ve been busy.”

“That’s not fair,” you huffed, suddenly brave. “You always say that when you're working. What about me?”

He raised his eyebrows and didn’t blink. “What about you?”

You stared at him, the flush creeping up your neck. “I’m—I need you. But you don’t care.”

His jaw ticked. Slowly, he stood.

You watched him walk around the desk. He didn’t stop until he was in front of you, and still, his voice never rose.

“Let me get this straight,” he murmured. “You storm into my studio. In your little shirt. Acting like a brat. Talking back. All because I haven’t fucked you in a week?”

You bit your lip, nodding.

He tilted his head. “You think I don’t care about you because I’ve been finishing an album I’ve poured years into?”

That part stung. You didn’t mean it like that. You looked down.

“I didn’t mean—”

“No, baby. You did,” he said, quietly. “You meant it. You wanted to hurt me a little. Thought if you poked me hard enough, I’d snap.”

“I—”

“Be quiet.”

You closed your mouth.

He stepped closer, chest brushing yours. His hand found your jaw, not rough, but firm. His thumb pressed against your lower lip.

“You’re usually such a sweet thing,” he murmured. “What’s gotten into you, hmm?”

Your eyes welled up. Instinctively, you tilted toward him.

“I missed you,” you whispered.

“I know you did,” he said. “But that’s not how you tell me.”

“I’m sorry…”

He hummed. “You will be.”

Your stomach flipped.

He took your hand and walked you to the edge of the couch in the studio, small, low, the one he sat on between takes. He sat first, then pulled you over his lap, face-down, ass up. His hand ran gently down your back, toying with the hem of your shirt.

“I try so hard to be patient with you,” he murmured. “You’re usually so good for me. Sweet little thing. So why do you act like a brat when you know I’m barely holding it together?”

His hand smoothed over your ass once, then landed a sharp, open-palm slap that made your breath catch.

“Count for me.”

“O-One.”

Another. Firmer.

“Two.”

“You looked so pretty standing in that doorway,” he murmured. “So pretty, even when you’re being a little mean.”

Three. Four.

You gasped, hips twitching in his lap.

“Harry—”

“No talking,” he said gently. “Keep going.”

Five. Six. Seven.

Your voice trembled.

“Eight…”

By ten, your legs were shaking. You buried your face in your arm.

When he finally stopped, his hands smoothed over your warm skin. “That’s enough.”

You breathed in sharply, then again, like you were about to cry. But he gently moved you to stand between his legs.

“Take your shirt off.”

You blinked at him.

“I said take it off.”

You pulled the sleep shirt over your head, bare underneath, your nipples pebbled from a mix of cold air and nerves. He looked you over, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek.

“Get on the couch.”

You obeyed, knees sinking into the cushion.

“On your tummy.”

You froze.

You hesitated.

“I don’t want to,” you said softly. “I wanna look at you…”

His expression didn’t change. But his jaw clenched slightly. He moved closer.

“No.”

Your lip trembled. “But I just—”

“No,” he repeated. “You don’t get that tonight.”

You blinked fast. “Harry…”

“Get on your tummy.”

When you didn’t move right away, his voice came again, soft but unmistakably stern.

“Now.”

You turned, heart in your throat, and laid on your front. Your cheek pressed into the pillow, and tears began to slip down without permission.

He knelt behind you, strong hands parting your thighs. You whimpered, wanting, needing, his touch.

When he eased into you, slow and deep, you gasped sharply.

“You’ll take it,” he murmured. “You’ll take it and remember not to act out next time.”

You cried softly, face buried, hands curled in the pillow. Your hips twitched toward him, needy, even as your body quivered.

Halfway through, when you felt overwhelmed and aching and emotional, you reached behind blindly, searching for his hand.

He caught your wrist. Held it firmly.

“No touching.”

You sniffled. “I—I’m sorry…”

“I know,” he whispered. “But you still need to learn.”

You nodded into the pillow, crying quietly as he drove deeper, relentless but not cruel. You wanted to see his eyes, to see softness return, but he wouldn’t let you. He stayed behind you, keeping the space between you firm, no matter how much you squirmed.

When you came, it was with a sob in the pillow.

He pulled out slowly, breathing heavy, and tucked himself back into his sweats. The room fell quiet, save for your soft sniffles.

Then…

His hands—warm, wide, familiar—slid under your body. He lifted you gently and turned you over onto your back, then pulled you into his chest like you were made of glass.

His voice, finally, was soft again.

“Oh, baby…”

You curled into him immediately.

“I didn’t mean it,” you whispered, fists in his hoodie. “I missed you. I just—I don’t know what came over me—”

“I know, lovie. I know,” he whispered, kissing your temple over and over. “I shouldn’t have let it get this long. That’s on me.”

You clung to him, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin.

“I just wanted you to look at me,” you mumbled.

He pulled back, tilting your chin.

“I always look at you,” he murmured. “Always. Even when I’m tired. Even when I’m busy. You’re all I see, baby.”

You hiccuped.

“I didn’t like not touching you...”

“I didn’t like saying no,” he whispered. “But I had to. You needed to know you crossed a line.”

You nodded, eyes glassy.

“I was bad.”

“No,” he said firmly. “You’re never bad. Just a little bratty sometimes.”

You smiled through your tears.

He kissed your nose.

“You’re still my sweet girl.”

“Even when I make you mad?”

“I wasn’t mad,” he said. “Just… frustrated. And maybe a little hurt.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.”

He rocked you gently, murmuring against your hair.

“Let me take care of you now,” he whispered. “You were good in the end. So good for me.”

You nodded, already dozing off in his arms.

He reached for a blanket and tucked it over you, laying back into the couch and holding you like you were the only thing he needed in the world.

And really, you were.

[cookiewrites]

here's some rich scoups spoiling you thoughts i have been unable to get out of my head for the past months. the tl;dr of it all is that seungcheol is obsessed with spoiling his partner.

spoilt

wc: 1.0k

cw: rich!seungcheol x afab reader, mostly sfw but does mention penetrative and oral sex (reader reciving) a couple times, pet names for reader (baby, jagiya), little bit of praise kink. this has not been proofread.

seungcheol who loves when you spend his money. it starts simply, he makes sure he pays when you two eat out together. you try and protest it but he doesn't hear any of it, pulling out his card before you can even say anything about it - whether this is brunch or dinner.

seungcheol who uses this as an opening to start paying for things when you're at home too. ordering food in? use his card. doing some online shopping? put it on his account. you need new bedding? you both sleep in the bed, it's better to let him pay. he leaves a copy of his card around the apartment for you, putting it in your phone, making it even easier to use than your own, breaking down any excuse you have to use your own.

seungcheol who pays not as a method of control, but as a method of care. he knows you have your own money, and that you can afford to pay for things, you did it for all the years before he turned up. but he doesn't want you to worry about it any more, its part of how he looks after you. he explains this to you over and over, until you finally believe him, and put your own card hidden in the back of your purse for emergencies only.

seungcheol, who got so hard the first time you splurged on his card, that he had to bury himself in you. you came home with this beautiful necklace, rambling some apology about how expensive it was, and how you can return it if he wants, and all he can feel is his cock straining against the fabric at his jeans, seeing you finally feeling comfortable enough to let him pay for things.

