#it was really soothing to focus on just this and not anything else

[deathbxnny]

Hi I just wanted to say I loved the arcane adhd headcannons u wrote, the viktor one made me cry bc I want to be seen like that sooo bad. Do u think u could do some more characters? No pressure tho ur an amazing writer

Arcane characters with an S/o who has ADHD. | Caitlyn, Jinx, Ekko x Gn!Reader

(Previous part)

Aww, I'm so happy to hear that you enjoyed the last part, anon! I hope this is to your liking as well!<33

Content: Fluff, ADHD, established romantic relationships, sfw

Reader has no mentioned pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》CAITLYN

She noticed from the start that you were a little different from everyone else. Not that she necessarily cared much about it. You were still you after all, and your diagnosis is just a part of you she considers endearing.

With that said, Caitlyn always listens to your needs very closely and does everything in her power to help you out with them. She'll get you anything you ask for in hopes of making life easier for you. Whether it's medical help or just something to help with your fidgeting in general, you'll have it in no time with her.

Cait can, therefore, come off as kind of overbearing or overprotective at first. She wants you to lead a smooth and successful life, so she'll always be around to make any task doable for you. Procrastination does not exist when she's there, to say the least.

Her patience is an important part of your relationship that's practically invaluable. Your fidgety and unfocused nature took a moment for her to get used to, but she never makes a big deal out of it. Instead, she simply adapts to your needs and learns to cherish them as well.

》JINX

Probably the most understanding out of everyone, albeit in the most chaotic way possible. You two are a rather troubling duo, as she herself isn't in the best position to help you out properly. Her ideas are always outlandish yet somehow still work out in the end anyways, which is rather impressive.

You're both very fidgety, but she makes up for it with her hyper awareness. Procrastination is never a thing with her, considering how focused she always is on every project she has and so it becomes somewhat of a normal thing for you to simply work in the same space together, even if it's with just music playing in the background in-between you two.

She's the last person to ever treat you any differently for your diagnosis and doesn't ever let you feel bad for it either. You accept her, and she accepts you. Anyone that tries shaming you for it is as good as dead anyway.

You two learn how to take care of each other better than anyone else ever could. Jinx may not be able to help you out like a professional doctor could, but she'll do anything to help you out no matter what forever.

》EKKO

He doesn't entirely get it at first, mainly as he was always surrounded by people who were rather unique in their own way. But as always with anything, he still does his best to learn everything he needs to about your diagnosis and how he can help you with the resources he has. Which aren't many, but his creativity truly shines at times when it comes to you.

You're not treated any differently from everyone else, and he sure as hell doesn't allow anyone to do that either. You are normal, just with more needs that he tends to carefully. So whether it's your inability to focus well or stay still for a long time, he'll find a way to make things easier. He understands your procrastination and doesn't really push you to do things unless it's very important. But he'll work with you on any projects or missions you may have.

His patience is endless for you and his kindness even more so. He understands if you feel frustrated sometimes and tries his best to soothe you when your emotions are a little harder to process. He'll let you fidget and be yourself as much as you want to, never the type to stop you. You should be yourself around him, and he appreciates how vulnerable you are with that.

Ekko loves you no matter how hard things can get with your diagnosis. He takes every challenge on with ease and never judges you for it either.

[vivenza]

Disclaimers: 18+ Content, Strictly No Minors, Read Kinks List Carefully

Kinks: Mild Exhibitionism, Clit Rubbing, Dubious Consent

Pairing: Jude x Tutor Reader

Word Count: 2k

Tags: Smut

Summary: There’s almost nobody in the library, which is why Jude has the confidence to mess around with you under the table.

Author's Note: not a single thing about this is healthy (just how i like it oops)

You sit at your usual desk—in the corner, as far from everyone else as possible—tapping your pen against the edge of your notebook. The quiet of the library is soothing, but it does little to calm the irritation bubbling in your chest. 

Jude is late. 

Again.  

This is the fifth tutoring session you’ve had scheduled with him. Every single time, he’s either canceled at the last minute or showed up late. You’re getting paid regardless—the job pays weekly, not per session—but that doesn’t make his lack of effort any less frustrating.  

It makes you wonder if Jude even cares about improving. Maybe he’s just going through the motions to keep his coach off his back. He’s a varsity athlete, after all. College is probably just another box to check off to satisfy his parents. You’d almost respect it more if he just admitted he didn’t give a shit about getting more than a passing grade and worked out a deal to save both your time.  

You glance at the clock for what feels like the hundredth time. Fifteen minutes late, and still no text. With a sigh, you pull out your phone, thumb hovering over the screen as you type:  

Hey, I can only wait a little longer. 

Let me know if you’re still coming, or I’ll leave.

You pause for a second, rereading it. Was it too harsh? Maybe. Did you care? Not today. With a decisive tap, you hit send and lean back in your chair, crossing your arms as you stare at the clock again.  

Still no reply.  

Frustrated but determined not to let him completely waste your time, you open the textbook you brought for him and begin skimming the chapter you’d planned to cover. Your eyes flick over the words, but your focus keeps drifting back to your phone, waiting for that telltale buzz or ding.  

A few minutes later, Jude finally appears, striding to your desk with the look of someone who thinks charm can smooth over anything. His hair is damp, and his face glistens slightly, as though he’s just run here. His gym bag is slung over one shoulder, and he’s clearly fresh from a workout. The faint scent of body wash clings to him, and it makes your irritation spike.  

He stopped to shower? 

He was late, again, and he stopped to shower.

“Sorry,” he says, grinning sheepishly as he drops into the chair beside you. “Got caught up at the gym.”  

“Really?” you snap, unable to help yourself. “You’re almost twenty minutes late, and you stopped for a shower? You couldn’t have done that after this?”  

Jude leans back in his chair, the grin on his face only widening. “What, you’d rather I showed up all sweaty? Thought I was doing you a favor.”  

Your glare intensifies, but he seems to revel in it, his eyes twinkling as though your irritation is the highlight of his day. You huff and open your notebook, flipping to the page you’d marked for today’s topic.  

“Let’s just start,” you mutter. “We’re already behind.”  

“Whatever you say, boss,” he teases, leaning forward with his chin propped lazily in his hand.  

As you go through the problem set, explaining the steps to him, Jude’s focus is anywhere but on the math. He leans in too close, his tone low and playful as he murmurs things like, “You look cute when you’re mad,” and, “You’re really serious about this, huh? Kinda hot.”  

“Would you stop?” you snap, exasperated, slamming your pencil down. “If you’re not going to take this seriously, then why are you even here?”  

Jude leans in suddenly, closing the distance between you, and your breath catches in your throat before you can stop it. His face is far too close, the warm scent of him flooding your senses, something delicious you can’t quite place. His gaze locks onto yours, the lazy playfulness in his eyes replaced by something sharper, something that makes the air feel heavy between you.

His voice drops slightly, softer but no less confident. “You really want to know why I’m here?”

For a moment, you’re paralyzed, caught in the intensity of his stare. The curve of his lips draws your attention, and you can’t help the way your eyes drift to them. Full and inviting, they hover so close you can feel the warmth of his breath. 

Your pulse thrums in your ears, and you hate the way your stomach flips as your thoughts betray you. You’re supposed to be annoyed, furious even, but here you are, unable to stop yourself from wondering how those lips would feel pressed against yours.

You force yourself to snap out of it, tearing your gaze away, frowning with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. But Jude notices. Of course he notices. His grin returns, smug and knowing, his voice laced with amusement.

“You’re so uptight,” he chuckles, leaning back slightly. 

The moment fades as you shake yourself out of the daze, glancing around the library. Your desk is tucked in a quiet corner, hidden from view behind towering bookshelves, away from the prying eyes of others. 

It’s the perfect spot—secluded, private, where no one can interrupt or watch. You’ve always preferred it here, where the world outside feels distant and you can focus without distractions. But now, the space feels suffocating in a way you hadn't noticed before.

Then, Jude hand shifts, bringing you back to reality. You stiffen as his fingers land on your bare knee beneath the table, his hand warm and big.

Your heart skips a beat as sensations flood your system. The skater skirt you wore for comfort is proving to be anything but that, granting him far too easy access to touch your skin, allowing a jolt of heat to course through you from where he rests his palm.

“Relax a little,” he murmurs, his tone low and teasing, his thumb tracing a small circle against your skin. 

The casual intimacy of it sends a jolt through you, and for a second, you’re unsure whether you’re more furious with him or with yourself for not immediately pushing his hand away.

