#i think i was on crack before falling asleep-

[gracie-eilish]

our girl💞 (pt. 2)

an: i was inspired to write this like FOREVER AGO by a tik tok this woman made talking about how she found it impossible to sleep the night after she gave birth. just knowing her little dream baby was real and right there next to her. so i wrote it finally LMAO

ok i srsly promise this is the last one for this weekend hahah! actually though, im going out of town tomorrow until monday night/tuesday so i might be MIA on here anyways but i promise i won’t bombard you with my baby fever anymore hahaha!!

part 1

The room was dark and quiet, save for the occasional hum of machines and the distant beeping of monitors in the hall. The soft glow from the small nightlight near the bassinet illuminated just enough for Billie to stir awake. At first, she wasn’t sure what had woken her—maybe it was the subtle shift in the air, or maybe it was just her natural instinct as a new mom kicking in.

She blinked sleepily, stretching slightly before swinging her legs over the edge of the extra hospital bed for visitors. As she moved to stand, she glanced to her right—and there you were, laying on your side, wide awake. Not just awake, but completely entranced, eyes locked onto the tiny bundle nestled in the hospital bassinet.

Your daughter was awake too, just staring right back at you with those wide, curious newborn eyes. Neither of you moved. Neither of you made a sound. Just two little souls, taking each other in.

Billie couldn’t help but chuckle. “Baby,” she whispered, voice thick with sleep, “why are you still up?”

You blinked, almost startled, as if you hadn’t even realized Billie was watching. Your lower lip trembled as your gaze flickered to her. “I…” Your voice cracked, and suddenly your eyes were shining with fresh tears.

Billie’s teasing smile softened instantly. She crouched down to sit softly on the bed, her warm hand coming up to cup your cheek. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong, my love?” she murmured, wiping away a stray tear with her thumb.

You sniffled, laughing a little at yourself. “I just… I don’t think I’ll ever fall asleep again.”

Billie frowned slightly, tilting her head. “Baby, you had quite the day. You literally gave birth. You should be resting.”

You shook your head, another tear slipping down your cheek. “She was just in my tummy, B. For nine months. We talked about her, we dreamed about her, we waited for her…” Your voice wavered as you looked back at your daughter, eyes glistening with overwhelming love. “And now she’s here. She’s real. And she’s looking at me.” Your breath hitched. “I can’t believe this is real.”

Billie’s heart clenched, love swelling inside her chest until it was almost too much to contain. She leaned in, kissing away the fresh tears that rolled down your face. “Oh, baby,” she whispered, brushing her fingers through your hair. “It’s real. She’s real. And she’s ours.”

You let out a soft, shaky exhale, nodding. Billie smiled, helping you sit up and get comfortable before she finally stood, squeezing your hand once more before heading into the bathroom.

When she returned, she found you in the exact same position—sitting up now, but still completely absorbed in watching your daughter, your lips slightly parted, your expression nothing but pure awe. Your eyes were teary but full of joy.

Billie smirked, shaking her head fondly. “You’re obsessed, huh?”

You blinked, looking up at her with a watery laugh. “Completely.”

She let out a breathy chuckle before stepping toward the bassinet. “Alright, I know the cure for this.”

She reached down carefully, her hands expertly cradling your daughter as she lifted her from the bassinet. The moment your baby was in her arms, Billie melted. She rocked her gently, pressing featherlight kisses all over her tiny face. “Hey, little lady,” she whispered, brushing her thumb against her impossibly soft cheek. “You keeping Mama up? Just staring at her like she’s the best thing in the world?” Billie grinned as your daughter yawned, her tiny lips parting, her face scrunching slightly. “Yeah? I get it. She’s my favorite thing to look at too.”

You wiped at your face, your heart swelling so much it almost hurt.

After a few minutes of mommy-and-baby time, Billie turned to you, maneuvering your daughter carefully. “Alright, my love. You need the full experience.”

She placed the baby gently against your chest, making sure she was positioned just right. The moment that tiny, warm weight settled on you, you sucked in a breath, your hands immediately coming up to cradle her. Her little head rested right over your heart, her tiny hand grasping at your skin.

You closed your eyes, biting your lip to keep yourself from crying again. A quiet, breathy giggle escaped you, overwhelmed with the feeling of it all.

Billie laughed softly at your reaction. “Oh my God, you’re squealing,” she teased. “You’re literally gonna combust.”

“I might,” you admitted, voice muffled against your baby’s head. “I can’t help it, B. This is the best feeling in the world.”

Billie let out a soft sigh, her expression tender as she climbed onto the hospital bed beside you. She snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you closer, while her other hand rested gently on your arm, fingers brushing over the baby’s tiny back. She pressed her forehead to your shoulder, needing to be as close to both of you as humanly possible.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds in the room were the occasional distant beeps from the machines and the soft, sleepy breaths of your newborn.

Then, your baby let out a tiny, soft yawn, nestling even closer to your skin.

Billie let out a breathy chuckle. “Okay. Yeah. That’s the best feeling in the world.”

You nodded, still smiling, still tearful, still overwhelmed with love. “Mm-hmm.”

A beat of silence passed before you spoke again, voice sheepish.

“Can we have another one?”

Billie’s head shot up, her eyes wide as she gaped at you. “Babe.”

You giggled, snuggling closer to her. “What? I mean… look at her.”

Billie groaned playfully, but the grin tugging at her lips betrayed her. “Oh, I am looking at her. And I’m also looking at you, my crazy, adorable, baby-obsessed wife, who just gave birth like hours ago and is already asking for round two.”

You giggled harder, shrugging. “I can’t help it. She’s perfect. We made her.”

Billie exhaled dramatically, shaking her head, but she was smiling so big her cheeks hurt. She pressed a long, lingering kiss to your forehead, then another to the baby’s head. “Let’s get through this one first, superstar,” she murmured, her voice laced with so much love it made your heart ache.

You hummed, letting your eyes drift closed, the warmth of Billie’s embrace and the tiny weight of your daughter lulling you into a peace you had never known before. “Deal.”

And as Billie held both of you close, her heart bursting at the seams, she knew—this was it. This was the dream.

[rejiun]

Love and cramps

pairing. Ni-ki x f!readerㅤ

summary. Reader gets there period and niki cares for them

wc. 1k+

genre. fluff , period cramps, kind boyfriend

warnings. Mentions of dying and pain. Very lovey dovey, Kisses, teeth rotting writing lol (Let me know if i missed anything)

The moment you woke up, you knew something was wrong. A dull ache settled in your lower stomach, slowly growing into an unbearable wave of pain. You groaned, curling up into a ball, hoping that somehow, if you stayed still enough, it would magically disappear.

It didn’t.

With a sigh, you peeled your eyes open and reached for your phone on the nightstand. The brightness nearly blinded you, but through squinted eyes, you checked the date.

Oh. That explained everything.

You let out another groan, this time dramatically, before burying your face into the pillow.

That’s when Ni-ki stirred beside you.

Still half-asleep, he reached out instinctively, his hand finding your waist as he pulled you closer. “Mmm… why are you making weird noises?” he mumbled groggily, his voice laced with sleep.

You peeked up at him, your face still half-buried in the pillow. “I’m dying.”

Ni-ki cracked one eye open, his brows furrowing slightly. “Huh?”

You huffed. “Period cramps.”

At that, he blinked fully awake. He propped himself up on one elbow, his messy bed hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at you. “That bad?”

You nodded miserably, curling up tighter. “It feels like my uterus is trying to self-destruct.”

Ni-ki let out a small chuckle before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Wait here. I got you.”

You watched as he slipped out of bed, still in his sweats and oversized hoodie, his movements slightly sluggish from just waking up. He stretched briefly before disappearing out the door.

Despite your discomfort, you felt a tiny warmth bloom in your chest. He always did this—taking care of you without hesitation, even when he was still half-asleep.

A few minutes later, he returned, carrying a heating pad, a cup of tea, and a small plate of snacks.

"Here," he said, placing the heating pad gently on your stomach. "This should help."

You sighed in relief as the warmth started to soothe the pain. “You’re an angel.”

Ni-ki grinned. “I know.”

Rolling your eyes at his cockiness, you took the cup of tea from him and took a small sip. The warmth helped, but the cramps were still nagging. You shifted uncomfortably, letting out a small whimper.

Immediately, Ni-ki set the snack plate down and climbed back into bed beside you. “C’mere,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms.

You melted against him, resting your head on his chest as his arms wrapped securely around you. His warmth, combined with the steady rise and fall of his breathing, was the most comforting thing in the world.

"Better?" he asked softly, rubbing small circles on your back.

"A little," you admitted, closing your eyes. "But if you could magically make the cramps go away, that’d be great.”

Ni-ki let out a thoughtful hum. “I could try performing some sort of exorcism, but I don’t think your uterus would appreciate that.”

Despite the pain, you let out a small giggle. “Probably not.”

"Then I guess you're stuck with me and my superior cuddling skills," he said smugly.

You snorted. "Superior? Debatable."

"Excuse me?" Ni-ki pulled back slightly, looking at you in mock offense. "Did you just insult my cuddling abilities?"

You smirked, even as another cramp hit you. "I mean… I’ve had better."

His jaw dropped. "You’re lucky you're already suffering, or I’d start a tickle attack right now."

You gasped, clutching his hoodie dramatically. "You wouldn’t dare."

Ni-ki smirked, wiggling his fingers as if he were about to go in for the kill. You immediately clung to him, shaking your head frantically.

"No! Mercy! I take it back, you’re the best cuddler ever!"

He chuckled in satisfaction before pulling you even closer. "That’s more like it."

The two of you stayed like that for a while—wrapped up in each other’s warmth, the heating pad doing its job, and Ni-ki absentmindedly tracing patterns on your back.

Then, after a moment of silence, he suddenly asked, “So… do I get the same treatment when I’m sick?”

You lifted your head to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to baby you?”

He grinned. “Absolutely.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “Fine. But don’t expect me to be as cute about it as you are.”

"You think I’m cute?" he teased, his smirk widening.

You groaned, shoving your face back into his chest. "Shut up."

Ni-ki laughed, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. "Love you too, baby."

And somehow, despite the cramps, the warmth of his arms made everything a little more bearable.