"it looks so good jagiya, you look spoiled, that's exactly how i like you" he rambles as he kisses down your neck, putting a little mark right under where the chain sits. "lemme show you, baby, fuck..."

seungcheol who's favourite part of his day is coming home and seeing your haul from your day out, knowing he paid for all of it. you show him the trinkets you picked up for your shelves, and the new jumper you bought, and the earrings you bought already in your ears. the possessiveness he feels makes him feel a little dizzy, he treats you so well that you're showing it off. letting everyone else know how good he treats you.

seungcheol who gets whiney if you haven't bought anything in a while. he'll check his app and see you haven't spent anything in a bit and gets suspicious, knowing you've at least bought food in the last week, so why hasn't he paid? he'll bring it up to you, pouting, his lip sticking out. why would you hurt him like this?

seungcheol who'll use this as an excuse to pull up all the half filled baskets in your phone's browser and check them all out. he uses this as a threat, that if you aren't regularly treating yourself, that he'll do it for you. sometimes he'll just do it when you're cuddling. watching the tiktoks you're showing him, and then taking the phone out of your hands, to finish the purchases of a couple things, even as you try to stop him. there is no reason, to him at least, that you shouldn't have every single thing you want.

seungcheol who never uses the fact you buy yourself things as a reason to not buy you surprises as well. he uses the outgoings on his account to see what you're fixated on right now, and add on. is it blind boxes? he's bought you a full set. is it make up? he saw this palette he thought was cute. is it jewellery? you have a new ring to wear arriving tomorrow.

"it just reminded me of you!" he explains, pouting, as you question why he's bought you another gift. "it'll look so pretty on, baby, please? for me?" acting as if the gift for you, is actually a present for him.

seungcheol who literally gets off on spoiling you. he's finished in his pants several times as he ate you out, and you went on a shopping spree on his phone, telling him all the things you're buying. for him, this is exactly how things should be, you doing absolutely nothing, and getting completely spoilt anyway. all fucked out, and dressed up, getting anything you could possibly want.

"mmm baby you can give me another one" he groans against your thigh as you try to whine that it's too much, "i know you can baby, let me spoil you, yeah? yeah." he dives back in, losing himself in it, making you shake so much you can't even finish checking out - but he'll make sure to finish that for you later as well.

seungcheol who loves when you tell him how good he treats you, and how spoilt you are. it's a bit of a praise kink thing for him, but he just loves hearing how happy you are and how spoilt you feel. it makes his heart (and his cock) full. that's what this is about, making you feel even half of the love he holds for you.

"you're so good to me cheol" you groan, hands helplessly clawing at his back as he fills you up again. "f-fuck, so good to me, baby, no one treats me as well as you do." you ramble, letting him know just how good he is.

seungcheol who puts his black card in your mouth when you begin to complain that he is ruining your expensive lingerie, a very quick way to remind you that he can afford to buy you a new set a dozen times over - and sometimes he does it, just to prove the point.

seungcheol who's so proud when the guys point out how spoilt you are. if they even try and insinuate that it's a bad thing, he shuts it down immediately - reminding them that they'd be so lucky to even have someone to spoil. someone as special as you.

[totalswag]

farmers market ⎯ RAFE CAMERON!

authors note hii lovies! hope you are all doing great and had an amazing weekend. this idea came into mind one day and i needed to write it. feedback is always appreciated <3.

taglist ✎ ̼ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary attending the local farmers market as a family of four and bumping into family later on.

warning(s) none!

It was a glorious bright day in Kildare, with blue skies and a hint of clouds. Rafe turned the corner towards the parking lot, and the streets of downtown were already bustling with activity. There were white tents lined up in orderly rows, each filled with colorful fruit, homemade crafts, or fresh pastries. The scent of warm bread, freshly made coffee, and luscious peaches filled the air. A local band set up near the gazebo played slowly, while somewhere nearby, bees hummed gently amid flower vendors.

Whenever spring comes around, the local outdoor farmers market opens till the end of summer. Opened every saturday⎯8am to 12:30pm. Everybody attends and leaves with a smile on their face. Rafe and you started going together when you were pregnant with your first born, Hayes, who’s now four years old. 

You get out of the car, the air scented with honeysuckle and sunscreen, and walk around to the passenger side. With a faint creak, the back door opens, revealing your baby girl, five months old and just waking up from a car nap. Her eyes flutter, her cheeks full and rose-colored, and one small fist curls near her mouth. Her pink romper is somewhat bunched, and her soft headband has slid over one ear.

"Hi sweet girl, you look like you had a good nap," you say with a hint of laughter, and Paisley grins, kicking her little legs. 

Rafe and Hayes were unloading a two-seat stroller. Haye knelt down and gently helped Rafe unwind the stroller. "You're doing great, bud," he replies with a smile before high-fiving him. "I'm a big boy, daddy," Hayes smiles.

"All good?" he questioned. 

"Yep," you replied, brushing a crumb off Hayes' shirt. "Coffee first?"

"You know me too well."

First stop being coffee is a must⎯always. This coffee truck that always parked at the far end of the market⎯old but charming, with bright teal paint and string lights curling around the window. You ordered something different this time, a lavender honey cold brew with oat milk.

Your eyes expanded with the first sip, "babe, you need to try this!"

Rafe's brow furrowed with curiosity before leaning in and sipping through the straw, "Oh yeah," he murmured, "that's dangerous." He closed his eyes and pointed to your drink several times. 

You began laughing at his reaction⎯his facial expression showed his eyebrows raised as he looked at you⎯amazed and secretly wishing he got the same order. 

Hayes, now holding your hand, softly tugged. "Mama, can we get the fruit now?"

"You read my mind," you remarked, grasping his small fingers as the four of you moved down the row of produce tents.

Rafe walked beside you, gently pushing the stroller, while Paisley sat with her head slightly angled and a small fan attached to the cover. Her little feet kicked gently, and she looked up at Rafe with the cutest gummy smile.

He grins down at Paisley, kneeling as he walks, "You're already giving me that adorable smile, huh pretty girl," his soft kind tone melting your heart.

Hayes came to a halt in front of the tent that had captured his attention. You never let go of his little grasps as he guided you across the small space. 

Paisley’s cooing in the stroller as you walk. Rafe’s pushing her along the cobblestone path while you hold Hayes’ hand, guiding him through the crowd. Vendors are calling out deals on peaches and homemade jams, a guitarist strums a soft tune near the corner flower stand, and the whole market feels like a movie scene.

Stacked strawberries, blueberries, cherries, peaches, and other fruits. The veggies were on the opposite side: lettuce, tomatoes, and carrots. You wanted all of them to go home. Once Hayes and you had chosen your fruits, you pulled out some cash and presented it to the older gentleman.

You carried the bag over to Rafe and Paisley, kneeling on one knee, putting them at the bottom of the stroller. “Find everything you need?” Rafe softly asks, looking down into your eyes as you stood up, “oh yes we did.”

Paisley started squirming about in the stroller, suggesting that she wanted out. She began to fuss as you crouched down to unbuckle her. Her gestures made it little difficult as she sobbed, "I know princess, mommy is getting you out" you coo, raising her up and caressing her cheek⎯Paisley lets out a sigh of relief once she's in your arms.

You passed by small business tents next, admiring handmade soaps, macramé plant hangers, and soft baby clothes. There was one tent with toys that Rafe felt Hayes would like⎯he got two toy cars⎯and you helped in finding another toy Hayes might like, but once he makes his decision, he won't look back.

"Hayesy, do you like this dinosaur toy?" You asked, kneeling at his eye level. He turns around, exclaiming, placing his palm over his mouth, "it's so cool mommy," taking it in his small ones⎯Rafe and you exchange glances, knowing Hayes is debating whether or not to take it. 

He lets out a quiet sigh and hands you the dinosaur, saying, "It's okay, mommy, I have more at home," before taking a dinosaur position.

After walking around for some more, you bought a small floral bouquet⎯dahlias, sunflowers, and tiny white blossoms—and tucked them into the stroller’s basket. Lately, the house was missing new flowers and since the market has all you could ask for, you bought them. Rafe and Hayes got you your⎯aren’t they so cute.

So far, the morning has gone smoothly. The weather was pleasant, with intermittent chilly breezes. Hayes grew tired of strolling and sat in the front seat of the stroller. Paisley in your arms, safely facing forward⎯seeing what you see. She'd kick her legs out of nowhere and laugh out of nowhere. 