Your entire body tenses as he leans closer, his voice dropping to a suggestive murmur. “I think I know what’ll help you unwind.”  

Part of you wants to tell him to remove his hand, assert some semblance of control over this situation. But another part, a darker, more primal part, craves the warmth and intimacy of his touch. 

You take a deep breath, trying to steady the chaotic rhythm of your heart. You can feel him watching you, but you are unable to do or say anything in response, too wound up to even think. All you know is that you want him—desperately.

In the midst of your silence, his fingers gently trace the curve of your thigh, inching closer to the hem of your skirt. Your grip on the pen tightens, but your hand is trembling, a silent betrayal of your nerves. 

“Do you want me?” he asks, his breath warm against your ear.

For a moment, you freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. The question lingers in the air, heavy and charged. You know you should stop him, pull away, but something in his gaze holds you captive. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, you nod, unable to find the words to refuse.

Before you can compose yourself, you feel his hand going under your skirt. Before you can react, his fingers deftly slide over the wet spot on your panties. The pen slips from your grasp, clattering to the table. The sudden touch makes you gasp and you have to bite your lip to drown out the sound.

“Jude, we’re in public.” you manage to breathe out, your voice a mix of desire and desperation. You didn’t know this would be the effect of your answer, but now you can’t stop yourself from responding to his actions. “We can’t do this here.”

He ignores your plea, his fingers continuing their exploration, finding that sensitive nub that makes you shudder. "You know you want this," he murmurs against your ear, his voice low and husky. 

His touch is electric, sending waves of sensation through you. Your body reacts instinctively, your legs parting slightly to grant him better access. You want to push his hand away, but your traitorous hips arch towards his touch instead. 

You try to gather your thoughts, to form a coherent protest, but his skilled fingers are rendering you helpless. Your body betrays your mind, responding to his touch in ways you can’t deny. You feel yourself weakening, your resolve crumbling under the onslaught of pleasure.

"Please, Jude, not here," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. “Someone might see us.”

The room feels smaller, the air thicker with each passing second. You can hear the faint sound of flipped pages and clacking keyboards, all reminders of where you are—at the library, in a place where such intimacy is forbidden.

Jude leans closer, his lips brushing against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "They won’t notice," he assures you, his confidence unnerving. His fingers press harder, skillfully manipulating you, drawing soft moans from deep within.

You close your eyes, trying to focus, to resist, but the sensations are overwhelming. Your breathing quickens, matching the rhythm of his fingers, each stroke more deliberate, more intense. The effort to stifle your moans becomes futile, and they slip out in quiet, needy whimpers.

He chuckles softly, a sound that vibrates through you. “Knew you’d love my fingers,” he teases, his arrogance infuriating yet undeniably arousing. His fingers continue their dance, exploring, discovering, conquering.

You feel yourself losing control, your body surrendering to his mastery. Your hands now clutch at his arms, gripping tightly as if seeking support.

“So sweet,” Jude whispers, his voice a seductive command. “It’s like I’m the first guy to touch you like this.”

You've touched yourself before, of course, exploring the contours of your own body, learning the language of your desires. But you’ve never had a guy do it, much less someone as attractive as Jude. You've craved this—being touched like this—dreamt of it, but the reality is so much more than you ever imagined. 

“You are,” you whisper breathily. The admission hanging in the air, a shared moment of vulnerability that only heightened the electric connection between your bodies. “You’re the first.”

Desire washes over his face as he applies just a bit more pressure, watching as the pleasure washed over your features like a warm wave. “You’re all mine. Nobody will ever have you like this.”

“Jude,” you moan, your voice pleading, unsure if you’re asking for more or for him to stop. 

He takes advantage of your vulnerability, speeding up his assault, his fingers relentless in their pursuit of your climax. You feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter within you, ready to snap.

“That’s it,” he encourages, sensing your approaching edge. His voice is a catalyst, pushing you closer to the precipice. His fingers quicken, more demanding.

You can’t hold back any longer, the dam inside you breaking. Your body arches, your head falling back, a silent scream trapped in your throat as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

Jude’s presence is both a comfort and a reminder of the danger. When the storm subsides, you sit there, spent and exposed, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

Then, your worst nightmare unfolds. The faint sound of footsteps breaks the stillness, and a shadow shifts just beyond the edge of the shelf. A figure approaches, reaching up to pull a book from the row near your hidden corner. You freeze instantly, heart pounding in your chest, every nerve in your body screaming as you realize Jude’s hand is still resting between your thighs, and he has no intentions to move it.

The stranger lingers for a moment, scanning the spine of another book. You sit there, motionless, every breath held as though even the tiniest movement will give you away. But to your immense relief, the person doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss. They tuck the book under their arm and walk away, oblivious.

The tension breaks as Jude leans back with a soft laugh, his grin wide and teasing. “You should’ve seen your face,” he murmurs, his voice a low, amused drawl. 

His hand gives your knee a light squeeze before he pulls it away, leaving behind a trail of heat that only makes your nerves buzz more. “Maybe next time, we take this somewhere a little less... public.”

You scowl at him, but your racing heart betrays the tangled emotions knotting in your chest.

[neckromantics]

More creepy and unsettling, creature Astarion please.

I beg of thee. Vampires are meant to be an uncanny valley type of thing. An undead creature of the night that passes itself as just the right amount of living and mortal for you to let your guard down. I need more examples of his vampiric nature showing once he's grown comfortable enough, and I need it now.

~

An Astarion who is so silent in his movements that you often got jump scared by it in the earlier stages of your relationship.

You'd be lounging around on the sofa. Reading a book, lost in thought, all serene and cozy beneath a nice knitted blanket-- just having an all around nice, relaxing time when you see movement out of the corner of your eye. You glance up for just a moment, to the space before you that was previously unoccupied, and his entire face is suddenly hovering right in front of you.

Just waiting. Not moving. Pupils blown so huge that there's barely any color left to his eyes. Fangs are peeking out over the bruise-purple skin of his bottom lip. He's pallid. White as a corpse. Definitely in need of a good feeding.

His intentions were entirely innocent. He really only meant to ask you a question, and here you are being all dramatic and jumping several feet into the air and throwing your book off to the side in a panic. Thankfully, you're able to catch yourself before you full on shriek in his face.

(You love him and his ghoulishly handsome face, you really and truly do, but you sincerely thought for a moment that he was a spectre come to take you to the afterlife.)

~

Astarion, who routinely forgets to breathe. Yanno, like it's nothing.

You're well aware of the fact that vampires don't need to breathe. It's more of a force of habit than anything else, really-- something left over from when he was still mortal, he says.

Although, during bouts of intense emotion, or some sort of uh, stimulation, the focus on something so trivial gets put on the backburner for a bit.

The two of you will be sharing a particularly passionate kiss (or worse) when you feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest stop short. It's like all of the air has gotten caught in his lungs, and he ends up making these creaky grudge-like sounds in place of his usual low moaning. A clicking in the back of his throat in place of a sigh. If you play your cards just right, there might even be a rattling from deep within his chest that almost sounds like a purr.

When he finally does breathe, usually due to a well executed nip to his bottom lip, or the gentle brush of your fingers against one of his ears as you play with his hair, it comes out as an animalistic hiss. A sharp, choking gasp that sends goosebumps down the length of your arms.

~

How you catch him watching you sleep.

How you'll wake up in the pitch black of your bedroom in a cold sweat. Your hair is stood on end, a fearful shudder threatening to rattle your frame. A spike in your pulse that has your sleep addled brain doing somersaults in your skull. All of your instinctual alarm bells go off at once, telling you that something must be terribly wrong. Something must be watching you.

You try to blink away the bleariness-- try to shake off the fog of sleep for long enough to get your bearings, and catch a glint in the dark so ominous that for a moment you're scared stock still.

Something is watching you. Someone, rather.

Astarion's eyes gleam back at you in the dark like a wild animal's might. A bobcat, maybe, like the ones you'd often find stalking pray outside the tree line of camp all those nights ago. Pupils that glow a filmy, holographic orange despite there being no light to reflect off of them.

You don't notice until after you've taken a second to calm yourself that he's hovering over you. The bed just barely dips from his weight as he supports himself, and you'd be baffled by it all if you had any braincells left.

"Go back to sleep, darling." His voice is so soft, even over the pounding against your eardrums. Soothing. Tranquilizing. And though your eyes do begin to feel heavy, you're not exactly in the mood for rest anymore.

Especially not when he's pressing cold, feather-light kisses down the length of your throat not a moment later.