[nakylvr]

omg dealer!dani angst where a deal goes wrong and she either goes to jail or to the hospital and reader finds out through the news after not hearing from dani for a few days thinking she ghosted her!!! if she goes to jail reader posts the bail for her and if dani is in the hospital reader will be by her bedside everyday😭😭😭

dealer!dani comeback ✊ this has been in my drafts for a hot minute i apologize but here 🤲

– ECHOES OF SILENCE

warnings/tags: hurt/comfort, language, established relationship, f!reader, dealer!dani au, injuries mention, hospitals

to say you were worried would be an understatement. the first reason being told to stay home from daniela while she went out to a deal with others. the second being she never came back. you tried texting, you tried calling, you even called manon and minji to see if they knew anything only to get no answers. worried wasn't the right word anymore. you were starting to freak out once it reached day two of not hearing from her.

your first thought is she's ghosting you. for what reason? you could never know. while she's never done it before, part of you wouldn't be too surprised if she randomly decided to leave and not bother responding. your next thought is that something bad happened. that's the only other explanation. if she got arrested, thankfully you had bail money in a safe. if it was worse? you didn't want to think about it.

on day three you finally got an answer. scrolling through the news section on your laptop, your body freezes when you land on a certain article.

altercation in downtown los angeles in a drug deal leaves 1 dead and 3 wounded, 1 critical

"oh my fucking god," you let out, clicking on the article to open the full page. you skim over it quickly before landing at the bottom where it says the nearest hospital was. you quickly get up and change into something more presentable, slipping your shoes on before rushing out of the apartment.

getting to the hospital was easy, making your way through the hospital was not easy. they told you what room daniela was in, but finding the room was a fucking mess with how big the place was. when you finally found the room, you stopped when your hand touched the door. '1 critical', you remembered seeing. obviously you weren't told her condition with you immediately rushing off the second you were told the room number, so you had no clue what you were walking into.

taking a deep breath, you slide the door open, and freeze in your spot. she was asleep, an iv next to her going in her arm, her arm in a sling, a black eye and other bruises scattered across her body. you hesitantly take a few steps forward, sliding the door closed behind you as you approach the bed, not being able to hold back the sob building in your throat.

daniela's eyes slowly open the second the sob leaves your mouth, and she blinks a few times before realizing it's you standing next to her. "yn?" her voice is raspy as she says your name.

the tears start falling from your eyes before you can think, your arms wrapping around the girl carefully while sobbing into her neck. "i was so worried about you, i-i didn't know what happened, yo-you never came back."

with her moveable arm, dani runs her fingers through your hair, her heart clenching at your cries. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean to worry you," she says quietly. "i'm okay, i promise."

"you could've died!" you exclaim, pulling your head away to look at her. "y-you could've died a-and i would never know. i can't lose you, dani," your voice cracks as you speak, the tears still seeping down your cheeks.

daniela's hand moves up to cup your cheek, wiping away the tears that were still falling. "you won't lose me, i promise," she softly tells you. "i'm still here, i'm all in one piece, i'm okay. there's nothing to worry about."

"your arm is broken, dani," you respond. "and you look like shit. but i'm so glad you're okay."

"trust me, i'm glad too." she leans forward, pressing a soft kiss on your lips. "and now i can finally leave since you're here."

"good." you smile a little at her. "let's go home, we'll get something to eat on the way back. i know hospital food isn't the greatest."

"oh my god it's not even food i don't think!" daniela groans dramatically. "the only good part was the jell-o, seriously!"

you couldn't help but laugh at her words, nodding your head and patting her shoulder. "i'm sure."

a moment of silence fills the room before daniela speaks again in a quieter voice. "you're not mad, are you?"

"no." you shake your head. "but you aren't going anywhere until you're healed, and i mean anywhere, daniela," you tell her. "if someone is desperate enough for something, they can meet me outside the apartment. otherwise, no nothing until you're better, okay?"

"okay," she mumbles, nodding her head. "does this mean you'll be taking care of me the whole time?" she smiles a bit.

"don't get any ideas," you reply, already knowing what she was thinking. "you're the one who broke her arm."

"and you are my saving grace." she smiles wider.

"wow," you say, shaking your head. "are you concussed too?"

"nope, just in love with you," she answers.

"you're terrible."

"you love me."

[woozinhos]

can u write nonidol yunho x reader finding out they’re expecting their first child together pls

Notes: made this one small and cute hehe please request more Ateez hehe I’m in my Ateez era fr

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

You had been feeling off for a few weeks now, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. You had a few symptoms, like nausea and fatigue, but you didn't think much of it. One day, as you were getting ready for work, you realized that you were late for your period. You had been keeping track for years, and this was the first time that you'd missed it. You took a test, and when the positive result appeared, you were stunned. You couldn't believe that you were pregnant.

You stared at the test for a few moments, trying to process the news. You were pregnant with Yunho's child. You knew that he had always wanted kids, and you were excited to tell him. You thought about how you would surprise him. You decided to make him breakfast in bed and slip the test in with the food. You woke up early the next morning and made your way to the kitchen. You knew that Yunho would be up soon, so you hurried to prepare breakfast.

As you cooked, you carefully tucked the test into a napkin. You placed the food on a tray and brought it to the bedroom. You set the tray down on the bedside table and crawled back into bed next to Yunho. He was still sleeping soundly, his chest rising and falling with each breath. You couldn't contain your excitement. You leaned over and gently shook him awake. "Hey, baby," you whispered. "Wake up. I have a surprise for you." He groaned and opened his eyes, still half-asleep. "What time is it?" he mumbled.

"Early," you replied, trying to keep your voice light and cheerful. "I made you breakfast in bed." He smiled, his eyes still bleary. "You didn't have to do that," he said, sitting up in bed. "But it smells amazing." He leaned over and kissed you on the cheek before noticing the tray on the bedside table.

"What's this?" he asked, reaching for the napkin. You held your breath as he unfolded it, revealing the pregnancy test inside. He stared at the test for a moment, his eyes wide with shock. "Is this...real?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, a huge smile spreading across your face. "It's real," you said. "We're going to have a baby." You were starting to worry. He wasn't saying anything, and he was just staring at the test. "Baby?" you asked, gently touching his arm. "Are you okay?" You could see the tears welling up in his eyes, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you. He was crying because he was happy, not because he was upset.

"We're going to be parents," he said, his voice cracking. "I can't believe it." He reached out and pulled you into a tight embrace. "I'm so happy," he whispered into your ear. "You've made me the happiest man in the world."

You wrapped your arms around him, feeling his body trembling with emotion. You knew that this was a big moment for both of you, and that everything was going to change. He stroked your hair, his fingers tangling in your locks as he kissed you deeply. The kiss was filled with passion and excitement, and you could feel his love for you in every movement. When the kiss ended, he pulled back slightly, still holding you close. "We're going to have a family," he said again, as if he was still in disbelief. "A real family."

[loulou-land]

I Could Lay Beside you a Thousand Lifetimes

Day 10 of @bucktommyfluffebruary | sleepy cuddles | 614 words | on ao3

The first thing Buck registers when he wakes up is warmth. The kind that seeps into your bones, making you feel relaxed and loose. It’s the kind of warmth that feels like home. 

For a moment, he just breathes, letting it settle in. The rise and fall of Tommy’s chest beneath his cheek, the steady beat of his heart, the way their legs are tangled under the covers. 

It’s one of those rare occasions where he’s the first to wake instead of Tommy, so he keeps his eyes closed for a few extra seconds, savoring the way Tommy holds him—carefully, protectively—even in sleep. Buck chokes back the emotions threatening to overtake him, thinking he would be used to it by now. But it still catches him off guard sometimes, how much Tommy cherishes him. He takes a deep breath, letting it steady him, and a slow smile spreads onto his face. 

When he finally blinks his eyes open—he sees the thin light filtering through the curtains, kissing the edges of their bed—he shifts just enough to get a better look at Tommy. His face is smooth in sleep, his features softened in a way that makes him look younger. His mouth is slightly open, just enough for a quiet little whistle to slip out with each exhale. 

Buck watches, tracing each familiar detail with his eyes—taking it all in greedily, even after all this time. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of learning Tommy, of hoarding little facts and pieces of him like a dragon guarding its treasure. His gaze follows the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his nose, the way his long lashes rest against his cheek. 

Then—there’s a tiny scrunch of Tommy’s nose, followed by a low, sleepy grumble. A sure sign he’s waking up. 

Buck can’t help but grin. This side of Tommy is all his. 

A few beats later, Tommy shifts slightly, voice thick with sleep as he mumbles, “I can feel you staring.” 

Buck, hums unbothered. “I’m just appreciating the handsomest man on earth.”  

Tommy cracks one eye open, giving him a look—something drowsy and amused. “It’s kinda creepy.” 

Buck gasps, affronted. “I just complimented you, and you call me creepy!” His voice dips into a whine. 

Tommy chuckles, deep and sleep rough, before reaching for Buck’s hand, pressing a series of kisses along his palm, finally bringing it to rest against his face. 

Buck feels the flutter in his stomach, warmth spreading through his chest.  

“Sorry.” Tommy murmurs, completely unapologetic. 

Buck huffs but forgives him easily, diving in for a slow, lazy kiss. 

“Morning, baby.” Tommy mumbles against Buck’s lips. 

Buck just…melts. “Good Morning, honey,” he murmurs back, the words quiet, almost reverent. His thumb drifts over Tommy’s jaw in a gentle, absentminded motion, his touch feather light. Then, he yawns, stretching lightly but making no move to get up. “Mmm, I should get started on breakfast.” 

Tommy hums, still half-asleep, and tugs him closer. “Not yet. Stay with me for a bit, sweetheart.” 

And, well, how could Buck say no to that? 

So he settles back in, resting his head over Tommy’s chest, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His hand slides up, pausing over Tommy’s stomach, and Tommy covers it with his own, his thumb rubbing soothing little circles over Buck’s skin. 

Eventually, Buck’s eyes slip close again, the warmth and comfort pulling him under.

Before sleep takes him completely, a thought drifts through his mind—light and certain…

Yeah, I could stay like this forever. 

They end up sleeping for a couple more hours, never once untangling from each other. 

[orsinium-scholar]

Spring came slowly, this close to the Skyrim border. It crept across the Colovian foothills like a lazy child slinking out of bed. Snow lay thickly over the forest as the pair of orcs passed through, the only tell of the turning season the gentle patter of melting snow from the trees and a green carpet of snowdrops beginning to push through the snow.

In the arms of the tallest orc, a small bundle wriggled with a quiet squeak of annoyance as a drop of snowmelt dropped down onto it.

Margesh the hunts-wife sighed internally as she noted their slow pace. Chief Nazbarag could set a blistering pace through the forest even under heavy armour, yet now, clad in lightweight furred leather, he walked through the woods like he had a millstone around his neck.

“Does he seem peaky to you?” Chief Nazbarag paused, glancing down at the altmer babe in his arms. “I don’t know, he seems pale. A trip like this might be too much for-”

“Of course he’s pale, dear. He’s an elf. He was fine when we left, Kizbeh gave him a check over when she was feeding him.”

“...Right, right…” He set off again, still slow and hesitant.

Honestly, she didn’t know what she expected, really. As tough and strong and ruthless as her husband could be, she’d been married to him long enough to know that under the armour and scar tissue and fearsome beard was a complete soft touch for anything small and helpless. No matter how much he insisted otherwise, no matter how fearsomely he protested, and argued, and pretended otherwise, she knew him.

He was always the first to offer to take a small child off his spouse's hands. Always made excuses to be elsewhere when the livestock were slaughtered.

And who could forget the fuss and grousing he’d made when his youngest daughter had brought a kitten home, who’d been barely a week in the stronghold before he was falling asleep in front of the hearth with the small scrap of fur asleep on his chest?