There was an open seating area under a tree. Rafe and you decided to have a quick snack and take a rest break before returning to the car. Hayes sat in the chair next to Rafe, eating his meal. Paisley sat on your lap, babbled, and looked around.

"Today has been good, don't you think?" Rafe asks: peering at Paisley, who is pulling herself toward him, seeking out for him to hold her. "Definitely a good day, and we got out of the house," you smile, kissing Hayes' top of head.

Hayes smiles and leans into you.

"Y/N, Rafe!" You hear your names shouted out by two recognizable voices.

Rafe frowns and turns his entire body around; Sarah and Wheezie walk over, Ward and Rose trailing behind them with smiles on their faces. Hayes looks at both of you, unclear, until he turns around to see his aunts heading your way. 

Hayes quickly puts his sandwich down and runs to the girls.

“Look at you bud” Wheezie chimes, softly nudging him, “getting all big on us.” 

Hayes puts both hands on his hips, “I’m a big boy, Auntie Wheezie!” A look of proudness at his age amazes you and Rafe. For the longest time, he couldn’t wait to be four. 

Ward and Rose walked in your direction⎯you bring Rose in for a warm hug then Ward. Both of you weren’t expecting to see each other here but it’s always good to run into family at the farmers market.

“Paisley, are you so happy to see your grandparents?” You happily ask her as if she can fully understand you but she can only beam with a loud squeal⎯forming her hands into a fist, extending her legs before kicking them with excitement.

Rose chuckled, “take that as a yes.”

You guys catched up for a bit before heading towards the parking lot⎯Hayes was having the time of his life with his aunties and Paisley fell asleep in Ward's arms. It was a perfect day.

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[himasgod]

Can you do 2nd year's where u stop giving them attention? 🩷

SECOND YEARS X READER

Where you suddenly stop giving them attention

FIRST YEARS HERE

How would the second years react if you suddenly stopped pampering them due to lack of sleep because of your studies?

Floyd was addicted to your attention.

Just like that. No sugarcoating.

He loved it when you looked for him, when you hugged him in public, when you called him “my baby” Because only you could do that without making him mad. Only you could calm his tide of emotions with a smile.

"Shriiimpy~ you're super cuddly today, I looove it."

He was happy. So happy he didn’t even try to hide it. He became calmer when you were around, more cheerful, less chaotic.

But when you stop showing up, when the “Floyd, come here” turns into “sorry, I have to go,” Floyd starts acting weird.

At first, he insists.

"Shrimpy! Are you ignoring me? Are you playing hide-and-seek without telling me? So boring!"

But when he realizes it’s not a game, that your eyes look dull, that you don’t even notice you’re pushing him away, something inside him churns. His smile fades. He stops going after you. He just watches you from afar.

And inside, he feels like a forgotten child.

Until one day, he gets fed up.

He corners you against your locker with his arms on either side of your head, his face more serious than ever.

"What’s wrong with you? You don’t love me anymore? You got bored? Did I piss you off?"

You don’t know what to say. You’re so tired you don’t even have the strength to lie. You just lower your head, murmuring a soft “sorry, I’m exhausted.”

And Floyd… goes still.

"You’re sad? You’re tired and didn’t tell me?"

He looks at you in silence for a second. Then wraps his arms around you tightly, hiding his face in your neck.

"I don’t care if you don’t hug me or look for me… but don’t disappear on me like that. Don’t leave me without you, Shrimpy."

And that day, Floyd doesn’t let go of you for a second. He carries you like a blanket and takes you to his room, lets you sleep against his chest like a plushie and sings you a song softly, no teasing, no sarcasm.

"Sleep. I’ll take care of you. Even if you don’t spoil me, I’ll spoil you now."

Jamil wasn't used to being the center of anyone's attention.

His whole life revolved around obeying, caring, and repressing. Emotions were dangerous. Affection… even more so.

So when you started doting on him—for real, without expecting anything in return—he refused to believe it.

Every touch of yours made him tense; every sweet word forced him to look away.

But he got used to it. Or rather, he allowed himself to depend on it a little. On you. On your silent attentions. On how you noticed when he was overwhelmed and simply held his hand without saying anything. On how you reminded him that he was valuable beyond his usefulness.

And then, one day, all of that stopped.

Without an explanation. Without a fight. Without an "I'm tired." Just… absence. Averted glances. "Sorry, I don't have time right now." Entire days without messages. And he, silent, swallowing his doubts.

"Did I dream it? Was it always a lie? Have they had enough of someone like me?"

He doesn't tell you. Jamil would never admit it. But he starts acting drier, more evasive. He avoids you so you don't notice how much it hurts. Until he sees you asleep with your head on your notes, your back hunched, and your breathing heavy with stress.

And in that instant, the anger collapses. All the accumulated venom turns to worry.

He approaches silently. He covers you with his jacket. He sighs deeply, as if crushed by the weight of something he can no longer contain.

"…You're not the only one who's tired of pretending everything is okay."

He wakes you gently, almost fearfully. When you open your eyes, you see something different in his: not anger, not reproach… but contained sadness.

"If you're exhausted, tell me. Don't leave me alone imagining that I no longer mean anything. Because you don't know how much it hurts when the only place where I felt free… disappears too."

That day, Jamil accompanies you to your room. He forces you to eat, to drink water, to sleep well. He doesn't ask you for anything in return.

But as he strokes your hair with trembling fingers, he whispers softly:

"This time, it's my turn to take care of you. But don't go away. Not again."

Kalim adores you. There's no other word. For him, your love is like the sun after a sandstorm, like a laugh in the midst of silence.

He's always been generous, always giving love without asking for it. But when you started pampering him, it was as if for the first time he received without needing to give. Your spontaneous kisses, your texts reminding him to drink water, your way of saying "I miss you" even though you'd only seen him two hours ago…

"It makes me so happy to know you're thinking of me!" he would always tell you, hugging you tightly.

So when that disappears, Kalim doesn't know what to do.

At first, he tries to cheer himself up. "I'm sure they're busy. Everything will be okay."

But as the days pass, uncertainty eats away at his smile.

He starts looking for you more insistently. Laughing louder. Proposing plans.

"Let's go carpet flying! We haven't been out in a long time!"

But you just tell him, “I'm sorry, Kalim, I can't today.”

And that day, when you walk away without looking him in the eye, something in his expression changes. His smile freezes.

He follows you with his eyes until you disappear into the hallways. Then he sits alone, in a corner of the garden, hands clasped together.

“Maybe… I did something wrong. Maybe I was too intense. Maybe… they don't love me like they used to.”

When he finally finds you asleep in the common room, exhausted and murmuring words in your sleep, his heart breaks.

“Oh… that's it. You're tired. You're so tired, and all I thought about was myself.”

He approaches carefully, tucks your hair behind your ear, and in a low voice, with that pure tenderness that characterizes him, he speaks to you even though he knows you're not listening:

“You don't need to be strong for me all the time. It's okay if you can't pamper me. I love you the same. I'll be here the same. Always."

That night, Kalim tucks you into the softest blanket he can find, leaves a cup of tea on the nightstand, and a note written in his big, cheerful handwriting:

“Don't miss me. Don't pressure yourself. Just rest. I'll be here when you wake up. I love you always, even when you can't show it.”

And yes. He keeps his promise. When you open your eyes, he's there, smiling brightly, holding your hand.

“Did you sleep well? It's my turn to take care of you today, okay?”

Riddle was so nervous at the beginning of the relationship that every gesture of affection from you left him silent, blushing, confused. But over time, he began to crave your attention as if it were afternoon tea: part of his routine, a sacred ritual.