~

Please, I beg. Give me more.

[togeblurbs]

Do You Miss Us?

Five Hargreeves x F!Reader - angst with a happy ending (yeah… happy ish ending)

synopsis: when you find out Five and Lila kissed, you don’t know what to feel. All you know is that you need to get away. Because it was one thing for them to kiss, and another to realize that in the time spent apart, Five Hargreeves may not love you anymore.

content/warnings: hints of anxiety, curse words, cheating, s4 spoilers, mentions of disassociation, morally grey characters, not lore accurate, not really canon, doesn’t focus on the plot moreso reader & fives relationship, lmk if i forgot anything

“Y/n, please,”

you continue walking, wiping away the incessant tears that stream down your face. you feel nauseas, and your chest hurts in a way that it pains you to breathe.

he catches your wrist in his hand, and you turn around, angered. “What? What could you possibly say that would make this better, Five?”

he looks distraught, if not more than you and the thought has your hands shaking in fury. for what reason did he have to be so upset? you weren’t the one who disappeared for a few hours - which ended up being seven years - and then kissed another person.

“I fucked up, I didn’t… You don’t understand, I was losing my mind.” he slips his hand from your wrist to intertwine your fingers, but you shake his grip off in disgust. he looks at you so brokenly at the action, you almost feel bad.

but then you remember her, and you feel the bile rise to your throat once more. “I don’t understand?” you say slowly, taking a step forward.

you point at him, “I think you’re the one who doesn’t understand. I knew some shit was going on between you two, with your secrets and odd glances. But I trusted you, Five. You know why?”

he looks at you with wide eyes, seeming almost unsettled by your outburst. “Because I loved you.” you whisper.

you huff out a laugh, shaking your head as you wipe the remnants of your tears. “But that didn’t matter in the end. You were alone with her for seven years, so it makes sense. I wish you nothing but happiness, Five. Even if it’s away from me.”

you turn, moving to walk again, but he crashes into you from behind and wraps his arms around you. “Please,” his hands are trembling where they rest on your stomach, and although you want to soothe him, you don’t think you are in the place to at the moment.

you take a shaky deep breath, before carefully untangling his hands from your torso. he whimpers pitifully at the action, and you have to stop yourself from giving in and drawing him closer.

you used to bring him comfort, give him love and make him feel safe; but it seemed it was not enough; because in the end he chose someone else.

you turn back around, “I need some time alone right now, Five.” you tug at your bottom lip with your teeth, ripping the skin. you don’t want to look at his face, so you choose to stare at the chipped paint on the wall.

Five lifts his hand for a moment, before dropping it. “Will you come back?” his voice has never sounded so childlike; as though he can’t bear the thought of you leaving and never coming back.

you swallow harshly, “I’ll come back.”

he nods, his own arms wrapping around himself.

“I just don’t know if it will be for you.”

you take a chance and glance at his face, hating the way your heart hurts when his expression crumples.

back in the room, you were so sure he was in love with Lila, but now you’re starting to doubt yourself. because if he truly felt something for her, would he really be crying in front of you right now?

you don’t know. you also don’t feel like you have it in you to make any assumptions.

you turn around, your back facing Five. “I’ll see you later. Don’t follow me.”

and with that, you walk out of Five’s life, unknowingly carrying his heart with you.

-

Five lays in a bed - not his, for years it’s never been his - and recounts the last seven years.

he remembers missing you immensely in the beginning. for the first three years, you were all he could think about.

and then his friendship with Lila began to grow. the time he wished to spend with you, he was now spending with her. it was odd at first, because the two were not close friends of any sort. but when you’re trapped in a different time-line, or different universe, you become allies with those you normally wouldn’t.

somewhere along the way, they had provided one another with the comfort they lacked from their significant others.

it wasn’t supposed to end up that way. it wasn’t.

but now Five can’t get the way you looked at him out of his head; it was like he physically shot you in the chest, or told you he didn’t love you. like he betrayed you.

he grasps at his own chest, curling up into a ball beneath the covers. he feels like he’s going to die.

and maybe that would be for the best. he’s lived a long, torturous life. with a nut-job for a father, siblings that were always thinking about themselves and a lover who he’d ruined everything with, what was the point of life anymore?

its been a month since Five had seen you, and the ache in his chest has yet to go away. he couldn’t find it in himself to eat, often laying in bed as Luther force-fed food down his throat in fear that he would truly pass away.

it’s just another late night, and Five takes the time to stare at the broken glass window as the sun begins to set. the only sound in the room comes from the clock, the constant ticks helping him disassociate and think about you.

he distantly hears the door creak open, but is too exhausted to look at who it is. he doesn’t really care anyway, because he knows it’s not going to be you.

“Five?”

he blinks slowly. it almost sounded like you, but he figured he was hearing things at this point.

“Five,” he feels a hand smooth over his shoulder. gentle in a way he’d only ever experienced with you. his head turns, if only slightly, and he catches sight of your concerned face.

his eyes widen, he forces himself to sit up even if his arms have little to no strength left. “What are you… what are you doing here?” he croaks.

you sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed. it’s far too away from Five, he wants to pull you in the bed and bring you into his arms.

“Should I leave?” you glance at the door for a second, but Five immediately grabs onto your hands and shouts, “No! No, please. Please stay.”

you look shocked at his outburst, nodding softly.

the silence in the room is deafening, but Five is merely happy you’re there. Seven years and then some apart from you was not easy, and after his last conversation with you, he knows he’ll feel unsettled until he makes it right. if he can make it right.

“I did some thinking.” you start, cautious.

Five watches you with fear, scared to hear your next words.

“I’m not angry anymore. I understand you went through a lot being trapped again, and I can’t blame you for falling in love with Lila since she was there for you. I do wish you broke it off with me before kissing her, but what’s done is done.”

your voice comes out stable, like you’ve thought it all through and are content to leave things as they are. but Five is shaking his head the moment you say the word love and Lila in the same sentence, because that could not be more far from the truth.

“Wait, please stop it,” he begs, seeming desperate.

“I understand why you might think that way, but I do not love Lila.” he feels lighter with the words being spoken. he’s been aching to clarify this the moment you found out they kissed, but hasn’t had the chance.

your brows furrow, and you pick at the cotton sleeve of your hoodie. “Um, I see.” you look so confused, he can’t help but move closer to you.

you look at him, body rigid. you don’t seem comfortable around him anymore, and the thought has him clutching his chest in pain.

“Y/n, I love you.”

you recoil immediately, and it prompts Five to reach out instinctively.

the words tumble out of his mouth, like he’s scared you’re going to run before he can finish getting everything out. “I haven’t stopped loving you, Lila and I.. when we, you know, it was a moment of weakness after losing you and being trapped again. I wished every day that I could see you, but I was stuck.”

you move to stand, and a part of Five’s heart breaks for what he thinks will be the last time ever. because if you walk out of this room, he knows he won’t be able to love again. you are it for him, and if he doesn’t have you, then he’d rather stay alone for the rest of his life.

“I’m sorry, I truly am. I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore, but I need you to know that I love you.”

at the end of his little speech he breathes out, listening to his heart thump loudly in his ears.

it’s odd, he thinks. love has always been so painful, so destructive. but with you it was simple. it was calm, steady and soft. he wonders; he hopes, that he’ll be able to experience it again. after all, a healthy type of love was rare for his kind.

he watches you walk closer, reaching a hand out and placing it on his cheek. he leans into it, closing his eyes as he missed your touch immensely. you use the other hand to push his hair back, planting a kiss on his forehead.

his eyes shoot open at the feeling, and he stares at you in wonder. he begins to feel hope bubble in his chest.

“You love me?” you ask quietly.

he nods, “Only you. Only ever you.”

you exhale, shoulders drooping as you move to sit beside him. you wrap an arm around his waist and one on his neck, pulling him down as you lay on the small bed. his head falls to your neck, and he sneaks a small kiss in, hoping you won’t push him away.

“I can’t promise that i’ll forgive you completely. At least not right now. And I’ll probably hate Lila forever, but I don’t think I can walk away from you knowing you love me.”

you run a hand through his hair, feeling him nod into the space between your head and your shoulder. “I know, I completely understand.”

you pat his head gently, staring up at the ceiling.

“I love you too, Five. I don’t think I ever won’t.”

he rubs his face into your neck, and you feel something wet touch it. you card your fingers through his hair once more, cooing.