She’d known this was going to go badly the minute she’d brought the lost little babe home, wailing with cold and hunger, and he’d swept him up in his huge arms before he’d even taken a closer look at him. After an entire winter of “Just till the spring-” this and “Don’t get attached-” that, Margesh knew that if she didn’t step in now, there would just be another mouth to feed.

“Do you think it’s too early in the year? The pass is likely only just clear, it’s quite cold, and he’s only small…”

“He’s survived colder, dear. You said, once the pass was clear, the boy was going down to Chorrol.”

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I…”

Uh-oh. His eyes were dangerously misty.

“Look, it’s for the best, dear. It’s a tough life for an orc, and he’s just a little elf pup, it’s better if he goes down to the city. They’ll find him a good home, or track down some family, and he’ll be much better off.”

“I suppose…”

“Right then. We should be on the cart track soon, then it’s a straight shot to Chorrol-” She realized suddenly that Chief Nazbarag was no longer trudging beside her.

He had stopped completely, staring at nothing as the babe wriggled quietly in his arms.

“Margesh-?”

Oh gods…

“What?”

“When you found his mother…you said they were elf arrows in her back, right?”

“Yeah, that stuff happens all the time, I hear. Those black and gold bastards decide some elf isn’t, I dunno…elf enough, and they get cut down. Seems like a waste to me…why?”

For a moment he just stared through her, face haunted as he held the child close. Then his face hardened and he spun on his heel, facing back towards where they had come from, setting off with a powerful stride.

“Nazbarag! What are you doing?”

“Taking him home. If I hand him back and those high elf bastards hear about it, they’ll just kill the boy! I’m not having that on my conscience!”

Oh, crap.

Margesh set off after him at a jog.

“Don’t be a fool! He won’t survive the stronghold!”

“We’ll give him a try. It’s more than the thalmor bastards would give him. I didn’t crack elf skulls in the legion for years just to hand him over to monsters!”

And Margesh…gave up.

“Mauloch’s teeth…fine.”

Dammit, I owe Kisbeh ten drakes. She told me she wasn’t even going to bother to take the cradle down when we left.

Shaking her head, she set off after her husband.

“Fine. He can stay…”

Along the path, as the pair set off towards home, the first snowdrop flowers began to bloom.

[trashremover43]

Saw this pic and 🥵🫣

Wrapped In Love

The bathroom was bathed in a soft golden glow, the only source of light being the warm, dim sconces lining the walls. The air was thick with steam, curling lazily in the air, carrying the scent of eucalyptus from the bath salts Tommy had added. The water in the custom-made tub was still warm, embracing the two men as they settled into a languid, intimate quiet.

Evan was completely boneless against Tommy, his body sinking into the warmth of the custom-made tub, the water lapping soothingly at their skin. Nestled between Tommy’s legs, he rested his head against his lover’s chest, eyes fluttering shut every so often as exhaustion threatened to pull him under.

His body was marked, decorated in love bites and grip bruises-his wrists bore faint imprints of fingers, his waist was littered with darkened spots where Tommy’s hands had held him firm, and his thighs… they were painted with the evidence of Tommy’s possessive touch.

The most prominent bruises rested on the inside of his thighs, where Tommy had held him open, a silent claim only they would ever see.

Tommy’s hands never stilled, tracing light, reverent patterns along Evan’s sides, fingers ghosting over every ridge and dip of muscle. His touch traveled lower, caressing the taut skin of Evan’s abdomen before skimming further down to his thighs. It was a slow, indulgent kind of affection, one that said without words, I see you, I cherish you, you are mine.

“You did so good for me, Evan,” Tommy murmured, his lips pressing against Evan’s temple before trailing down to his cheek. “Took everything I gave you, so sweet, so perfect.”

Evan hummed at the praise, warmth unfurling in his chest, his fingers twitching slightly where they rested on Tommy’s thigh. He loved this-being wrapped up in Tommy, being touched with such adoration.

Tommy continued, his voice a steady, soothing rumble against Evan’s ear. “I love how you fall apart in my hands, how you hold on to me so tight.” Another soft kiss, this time against Evan’s jaw. “How you trust me enough to let go.”

Evan’s grip on Tommy’s thigh tightened for just a moment in response, a silent acknowledgment. His breathing had slowed, his body heavier against Tommy’s.

Tommy glanced down and smiled.

"You're adorable," he mused, amusement lacing his tone. "You're actually about to fall asleep in the bathtub."

Evan groaned, shifting slightly, though he made no real effort to sit up. "Whose fault do you think that is?" he grumbled.

Completely ignoring the fact that not only was he the one to initiate the act but also the fact that only after they both couldn’t physically cum anymore did he allow tommy to stop

Tommy let out a soft chuckle, his fingers stilling against Evan's stomach. "Is that so?"

There was something in the way he said it-calm, unassuming, but carrying a weight that had Evan cracking one eye open. Before he could process the shift in atmosphere, Tommy's hand began moving, slow and deliberate, sliding from moving, slow and deliberate, sliding from where it had been resting on Evan's stomach down, fingers grazing the sensitive skin of his lower abdomen before dipping lower still. The shift was lazy, almost teasing, but there was intent behind it.

By the time Tommy's fingers reached the underside of Evan's thigh, his touch featherlight, Evan's breath hitched slightly, a familiar anticipation curling in his gut.

And then, Tommy leaned in, voice dropping into that tone-the one that always sent a shiver down Evan's spine, smooth and low like a secret meant for his ears alone.

"My bad, puppy," Tommy whispered, his breath warm against Evan's skin.

The words alone were enough to make Evan's toes curl, but then-

Tommy's grip suddenly tightened, fingers pressing firmly into the mark he had left earlier, the still-sensitive bruise blossoming under his touch.

"Daddy won't do it again," he added, his voice drenched in something darkly amused, something knowing.

Evan's entire body jolted, a full-body shiver running through him, his breath leaving in a sharp exhale as heat flared beneath his skin. A deep blush bloomed across his face, and before Tommy could see just how flustered he had become, Evan groaned and covered his face with both hands.

"That's not fair," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whimper. "You know what that does to me."

Tommy laughed, full and rich, shaking with amusement as he pulled back just enough to watch Evan squirm. "I do," he admitted easily, enjoying the way Evan refused to meet his gaze.

With that, he moved to stand, water cascading down his body in slow rivulets, his muscles flexing as he stepped out of the tub with a slight tremor in his legs. He made quick work of drying himself, but when he turned back to Evan, his lover was still sitting there, blinking up at him with a soft pout.

His legs were still trembling-not completely useless, but certainly weak from the night’s exertion. He glanced down at them, then back up at Tommy with an expectant expression.

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “ seriously, Still?”

Evan huffed, crossing his arms. “Well, they had mostly recovered until someone decided to be mischievous.”

Tommy rolled his eyes but couldn’t fight the fondness tugging at the corners of his lips. With a shake of his head, he leaned down and effortlessly scooped up his 6’2 muscled boyfriend that seems to always forget how big he is, cradling him against his chest as if he weighed nothing at all. Evan instinctively wrapped his arms around Tommy’s neck, pressing his flushed face into the warmth of his shoulder.

As Tommy carried him out of the bathroom, Evan let out a sigh, completely content. “with how sore we’re going to be, It’s a good thing we don’t have work tomorrow,” he murmured sleepily looking at the possessive marks he left on Tommy’s neck.

Tommy chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to Evan’s damp curls. “As if that ever stopped you.”

Evan pulled back just enough to give Tommy a look-one that was both playful and guilty, confirming the truth in his words.

Tommy smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

[obvithe-bestsoph]

Prompt 85 with pau cubarsi please

No. 85 | "Please come back to bed." PC2

masterlist requests

prompt list (if you request a prompt, please request a player for it as well!) warnings: none.

Today’s match hadn’t gone well. Barcelona lost 1-0 to Real Sociedad. In the last game, in the 2-5 win over Crvena Zvezda, Pau had taken a cleat to the face, scratching himself up real bad. So in the match today, he was wearing the mask for the first time wearing the mask in the match. Training with it had been fine, so he didn’t expect it to be so distracting to wear while playing, it wasn’t enough to impact his performance at all, but he just found it a bit annoying. 

So when he got back to you guy’s shared apartment, he was frustrated from losing the match, overstimulated by the itchiness of the healing scabs on his face and around his hairline, and generally not in the best mood. He would never take it out on you, no matter how angry he is, because that’s not Pau, but the apartment is pretty quiet that night.

You shower separately, respecting his space, although the shower does feel a bit emptier than usual without Pau’s chatter, teasing, tickling and gentle washing of your hair. He’s already in bed, laying on his side, when you re-enter the bedroom, now in your pyjamas. He gives you a small smile and continues scrolling on his phone as you slip in next to him.

After 20-30 minutes of scrolling on your own phone, you reach for the charger and put it on the nightstand.

“I think I’m gonna sleep now, amor. Està bé que apagui la llum (is it okay for me to turn off the light)?” he a small hum to say that that’s alright, and turns his head to give you a goodnight kiss like always. 

“Bona nit, mi nena (goodnight, my girl).” he whispers, pressing his lips against yours briefly. 

“T'estimo. (i love you).” You whisper back. “Jo també t'estimo (i love you too).” He gives you another kiss before rolling over again and turning the lights out for you, but he stays up on his phone.

Having had a long day yourself, you fall asleep fairly quickly, but Pau is awake late into the night.

At 3 AM, you wake up for the toilet, but when you slowly flutter your eyes open, you realise you have a missing boyfriend. Yawning groggily, you head out into the main area of the apartment. Sure enough, there he is, sitting on the edge of the couch, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking slightly.

Seeing him cry, you wake up fully, rather quickly moving to sit next to him. Pulling him into your side, he removes his face from his hands and instead buries it in your chest/neck.

You just hold him for a minute, stroking his hair, kissing his forehead, and rocking him slightly, until his tears stop. After he finishes his little cry, it’s silent for a moment, before you break it.

“Què passa (what’s wrong)?” you ask in a soft whisper.

“I’m just frustrated. The match was crap, I hate losing, and the scabs are itchy but I can’t scratch them or they’ll just break again. I couldn’t sleep and now I’m frustrated because you’re here comforting me and not warm and in bed getting a good night’s sleep.” he replies, his usual cheery tone a little dulled.

You spend about an hour talking with him, letting him vent, occasionally chiming in with advice or comments until it goes quiet again. “Please come back to bed?” your voice comes out comfortingly quiet and persuasive, and before you know it, you’re back in bed once more, a clingy Pau taking the ‘little spoon’ position, something which you’re rather happy about, as sometimes you like to take a turn cuddling him too.

When you wake up again in the morning, properly this time, there is once again a missing boyfriend. You look around the room for a minute, and just as you’re about to get up to go look for him, the door cracks open. 

In walks Pau, smiling once more, a tray of (your favourite breakfast) in his hands. 

“What’s this?” you laugh, surprised. “Breakfast.” “Well, obviously,” you laugh again, “I mean, why?”