You organizing his schedule, reminding him to rest, kissing his forehead when his headache ached—it was your way of caring for him, and he accepted it like a blessing.

But when that disappears, Riddle panics.

He doesn't show it right away, of course. He denies what he feels.

"Theyre probably busy. I shouldn't bother them. I shouldn't show weakness…"

Until anxiety consumes him. Until he accidentally explodes.

"You didn't reply to the text I sent you three days ago! Did I do something wrong?! Why are you ignoring me?!"

And when you turn around, your eyes tired, unable to even stand completely, Riddle feels his heart sink.

"Oh… you're… you're exhausted…"

He sees you trembling. He sees the dark circles under your eyes. He sees you like a castle about to collapse.

Then he takes a step back, swallowing. He lowers his gaze. He approaches calmly and takes your hand, his tone infinitely softer.

"Forgive me. I didn't know how to see it. You don't need to explain anything to me. Just… come with me."

He takes you to his room. He changes his schedule. He suspends his studies. He makes tea. And when he sees you asleep, tangled in his blanket, he closes his eyes with guilt and tenderness.

"You taught me to be loved… now it's my turn to learn to care for you as you deserve."

And that night, Riddle Rosehearts doesn't sleep. He stays by your side, watching over your sleep, like someone tending a beautiful garden that has flourished even in the harshest spring.

Jade is a man of subtleties. Of long silences, gentle smiles, and eyes that observe more than they say. When you started pampering him, at first he thought you were just playing around… but over time, he understood that your attentions were sincere. You made small braids in his hair when he rested with you, brought him new herbal teas to try, told him how much his presence calmed you.

And he, silently, became addicted to it.

Not because he needed it—or so he wanted to believe—but because it made him feel human, and not just another servant of his brother's capricious emotions or a mere executor of orders.

So when that warmth disappears overnight, when you stop texting him, stopping by the lounge, touching his hand for no reason… Jade doesn't say anything. He doesn't pressure you. He just observes.

But behind that apparent serenity, a restlessness begins to grow in his chest.

Until one day, when he notices you in the greenhouse, half asleep, lying on a flowerpot, your face covered in dirt and your hands trembling, he approaches silently. He doesn't say "I missed you," he doesn't complain.

He just crouches down beside you and begins to wipe the mud off your fingers with a white handkerchief.

"I was wondering… if plants also stop blooming if their gardeners forget themselves."

And then, without warning, he looks into your eyes, very close.

"I don't need your touch to be with you. But I can't bear to see you like this… as if you'd vanished without realizing it."

He helps you to your feet. He leads you to his room. He makes lavender tea. And that night, he sits beside you, silent, gently touching your hand, as if afraid of breaking you.

"When you're ready, I will once again receive each of your caresses with gratitude… but for now, allow me to take care of you."

Azul is used to transactions. To giving in order to receive. To measuring affection in terms of utility and results. But you… you broke his logic from day one. You gave him attention and affection, without conditions. You hugged him when he frowned. You defended him when others saw him as just another merchant.

And Azul, for the first time, didn't know what to give in return. He felt awkward. Exposed. But happy.

"Are you sure you don't want anything? Not even a symbolic contract…?"

And yet, every time you looked at him with genuine love, his insecurities faded a little. Your affection transformed him.

So when you stop pursuing him, when your messages dry up and your visits to the Monstro Lounge cease, his first reaction is to panic.

"Did I say something wrong? Is she angry with me? Did she regret it?"

He starts replaying conversations, looking for signs. He locks himself in his office, checks his magic mirror to see you from afar (blame it on jealousy, blame it on anxiety), and what he sees isn't contempt… it's exhaustion.

He watches you drag yourself between classes. Fall asleep over your notes. Walk like a ghost.

And something in him snaps.

The next day, a note arrives, delicately folded.

"Come by the Lounge this afternoon. I've reserved the place just for us. It's not a formal date. I just want to see you."

When you arrive, Azul is waiting for you with a warm cup of your favorite beverage and a blanket draped over the shoulders of the most comfortable chair. He invites you to sit. He doesn't try to talk business, or magic, or anything. He just watches you, with unusual calm.

"I don't need your daily flattery to know you appreciate me. But if you're losing yourself, then I… I can't stay still."

His voice trembles a little. Azul isn't good at showing vulnerability. But he tries.

"You gave me more than I ever expected to receive. Let me give you back at least a part of it."

And that night, there are no contracts. No exchanges. Just Azul holding your hand as you sleep on his couch, a barely audible whisper in the air:

"Please… don't disappear again. You don't know how much I need you."

Ruggie never considered himself someone worthy of much luxury or attention. He comes from what's fair, what's scarce. He’s used to giving more than he receives. But when you came into his life and started spoiling him —with food, sweet words, casual affection— at first, he got defensive.

"What’s up with you? Are you bribing me or what?"

But then… he got used to it. And without realizing it, he became addicted to it. To the way you looked at him like he was special. To how you remembered the things he liked. To how you hugged him for no reason and called him “my boy”

So, when all of that stops suddenly, Ruggie doesn’t take it well. And he doesn’t express it with sadness, but with forced humor.

"Hey, did you replace me or what? 'Cause you don’t even throw a “hi” my way anymore. I feel like a forgotten veggie in the fridge."

He says it with a lopsided smile, like it’s a joke, but his hyena ears are drooping. His laugh sounds weak. He’s hurt, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

When he finally sees you collapse in the cafeteria, your head buried in your arms, not even touching the food given to you, something changes. He doesn’t joke anymore. He pulls you out of the place without asking, takes you behind the kitchen, puts a bun in your hand, and makes you eat.

"You know I don’t mind if you don’t pay attention to me… but this isn’t okay. You can’t keep going like this. I don’t want to see you falling apart from trying to carry everything alone."

And when you look at him, for the first time in days, with eyes glassy from guilt and exhaustion, he sighs.

"Dummy. You got me used to your affection and now you take it away. That’s not fair, is it?"

But he hugs you, without resentment, with the tenderness he keeps only for you. And that night, without you asking, he cooks your favorite dish and sits down to eat with you, talking nonsense until you laugh.

"Come on, boss. You spoil me, but now it’s my turn to take care of you, okay?"

Silver isn't a demanding person. His calm, almost ethereal nature makes him seem as if he's above common emotional needs. But since you've been with him, there's something that keeps him more awake, more grounded in the world. Your attentions, however small—a hand on his cheek, a loving whisper before he falls asleep, a smile when his eyes close—are what remind him that there's someone who chooses him every day, even when he's lost in his dreams.

That's why, when you start to distance yourself, he notices… even though he doesn't say anything.

At first, he thinks maybe he's imagining it. That he shouldn't be selfish. That you have your own problems too. But the days go by, and your greetings become automatic, your hugs are absent, and you're no longer there to wake him with affection when he falls asleep in the garden. And Silver begins to dream uneasy things. Dreams where he searches for you and can't find you. Where his world is silent and empty.

One afternoon, as you watch him from afar, he pauses, approaches with a serious look—serious, not angry—and offers you his hand.

"Come. I want to show you something."

He takes you to a corner of the forest where the sun's rays filter through the trees and the sound of water gently flows. There he sits with you, and for a moment he says nothing. He just listens. He watches the dark circles under your eyes form. How your shoulders slump with exhaustion.

"You always take care of me. You're always there for me, even when I can't stay awake myself. So now I want you to rest."

He takes off his coat and places it around your shoulders. Then he sits beside you, lets you rest your head on his chest, and closes your eyes.

"I don't need you to pamper me all the time. Just for you to be well. That's all I want."

And when you finally allow yourself to let out the silent cry, he doesn't move. He doesn't speak again. He just holds you. Like you did so many times.

[requiemdesreves]

Do you need me to, love?