“Thank you,” his voice comes out shaky, but he hopes you hear the sincerity.

you shift the two of you until you’re underneath the covers, cradling him in your arms with his head on your chest. “Don’t thank me yet. I will be making out with Diego as revenge.”

Five lifts his head, “What?!”

sorry if this is ooc:>

[writingoddess1125]

The old men of One Piece finding out they have a child with you.

Shanks, Buggy, Mihawk X FemReader

Healthy mix of Angst and Fluff.

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Part 2

Buggy

"You two get your asses down now!" You yelled, trying to stop the two blue haired boys from destroying the restaurant further. Your two identical twins sons where only 11 years old but they were trouble- Double Trouble as everyone called them. Benny and Danny, who had given themselves the Nicknames of Bee and Dee- cause of course they did.

It wasnt just their dramatic tendencies, destructive nature or lack of volume control that made them silkar to a know pirate but also their appearance Who was non other then- Buggy the Clown. While they did lack the trademarked rounded red nose. They did get almost everything else- Long nlue locks, watercolor eyes and that crooked smile of theirs- it really wasn't fair how your genes didn't even have a chance-

It hasn't exactly been your best of moments when you conceived your children- Having been a performer on the famous pirate ship you ended up sleeping with your Captian one night on his Silly Throne. A few weeks later you started to feel unwell and realized you had been pregnant. In a moment of panic you fled the ship the next time it docked- Running from your Crew and Captian to never be seen again.

Once realizing you were on your own. You did what you could to make a living- opening a flashy little restaurant and using it to raise your two trouble makers. Dee running past you with a giggle snapped you from your thoughts, frowning as you set down your customers order infront of them before following the boy.

"Mom Mom! Look!" Bee yelled as he stood on one of the tables pointing out the window of the restaurant at the open ocean, Dee taking his place next to his twin. You walked closer to see what your son was looking at, the fog being thick that night as you tried to focus on what he was seeing.

Squinting your eyes you finally saw it- a Ship. As your eyes focused you saw the Jolly Roger and gasped, Ice feeling like it ran through your vain. You grabbed the boys quickly and backed away from the window. As if on cue the alarms set to alert that pirates had arrived. The sounds of canons hitting the town soon peirced through the alarms and the whole town erupted in chaos. You rush from the windows to the back of your restaurant.

Rushing down the stairs you knew Buggy and the crew would level the town to ashes. The best place to hid being the cellar, while it was small it would hopefully keep you and your boys safe. "Mom what's happening!?" Dee cried as he did his best to keep up with your fast pace. You didn't bother responding as you rushed to the old underground cellar lifting the rug and opened its little door.

"Mom I don't want to go down there!" Bee cried as you lowered him in the cellar first, Dee following soon after as you tried to sooth them.

"I know I know my loves, But do as I say- Stay quiet and-"

You paused as you heard the sound of crashing from out in the dining room followed by screams. Quickly you climbed in with your boys and lowered the wooden door of the cellar above you and frantically tried to place the rug so it fell onto it before plunging you and your sons in darkness.

You sat there shaking, holding your boys close to your chest as you heard the sound of someone walking towards you. Your hands shaking as you held them closer, feeling the moisture of your sons tears soaking into your dress.

You heard the sound of footsteps starting to search the room above you. Previously looking for valuables or anything interesting-

"Captian! I found the liquor!" The voice above you called out, Clearly grabbing the cases of rum that sat in the room above. Heavier footsteps followed into the room, hearing the cackle that made your skin stand up on end.

"Grab it all and whatever people you can find! We have a show tonight afterall!" You heard Buggy voice sound. The crew mate clearly rushing out with the cases while Buggy remained. You heard him turn through the room, ready to leave before his heavy steps landed on the cellar door above you it's old wood groaning at the weight. Your eyes widened as you realized you'd been caught, Without time to react the door was ripped open and you couldn't help but release a scream.

Buggy- In his hands you see his signature blades as he grinned down in the cellar. Reaching down and grabbing you by the hair and yanking you out-

"A new audience memeber!- wait" He raised an eyebrow as he held you up higher by your hair and looked over your crying face. His eyes looking over your face. "I know you... (Y/N)?" He asked questionably before his eyes shot to see a flash of blue dart at him and kick him as another one came to try and pull you from his grasp.

"Let her go!" "LEAVE OUR MAMA ALONE!" Your boys desperately screamed as they weakly tried to attack the man holding you. Buggy dropping you quickly as he stared down at the three of you, You quickly pulling the boys away from him and behind you.

A awkward silence following this as Buggy released a shaky breath before laughing loudly. A insane laugh that had him doubled over, before looking at you again with crazed eyes. A few crew members coming into the room after hearing their Captian laugh, especially at the sight of you, their former crewmate and two boys that looked like their Captian.

"Freaks, Take these three and lock them in my personal Quarters. We got a family reunion!"

Shanks

"Mommy I have Missy Luc-ia ready!" You heard your daughter call out. Setting out the freshly frosted cupcake, onto the countertop, that she was just barely taller then. Smiling down at the bright face before you- She may be only 4 but she was the sweetest girl.

"Thank you Vivian. Can you grab the order list for Mommy?" You ask, getting an exaggerated nod and running off. Her mess of bright red hair bouncing with each step. A little clone of her dad, The famed Shanks 'Red Hair' a former fling of yours.

It had been a nice little relationship you two shared, him coming by every other week to meet with you when his ship restocked. Buying random pastries you knew he bought to get close to you, always complimenting your Baking skills and sweetness. Which ended up to many passionate nights both in your own bed and on Shanks ship. The last time you met, Shanks told you he had to go for a while and didn't know if he's return. Tears shed as you watched him set sail- having the feeling you'd never see him again.

As if the gods had sympathy for you or wanted to use you as a cruel joke you fell pregnant. Giving birth to your daughter who ended up being a Shanks part 2. A giggly and happy baby with unique red hair, while she was a perfect mix of the two of you in terms of face she inherited Shank's smile, hair and eye shape.

As you packed the poorly frosted cupcake that your daughter had made. Ignoring the fingerprints in its frosting- you hit it in the back of the fridge you'd never tell her you couldn't sell it since she had eaten part of her work and replaced it with the true finishes product to be delivered.

As you finished your packing you heard the bell of your bakery door chime.

"Welcome to the Sweet treats bakery, how can I help yo-" the words froze to your lips as you saw Shanks. Eyes wide at seeing him again, it was clear he had delt with some serious wear and tear by how the world seemed to settle on his shoulders a bit more.

"(Y/N) long time no see" He said softly as he stared at you, mentally still trying to process what you were seeing. He stepped forward, Looking ready to explain himself away before the sound of tiny footsteps drew him in- Seeing the little girl holding a notepad with all your orders and running to you. Out of muscle memory you scooped your daughter and placed her on your hip, she smiled at you and held the order book out to you again which you gingerly took.

"Here you go Mommy!" She chimed, Looking at you as she noted your shocked face. Her gaze following the now shocked man, He looked like a breeze could knock him down as he stared at her then you then her again.

"Shes mine isn't she?" Shanks asked, his eyes never leaving the little girl on your hip. Vivian looking at Shank's then you confused at what was taking place. Before you could respond however it seemed Shank's answered his own question. Laughing loudly in utter joy and jumping forward towards you, scaling the countertop like it wasn't even there and crashed his lips against yours happily.

"Ha! I'm a Dad!!" He cheered, Taking his one arm around you and starting to spin you and Vivian who at first was scared. But hearing the giggles from the man started to as well- the two even laughed the same which made the Red Haired man even happier.

"Y-Yes Shanks. She is yours...This is Vivian" You said softly, watching Shanks lean in close to view his daughter. It was like he had found the most amazing treasure in the world and it shone in his eyes.

"Vivian, Such a beautiful name for the most beautiful girl in the world" He said in awe, earning a shy smile from Vivian.

"Vi, This is... this is your Daddy" You say softly, watching Vivian look up at you then back at Shanks. Hesitant at first before holding out her arms tk him, taking the opportunity he scooped her up in his single arm and held her close. Tears welling up in his eyes as he looked at her delicate face, her chubby little fingers touching his face and looking over him.

"You're my Daddy?" She asked innocently. A smile breaking over Shanks face as he nodded and held her close, tears pouring down his face.

"That's right baby girl- I'm your Daddy"

Mihawk

It had been 16 long years since you had laid eyes on Mihawk- a simple one night stand that had long consequences that followed. Your son, your beautiful baby boy who you named Alucare.