“As a thank you for helping me last night.” he smiles, placing the tray over your lap and getting into bed next to you again. 

“Pau, you’re so funny sometimes. You don’t need to thank me for just listening and being there for you. I’m your girlfriend, that’s my job.” you scold lightly. Pau laughs sheepishly and shrugs, “Well, then, it’s just a nice surprise.”

You roll your eyes and chuckle at his new excuse, kissing him on the forehead in thanks. You donate a piece of toast to the never-endingly hungry teenage boy that is your boyfriend, and eat the rest of your breakfast happily. 

Once you finish, you put the tray down on the floor beside the bed, and snuggle up with Pau once more. He’s now reading a book for his classe d'història (history class), but happily let’s you tuck yourself under one of his strong, muscular arms, laying your head on his broad chest. For a while, you read along with him, but eventually doze off on him once more.

Pau reads for a little longer before putting in his bookmark and placing the book on his nightstand. He just watches you for a while, feeling luckier than ever. He kisses your forehead, and gently whispers against your skin, “T'estimo, meu ànima (i love you, my soul).”

[localwebslingers]

The frown, the way Harry's shoulder's raised, the careful words...Peter wished he hadn't told Harry about it. That they were dating. Wished maybe he'd kept it to himself just a little bit longer, just until things had settled down a little more, started to feel a bit easier. Nothing felt quite as much like a raw nerve as parts of it felt like right now. He wished it twice as hard when Harry spoke, when he felt the first strain in his chest and knew, he knew the crack was threatening as his heart kept beating and struggled to keep itself together. Desperate, pleading, scared. Peter swallowed the lump in his throat and somewhere, found his voice, "He did though...that first week when he locked himself up at home and wouldn't come out. Just because it was a nicer spot didn't mean it wasn't still being locked up in a box for other people's sakes."

It wasn't in a lab, there were no cameras watching or scientists and doctors on standby to step in if needed. But it was four walls, locked away from the rest of the world and eventually, it had Peter in it. Right next to him.

"And you're wrong, you're an amazing boyfriend." he countered, "Harry you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I didn't fall for you because I thought you were flawless or perfect, and I knew about some of this stuff before that. What made me fall for you was seeing you work, and how incredible and brilliant you are, and how much fun it was, that is always has been, working with you. It was taking snack breaks and having serious discussions and just joking around together, or seeing you half asleep ant trying to act like I didn't just find you curled up on the couch in a school library to take a nap. And it's seeing how passionate you get about the things you care about, and seeing how much you care about those things, and other people, and those around you and-" and he's rambling, and he heard his voice crack twice, and he kind of hated that there was technically an audience for this.

Because this felt like it should be a lot more private, but Peter couldn't just sit there and say nothing either. Couldn't stand the idea of Harry thinking he felt otherwise for a second longer than he already had, "I don't want to stay away or leave you just because something hard came up, or that you're trying to get through something and keep it together, I want to be there with you to support you though it and help. If that's pulling you up when you need it, or sitting on the other side of glass and bringing you new books to read, then I want to be there for it. I like you because you're you, Harry....I love you, every risky idea and hyperfocus and terrible pun and instinct you have in you, because you're you.

"And I'm sorry-" his voice cracked again, Peter was sure his eyes were trying to water but was trying very hard to ignore it, "...and I'm sorry that I'm not calm for you right now, but you're amazing, Harry. I know you might not believe me, but you are. You're incredible, and not even you get to try and tell me that you're not. So if you don't want to be together, then okay...then we won't be. But you can't tell me it's because you're a bad boyfriend, even right now, because I don't want to leave just because it's hard right now, I want to stay. I want to be here. I'm not expecting you to wake up tomorrow and remember what it was like, or stuff we've done, and I'm not going to stop coming to see you if you mean it either. But if you do mean it, then you need to tell me a better reason than that because I'm not going to buy it. Not for a second."

|| @inhcritance ||

He could see the fondness in that smile, he knew it, he'd seen a thousand little times and treasured every single one of those. And he couldn't remember them, not when he tried to pull on those threads all he could find the barest traces of memories. Familiar smells, and familiar sounds, and a heartbeat that was even more familiar than his own because Harry didn't subconsciously notice his own but Peter's? He had been used to it.

It was still all he could do to remain steady, never fully relaxed because how could he be, when he was so dangerous to someone he'd certainly and clearly card about, but nevertheless he listened. And in those words, he found some hope. Enough to raise one eyebrow at the mention of being grouchy these days, because that was certainly the understatement of the century, but... knowing he hadn't hurt him, knowing he hadn't even tried, was a relief.

Once again he considered offering Peter to come in. Offering or asking. He still knew better than that.

He also knew better, or should have, he thought, than to expect anything -anything at all- to be easy. Because, apparently, they'd been dating. Were, perhaps, and Harry's frown became thunderous as he considered it, before he sighed. Before he forced himself not to look away, and he could see and could hear what might be -was mostly sure was- discomfort and hurt and it... it pained him.

A part of Harry also remembered caution. He'd never been trusting. He knew he'd dated, for some time. He couldn't recall much, of those days, but he knew they had happened before. Before the shift in everything, before the sharp desperation he could still taste, if he focused hard enough.

He also knew that Peter had been the first person, ever since he'd opened his eyes, that had felt like comfort. That had been sharply familiar in an unapologetically soothing way, unlike virtually everyone else.

Harry didn't remember the taste of his lips. He didn't remember anything that could confirm something some of his memories could imply, when seen through those lenses.

He didn't miss that Peter's statement about being tougher than he looked did mix rather interestingly with the little things he'd noticed, with the oddity of his heartbeat, with the memories he had.

But he also didn't miss that it all looked like he was dating someone considerate, and resourceful, and frankly attractive. Maybe even honest. And meanwhile he was there, trapped in a box in a lab because a human being would make him hurt with the desire to harm.

He knew he was going to regret what he was about to say. He knew it was the right thing to do. He also hated meeting hope with pain. And yet...

"I don't think 'just Harry' needed to stay here for the safety of everyone else." He told Peter, and he couldn't help the way his shoulders hunched. The way it took all in his power to remain almost steady. But he didn't look away. "I don't think I can be much of a great boyfriend, while I'm like this."

And Peter did deserve better.

@localwebslingers

[helinedmightbehere]

so i had a tsams dream,,,,

this was from sun's pov btw-

moon had a crush on some girl that i can't remember anything about other than the fact she was a love interest, and i distinctly remember thinking "tumblr's not gonna like this"

anyways, she like- convinces moon and monty to go on stage and perform in dresses for some reason??- then the doorbell rings

moon realizes that it's eclipse from his,,,,"aura" and gives the star (that he for some reason has) to sun, which is also in the shape of a slice of cheese

sun, for some reason, opens the door and eclipse is upside down, clipped through the floor so you can only see his legs sticking out

also, by slice of cheese i mean this

[whytheylosttheirminds]

snooze - r.c.

(season 4 bf!rafe x gf!reader blurb, 4.1k words)

summary Your man works harder than anyone you know, and you couldn’t love him more for it, but some mornings you just want to hold on to him a little longer…

content fluff/smut, mutual mast., p in v, 18+ minors do not interact

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Rafe’s alarm rings through the large bedroom like a blaring siren, jerking you violently from the sweet sleep you were just wrapped in. He doesn’t hear it at first, still sound asleep next to you, snores rumbling through his bare chest.

You blink your eyes open, the room is still dark, though the first golden rays of the sunrise creep in through the small crack in the curtains. You twist your body towards Rafe, snuggling your head into his neck, an attempt to both shield your eyes from the sunlight and get his attention, desperate for him to silence the loud alarm.

After a few seconds, he still hasn’t heard it, so you reach up and gently tap his cheek.

“Baby,” you groan, cheek pressed against his shoulder. “Too loud.” 

Rafe takes a deep breath in, eyes still closed as he reaches his bedside table, tapping his phone screen clumsily until the sound subsides.

He settles back in, placing a quick kiss onto the top of your head as he pulls you into his side. You sigh happily, running your nails softly up and down his chest and stomach, drawing little hearts and stars on his skin. He shivers when you graze over the soft skin of his lower stomach, following his happy trail down to his waistband. You fully plan on dipping your hand below it, where he’s already twitching and firming up for you under his sweatpants, but you get distracted by the delicious deep V lines on either side of his waist. You dip your pointer finger into the valley of muscle and trace the shape down, switching to the other side and drawing back up.

He stirs when you angle your finger to scratch lightly with your manicured nail, lingering just above the band of his Calvins that peeks out from his sweats.

“That’s so nice, baby,” he mumbles in his deep, crackling morning voice, “I love these hands.”

Rafe laces his fingers in yours with one hand, his other arm sliding under your neck and wrapping around your shoulders. He pulls you close so he can drop a sloppy kiss on your temple.

You sigh and lift your intertwined hands to place a kiss on each of his knuckles.

“Maybe you should stay home,” you suggest between kisses. “Then you can enjoy these hands all day long.”

He smiles knowingly, still not opening his eyes. You play this game every morning, trying to find ways to convince him to play hooky from work, though they never succeed. He’s always showered and out the door by sunrise, leaving you with a cup of coffee on your nightstand and a quick kiss as you drift back to sleep.

“Sounds perfect, but I have an 8 a.m. with a potential investor,” he explains.

In the quiet, Rafe starts to drift off again. You continue to stroke his chest and think of all the many enticing reasons for him to stay, but before you can list them for him, his alarm blares from his phone again. 

You lean over him, reaching to the phone on his nightstand. He takes the opportunity to snake his hand around your waist and slide it under his big t-shirt you're wearing. His hands feel so nice on your lower back, you pause, almost forgetting what you were reaching for in the first place, until the alarm rings out again, making you both wince with its volume. You tap the screen desperately until it’s silenced.

“Just hitting snooze so we can have five more minutes,” you say, settling down over him and resting your cheek on his chest.

“Liar,” he says with a sleepy smirk. “You turned it off.”

You fake an offended gasp, “I can’t believe you’re accusing me of such deception, Rafe Cameron.”

“So when five minutes go by and the alarm doesn’t go off again, what are you gonna say then?”

“I was hoping you’d fall back to sleep by then,” you confess with a giggle, laying a soft kiss on his chest, right over his heart.

“I knew it.”

He sits up in bed, causing you to fall back onto the pillows, immediately missing his warmth. You paw at his arm as he reaches over to check the time on his phone.

“Nooo,” you whine. “Don’t go yet.”

He smiles down at you, leaning over to place loving kisses on the edge of your jaw and up your face, touching his lips to your temple one final time before standing from the bed.

Your vision is still fuzzy from sleep and the darkness of the room, but you follow the general shape of him as he walks to the wall of windows on the other side of the room. He’s shirtless, the lower half of his body covered in soft gray sweats. You squirm a little under the comforter as you take him in. You didn’t know it was possible to be this attracted to someone, but it’s like every day you’re with him, your body craves him more, and it makes it that much more painful when he leaves.

Rafe interrupts your reverie by lifting his arms and throwing the curtains wide open. You flinch at the bright sunlight that pours through the windows like it’s burning you.