Part 1 word count: 1.5k a/n: tbh this is just me being horny, not really about the plot 😞 I’m a woman with needs ok?? I swear I’ll be normal again once I stop ovulating

“Turn them over,” Caitlyn says in a pleading tone that makes you laugh. “It’s not funny, my love, I’m serious.”

My love. You don’t remember when she started calling you that, but it melts you every time she does. Those two words are all Caitlyn needs to break you down because they’re real. You are her love, the owner of her kisses and caresses, the one she looks for when she feels like she can’t go on.

“Caitlyn Kiramman, I’m not going to turn over every single one of my stuffed animals so they don’t catch us kissing,” you reply with a laugh, not seeing the point in her request.

You’re both in your room; Caitlyn came to visit you secretly-or not so secretly. A few days earlier, she had written to your parents, formally inviting them to tea with her family, using the excuse that both families should join forces in these uncertain times for the city’s progress, making it clear she’d be spending time with you while they were away. That’s one of the things you love most about her: even though your love is a secret, she never fails to do things the right way, insisting you deserve to be courted, even if no one else sees it that way.

“Well, then I won’t kiss you,” she says, crossing her arms, her stubborn streak showing.

“Then don’t kiss me,” you mimic her, crossing your arms and turning your back to her. Caitlyn can be stubborn, but you’re a brat, and you’re not going to let her win.

You hold your head high and, for a moment, you hesitate. You wonder if she’ll play along, if she’ll get tired and leave you alone, but before you give up and turn around to look at her, you feel her hands on your waist, her chest pressed against your back, and her lips on your shoulders.

“Are we really going to argue over this, my love?” she whispers as she kisses you, one hand sliding up your top, kneading and squeezing one of your tits over your bra. You didn’t know she was coming to see you-not until just minutes before your parents left. She didn’t give you time to get ready, knocking on your door right after seeing your mom and dad leave. So you’re wearing a comfortable pajama set: a thin-strapped tank top with a heart print and matching shorts. Caitlyn bites you gently, then soothes the spot with her tongue. You can feel her smile on your skin, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine.

“You’re asking me for something that makes no sense,” you try to keep up the fight, but the way her fingers slip under your bra and tease your nipple won’t let you. You feel yourself swell immediately and sigh. “They’re stuffed animals, they can’t see us.”

“Of course they can,” she insists, now kissing your neck. Her lips stop at your ear, and she whispers in a way that makes your panties damp. “But let’s drop that, okay? I haven’t seen you in weeks, and I don’t want to spend the few hours we have left arguing with you.”

You don’t respond, letting her touch you, kiss you, do whatever she wants with you. Without breaking contact, she leads you to your vanity. Her reflection appears in the mirror, a large one, decorated with golden edges and a small lipstick stain you left while putting on makeup a few days ago.

“Look at you. You’re so beautiful.” Her words weaken you, but what really does it is when she slips her hands under your shorts and straight into your underwear. She’s not joking, not teasing. Not today. Her middle finger slowly strokes your clit, and you roll your eyes, grabbing her arm and digging your nails in hard. You catch a glimpse of a small wince in her reflection, but she doesn’t complain.

“Caitlyn,” you whisper, trying to find the strength to speak as you feel her finger moving faster. “We’re literally two steps from the bed, why here?”

Caitlyn laughs softly, looking at you, not through the mirror, but at you. At the sweat starting to form on your forehead, at the way your face tightens as you try not to make too much noise. “I want you to see yourself, princess. You look so good like this, it’d be a shame not to share the view. Even if it’s just with you.” As she speaks, she pushes two fingers deep inside you.

Saying you moan is an understatement. You tremble, writhe, and become nothing under her touch. You can’t help but grind against her fingers, craving more of that pleasure only she can give.

“Baby… please,” you beg without even knowing why. You don’t know what you want, but you don’t want her to stop.

She soothes you mockingly, the hand that was on your breasts now moving to your back, gently pushing you until the upper part of your body rests on the vanity. You’re face down, ass up. Just the way she likes it. Her fingers pause, pulling away from you to clean them with her mouth without breaking eye contact. The heat in your abdomen intensifies. You need her in a raw, carnal way. You try to say something, move, or complain, but she won’t let you, speaking before you can:

“You don’t know how hard it is to be away from you, my princess.” Her voice is hoarse, needy. You can see she’s trying to keep it together, but it’s tough. “It hurts how much I need you. Do you need me too, love?”

You nod, unable to form coherent words, much less a sentence. Humiliating. Truly humiliating. From the position she’s got you in, to the effect it has on your mind, on your whole being.

“How about we go to the bed where we’re both comfortable?” Her hands caress your ass gently, speaking to you and looking at you as if you were the most fragile, delicate thing in the world. “I know you’ll turn the stuffed animals around like I asked.”

You laugh at her words, really laugh, in a teasing way that annoys her. You might be a horny little thing who wets her panties at the slightest touch, who squeezes her thighs just from the scent of her perfume, but you never lose your arguments. Never.

“I already told you I’m not going to do it.”

And you didn’t.

Caitlyn scolds you for it while her lips wrap around your clit, sucking in a way that makes your eyes roll back. You don’t know if it’s because she’s irritated or because she hasn’t seen you in a while, but the way she eats you out makes you feel so good. She licks your pussy with such passion that you wonder if she’s doing it for you or for herself. Her words get lost in your folds. A perfect mix of praise and reproach. And her fingers, oh her fingers. They pump in and out of you, making you lift your hips, craving more.

Your hands grip her hair, pushing it away from her face and guiding her where you need her. You pull her away when you feel your orgasm coming, not wanting to come on her face, but she growls and dives back between your legs, licking you like she’s starving, desperate.

“Don’t hold back, love, come for me. Don’t worry about me.” Caitlyn coos you, her free hand intertwined with yours. You squeeze it tight as the orgasm washes over your body, your thighs clamping down on her, but Caitlyn doesn’t mind and keeps licking. You hear her moan between your legs and notice how she grinds against the mattress, trying to calm her own arousal.

“Come here,” you call softly, barely audible, but she hears and obeys.

Without hesitation, Caitlyn spreads your legs wider, throwing one over you. She stays like that for a few seconds before letting her weight fall on you, and when she does, you feel like you could die right then and there, and if you did, you’d die happy.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” Her movements are slow, deliberate. You just had an orgasm, and no matter how desperate she is, Caitlyn doesn’t want to hurt you or make you uncomfortable. She picks up the pace when she hears the moans escaping your mouth, mixed with sweet words and her name over and over.

You were a mess. Both of you were. The room is filled with obscene sounds, the scent of sex, and the proof of a passion that feels eternal. It didn’t take long for Caitlyn to come, and for you to reach a second orgasm.

She collapses beside you, her breathing ragged, just like yours. Without saying a word, she curls up against your chest, running a hand along your waist and pulling you close. You’re both sweaty, sticky, and you hate sweat. Yours, anyone’s, but not hers. Not when it’s proof of the love you share.

“I missed you,” she whispers, and your hand travels to her neck. “I mean it. I’m not happy when you’re away.”

You smile, snuggling closer, seeking the warmth of her body. “I missed you too. A lot.”

Neither of you says anything else. You just stay wrapped up in the comfort the other provides. You’re sticky, sweaty, and exhausted. So exhausted that neither of you hears your mother’s shrill voice announcing she’s home.

Uh-oh...

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[ochacoca]

MY GOOD-LOOKING BOY

now playing ♫ good looking by suki waterhouse

IN WHICH you take care of your boyfriend who turns into an absolute toddler when he's ill.

wordcount: 753 words + text messages

timeskip!oikawa x reader

You knew that the minute Oikawa started complaining about his sore throat that it was over. You could officially say goodbye to your freedom. All of your weekend plans had to be canceled so you can take care of your fully grown boyfriend who has transformed into a helpless, miserable baby.