It had been at a bar, the two of you drinking and simply talking. Before one thing lead to another in the alleyway next to the bar- You truthfully cringed at the thought of how embarrassing it was to be undone by a few nice words, a charming warlord and some drinks.

"Mother, which one did you want?" Your son asked, snapping you from your thoughts pointing to the fishmongers selection, his emotionless face like a carbon copy of his father's.

Truthfully he looked too much like his damn father- same yellow eyes, black hair, very tall form, stoic face the only thing missing was the facial hair Which you thanked The Gods for since you didn't think you could stare at your one night stands face forever. Alucare did have some differences, he had your nose as well as kept his hair longer. The thick spicy locks hitting the center of his back which you helped him care for. But truthfully that was really it-

You also knew that other people would star long at your boy, a few times Marines having come up to see your son when he was walking to school or going to the market. He knew who his father was, having Marines who had seen him in battle tell him as much. However he never seemed to care, just giving them a frosty look that made them back away before leaving. Whenever you'd brought up the topic of His father he often would sit quietly for a few moments before saying he wasn't interested in such a conversation which you respected.

"Hmm, that one is fresher-" You say sweetly as your boy grabs the fish and plops it in the basket, Handing the merchant the berries.

Always the gentleman he would take your arm in his as the two of you walked. He would hold the heavier baskets and give you only bread or a small bag of fruit. He was too kind as a child, you felt bad at times at how his eyes seemed to know the struggles you had faced when he was born and tried to help you out now that he was older besides your persistence.

"Alucare, I heard from your teachers yoh got very high marks again. Do you want to celebrate? Maybe a nice dinner is in order? Or-"

"It's just a test Mother. No need for so much trouble" He said softly, giving a hint of a smile at his words. You chuckled at him and shook your head. Stubborn too.

You felt your son stop midstep- Glancing up at him as his face turned to stone before your eyes.

"Honey?" You call to him, before following his gaze at what had caught his attention. Across the market a dark figure stood, You immediately felt your heart drop to your stomach as you knew instantly who it was- Mihawk standing there with the same stoic expression as Alucare but his eyes seemed to be a bit wider. Most likely the closest to shock that could come over his face-

You tugged slightly to turn back, not wanting to create a accidental scene but your son clearly had other plans. Instead starting to walk again, His arm still holding yours as he kept his gaze at Mihawk. You expected Alucare to stop infront of Mihawk- a blowup or something but. No.

Alucare just walked past Mihawk- Like he wasn't even there. His face staying forward as no words passed. As you continued to walk you turned to look behind you where you saw Mihawk, he seemed to stagger on his feet like someone had finally peirced him with a blade.. but it seemed to be a invisible one to his heart.

[sceletaflores]

no logan actually has me in a chokehold, all I can think of is him being away for a mission but you’re so needy for him that you grab one of his flannels and ball it up and shove it in between your legs and then basically humping it to get off, and maybe he comes back early from said mission and you don’t hear him come in so he’s just watching you for a while before he’s had enough and decides to take matters into his own hands, btw love your writing keep up the good work!!💕💕

nat’s note: i read this and immediately had to put my phone down and walk away to breathe for a second. your mind is so beautiful anon, thanks a bunch for sharing! hope you love it <333

|| feat. logan howlett x fem!reader || 18+ SMUT MDNI ||

Six days is a long time.

Six days without Logan is almost unbearable.

The first three days were fine, nice even. You had the whole house to yourself, free to sprawl out on the couch and binge watch the guilty pleasure shows he always makes fun of.

The quiet was a welcome change—you could really relax, could sit with your thoughts.

Then day four rolled around, and things changed.

You started to notice the little things—the leather jacket he left slung over the back of the dining room table chair, the way the bed felt too big without him, how cold you were at night without him plastered to your back.

By day five, the quiet wasn’t soothing anymore; it felt empty.

You missed the sound of his voice, missed his scent melded in the sheets of your bed, missed the warmth of his body next to yours.

And by day six? Well, six days without Logan wasn’t just lonely anymore—it was a special kind of torture.

It wasn’t just the emotional closeness or the comfort of his presence you longed for—it was the rough scrape of his stubble on your skin, the way his body pressed into yours, heavy and demanding. The way his voice dropped when he growled your name, hands gripping your hips with a possessive edge that sent shivers down your spine.

You didn’t just miss him, you craved him.

It was settling in an unbearable ache, low in your stomach. A constant thrum that served as a reminder of just how much you missed his touch.

You didn't realize just how spoiled he'd gotten you. You haven't gone a day without at least four orgasms all year. Logan made sure of that, enforces it like it's a house rule he'd die before breaking.

You’d gotten too used to the feel of his hands roaming over your body, the way his lips traveled from your mouth down to the space between your thighs, the way his cock brushes against that special spot inside you each time he slides home in your pussy.

Your body longed for him in a way that made it almost impossible to focus on anything else. Every thought seemed to circle back to Logan, to what it would feel like to have him here, right now.

The worst part—no amount of toys or creative use of your hands was enough to soothe that ache. It didn’t matter how many times you tried to satisfy yourself; nothing worked.

The frustration was unbearable.

You blame that for your lapse in judgement when you made your way into your shared closet.

It was completely innocent at first, just you looking for something to wear to bed.

You only happened to trip over a shirt Logan must have left strewn across the floor before leaving. One of his favorites, a worn down brown and red flannel you'd seen him in countless times.

Before you even registered what you were doing, you bent down and scooped it up, burying your face in it. His scent—earthy, woodsy, and unmistakably him—hit you like a freight train as heat began to pool between your legs.

Suddenly, it was like Logan was there, surrounding you completely, teasing you with his absence. The ache deepened, twisting into something even more unbearable.

It was almost too much. That raw desire you’d been trying to hold at bay snapped its leash, and suddenly, the thought of going to bed wasn’t even an option.

You were already soaking wet by the time you made it to bed, greedy lungfuls of Logan's scent enough to get you there in no time.

The flannel was warm in your hands, the roughed up fabric felt oddly comforting against your fingertips and the skin of your cheeks.

As you settled onto the mattress, a thought crept in. Wicked and indulgent in a way that made your ears burn with shame and your stomach swirl with heady arousal that fanned the fire raging between your legs.

Before you could stop yourself, you slid your panties off, your body already tingling with anticipation

You pulled the shirt between your legs, pressing it against your dripping core, the familiar scent wrapping around you like a vice.

You moaned at the feeling, the first rush of relief flowing through you like water through a desert. The friction, the smell, it was almost like he was in bed with you, touching you, guiding your movements. But no matter how nice it felt, it still wasn’t enough.

The ache was only just lessened, the thrum of need was still there, undeniable and persistent.

With a whine, you leaned back on the bed, knees bent, legs spread wide, and you started to rock your hips against the fabric. Every movement sent delicious waves of pleasure through you, but it wasn’t the same. Not quite. You needed more—needed him.

Your fingers gripped the flannel tighter, dragging it harder against your aching clit. Eyes squeezing shut, you let out a desperate moan, hips working so fast the bed frame started thumping against the wall in a steady rhythm.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the fantasy of him—of him under you, of his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you closer. His voice low and gravelly as he whispered filthy things in your ear.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, and you were so lost in your thoughts, so caught up in the moment, that you didn’t even hear the front door open.

Didn’t hear the heavy footsteps making their way through the house, getting closer and closer.

But when the door to the bedroom creaked open, your eyes shot wide, and there he was.

Logan, home a day early.

He’s stood in the doorway. His sharp gaze locked on you, jaw clenched tight. His eyes darkened, filled with lust and something else—something dangerous.

Your heart pounds frantically in your chest, but your body refused to stop moving, hips still grinding slowly against his flannel as if they have a mind of their own.

You expect him to say something, to scold you, maybe—but instead, a slow, dirty smirk spread across his face.

Without breaking eye contact, he crosses the room, shedding his leather jacket with a deliberate slowness as he does. He drops into the chair sitting in the corner of your bedroom, legs spread wide as he leaned back, watching you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I didn't say to slow down," he growls, the edge in his voice making your stomach flip. "Keep going, baby. Show me how much you missed me.”

The command in his voice was irresistible. Your body responding before your mind could even catch up, hips rolling against the flannel faster again, a soft whimper slipping from your lips. The friction feels even better knowing he’s watching, eyes dark and heavy with desire as he sees you fall apart.

"Logan, please" you gasp, hips moving faster.

"Please what, darlin'?" he hums.

"I don't- ah! Anything, please," you rush out, eyes glued to the obscene spread of his legs, where his strong thighs stretch the thick denim taught.