“Too bright, Rafe!” You protest. 

He just turns with a smug smile, his tall silhouette casting a shadow over the bed, blocking you from the blinding sun.

“I’ll make you some coffee before I go,” he promises as he leaves you alone in the bedroom, pulling a pillow over your face to shield yourself from the daylight.

It’s silly to complain when his hard work is the whole reason you can lay in this comfortable bed so late into the morning. When he’s not with you, he’s at the office, earning you all this comfort, but it still seems unfair when you want him this badly.

You used to be an early riser, but the way he lays you down every night when he gets home, fucking you hard and slow until you fall asleep clinging to him, it’s made you a whole new person. You’d pay him twice his salary if you had it just to get him to stick around a little longer, make you feel that good again.

A devious idea comes to your brain, and you pull the covers from yourself quickly, making fast moves before he gets back.

When Rafe comes back into the room a few minutes later, he nearly spills your hot coffee all over himself at the sight that greets him.

The comforter is bundled at the end of the bed, nothing covering your body as you stretch out on the mattress. You’ve switched out his t-shirt and your baggy sweats for a silky pair of boy-short panties and a lacy bra. You're facing away from him, laying on your side, the curve of your hips and peekaboo view of your ass casting a scandalous shadow on the wall. The fabric of your panties is so flimsy, it climbs up the curve of your ass, revealing you to him as if they’re barely there at all.

“Nice try,” he shakes his head, though the small crack in his voice betrays his defiance. You know you’ve got him hard and frazzled.

“Hmmm?” You don’t turn to look at him, instead bending your knee and sliding one leg up higher to give him an even better angle of your ass. 

“It’s not gonna work…” he insists, setting your coffee down, fully intending to turn and make his way to the walk-in closet to get dressed, yet somehow finding himself completely immobile.

“What’s not going to work?” You echo, feigning cluelessness in a way you know is gonna drive him mad.

“I really do have a meeting,” he continues his one-sided argument, trying desperately to convince himself. “I can’t be late, it’s important.”

“Okay! Have a good day, baby,” you yawn, shifting on the sheets as if you’re just getting comfortable, hoping he doesn’t see the smile you’re hiding in your pillow, obsessed with the strain in his voice that reveals his resolve is cracking.

The mattress sinks slowly under his weight, and you can feel the heat of him before he even touches your skin. His hand slides up your leg, from your ankle all the way up to your thigh, where he pauses to squeeze your flesh. 

“You’re gonna be late,” you let your mouth twist into a cheeky smile. 

He huffs a defeated laugh, letting his forehead fall onto your shoulder in frustration, “you’re killing me.”

“I’m not doing anything!” You giggle, arching your back and giving him a better glimpse at the other side of you, your nipples already pebbling in anticipation, clearly visible through your see through bra.

Rafe responds by saying your name, so low and needy it’s almost inaudible. You twist your torso just enough to meet his eyes, blinking at him sweetly through your eyelashes.

“Yes?”

He doesn’t respond with words, just a piercing gaze. His blue eyes are blown wide with lust as he takes you in, dragging over your body helplessly, fighting an internal battle as he plots his next move. Filthy thoughts are etched on his face, you know him well enough by now to see the gears turn behind his eyes, imagining all the things he could do to you if he stayed.

“Can I at least have a kiss before you go?” You ask, hoping the taste of your lips will tip the scales in your favor.

He can’t deny you a kiss, he never does, so he leans in and meets your lips with a nod, his hand rising to softly cradle your jaw. You run your tongue so gently across his lower lip that he wonders if he imagined it. When you part your lips for him and release a small sigh, the game is over.

With another squeeze of your thigh, he pulls back from you just enough to reach his phone on the nightstand. You watch with a victorious grin as he types out a quick message, surely to his secretary, and tosses the phone somewhere on the bed. 

“Bought us an hour,” he tells you.

“Only an hour?” You pout.

“Don’t be greedy,” he teases you, shuffling behind you so he can spoon you, placing a dozen quick kisses up your arm, making you giggle in delight.

Rafe’s hand slides from your thigh to your waist, dipping to splay over your stomach so he can pull you flush against him. You sigh dreamily as he begins to suckle on your neck, leaving little pink marks everywhere his lips touch.

“Wasn’t that kind of an important meeting?” You ask, feeling a little guilty for potentially making him miss out on a good opportunity.

“Nothing’s more important than this,” he assures you.

You let out a little whimper at his sweet words, igniting a fire in him. His hand drifts up your stomach until his palm is settled over your breast, kneading gently. 

“Oh,” you gasp. “That feels good.” 

“Yeah?” He drawls with a crooked grin, pausing to drag the tip of his tongue over the shell of your ear, making you shiver. “Just needed a little attention today?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “Needed you.”

His hand leaves you for a minute to fiddle with the clasp of your bra. You lift your arms up so he can slide it off and toss it somewhere on the floor of the massive master suite.

The rough skin of his palm comes back to rest over your hard nipple, the sensation is so sweet that your whole body hums with pleasure. 

“God you’re so soft,” he breathes over the wet spot he’s just left on your skin, “love these tits so much.”

With that confession, he pinches your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger, the pain lasting only a second before he smoothes it over with the pad of his thumb.

“Rafe!” You squeak out at the sting.

He shushes you gently, lowering his mouth to pull your earlobe between his teeth, the pressure strong, but not strong enough to pull your mind from the way his hand is dropping lower on your torso towards your panties. A pool of silky arousal gathered between your legs, you rub your thighs together in search of friction as his hand continues to move maddeningly slow.

“Don’t worry baby,” he coos, “gonna take good care of you like I always do.”

Your fingernails dig into the sheets in preparation when he finally reaches the band of your panties, lifting them to slide his hand in.

“You always take such good care of me, Rafe,” you agree.

He places his other arm under your head for support, allowing you to look down at the outline of his big hand wriggling under the damp cloth of your panties. His fingers find your entrance easily, pausing outside to swirl in your wetness.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he praises. “Always so ready for me.”

After a few more swirls, he’s satisfied with the coating, dragging his fingers back up to your clit. He hits it right away, he could find it in a hurricane. He runs his fingers over you at the perfect angle, starting with delicate figure eights.

Your head falls forward in ecstasy, unable to form words. Rafe bends his arm at the elbow, laying his hand flat against your forehead to pull your head back into his chest, your neck arching with the stretch. The pink spots he’s left on your exposed throat have darkened nicely, giving him a chance to appreciate his handiwork. He reattaches his lips, desperate to claim you as many times as he can, hungry for you.

The sweetest, breathiest moans fall from your puffy lips, and he basks in them like the sunlight that’s bleeding through the curtains. He’s nibbling on your shoulder like it’s his breakfast as his fingers pick up speed on your clit. 

Between circles and flicks, he stops to tap quickly with the tip of his middle finger, the rhythmic pressure and release has the sensitive bud pulsing. You chase his fingers pathetically with the roll of your hips, needing more.  

As you writhe, his cloth covered cock slots between the valley of your ass, each wave of your hips grinding perfectly against his shaft. You shut your eyes tight, picturing his perfect length and the gorgeous noises he makes when he comes. You need to hear those sounds like you need air.

Your hand releases from the sheets, reaching behind you to rub the hard ridge of his dick over his sweatpants. Rafe clenches his jaw, a throaty groan vibrating through his chest and straight into your body. 

“This what you wanted, angel?” He asks, his tone dominant and desperate all at the same time. The perfect balance of ownership and a genuine urgency to please you.

“Just wanted you,” you confirm through labored pants, grinding yourself into his hand, “all I ever want is you.”

“Oh yeah? Show me.”

No further instruction needed, your hand finally dips below his waistband, immediately finding his pulsing cock. 

“Shi-ii-t,” he shudders as you wrap your fingers around him, stroking slowly and reveling in how hard you’ve made him.

You notice goosebumps rush up the arm that’s disappearing into your panties, you realize your hands must be cold. You know he’d never complain, but you don’t just want him to feel good, you want him to feel as amazing as he makes you feel.

You draw your hand back from his boxers, and he groans at your absence, nearly protesting until he sees what you’re doing. You dip your hand into your underwear, gently nudging his out of the way, and collect some of your wetness onto your own fingers. Your hand glistens in the morning sunlight when you pull it out, displaying it for him before returning your grip to his cock.

He’s speechless. Eyes rolling back at how fucking sexy that was, desperate to ground himself before he comes too quickly in your hand. He moves his palm down from your forehead to cup your throat, not too much pressure to hurt, but enough to remind you how strong he is. You whimper, swallowing hard under his broad palm.

“Jesus christ, baby,” he sputters, “you’re my fucking dream girl.” 

You fall in sync, Rafe rubbing tight, firm circles over your clit, while you slide your hand up and down his shaft, pausing at the tip with each stroke to swirl your thumb in the precum he’s leaking. His knuckles flex in response to each flick of your thumb, pads of his fingers holding and releasing your neck in steady pulses. 

You squeeze his cock as he squeezes your throat, so perfectly aligned in your drunken pleasure that you both chuckle at how unbelievable it feels. But if you’re laughing, then surely he’s not doing a good enough job.  

He draws your clit between his fingers, rolling over and over, not pinching too hard, but just hard enough to set every nerve ending in your body on fire. You draw your knees up, your hand slowing involuntarily on his cock as you feel the familiar coil tighten in your tummy, seconds from snapping.

“I can’t believe you’re real, you’re so perfect,” Rafe whispers into your shoulder, kissing you over and over.

“Gonna make me come talking like that, baby,” you warn him.

“You want that? You want me to make you come in my hand?”

“Not yet,” you choke out, so close that you’re already dreading coming down from your high. It’s too soon, it’s not enough. No amount of him will ever be enough, but you at least need him closer. “Want you inside, need you in me.”

“Anything. Anything you want,” he swears as he pulls his hand from your core to rip your panties down your legs. You pull them off over your feet and toss them away as he removes his pants and boxers behind you. 

The fabric finally out of the way, his dick spears into your back, somehow always so much bigger and more powerful than you remember. You pray he doesn’t make you wait any longer, wriggling back onto your side so your soaked pussy is perfectly exposed to him. 

In the soft morning light, he finally gets a good view of your slick folds, nearly busting all over your back at the sight. He’s filled this new condo with the most expensive art he could find, but nothing comes close to the masterpiece in front of him. To him, you’re fucking priceless.

He wastes no more time, tucking a hand under your knee to angle your leg up. You take his cue, understanding each other without words as always, and brace your foot flat against his calf, propping yourself open for him.

A combination of the angle and his picture perfect memory of your walls has his tip hitting your g-spot on the very first thrust. He stretches you so sweetly, the tight fit making your brain go foggy and your mouth fall open, gasping helplessly.

“Like this?” He asks, not taunting but not really asking either, already knowing the answer to “this how you want it?”

“Not quite,” you whisper. 

He freezes with confusion before you reach behind you to find the hand he has braced on your hip, pulling it up and placing it back around your neck.