And of course if he went down, you had to go down too. ‘We're a package deal’ He would say. What an excuse.

When you walked into the house you were met with the sound of groaning and the sight of Tōru looking extremely pale with a mix of green with a reddened nose. He looked like Rudolph. “Help me.” He said dramatically reaching out to you as if he was about to take his final breath, his voice filled with congestion and two octaves lower than his usual tone.

You barely had time to set down the plastic bag from the counter before he crashed onto you with a grunting sound. He loosely wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder. “Why did you get out of bed?” You asked as you leaned back slightly, pressing your hand on his forehead to check his temperature. Still burning hot.

“You were taking too long.” He mumbled, leaning his body impossibly furthur onto yours. You sighed and grabbed his arm, slowly guiding him upstairs to his bedroom.

“I thought you were never coming.” He muttered under his breath, speaking so lowly because of his sore throat. You couldn't help but laugh at him.

“I only took for 20 minutes.” You reasoned, struggling to keep him up as he leaned onto you with all of his deadweight.

“20 minutes too long.”

Once you arrived, he plopped down on the bed and stretched his limbs everywhere, taking every blanket his could find and stacking them ontop of him.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, already knowing the answer. You brushed his bangs back on his sweaty forehead, slightly pouting at your boyfriend's sicken state.

He grumbled and turned over on his bed, wrapping his arms around himself. “I think I'm dying.” He croaked out.

You scoffed and playfully rolled your eyes. “Quit being so dramatic, youre not dying.” You said as you fixed his position on the bed. “You have a fever.”

“Google told me I have 3 days.”

You jaw slightly dropped. “You trust google more than your pre-med partner?”

“Yes.”

“Tōru!”

“I'm SCARED.”

You tried to fight off the smile the made its way onto your face but you couldn't help it. He could be so annoying when he was sick, but he could be so adorable as well.

You grabbed the medicine and the water you bought from the store. Pouring some pills into your hand, you handed it to him and unscrewed the water cap for him. He reluctantly took the medicine then laid back on the bed after it went down. You placed a wet cloth on his forehead in hopes it'll settle his fever before the medicine kicks in. “Now rest. You really do look like you’re dying.”

He grumbled in response but did as he was told. He was fading out quickly. His eyelids were threatening to shut as he forced himself to keep them open and his cheeks were flushed pink from the fever. Tōru grabbed your hand and held it tightly against his chest.

“I love you so much,” He said drowsily. His eyelids were drooping and he seemed as if he was fading in and out of sleep. “The love of my life. My future nurse. My guardian angel.”

You shook your head and gave a short laugh. “You're just saying that cause I'm taking care of you.”

“Maybe,” He mumbled. “but it's still the truth.” He shut his eyes and stuffed himself further in his blankets.

You continued to sit on the edge of the bed, slightly pressing your body against his. Your hand found its way to his hair, brushing the brown locks back while your hand lingered for a seconds longer than it should've.

“My good looking boy.” You whispered softly as you gently played with his hair. “Still cute even when you're sick.”

A small smile etched its way onto his face. “Especially when I'm sick.” He mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

You laughed then pressed a kiss onto his fevered temple.

“Yeah. Especially then.”

requested by @miiikooooooo !

©OCHACOCA 2025 | please do not copy, translate, or repost my work onto other platforms!

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

fool for you teaser

fratboy!Johnny x f!reader

summary: Johnny has decided that enough is enough! He can’t stop thinking about you and he needs to do something about it! Well… it’s so much easier said than done

teaser word count: 586

expected fic word count: ~4k

release date: Saturday, May 10 at 5pm PDT

warnings: profanity

a/n: fic will be centered around our new and beloved, fratboy!Johnny universe and will chronologically follow after this post! taglist will be closing Friday afternoon at 5pm PDT, please comment/send me an ask/reblog even if you'd like to be added

divider creds to roseraris <3

His classes have already finished for the day, but he finds himself making the familiar walk across campus toward the humanities building. The sky is warm and the sun feels nice on his skin as he strolls and swipes through his phone. In the blink of an eye his phone is falling to the floor as his body collides with another. 

“Oh shoot, I am so sorry,” he hears the other person say. Not just any other person, you. He gulps, falling to his knees beside you as you gather all your papers and books back into a neat pile. He can hear your nervous rambling, “I’m really sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going. I’m just running late on my way to the library and- Johnny? What are you doing on this side of campus?”

Johnny isn’t even thinking of a response because while he was listening to you speak, he wasn't listening to what you were saying. His brain was too busy memorizing the timbre and tone of your voice to focus on any words. It takes his brain a whole minute to process your question all while he stares at you blankly. He clears his throat, right, what was he doing over here, “I… the… I like that bathrooms over here…” What the hell, John?! The bathrooms?!

You giggle softly, “the bathrooms? Surely, the engineering building would have the nicest bathrooms since that building is the newest.”

Oh. You actually bought that flimsy excuse. He coughs softly, “are you… are you doing anything right now?” Wait a second, did your fingers just brush against his? Why was a simple brush of your fingers against making his heart race? What the heck was up with him?

“Yeah, actually, I’m on my way to another tutoring session,” you answer as you pile all your things into your arms before standing. 

Johnny stands up slowly, looking down at you as his eyes trace over every small detail on your face, every curve and every edge. His eyes drag over the curve of your lips, the lashes that line your eyes, and the way your cheeks round as you smile up at him. He blinks slowly, once, twice… what was it about you that made him act like such a fool? Why didn’t his brain work how it was supposed to around you? “Right,” he shakes his head with a smile, “of course. I’m sorry for making you later.”

Your brows furrow just slightly before you smile up at him in such a sweet way that he might just feel his pupils turning into hearts. Your hand comes up to squeeze his forearm. Great, now he’s a puddle from a simple squeeze of your hand. “You get this really faraway look in your eye when you look at me. We’ll have to talk about that next time we see each other,” you tell him in the sweetest voice he’s ever heard before hustling away like you always do. 

He doesn’t even care if you see him if you choose to turn away, but he hunches over, one hand griping his t-shirt as he tries to catch his breath. Fuck, this was the best feeling in the world, being around you, looking at you, talking to you. And was it just his imagination or did you hand actually linger when you squeezed his arm? 

His train of thought is interrupted when someone coughs, “dude, are you having an asthma attack or something?”

“Something better,” Johnny breathes out.

( @severeanxietyissues I’m adding you to the taglist FIRST bc we all owe you for Johnny and Bee🙇🏻‍♀️)

[neeeooon]

Hii!! I was recently reading the "when your lazy" and I was wondering if you could do one where their overly energetic like shidou?

❤️🫶

yes! here’s the lazy post (cause it’s been a while..) i decided to use the same characters so i hope you don’t mind!

when you’re overly energetic

bf bllk x gn!reader who is shidou-like. crack, slightly suggestive (it’s shidou..). pray for them x

itoshi sae

-> oh you just know he’s sick of your ass

-> but he loves you so much. even when you sleep on top of him, sprawled and snoring like a middle-aged dad. even when you pinch his ass in public. even when you bite and lick him when you’re bored

-> “y/n,” sae says, tired, when you excitedly reveal your newest purchase. “what do you think? do you love it?!” it’s a shower curtain. with his face printed on it. “how… do i even wanna ask how much that cost you?” “nope 😋”

itoshi rin

-> he has designated hiding spots around the house for when you get overly energetic

-> he’s in the bathroom one day when you slam the door open and make him drop his phone in surprise. “honeyyy, guess who’s back from the stooore!!”