Logan shakes his head with a dark chuckle. "No, you wanna get yourself off without me you do it. Can't have your cake and eat it too, baby."

You whine, high and loud as tears burn at your waterline, threatening to spill down your cheeks. "I can't," you sob, voice tiny and pitiful in the quiet of the room.

"Don't be like that, princess," he chastises, clicking his tongue at you disapprovingly. "Know you can come just like this. Bet that pussy's been drippin' for days, huh?"

You nod pitifully, biting down on your lip as your legs starting trembling on either side of the balled up shirt.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growls, voice dripping with lust. “So needy you couldn’t even wait for me, huh? You missed my cock that bad?”

You nod again breathless, the pressure building between your thighs becoming unbearable as his words wash over you.

“Bet you were thinkin’ about me, weren't you?” His voice drops, rich and syrupy, and it crawls over your skin like a slow burn. “All this time, wishing it was me between your legs instead of that fucking shirt.”

Your movements grow more frantic, eyes dropping to his lap, zeroing in on where his thick cock presses against his thigh, tenting his jeans lewdly. Your mouth waters, lips dropping open with a quiet moan as you imagine him slipping between them, fucking your throat and making your jaw ache.

“Such a dirty little thing,” he purrs, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “You like putting on a show for me, don’t you? Gettin' off starin' at my cock while you fuck yourself with my shirt? Goddamn, I can see how fuckin' soaked you are from here.”

The flannel was soaked now, wet and clinging to your folds as you desperately rub yourself against it, your body trembling with need. Every roll of your hips makes you more desperate, more sensitive, pleasure coiling tight in your belly and almost ready to snap.

Your moans grow louder, filling the room as you chase your release, the rough fabric of his flannel dragging against your swollen clit in all the right ways. Logan watching you—making you do this—had you teetering on the edge, your breath coming out in sharp pants.

His voice was a constant stream of filth, each word sending shock waves of pleasure straight to your core.

“Atta' girl, that's it,” he rasps, his voice rough and commanding. “Come for me. Drench that shirt, baby. Make a mess of it. I’ll fuck you right after, promise.”

You were teetering on the edge, your whole body trembling with need as you rock against the flannel harder, faster, desperate for release.

"Come on, baby," he goads, leaning forward in his chair, eyes burning with something feral as he licks his lips. "If you get it nice and dirty for me, I'll wear it for you."

That was all it took. The thought of Logan walking around in his shirt after this, the fabric soaked with your essence, staking your claim on him, has you coming.

Your body shudders violently as waves of pleasure crash through you, pulling you under. Your back arches off the bed, hips jerking erratically against the flannel as you cry out his name, hot tears spilling freely down your cheeks.

Logan growls in satisfaction, eyes locked on you, watching as you tremble and gasp through the aftershocks. He stands from the chair, slow and deliberate, stalking toward the bed with a dark gleam in his eyes as his hands drop to his belt.

“Good girl,” he rumbles, voice thick with desire as he climbs onto the bed, caging you in with his body. His lips brush your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Now it’s my turn, baby. And I ain’t even close to done with you yet.”

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

a/n: wow this really got away from me lmao...it was not supposed to be so long ANDDD sorry for the low-key fade to black ending but I had no idea how to end this heheh okay bye love you!

[specsthesecond]

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°

This time, you're roused from sleep by the sound of deep snoring coming from the orc under you. You blink away sleep and adjust slightly on the orc's massive chest, resisting the soothing lull of his slow breaths tempting you back to sleep.

He has an arm around your back, unconsciously keeping you against his chest. You lean up, as much as you can manage, on your elbows to gaze at the sleeping giant. You never thought the word pretty could possibly be used to describe an orc, but when you see the way his eyelashes flutter in sleep, you second guess that notion entirely.

His stubble is scruffy and unkempt just like his hair but it doesn't look dirty. His pitch black mane looks so soft you want to run your fingers through it and that fleeting thought shocks you so much you almost fall off the orc's chest.

Luckily he seems to be a rather deep sleeper, he only mumbles something in Orcish and pulls your body closer to his in his sleep. You try desperately to ignore the fire his touch lights under your skin. You're actually not sure if you've ever been this close to someone else before, and that thought makes you unreasonably angry. You're not some puritan who shies away from bodily desires. You've just never been good at getting close enough to people to experience it. Nobody chooses to live alone in the woods if they're good with people.

You adjust your hands under you, moving your open palm to where his heart should be. You feel the steady movement of his chest going up and down and it dawns on you, you'd completely forgotten what it's like to have a warm, breathing body next to you.

And just like that, the ugly inkling that's been haunting you all these years is confirmed, you do crave intimacy. No matter how much you ignore it, you're weak and lonely. Hell, you're so desperate, you'd seek out the touch of an Orc of all beings!

You feel one pathetic tear trickle down your cheek and you quickly wipe it away. Your fingers lightly brush his soft tunic, seeking heat from the warm skin just underneath. You place your palm flat, letting his heartbeat soothe you again. Your fingers trace the hem of his tunic, where the white cotton meets his hair-covered green chest.

The feeling in your fingers has returned, just enough to really feel how soft his skin is. You slowly trail your fingertips up to where his stubble begins on his throat. This type of intimacy is so distant from what you know and it causes another pang in your heart.

You lightly brush the bristly hair, you'd always thought orcs would have abysmal hygiene but his stubble feels clean, if unkempt. There isn't much reason to shave or look presentable when you live alone in the woods, you know that much. Your eyes follow the trail up past his chin to his lips, way too soft-looking for an orc. You get a closer look at the carvings on his tusks but it doesn't help you discern what exactly the carvings depict or what they mean. Your eyes flick up, back to his pretty lashes and meet his dark brown irises, they glow so nicely in the fireligh-

Shock electrocutes your body and you jolt away from him with a speed like lightning. You stare wide-eyed at his very awake self and embarrassment runs through you like you've never felt before. He sits up, clearly startled at the speed you jumped away from him. You can't look at him, the concern in his eyes only mortifies you further. You desperately look around the room for anything else to focus on and you spot the rest of your clothes still on the rack next to the hearth.

You stumble to your feet, a numb pain still gnaws at your muscles but it feels just like the pain of a long hike, almost familiar. You reach for your two pairs of thick socks and starts pulling them on one by one. The orc, still sitting on the floor, only seems to realize what you're doing when you start slipping your snow boots on. He springs up and heads to the kitchen, where you hear clattering and water boiling. You slip on the rest of your clothes, tucking everything in super tight for extra protection. A good while must have passed because even your fur coat is completely dry, you drape it over your shoulders, followed lastly by your thick scarf. You walk a few laps in front of the hearth, stretching out your unused muscles for the trek back home. When you think you're ready to leave, you awkwardly stand in the middle of the living room, gaze flicking from the front door to the kitchen.

Why are you waiting? You shouldn't even be here. You take only one step towards the door when the orc comes back with a flask in his hands. He rather bluntly holds it out for you to take and you do. Looking from him to the flask, you open it to catch a scent of what's inside. As you guessed, it was the spicy honey tea he had served you before, you close the lid tight before your mouth starts to water.

You look up at him, unsure of what to do or say. Neither of you have said a word to each other, You don't expect him to know Human Common and you guessed he doesn't expect you to know Orcish. You decide on nodding your head low, in what you hope comes across as an expression of appreciation. Apparently it does because he nods back to you with an expression you don't really understand, like he wants to smile but he's sad.

He steps outside with you, you can tell even through the clouds that it's daytime now and you once again wonder how long you spent cuddled up with this orc. He walks out into the snow and leads you to the edge of the little clearing around his home. He points in the direction you need to go, apparently trusting that you can find your way back. You definitely can, and you appreciate his acknowledgement of this, nodding to him once more before walking off into the woods, eager to get back home.

You only look back once, when his stone cottage is almost out of sight, he stands on the veranda, watching you leave and for some reason you find it endearing. He's truly just letting you go, after saving your life, feeding you and giving you shelter he's really not going to ask for anything in return?

You sigh to yourself, knowing it will weigh heavy on your conscience if you don't do something for this kind stranger in return.

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°

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[hitomisuzuya]

Hii, may I ask for a fic where scara and reader are a pair of emo best friends listening to emo music, super loud! In her room while her parents are fighting? They've always been sexually curious and experimenting. Soo reader's sad, he says fuck it, gets on top, and starts grinding his knee against her clit?

Usually, they NEVER get too far, so the reader knows that he's committed when she moans.