“There,” you say, “now it’s perfect.”

“Holy shit,” Rafe stammers, hips jerking forward, slamming into you a little too hard, lost in his infatuation with you. 

At first he worries it’s too hard, but a dreamy moan rises from your throat and you encourage, “yes, yes, like that, please.”

Mouth agape in disbelief at his pure fucking luck in finding you, he obeys your plea, pulling back slow before thrusting in hard again. The hand that’s not on your throat pushes into the mattress beneath your head, lifting himself up for leverage. He continues to fuck into you hard, pausing after each stroke to hit as deep as he can possibly get. You’re a mess, crying out with each slap of his hips against your ass, blabbering incoherently as you clench around him.

“Ohhh my god you’re so tight,” he growls through gritted teeth. “‘I’m gonna come if you keep squeezing me like that. You gonna let me come inside?”

Your eyes fly open as an invisible light bulb goes off above your head, you twist to meet his eyes, his lids low and irises completely blown out with lust.

“If I do, will you stay home?” you proposition him.

He scoffs, shaking his head in pure amusement and adoration, tongue digging into the side of his cheek in the cocky way you love. From this angle, the sharp features of his perfect face hover just inches from yours. The sheer attraction you feel makes your walls flutter around his cock, a tease of his reward if he promises to stay.

Rafe screws his eyes shut, his head falling back as you pulse around him repeatedly.

“Fuck! Yes, I promise, I promise,” he cries out as he continues thrusting into you sloppily, “I’ll do anything. I’ll sell my house, I’ll change my fucking name. Just ask me and I’ll do it.”

His theatrics delight you, bubbly giggles rising from your stomach as he loses himself in you. You can’t remember ever loving anyone as much as you love him at this moment.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, completely enamored with the man inside you.

Without a thought, he slips the hand on your throat to the back of your neck, kneading your skin as he pulls your mouth to his. It’s not gentle, like his typical good morning kisses, it’s messy and wet and hard and completely mind numbing. You bite on his bottom lip, almost accidentally, losing your mind at the taste of him.

“B-baby,” he stutters, his hips doing the same, “can’t - fuck -  can’t wait any longer. Tell me where you want it.”

“Mmmph, inside, please! Please fill me up, Rafe.”

It’s all he needs to hear, he buries himself deeper than he’s ever been. 

“Come with me?” he pleads.

You’re so close, you can’t even find words, nodding rapidly. He hits your g-spot one final time and you slip off the edge of the earth into uncut ecstasy.

Your eyes roll back and your toes dig into his leg, bruising his calf. His tip hits your cervix hard, hot cum pooling deep in your core, spilling out of him for longer than you thought possible. His breath is ragged and his chest heaving as his body jerks around you.

Both trembling, his arm gives out and he slumps down, curled around you. Sweaty and satisfied, you catch your breath together, Rafe still buried deep. 

He plants wet kisses on the nape of your neck, brushing your hair out of the way and blowing gently to cool you down. You see only bright white behind your closed eyes, floating in a perfect pleasure you didn’t know was possible until you met this man.

After a few moments, or possibly hours, he starts to pull out. Your hips chase his defiantly, refusing to lose his warmth again.

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head, reaching back to grab his hip and hold him in place. “You promised.”

“I also promised to change my name, you gonna make me do that, too?” He laughs.

“Maybe.”

“Oh really? What are you gonna call me?”

“I dunno,” you shrug. “How about daddy?”

Your teasing has the intended effect, Rafe twitching inside you, already hardening again. He knows you’re just playing with him, but his mind spirals out of control at the pet name. He’s so in love he thinks it might kill him.

Settling back into you, he reaches around the bed until his hand finds his discarded cell phone.

Your lips twist into a smirk as you hear him dial, still buried in your heat.

The dial tone rings a few times and he says, “yeah, gonna need you to clear my whole day. Something came up.”

He thanks the voice on the other line, hanging up and tossing his phone somewhere in the mountain of blankets on the floor.

“A whole day?” You ask, nestling back into his chest. “Aren’t you gonna lose the money from those investors?”

“Probably,” he shrugs, laying more slow kisses on your shoulder. “Worth every fucking cent.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ playing dangerous ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ hwang in-ho x player!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header!

˚ ༘♡ player 177. your assigned number. the three digits stitched in stark white thread on the coarse forest-green tracksuit now clinging to your body. you didn’t remember putting it on. you didn’t remember anything between falling asleep in your cramped apartment and waking up in this sterile, alabaster void. the tracksuit was loose in some places, tight in others, the fabric rough against your skin, a similar sensation for the discomfort that had settled deep into your bones.

˚ ༘♡ the air here was heavy, oppressive. tension hung over the room like a storm cloud, pressing down on everyone in its path. you sat on the thin mattress of your cot, the iron bars of the bedframe biting into your back as you leaned against them. your throat was dry, your lips chapped, and a faint crust of dried blood clung to the edge of your mouth, an unpleasant reminder of the chaos you’d barely survived. in your lap rested a cold metal bento box, unopened. the thought of eating its contents of rubbery eggs and starchy rice, made your stomach churn. it wasn’t hunger gnawing at you but dread. eating felt like acknowledging the possibility of another day here, in this place where death lingered so close you could almost taste it.

˚ ༘♡ death. it wasn’t something you’d ever had to think about seriously before. you were young, healthy enough, aside from the occasional winter flu. life’s struggles had been mundane, bills, work, nothing quite noteworthy. you’d thought financial trouble was the worst of your problems. how naive that seemed now. the sharp crack of gunfire still rang in your ears, and the memory of bodies crumpling mid-run played in an endless loop in your mind. every scream, every desperate gasp for air as life left someone’s body, was etched into your mind.

˚ ༘♡ this wasn’t life. it was survival, twisted into something grotesque. children’s games weaponized against desperate people for the amusement of others, with the promise of money as bait. one hundred million won for every life taken. your own life, reduced to a figure on a balance sheet. you’d survived the first game, the horrifying version of red light, green light, but at what cost? surely, after witnessing such carnage, the others would have voted to leave. you’d been certain of it. but the desperation was stronger. greed was stronger. most players had chosen to stay, ignoring the horrors of what lay ahead.

˚ ༘♡ “the next game,” player 456 had said, “will be cutting shapes out of dalgona candy. pick the triangle. it’s the easiest.” his voice had carried a strange conviction, and he claimed to know these games intimately, even to have won before. but how could you trust him? maybe he was lying, or maybe it didn’t matter. maybe none of you were meant to leave this place alive.

˚ ༘♡ “hey, 177!” the crude voice shattered your thoughts, dragging you back to the present.

˚ ༘♡ you glanced up to see player 230, “thanos,” as he called himself, sauntering toward you. his garish purple hair stood out like a bruise against the sterile backdrop, and his brightly colored nails flashed as he gestured. he’d painted them to match the infinity stones, leaning fully into the nickname he’d given himself. behind him, player 124 followed, all sharp angles and slicked-back hair, his grin as eager and sly as ever.

˚ ༘♡ “why didn’t you vote for one more game, huh?” thanos sneered, his voice laced with mockery. “you had no problem playing foul last round.”

˚ ༘♡ you frowned, rising slowly to your feet. “you and i both know it was an accident,” you replied steadily. “everyone was running for their lives. i didn’t block your way on purpose. we both finished in time, didn’t we? no harm done.”

˚ ༘♡ he rolled his eyes, his expression exaggerated and spontaneous. “yeah, sure, whatever. typical cold-hearted bitch behavior.”

˚ ༘♡ player 124 cackled at the insult, his laughter harsh and grating. “that’s right. cold, stuck-up bitch,” he echoed, his voice dripping with scorn.

˚ ༘♡ their taunts were designed to provoke you, but you refused to give them the satisfaction. your hands curled into fists, but you forced yourself to relax them, forced yourself to breathe. these two thrived on conflict, and the best thing you could do was walk away. you turned on your heel, ignoring their shouts, and started to move toward the far corner of the room.

˚ ༘♡ “hey! i’m talking to you!” thanos barked, stumbling after you with heavy, uncoordinated steps. he didn’t get far. player 001 stepped into his path, his expression stoic and unyielding.

˚ ༘♡ “don’t you boys have any respect?” player 001 asked, his voice quiet but firm. there was something about him, an emanation of authority that made everyone within earshot pause.

˚ ༘♡ thanos bristled, his arrogance faltering for just a moment. “mind your own damn business, old man,” he snapped, jerking forward.

˚ ༘♡ player 001 didn’t flinch. when thanos lunged at him, the older man moved with startling precision, sidestepping the punch with ease. he grabbed thanos by the wrist mid-swing and twisted sharply, forcing a guttural yelp from the younger man as his knees buckled. with a swift motion, player 001 yanked him forward and drove an elbow into his chest, the dull, cracking impact echoing in the room. thanos collapsed onto the floor, clutching his ribs and coughing violently.

˚ ༘♡ player 124 scrambled forward, his face twisted in fury. “bastard!” he yelled, charging with reckless abandon. player 001 turned just in time, catching the younger man by the collar and using his momentum against him. a sharp twist and a well-placed shove sent player 124 sprawling into the edge of a nearby cot, the metal frame rattling as he hit it with a thud.

˚ ༘♡ the fight wasn’t over. thanos struggled to his feet, his face contorted in pain and rage. “you’re gonna regret that, old man,” he spat, lunging again. this time, player 001’s response was more deliberate. he ducked under thanos’s wild swing, stepped inside his reach, and delivered a devastating blow to his lower torso. the younger man doubled over, gasping, before player 001 swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the floor once more.

˚ ༘♡ not finished, player 124 staggered up again, charging at player 001 with fists raised. the older man sidestepped and grabbed player 124 by the arm, wrenching it behind his back and forcing him to the ground with a hoarse cry of pain. he planted a knee firmly against player 124’s spine, holding him there as the younger man squirmed and cursed.

˚ ༘♡ thanos, blood now trickling from his nose, crawled toward his friend, wheezing apologies and swearing obscenities all at once. player 001 released player 124 with a shove, stepping back as the two younger men lay crumpled together on the floor.

˚ ༘♡ the room was silent, every player watching in stunned awe. then, slowly, the silence broke into cheers and clapping. player 001 straightened his posture, his expression as calm and inscrutable as ever. without a word, he turned and walked back to where player 456 and a few others were gathered, leaving the two troublemakers to nurse their wounds.

˚ ༘♡ you hesitated, then followed him. when you reached his side, you spoke softly. “i wanted to thank you, sir. if you hadn’t stepped in, they wouldn’t have stopped harassing me and disturbing the peace. you’ve done us all a favor.”

˚ ༘♡ player 001 turned to look at you, his dark eyes meeting yours briefly before he nodded. he said nothing, his expression unreadable. there was something deeply weary about him, a weight that seemed to press down on his shoulders. his posture was rigid, his face lined with exhaustion, and though he was relatively handsome, it was the kind of masculine appeal eroded by time and hardship.