-> just sit there in defeat with his head in his hands as you hop onto the counter and tell him about your day, as if this is the most normal couples activity

-> though, at the end of the day, there isn’t anything he can do about your quirks but accept them. he makes sure to lock the door after that encounter, though

mikage reo

-> he loves when you get energetic and excited around him. in his head, that just means you’ve accepted him and believe he matches your freak

-> you do test him sometimes, though. like when you put your smutty audiobooks on while driving and roll your windows down at red lights. he’d think it’s hilarious if he wasn’t sitting in your passenger’s seat and accidentally making eye contact with every other driver who has their window down

-> “we should try that at home!” you announce loudly right before the light turns green, and reo can’t help but cackle as you speed away like the police are chasing you. at least life is never boring with someone like you

barou shoei

-> “y/n.” “i wanna taste you.” “i asked if this shirt looks good.” “i know.” “…”

-> cannot take you ANYWHERE. you love causing scenes and being loud and asking him the most inappropriate questions to watch his cheeks get pink

-> he’s checking out at the counter while buying alcohol, which requires an id check, when you drop 1 and 7 candles on the belt. “for my birthday party! love you, baby!”

-> you are not seventeen. the cashier doesn’t know that. barou just rubs his forehead and flashes a photocopy of your license (because he always has to be prepared when leaving the house with you) to the worker before he can call the police. “excuse them.”

kunigami rensuke

-> he’s cautious and watching your surroundings to make sure you don’t accidentally hurt yourself (or someone else) when you’re being overly energetic

-> “can you toss me like a pancake when we get home?” chokes on his water and looks around to make sure no one else heard you. “huh?” “it seems like it’d be fun! then we can build a pillow fort on the bed and you can throw me at it like an angry bird.”

-> he isn’t quite sure what to say to that, but you look so serious and excited about your request, so he smiles. “sure. we can play angry birds when we get home.” “yes!”

oliver aiku

-> absolutely LOVES your energetic side

-> you wanna stay up all night, hyped on monsters? he’s chugging them beside you. want to climb him like a tree? oliver treats it as an exercise warm up

-> loves when you say shit out of pocket. “i wanna be inside you..” and he’ll just grin at you and kiss your face and be like “mm okay, cutie.”

[quillcraftconquer]

TW: Pure smut

Captain Price’s cock drives into you again, the stainless steel table he has you propped up on scooting backwards another inch. Your body slides with it, disconnecting him just an inch to where he isn't seated full inside of you.

His hands immediately grab your hips, pulling you back down. Your skin squeaks against the metal, your fingers curling around the edge in an attempt to ground yourself.

"No runnin'," he muttered, lining himself up again. "You're takin' every fuckin' inch."

He thrust forward again, so deep you swore you could feel him inside your stomach. Before you had time to gasp, he was already dipping his head down, tongue slipping inside your mouth and swallowing whatever desperate sound you were going to make. His beard was still wet from being in between your thighs, the taste of you on him making your toes curl. You arched your back up to him, and his hands slid to the small of your back, changing his thrust to an angle that had you seeing stars.

"You wanted this," he hissed through gritted teeth, "Didn’t you, love? Thought I wouldn't notice?"

Fuck, you did want this. You’d brush up on him, bending to pick up supplies, or smear a little sauce on his lip when you made the men taste what you cooked. 

You just didn't think he’d act on it. 

It was supposed to just be some light teasing, banter.

You never thought you'd be bent over your own kitchen counter, ruthlessly fucked by him.

“I’m- I’m sorry.” You cried out, tears pricking your eyes from the overwhelming feeling.

His head dipped down again, lips gently brushing alongside the shell of your ear. His thrusts slowed for a moment, antagonizigly so.

“You’re not sorry yet, love.”

Captain Price pulled out slowly, your arousal glistening on his cock. He turned you over with a surprising gentleness, your feet landing on the top of his boots as he slid back into you. 

"Good girl," he purred, "Doing so fuckin' good for me, love. So perfect."

His hand clasped the back of your neck, holding you down as he continued to fuck you. One hand came down on your ass, the sharp sting flushing your skin.

"Look at you," he growled between long, filthy strokes. "So ready. Bet you’ve been drippin' for me all day, haven’t you, love?"

Each thrust knocked the breath out of you, Price's hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise and dragging you back to meet every brutal drive of his cock.

Teeth sank into your shoulder blade, causing you to jolt forward in surprise. 

"Say it," he snarled against your skin. "Tell me who fuckin' owns you."

“You do.” You moaned.

“Again. Say my name.”

“Fuck- You do, John.”

He groaned and slammed into you harder, driving you up the table with every thrust.

Your orgasm hit, knees buckling as Price’s hand caught you, holding you against the table for him as he fucked you through it.

Price cursed, grinding deep inside you, hips jerking as he came with his forehead pressed against the middle of your back.

He pulled out slowly, a soft, almost pained sound catching in his throat at the loss of you. His hands skimmed down your sides, soothing touches that chased away the last tremors of aftershock.

"You alright, love?" he murmured.

You nodded weakly, unable to find your voice yet. 

He pressed a kiss into your hair, murmuring against your scalp:

"Did so fuckin' good for me, sweetheart. So perfect."

[carelesslycrafted]

domestic lover!ellie

cw: smut/fluff

The Jackson evening was still and warm, moonlight spilling through the open windows of your cabin. You’d both skipped dinner at the mess hall, claiming patrol fatigue—but really, neither of you had wanted to be around other people. Not tonight.

You were stretched across your bed, flipping lazily through an old guitar magazine Ellie had brought by earlier, wearing nothing but an oversized band tee and underwear. The smell of pine and smoke still lingered on your skin from the day’s ride, and the way Ellie was looking at you from across the room was doing things to you.

She was sitting on the edge of the chair, strumming her guitar aimlessly, watching you over the body of it. Her eyes flicked down your legs, slowly—lingering at the way the shirt rode up your thighs. You smirked.

“You gonna keep staring or play me something?”

Ellie set the guitar aside without a word.

“I’d rather do something else.”

Your pulse skipped. She crossed the room in three strides and hovered over you, her knee pressing into the mattress as her hand found your thigh.

You sat up a little, grinning. “What’s gotten into you?”

Her mouth brushed your jaw, then your neck, voice low and gravelly.

“You’ve been teasing me all week. Thought it was my turn.”

You shivered as her fingers toyed with the edge of your underwear. You could smell her—leather, sweat, the faint scent of her soap. Everything about her made your body ache.

“Ellie…”

You didn’t even finish saying her name before she kissed you—deep and slow and confident, her body pressing you back into the mattress. Her hands slid under your shirt, palms hot against your waist as her mouth moved to your throat.

Every touch was deliberate. A slow build. She knew exactly what she was doing.

You moaned softly as her hand dipped lower, slipping between your thighs. She smirked against your skin.

“You’re already wet?” she whispered. “Damn, baby.”

You gasped as her fingers found your sweet spot, her mouth moving down to your chest, teeth grazing over your nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt.

You reached down, fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer. “Ellie, please…”

That snapped something in her. The shirt came off. Hers too. You tangled together like you’d done a hundred times before, but it always felt new—hot and breathless and full of fire.

The cabin was filled with the sounds of skin against skin, your breathy moans, her rough whispers in your ear—how good you were, how beautiful you looked, how she loved the way you said her name when you came undone.

She didn’t stop until your thighs were trembling, until you were whining her name like a prayer.

When you finally collapsed against her chest, sticky and breathless, she kissed the top of your head and pulled the blanket over both of you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

You smiled into her skin. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not done with you either.”

And the night wasn’t over.

You weren’t sure what woke you first—the warm sunlight pouring in through the curtains, or the steady, slow circles Ellie was tracing on your bare back with her fingertips.

She was lying on her side, tangled in the sheets with you, one leg draped over yours, her face buried partly in your hair. Her touch was lazy, absentminded, but grounding. You hummed, sleep-heavy and aching in the best way.

“Good morning,” you mumbled against her chest.

She chuckled softly, voice husky. “It is now.”