Soo cunnilingus? Maybe they likee each other? Praise? Calling her parents dumb and just validating her complaints (like if u going to fight dont do it around your spawnling?) A little bit of 'we could do better than them' bc reader is lowkey scared of ending up like them???

Please ik this is a bit too detailed, im kinda venting lol. Please feel free to omit a bunch if you must.

-shyent💗

scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. clit stimulation. cunnilingus. praise, validation, and comfort.

it wasn't too detailed at all. i hope this makes you feel better, hun❤️ i think we all can relate this more than we like to admit😞

you have your hands covering your ears, your eyes squeezed shut. not even the loud music playing in your room soothed you. your body was tense with restless anxiety.

and scaramouche couldn't stand it. he knew he needed to do something. anything. anything to get you to focus on him and not the sounds of your parents fighting downstairs. when you are focused on him, it was like he was the only thing in this world. you noticed nothing else but him.

he reached over and took your hands off of your ears. you'd told him once that you enjoyed the sound of his voice. he put his lips next to your ear. "i can take you somewhere else, if you want," he offered, moving closer to you on your bed.

you shook your head, turning the music down a little. "no, it's okay. it wouldn't really matter. i am still going to know that they are fighting," you would still be tense the same way be it here or at his house.

"i can go tell them to shut the fuck up," he offered, it was more of a way to get to you smile. because it he really would. he would open your door and shout at them to shut the fuck up. loudly. he didn't give a shit. and that's the exact reason why you smiled, if only a little.

"you know, they might shut up if they hear me making you moan," he tentatively posed the idea. more to see if you would crack another little smile, but at the same time, he was completely serious. his hands had gotten up your shirt and into your bra while you were making out with him the other day.

he sure made you moan when he started pinching and stroking your nipples. he fed off of it. his hand has been so close to dipping into your panties. he is so fucking in love with you he couldn't stand it. making you focus on him would calm you down.

and that was what you needed.

you need him.

"you think they might?" you asked. his eyes widened a little. his cock pulsed with the hope you were serious. there was only one way for him to find out.

"i think they might," scaramouche turned down the music, and put his hands on your shoulders. he felt you immediately relax a little the moment you felt his touch. he laid you down on your bed, drinking in the way you blushed as you looked up at him.

he counted himself lucky that you wore a skirt today. your skirt bunched up around your thighs as he got on top of you. tentatively at first, he started to rub his knee on your clit. it wasn't long before your breathing turned shaky sounding, your clit starting to swell and throb.

he shivered as your juices began to soak his knee. he increased the pressure, keening soft moans from your throat. he would've leaned down and kissed you had he not wanted to drink in your face starting to contort with pleasure.

you rocked your hips up, grinding your clit on his knee. he could see the whole world falling away from you, focusing only on him in a way that made his cock ache more. your panties sticking and unsticking around your clit added extra friction, hazing your senses with pleasure.

you have forgotten all about your parents.

reaching your hand up, you caressed his cheek. "scara, can you make me feel good?" you asked, letting out a louder moan as he twisted his knee on your clit.

scaramouche did not need to be asked twice. how many fantasies had he had about you that started off just like this. the amount of cum he spilled into his hands jacking off at night to thoughts of you said as much.

there was such a look of desperation in your eyes. desperation for him. you are depending on him, and scaramouche latched onto that. "your parents really are fucking stupid," he moved down between your legs, moving your panties aside. you blushed seeing his mouth hovering above your pussy.

his tongue swept out to part your folds. he'd lost count of times he'd jacked himself off thinking about you grinding your pussy on his mouth. he licked long slow stripes up and down your pussy, groaning as your taste saturated his tongue. "i can't have my precious pet being so tense all the time."

the blush on your cheeks darkened hearing his words. something about hearing him call you his precious pet made your clit swell and throb more. you shifted restlessly on your bed, your hips jerking up to grind on his tongue.

scaramouche wagged the tip of his tongue around your clit, making moans come from you instead of words. your hands found the back of his head, pushing his mouth down onto your pussy as you sought more friction.

"that's my good girl," his praise filled you with an arousing warmth. it was like something snapped in you. whimpering softly, you knew in that moment, you would do anything to hear it again.

"say it again, please!" you cried out, tugging on his hair. the pleasure coiling was so strong it made your eyes water, your thighs trembling as he latched his lips onto your clit.

scaramouche chuckled softly into your messy pussy, keeping his eyes focused on you so he didn't miss one twitch or contortion of pleasure. "my good, sweet girl," louder moans tore from your throat, your walls clenching empty around nothing. "we can do better than they can," he released your clit with a wet pop, licking his lips before focusing his tongue on your hole.

"i'm in love with you!" you suddenly cried out. the words came tumbling out of your mouth, his tongue felt that good working your pussy over. groaning, he prodded his tongue inside of you. "i've always been in love with you!"

he swirled his tongue inside of you. pleasure burst white hot behind your eyes. your hips bucked shamelessly into his mouth, enjoying the comforting way his fingers dug into your thighs possessively. "fuck me with your tongue, please."

the way you were starting to babble made his cock pulse and strain in his pants. scaramouche was sure your parents could hear you. and he fucking loved it. "go ahead, kitten. let them hear what real pleasure sounds like."

his tongue worked over your pussy with extra vigor, snapping the knot of your orgasm to curl tighter in your core. his thumbs skimmed over the insides of your thighs in encouragement, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

you couldn't help it. scaramouche's tongue made you cunt sensitive, your release gushing onto his tongue suddenly. "so fucking sweet," he growled, eagerly lapping at your release like a starved dog.

he didn't take his mouth off of your pussy, tongue fucking you through your orgasm until you were breathless and shaking. when he kissed you, you didn't think it would be intimate tasting yourself on his tongue.

[strwberri-milk]

hello i'd like to request something if thats ok!! imagine walking in on the l&ds men getting themselves off to the thought of u and they get all embarrassed but then u go and help them & make them see stars<33 i just love them a lot n wanna give them allll the pleasure they deserve. ty!!!! have a nice day lovely

i love this sort of trope, nsfw under the cut!!

Zayne typically is able to wait for you to come home to take care of himself. It doesn't happen very often that he's this desperate for you in your absence and he thought he could wait for you to come home. He collapses onto the sheets after taking a shower, fully thinking that the cold water would soothe him and it does! Until he smells you on the bed, remembering the warmth of your body in his arms.

He's reaching under his robe before he realises it, the cool touch of his hand on his cock nothing like the way you'd hold him. He has to make do with your memory, settling himself comfortably on the bed as he strokes his cock slowly. He doesn't want to cum too quickly but he also knows he should finish before you get home, not wanting you to catch him in such a compromising position. He knows you wouldn't say anything but the thought of it is still a little mortifying to him. He has a reputation and image to uphold after all and biting the back of his hand to muffle his moans is not a part of it.

Thankfully he's not too much of a moaner, light pants and soft groans the only thing that escape his lips as his hand works his precum down his shaft to make the glide of his fist easier. His hips buck into his hand every so often, trying his best to imagine that his fist is your tight warmth. If he closes his eyes and doesn't focus too much on how his hand feels he can imagine that it's you, jolting when a second hand joins him.

His eyes open and there you are, straddling his legs with an evil smirk on your face as you take over his pace, cooing at him for being so needy that he couldn't even text you to tell you to come home. He's about to reply when you squeeze him in that way that always makes his mind blank, telling him that you're going to have lots of fun bullying him now that you've found him like this.

Xavier woke up hard, patting the bed beside him in hopes of finding you to grind up against. Even if you didn't want to have sex you'd be nice enough to let him run his cock along your ass, sometimes even offering up your thighs when feeling especially generous.

You're gone, probably off getting started with your day or something. He sighs a little, debating between waiting for you or taking care of things himself. He wants to wait for you but he also knows that he's far too hard to consider doing anything else at the moment, closing his eyes as he starts to sleepily jerk himself off.

His sounds are soft and breathy, not really trying to hold back. If he's caught by you he can definitely play innocent and maybe you'll take pity on him and let him take you the way he needs to right now. He loses himself in his touch, hips bucking up to fuck into his fist when the sound of you clearing your throat from the door stops him. He looks at you a little sheepishly before coaxing you to come to him, biting his lip as you approach.

You start undressing as you come to him, his eyes roaming over your body hungrily as you crawl on top of him. He feels you press him between your legs, cock twitching as he pulls you in for a deep kiss, showing you just how badly he needs you.