˚ ༘♡ you wondered what had brought him here, what had led him to the point where he’d chosen, or been pushed into, to enter this place. you didn’t ask. prying into his past would be an impolite gesture and an indignity for what he had done for you.

a/n: my first squid game fanfiction! i definitely want to write more for hwang in-ho in the future so let me know if you have any requests! 🤍

[solxamber]

You Try to Sleep on the Couch after an Argument with: Vice-Housewardens + Ruggie

Other Parts: Housewardens; First Years ; Cater, Floyd, Silver, Rollo

Trey Clover

The argument wasn’t a loud one—no shouting, no slamming doors—just tense words exchanged with too much weight behind them. Trey’s voice had been steady, but his usual patience was stretched thin.

You, equally frustrated, had decided that the best course of action was to remove yourself before either of you said something you’d regret.

So, with a sigh, you grabbed a blanket and made your way to the couch, settling in with your back turned toward the bedroom.

Trey let out a heavy exhale behind you, but he didn’t stop you.

You shifted, adjusting the blanket, willing yourself to fall asleep. It didn’t work. The room was too quiet, too heavy with the remnants of unspoken words. You half-expected Trey to leave you there and go to bed, but then—soft footsteps. A rustle of fabric.

Kneeling beside the couch, Trey placed a hand on the cushion near your arm. His voice was quiet, steady in a way that made something in your chest ache.

“Come back to bed.”

You closed your eyes. “Not yet.”

A pause. Then, a soft sigh. Trey stood. For a moment, you thought he was giving up, finally going to bed without you. The thought left an unexpected hollowness in your chest.

But then, after a few minutes, he returned. You smelled the milk before you saw it—the faint scent of vanilla and honey curling through the air. When you cracked an eye open, there he was, sitting on the floor near the couch, a mug in his hands. He held it out to you.

“Here,” he said. “I know you have trouble sleeping when you’re upset.”

You blinked at him, heart squeezing against your ribs. “Trey…”

He didn’t push, didn’t insist. He just waited, his eyes gentle, patient in the way only he could be.

And just like that, your frustration melted. You took the mug, letting the warmth seep into your fingers. Trey didn’t move, just watched you with that quiet steadiness. Then, softly, he asked again,

“Come back to bed?”

This time, you didn’t hesitate.

You set the mug aside and sat up, only for Trey to immediately wrap his arms around you. His hold was firm, grounding. He buried his face in your shoulder and murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, holding him just as tightly. “I’m sorry too.”

Neither of you moved for a long moment, staying there in the quiet. Eventually, Trey pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead.

“C’mon,” he said, voice low, warm. “Let’s go to sleep.”

And this time, when he led you back to bed, you followed without hesitation.

Ruggie Bucchi

The couch wasn’t comfortable. You knew it, and Ruggie knew it. But right now, your stubbornness outweighed your need for a good night’s sleep. You yanked the blanket over yourself, muttering under your breath as you tried to arrange the cushions into something remotely acceptable.

Across the room, Ruggie watched you with wide, calculating eyes. He hadn’t said anything since you stormed off, but you could feel him thinking. And then—

“You remember when you ate my last donut?” he started, voice small.

You froze, narrowing your eyes. “…What?”

“My last donut. You ate it, and you said—” He changed his voice in a mocking impression of you. “‘I owe you one, Ruggie, I swear. Anything you want.’”

You groaned, burying your face in the pillow. “Oh my —”

“But it’s fine,” he continued, so dramatically forlorn you almost threw the pillow at him. “I guess I’ll just be all alone in that big, cold bed. No warmth. No love. Just me. Shivering.”

You lifted your head, ready to tell him off, but then—oh, no.

He hit you with the look.

Ears drooping. Tail flicking. Wide, guilt-inducing eyes that shimmered just enough to make your resolve crack.

You exhaled sharply, dropping your head back down. “You’re the worst.”

He didn’t respond. Just fidgeted. Shuffled his feet like he was actually nervous you’d say no.

And that? That got you.

With a groan of defeat, you sighed and opened your arms. That was all he needed. Ruggie practically launched himself onto the couch, slotting himself beside you in a space absolutely not designed for two people. His weight pressed against you, his tail flicking lazily as he tucked his head under your chin.

“…Knew you couldn’t resist me,” he mumbled, voice muffled by your shirt.

“Shut up.”

His arms tightened around you. A quiet beat passed, then—

“Sorry.”

Your hand found its way into his hair, carding through the strands. “Yeah,” you murmured. “Me too.”

Ruggie hummed, content. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, and despite the ridiculousness of it all, sleep found you too.

Jade Leech

The couch was lumpy. Or maybe you were just too angry to get comfortable. Either way, you buried your face into the pillow, inhaling deeply through your nose to keep yourself from snapping again. You just needed some space. Needed to not be in the same room as Jade and his infuriating, calmly amused expression.

“I can’t be around you right now,” you had told him before marching off, voice tight with frustration. And for once, he didn’t push. Didn’t smirk or throw another veiled comment your way. He simply inclined his head, watching as you all but collapsed onto the couch.

Now, wrapped in a too-thin blanket, you willed yourself to sleep. You were almost there—drifting, fading—when fingers ghosted over your hair.

Your breath caught, but you kept still.

Soft strokes. Careful, reverent, as if he thought you might break. It was so unlike him, so gentle, that you almost cracked your eyes open to confirm it was really happening. Then—

“…I’m so sorry.”

The whisper was barely there. But it wasn’t the words that made your heart lurch—it was the way his voice shook.

Jade Leech, ever unflappable, sounded unsteady.

He pulled back, and you knew he was about to leave. That should have been fine. You should have let him go.

But your bleeding heart had other plans.

Your hand shot out, grabbing his wrist before he could slip away.

He barely had time to react before you yanked him back—maybe a little too hard, because the next thing you knew, he was crashing onto the couch with you. A rare, wide-eyed look of surprise flashed across his face, so fleeting you almost thought you imagined it.

And then you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Jade froze.

“I’m sorry too,” you murmured. “We can talk in the morning.”

For a long moment, he just looked at you, something unreadable in his expression. Then, slow and deliberate, he dipped down and pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek.

“…Very well,” he whispered.

His weight settled beside you, and this time, when you drifted off, it was to the sound of his steady breathing, warm and close beside you.

The couch standoff had been going on for way too long.

“I’m sleeping here,” you declared, arms crossed as you planted yourself firmly onto the cushions.

“No, you’re not,” Jamil shot back, equally stubborn. “I am.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m not taking the bed while you sleep out here.”

“And I’m not letting you sleep out here while I take the bed.” His arms were crossed now too, mirroring your posture, his sharp gaze unwavering.

For a moment, the tension held. Then, something about the sheer ridiculousness of it all hit you—both of you too annoyed to back down but too caring to let the other suffer the discomfort of the couch.

A laugh bubbled up in your chest before you could stop it. You covered your mouth, but the moment you let out even the smallest chuckle, Jamil’s eyes flickered with reluctant amusement. He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head.

“This is stupid,” you admitted between giggles.

He sighed, running a hand down his face. “Yeah. It is.”

You grinned. “Bed?”

Jamil didn’t hesitate. “Bed.”

The moment you both settled under the blankets, the last traces of tension melted away. His arms instinctively curled around you, pulling you close, and you let yourself relax into his warmth.

“Sorry,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his shoulder.

His grip tightened, lips brushing against your hair. “Me too.”

Neither of you said anything else. You didn’t need to. The steady rhythm of his breathing and the way he held you just a little closer said enough.

Rook arguing with you was already unexpected. That he let you march off to the couch without a poetic declaration or dramatic plea? Unheard of.

You cocooned yourself in the blanket, stubbornly facing the back of the couch. The silence felt unnatural—too quiet for someone like Rook. A part of you expected him to suddenly recite a Shakespearean sonnet about lovers quarreling.

Instead, something even more ridiculous happened.

You shifted slightly, just enough to glance toward the floor—and there he was.

Laying down right beside the couch on a thin blanket, arms crossed behind his head as though he had chosen the most luxurious sleeping arrangement in the world. His golden hair fanned out on the hardwood floor, and despite the clear insanity of the situation, he looked perfectly content.

You stared. Blinked. “Rook.”

“Oui, mon amour?”

“You’re on the floor.”

“Indeed.”

“You’re going to get sick.”

“Then I shall suffer beautifully, just as you do now, exiled from the comfort of our bed.” His eyes twinkled, completely unrepentant. “If my beloved must endure the cruel fate of sleeping alone, then I shall share in their hardship.”

You pressed your fingers to your temples. “Rook, go to bed.”

“I am in bed.”

“No, you’re on the floor, being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? Ah, ma chérie, I am simply a devoted man.”

You groaned, throwing your arm over your face, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you. It was impossible to stay mad when he was like this. Ridiculous. Completely, helplessly devoted.

Sighing, you reached out and flicked his forehead. He gasped theatrically, touching the spot as though you had struck him with Cupid’s arrow. Before he could say something absurd, you leaned down and kissed the spot gently.

“Come to bed, you idiot.”

His eyes widened slightly before his lips stretched into a dazzling smile. Without hesitation, he stood—and then immediately scooped you into his arms.

“Rook—?!?”

“Ah, mon amour, such sweet mercy! Allow me to carry you away from this exile!” He spun dramatically, pressing an exaggerated kiss to your forehead before striding toward the bedroom.

You should have expected nothing less.

You sighed against his shoulder, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you adore me.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

Lilia Vanrouge

You had firmly decided that you weren’t going to sleep in the same bed as Lilia tonight.

You needed space. You needed time to cool off. You needed—

Blink.

One second, you were wrapped in your blanket on the couch. The next? You were in bed.

You shot up, heart pounding. Lilia stood at the bedside, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Lilia.” Your voice was dangerously even.

“Yes, my dear?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you teleport me?”

A smug smile. “Would you rather I carried you?”

Oh, you were about to start another argument—

But then you noticed something. In his hands: a pillow and his own blanket.

You frowned. “What are you doing?”

Lilia hummed, casual as anything. “If my beloved insists on sleeping elsewhere, then I shall take the couch in their place. I have endured far worse in my lifetime—” his eyes twinkled mischievously “—but I’d hate for you to wake up with an aching back.”

You groaned, flopping back onto the mattress. “That’s so unfair.”

“To be this thoughtful and charming? I know.”

You shot him a look, but he simply smiled. You hated how sweet he could be even when you were still irritated.

With an exasperated sigh, you sat up and grabbed his wrist, tugging him toward you. He followed easily, his blanket forgotten as he slipped into bed. Without hesitation, he wrapped himself around you, chin resting atop your head.

His voice softened. “I’m sorry, dear.”

You exhaled, tension leaving your body as you relaxed into his hold. “…I’m sorry too.”

His lips brushed against your temple, and with that, the night’s quarrel was put to rest.

Masterlist

[nochepsicodelica]

"All those drinks are gonna do you dirty, ma. You're gonna throw up if you don't get some food in your system, so eat," Toji says, pushing the box closer to you.

You giggle at his serious face, before standing up from your chair for the fourth time, trying to go around him. Toji's used to this by now and stands up, bringing you back down to your chair.