You tilted your head to look at her. Her hair was a mess, eyes still half-lidded, freckles standing out in the soft light. She looked beautiful—wild and spent and smug.

“Your hands are cold,” you murmured.

“Liar.” Her hand slid a little lower, dangerously close to starting something all over again. “You just want an excuse to press up against me.”

“Do I need one?” You shifted deliberately, straddling her thigh under the covers. Ellie groaned, head tipping back.

“Shit, babe. You’re gonna kill me.”

“You survived last night,” you whispered, lips brushing hers. “Barely.”

She kissed you again, slower this time—sleepy and warm and filled with that quiet thing that had bloomed between you over time. That thing you were both afraid to name.

Eventually, the hunger in your stomach was louder than the heat curling between your legs again, and you reluctantly rolled off her.

Ellie tugged you back playfully. “Where you goin’?”

“Shower. Then breakfast. We both smell like sex and sweat.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she said with a smirk, but she sat up anyway, rubbing the back of her neck. The morning sun spilled across her bare back, catching in her tattoo.

You watched her stretch, heart full. “You staying after breakfast?”

“I was thinking I’d cook it.” She stood, butt-naked and completely unbothered, sauntering to the kitchen to raid your pantry.

“You don’t even know where anything is!” you called.

“Then come show me,” she shouted back.

So you did—wrapped in just a towel, still dazed from the night before, watching her fumble through cabinets and pretend she had it under control.

Ellie in your kitchen was something different. She looked domestic, barefoot and still flushed from sleep, cooking eggs while humming under her breath. She wore one of your shirts, her own nowhere to be seen, and it swallowed her shoulders in a way that made your stomach twist.

You slid your arms around her from behind, resting your chin on her shoulder. “You’re kinda hot when you’re pretending to be useful.”

“Excuse you, I am incredibly useful,” she said, flipping a lopsided pancake like it was proof. “I made you come three times last night. That buys me at least a week of no chores.”

You laughed into her neck. “Okay, fair.”

She turned in your arms, hands on your hips, and kissed you again—soft, slow, and real. Her eyes searched yours for something unspoken.

“You know,” she murmured, “you could ask me to stay more often.”

You bit your lip, voice suddenly smaller. “Would you say yes?”

Ellie tucked your hair behind your ear. “Yeah. Every time.”

You kissed her, then again, and didn’t stop until the eggs were cold, and the pancakes were burnt, and it was well past noon.

[thirteenheavens]

Vernon coming home after tour extremely tired just wanting to cuddle but also horny so you ride him and he falls asleep mid fuck

Did you fall asleep?|| Chwe Vernon

Notes: back to writing enjoy thank you anon!

Vernon stumbles through the door of your shared apartment, his eyes heavy with exhaustion from his long tour. He drops his bags on the floor and lets out a deep sigh, collapsing onto the couch.

"I'm so tired," he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. "I just want to sleep for days." You come over to him and wrap your arms around him, feeling the tension in his body. "You're home now, babe. You can rest."

Vernon leans into your embrace, nuzzling his face against your neck. "But I also want you," he says softly, his voice rough with desire. "I've missed you so much." You can feel him getting hard against your thigh, but you can also sense his exhaustion. "Maybe we should just cuddle for now," you suggest gently.

Vernon nods, but his hands start to wander over your body, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. "I don't know if I can just cuddle," he admits, his voice thick with need. "I've been dreaming about you every night." You can tell he's struggling to stay awake, his eyelids fluttering as he tries to focus on you. "Let me take care of you," you whisper, straddling his lap. "Just relax and let me make you feel good."

Vernon protests weakly, his eyes half-closed as you straddle him. "You don't have to do anything, Y-N. I can wait until I'm more awake." But his body betrays him, his hands gripping your hips as he grinds up against you. He's so tired, but the feel of you on top of him is too much to resist.

"Maybe just a little," he whispers, his voice thick with sleepiness. "Just... be gentle with me." You kiss him softly, taking control as you slowly grind against him. Vernon's body relaxes beneath you, his eyes closing as he lets out a soft moan.

"I love you," he murmurs, his voice barely audible as he starts to drift off. "Love you so much..." Vernon groans as you pull his pants down, his cock springing free. He's so hard and already leaking precum, but his body is starting to go limp with exhaustion.

"I can't... stay awake," he mumbles, his eyes fluttering shut again. "You feel so good..." You continue to move against him, sinking down onto his cock slowly as you watch him struggle to stay conscious. His breathing is slow and deep, his chest rising and falling rhythmically.

"Just let go, babe," you whisper, kissing his forehead. "I've got you." As you ride him, Vernon's body becomes heavy and relaxed beneath you. His hands fall limp at his sides, and his breathing becomes deep and even.

You're so caught up in the pleasure, moaning and gasping as you take him deeper, that you don't notice him falling asleep. His eyes are closed, his face peaceful as he drifts off into a deep slumber. You continue to move on top of him, your own pleasure building to a crescendo. Finally, with a loud cry, you reach your climax, clenching around his cock.

As you come down from your high, you realize that Vernon is fast asleep, his cock still inside you. You smile softly, gently pulling off of him and tucking him into bed. You giggle softly as you tuck Vernon in, feeling a mixture of amusement and affection for your exhausted boyfriend. You carefully cover him with the blankets, making sure he's comfortable.

"Sleep well, my love," you whisper, kissing his forehead before turning to clean up. As you head to the bathroom, you can't help but laugh at the situation. Vernon had been so determined to stay awake and take care of you, but his body had other plans. You shower and change into pajamas, still giggling at the memory of Vernon falling asleep mid-sex. As you brush your teeth, you glance at his sleeping form in the bedroom and shake your head.

"I should've known he wouldn't be able to stay awake," you mumble to yourself, amused. "He was so tired." Once you're ready for bed, you climb in next to him, careful not to wake him. You cuddle up against his side, wrapping your arm around his waist as you drift off to sleep, thinking about how cute he looked when he was exhausted.

The next morning, you wake up to find Vernon still sleeping peacefully beside you. He looks so innocent and vulnerable, his hair a mess and his face buried in the pillow. You smile and gently shake him awake, feeling a pang of guilt for not letting him get more rest. "Vernon, babe, wake up," you say softly. "It's morning."

He stirs and opens his eyes slowly, blinking in confusion. "Did we...?" he asks, his voice rough with sleep. You laugh and nod, explaining how he had fallen asleep during your lovemaking. Vernon blushes furiously, clearly embarrassed.

"I can't believe I did that," he mutters, covering his face with his hands. "I'm so sorry, Y-N." Vernon sits up in bed, his eyes wide with shock as he processes the fact that he actually fell asleep during sex.

"I can't believe it," he says again, running a hand through his hair. "I was so tired, but I didn't think I would actually pass out like that." He looks at you with a mix of embarrassment and apology. "I'm really sorry, Y-N. I know I promised to take care of you last night, and instead I just... fell asleep."

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. "It's okay, babe. You needed the rest. And honestly, it was kind of adorable."

Vernon laughs self-deprecatingly, shaking his head in disbelief. "Adorable? I don't know about that. I must've been exhausted if I couldn't even stay awake for you." He pulls you onto his lap, holding you close as he buries his face in your neck. "I'll make it up to you, I promise. Just give me a few hours to recover from this embarrassment."

You giggle and kiss the top of his head. "No need to be embarrassed, babe. We all have our moments. And besides, I still got to ride you, didn't I?" Vernon smiles against your skin, his arms tightening around you. "You're too good to me, Y-N. I don't deserve you."

He pulls back to look at you, his eyes soft with affection. "But seriously, I'm going to make it up to you today. I'll take you out for a nice breakfast, and then we can do whatever you want." He leans in and kisses you gently, his lips moving against yours with a newfound determination. "No more falling asleep during sexy times, I promise."