"Stop getting up and eat your food. You literally begged for this. Why aren't you eating it?"

"Why aren't you eating it?" You return, raising your brows at him, seductively. It doesn't come off too sexy when raising your eyebrows makes you immediately squint because of the light going into your sensitive eyes, but it does lure a chuckle out of Toji.

"I'm ignoring that. Just eat. I don't wanna hear you upchucking in a couple hours."

"You won't hold my hair back?" You pout. Your feigned little flash of sadness produces real tears in this state, so it's a little confusing for Toji when you start giggling while wiping at your reddened cheeks.

"Your food's getting cold. I know how you are about reheating fast food, so eat it before it goes to waste."

You smile at him, your eyelids almost completely shut in your drunken daze. Toji can't even lie, it's cute. It's the only reason he's not up the wall about this little situation. Then you decide to drop a bomb on him.

"I'm not hungry anymore. Too tired to eat." You rest your chin on your palm, shutting your eyes. It feels nice. It would take less than thirty seconds for you to fall asleep.

Fuck. Think, think, think...

"Hey." Toji pokes your forehead, lightly, earning a hum and a furrow of your brows. "What if I feed you?"

You laugh, giddily. "Ooo, you trying to romance me?"

"Sure, if you eat."

You laugh again. "Toji, you dog, you. I'm not putting out." You shake your head, eyes closed with a dumb grin on your face. "No, sir. It's food and then goodnight for me."

"You already put out for me, earlier, doll." He smirks at the way you blush, clearly having an 'oh, yeah...' moment. "Eat some more so we can go to sleep."

"Hm?" You hum, rolling your eyes open after your blink of sleep. You crack a grin as soon as you look at Toji. "You wanna kiss me sooo bad. Look at you."

"I'm not gonna kiss you. You're not listening. You think you deserve kisses for that?"

"Uh... yes? I mean no. Pshhh, nooo. Of course, not."

"That's right. So eat, or you'll go to sleep without kisses, tonight."

"Noooo," you whine, dramatically. "Wait! Fine, fine. Look." You take a huge bite of your sandwich, your cheeks puffing up as you chew. "Oh, this is really good," you say, muffled by your mouthful of food.

"Don't choke, doll. Small bites are fine," he says, picking up a napkin and wiping the excess condiments off your face.

You push through it and gulp down the bite. "That was a lot. Got bread stuck on the roof of my mouth." You take a sip of your drink to wash it all down. "Did I look so pretty for the party, today?" You ask, your lips curling as you put the cup back down.

"You did, mama. Stunning. Swept everyone there, off their feet."

You smile, the gesture transitioning into a giggle. "Even Shiu?"

"Yup. Even Shiu said he wanted a piece of you."

You gasp. "No... Did you fight him?"

"Nah, I wanted to, but I kept my cool. If he had put his hands on you, then I might have, but I had my eye on you all night, to make sure nobody did more than look at you."

"I wouldn't have followed him anywhere, anyway." You roll your eyes, suddenly so hostile against the host of the party. "Probably would've kicked him in the nuts and gone to find you."

"Yeah, that's a smart idea, doll."

Toji's elaborate answers to your questions kept you awake long enough for you to mindlessly eat while he talked. You were at the end of the sandwich when you realized how much you had eaten and how full you were.

"Can't... do it..." You groan, lying on the arm you have extended on the table. "Too full." You sigh, heavily, setting the rest of the sandwich down on the scattered fries in its box.

"That's good, ma. You don't have to eat it, anymore. We can go to bed, now."

You let out another heavy sigh, sluggishness washing over you before you force yourself to stand up from your chair, this time with Toji's 'okay'. He looks at your little belly as it protrudes from your dress, proof of how full you actually are, and pokes at it. Your usually soft tummy is temporarily stiff and it's adorable.

You grab Toji's hand so that you don't stumble as you walk. Before leaving the table, he finished the remainder of your sandwich in one bite and threw out the container with the remaining cold fries.

"Damn, you were right, baby. That was good."

"Mhm," you mumble, waiting for him to lead you to the room.

Toji helped you brush your teeth and wash your face, and when you finally made it to the room, he helped you dress down into comfier clothes. Now, you're in bed together and you're in his arms trying to doze off, but you can't with the way he's smothering your face with kisses. It's just kiss after kiss with him and you can't focus, but it is what you wanted. After all, you stuffed your face for this.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

FWB to Lovers w/ Logan

Description: How Y/N and Logan went from Fuck buddies to Lovers

Warning: Dirty talk

Ever since Y/N, Wade and Logan saved the timeline it has been a known thing that Logan and Y/N had tension and Wade always made it known: “UGH just fuck already Disney can just cut it out of the film.” “What?” 

Y/N tried to hide her feelings at first knowing that Logan probably wanted someone his age and not a younger woman with little to no experience. Boy was she wrong: “Wade’s right. We should fuck.” 

Though he said that drunk, Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about it. She was sure he wouldn’t remember saying that but the never next day when she just stared at him a little too long she was up against the wall in a second: “We need to hurry before Wade gets back.” 

He was huge compared to her and the size kink was real. For his age he had a nice body and a dick that hit all her special spots: “Fuck. I didn’t even know that spot could be reached.”

He took her on everything in that house. The couch, the wall, the beds (even Wade’s), shower, counter and even on a chair. Wade found out and his reaction wasn’t even surprising: “You guys can’t just fuck on my bed and not let me watch.” 

Y/N was falling hard for the man and Wade could tell. Her stares were no longer just filled with lust but love. She looked at him like he was the whole world and more: “OMG is the Y/N falling in love?” “Shut up!”

Logan was too and that showed when he found out that Y/N and Wade had slept together before. Though Y/N and Logan weren’t together and only supposed to be FWB, He got extremely jealous: “YOU GUYS HAVE SLEPT TOGETHER?” “Duh. Have you seen us? Two hot people fucking is the norm.” 

Y/N and Wade both found it odd that he got mad about that given it was 2 years ago and before any of this. Logan stormed off to his room ignoring them calling his name. Wade looked at Y/N with a knowing look: “Seems like your pussy is a love potion and he had too much of it.” 

Though it wasn’t the best idea, Wade went to talk to him about it. Y/N almost wanted to do it herself but Wade offered and said that he wouldn’t crack jokes about the situation: “Listen peanut, I understand that you have a bad boy reputation to stick too but that hard on you’re showing says you enjoyed the thought of it.” “WADE GET OUT!” 

Y/N couldn’t sleep that night. Her mind was on Logan and how he just stormed out of the room after hearing that they fucked. Did he love her back? She needed to know. She walked to his door and knocked, not caring if he was asleep or not: “Do you love me?” “Y/N, It’s 3 am.” 

He did in fact love her and he should’ve shown it better. Wade always wanted to get under his skin and that’s probably why he mentioned that: “I said that to get you two together. It’s annoying to see you guys act like Blind AL trying to find something.” 

Ok Wade maybe a little too far?

Both of them were idiots for not just admitting how they felt but now it was worth it in the end and Wade was to thank: “I’m not thanking you with Tacos!” “Well aren’t you just ungrateful?”

[wriokitty]

morning routine — ft. sylus

before you read: established relationships ; gender neutral reader ; sleepy clingy sylus ; banter ; fluff and cheesiness i apologize in advance

“Here we go,” you hum to yourself, rolling your eyes with a knowing smile curled loosely on your lips as soon as Sylus starts to shift in his sleep. “Like a hermit crab,” you tease to his unconscious figure, “no wonder you’re so pale. Do you even remember what the sun looks like?”

“Do you always talk to sleeping people?”

You still at the sound of his voice, hand freezing in the middle of stroking through his hair. He doesn’t like that, either—his head presses up into your fingertips, a silent demand for more.

“You should be sleeping,” you scold gently, fingers returning to their earlier movements. You scratch lightly at his scalp and he shivers, humming in content. Like a cat, you think fondly, purring in your arms at the slightest show of affection.

Your morning routine starts with the same valiant effort every day: protecting Sylus from the sun. It’s honest work: he already doesn’t sleep very much through the night, and if he doesn’t sleep through the day because of a mild setback either, you think a number of poor victims would suffer the consequences of his tired, grouchy attitude.

So, you protect him as he falls asleep while the sun rises, beams of light slipping through the cracks of the blinds a little more with every minute. You watch him—with equal parts amusement and equal parts fondness, you watch every morning as he slowly shifts in his sleep. It starts with him inching closer and closer towards you, and ends with his head buried into your chest and his body curled around you like you’re a shield for the cruel light that disturbs him.

You like this routine, though. It’s the perfect chance to admire him, to bring a hand to trace over his relaxed features—the slightly crooked slant of his nose, the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the defined edge of his jawline. And, of course, your favorite part: the soft, plump curves of his lips. He never does anything to indicate he’s awake, either. Nothing to even hint that he feels you, breathing slow and soft puffs of air peacefully nestled against you.

He looks delicate in slumber. Vulnerable. So agonizingly soft and fragile in a way he normally doesn’t look. (Oh, but does he feel soft, you always think. Sylus always feels so inexplicably soft.)

“I would be sleeping,” he finally grumbles, but it’s playful as he shifts to hide his face deeper into your chest while his nose presses against your collarbone. “But someone disrupted my efforts.”

“No, I protect you,” you huff, “with the way you avoid the sun in your sleep, you’d think the vitamin D would poison you.”

“If it was poisonous, then I’d be dead,” he sighs dramatically, cracking a crimson eye open and looking at you like he’s wounded. “You do a terrible job at keeping me shielded.”

“Maybe I’m trying to kill you in your sleep,” you wink, “ever think of that?”

He chuckles, voice low and still laced with the evidence of sleep from the raspiness of it. You smile softly at the sound, pressing a chaste kiss to his head while he moves to bury it into the crook of your neck. There’s something oddly comforting about it—holding him like this. Holding him while he hides into your body, melts against your skin, sinks weight onto you because you take it and he can.

“Go back to sleep,” you murmur sweetly, rubbing a slow, soothing hand up and down his bare back and tracing his spine. “I’ll make sure the sun knows not to bother my big, sleepy, vitamin D deficient baby.”

“I’m not vitamin D deficient,” he huffs.

“So you agree you’re a big, sleepy baby?”

He snores dramatically, pulling a giggle from your lips. A kiss presses to the skin of your neck, and they come from a pair of lips that feel suspiciously curled—like they’re smiling. You wrap your arms around him a little tighter, because close just doesn’t feel close enough when it’s him.

“Let’s hope I wake up without being poisoned,” he hums, half-asleep once more as you trace a finger along the sharp, muscled curves of his back.

You press one more kiss to his head before murmuring, “I’ll see what I can do.”

He lets out a gentle snore again, real this time. He’s sound asleep with his body molded against yours, routine like it is every morning—you protecting him from the sun, and him falling into your arms.

I just want to hold him while he peacefully rests and hide him away from the sun so he can sleep well like he deserves because he’s a BABY

To me he’s a baby :(