Rafayel was moping in bed again after you left him to run out for groceries, the tossing in turning unfortunately rubbing his cock against the front of his pants in a way that made him hiss. Without thinking he's got a pillow between his legs, blinding reaching for the pyjamas you left behind to take deep breaths of as he rocks against the pillow.

He knows it's a poor imitation of you but right now he can't think of anything but you, the way you smell on your clothes making his mind spin. He's always been weak for you but especially right now, knuckles white as he holds onto your clothes desperately. He misses you so much and he won't admit it to you yet for fear of being teased but he really can't get off if he doesn't have something of you with him. Whether it be your voice in his ear or your clothes in his fist, just something has to be there for him to actually cum.

He's about to spill all over the sheets to the thoughts of you when he feels your hand close over his. You're about to tease him when you see his tears lightly lining his eyes, looking up at you desperately as he softly mutters your name. You can't do anything mean to him when he's looking at you like that, pushing him down onto the bed as your mouth takes him in, clasping his hand in yours as your tongue runs all over him.

Sylus hadn't been able to see you in a while thanks to his busy schedule. That means he also has been too busy to relieve himself, which isn't really an issue until he sees you've texted him. You sent him a selfie, one a little more risque than you expected with how innocent the subject matter was in your text. He knows you didn't mean to turn him on but now he's sitting in his study jerking himself off to the photo you sent him.

He can't help it. He's cursing you under his breath, blaming you for making his skin flush and this desperation coursing through his veins. The next time he sees you you're going to be punished for doing this to him but for now he has to alleviate himself with the rough pace of his hand, looking through his phone to the secret gallery he has of other photos you've sent him. The sight of your body makes him go into overdrive, moans escaping past bitten lips as he's about to cum.

You come into his office with a surprise for him, slack jawed as the flush on his cheeks and heavy breathing make it clear what you just caught him doing. Instead of acting shy about it he sits back in his chair, raising a brow at you and gesturing for you to shut the door. When you come to his desk he spreads his legs a little more for you, cock twitching against his stomach as he asks you to help him out.

His gaze makes you swallow heavily, going to your knees as you crawl between his legs, peppering his thick cock in kisses before starting to bob up and down on his cock.

[sushiyuzu]

period cramps

warning: fluff — soft!sylus taking care of you during your 1st day of period cramps 💕 [ x fem!reader ]

- second acc: @sushibelle

you groaned as you curled up in bed, clutching your stomach. the cramps had hit hard this morning, and no matter how much you shifted around, you couldn’t get comfortable. your entire body felt heavy and achy, and the dull pain in your lower abdomen refused to let up. it was your first day of your period, and of course, it had to be one of those brutal ones.

just as you buried your face into the pillow, trying to find some relief, you heard a soft knock on the bedroom door. “sweetie, you okay in there?” sylus’s voice came through, full of concern.

“not really…” you mumbled, not even trying to sound like you were fine. the cramps were too much today.

the door creaked open, and sylus stepped in, his silver hair slightly tousled from sleep. his crimson eyes scanned your curled-up form on the bed, and in an instant, he seemed to understand. “period cramps?”

you nodded, wincing as another wave of pain hit. “yeah… they’re really bad today.”

sylus walked over to the bed and knelt down beside you, his hand gently brushing your hair back from your face. “i’ve got this,” he said softly, his tone comforting. “just stay here and try to relax.”

before you could protest, sylus was already heading out of the room. you weren’t sure what he meant by ‘i’ve got this’, but you were too exhausted to argue. you buried your face back into the pillow, trying to focus on anything but the pain.

a few minutes later, you heard sylus moving around the apartment. you could hear the sound of cabinets opening and closing, water running, and then the unmistakable hum of the kettle boiling. curious, but still in too much pain to get up, you stayed put.

after a while, the door opened again, and sylus walked in, balancing a tray in one hand and a heating pad in the other. he set the tray down on the bedside table and plugged in the heating pad, gently lifting the blanket and placing it over your lower stomach.

the warmth from the heating pad was immediate, and you let out a small sigh of relief as it started to ease the tension in your muscles.

“this should help,” sylus said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “and i made you some tea. it’s herbal—good for cramps.”

you blinked, surprised by how prepared he was. “how do you know all this?”

he gave you a small smile, a hint of playfulness in his eyes. “i pay attention.”

you couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a little better already. “thank you. you didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

“it’s no trouble,” sylus replied, his tone gentle as he reached for the tea. “i don’t like seeing you in pain.”

he handed you the cup, and you took it gratefully, sipping the warm liquid slowly. it tasted soothing, the herbs calming your stomach a little more with each sip.

sylus stayed by your side, watching you carefully, as if making sure you were as comfortable as possible. “do you need anything else? painkillers? snacks?”

you shook your head, feeling touched by how attentive he was being. “no, i think i’m good. you’ve done more than enough.”

he smiled, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “i’ll be right here if you need me.”

for the next hour or so, sylus stayed by your side, occasionally checking the heating pad to make sure it was still warm and refilling your tea when it got low. at one point, he even left the room and came back with a small stash of your favorite chocolates, placing them on the bedside table with a soft chuckle. “just in case you need a sugar boost later.”

you laughed, despite the lingering discomfort. “you really thought of everything, huh?”

“i try,” sylus said, a hint of pride in his voice.

as the day went on, the cramps slowly started to ease, thanks to the combination of the heating pad, the tea, and sylus’s constant care. he never left your side, making sure you had everything you needed. whenever a fresh wave of pain hit, he was there, rubbing your back gently or holding your hand until it passed.

“i don’t know what i’d do without you,” you said at one point, your voice soft as you looked up at him.

sylus smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “you don’t have to worry about that,” he said. “i’ll always be here for you. even for the tough days.”

you felt your heart swell at his words. he wasn’t just saying that to make you feel better; you could tell he meant it. sylus had always been there for you, through thick and thin, and moments like this only made you realize how lucky you were to have him in your life.

later in the afternoon, after the worst of the cramps had passed, sylus convinced you to move to the living room. he carried the heating pad with him, of course, and set you up on the couch with a pile of blankets and a fresh cup of tea.

“movie?” he asked, holding up the remote.

you nodded, settling into the cushions. “something light. no action or drama. i can’t handle that today.”

sylus chuckled, flipping through the channels until he found a cheesy rom-com. “this work?”

“perfect,” you said, smiling as he sat down beside you.

he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as the movie started. for a while, you just sat there, snuggled up against him, the warmth of his body and the soft glow of the heating pad making you feel safe and comfortable.

every now and then, sylus would glance down at you, checking to make sure you were still doing okay. and each time, you’d give him a small smile, silently thanking him for being so wonderful.

“you’re spoiling me,” you said after a while, your head resting on his chest.

sylus smirked, running a hand through your hair. “you deserve to be spoiled.”

you couldn’t argue with that. not today, anyway.

as the movie played on, the cramps finally started to fade away completely, leaving you feeling tired but relieved. sylus, sensing that you were getting sleepy, pulled the blankets up around you and kissed the top of your head.

“get some rest,” he whispered, his voice soothing. “i’ll be right here when you wake up.”

you smiled, closing your eyes and letting his words wash over you. knowing sylus was there, taking care of you, made everything feel a little easier.

and as you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky to have someone like him by your side, especially on days like this.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Toto's obsession

Hii guyss, I hope you like this idea I had.

You knew who Toto Wolff was long before you actually met him. Your brother, George, spoke of him all the time, describing him as a visionary, a man who turned dreams into reality. "He’s not just a team principal," George would say, his voice tinged with awe, "he’s a strategist, a leader—a god, really. Strict, yes, but there’s no one like him. He’s why I’m going to win a championship."

Strict, charming, busy—those were the words George used. But it wasn’t until the first time you met Toto that you fully understood what he meant by "charming."

It was at a celebratory dinner. George had just signed with Mercedes, and the room buzzed with excitement. You felt a certain nervousness, knowing you'd soon be face-to-face with the man your brother had so admired. But nothing could have prepared you for that moment.

"Y/N," George called, catching your attention, "come to meet Toto."

And then you saw him. Tall, imposing, with an air of calm authority that seemed to silence the room as he approached. His sharp, tailored suit, the confidence in his stride—it all added to the magnetic pull he had.

Toto’s hand extended toward you, and the moment your fingers touched his, a spark ignited. His eyes met yours, dark and calculating, but there was something else—something deeper. You could feel the intensity in his gaze, as though he was memorizing every detail of you in that instant.

"Pleasure to meet you," he said, his voice smooth, but there was a certain edge to it—something almost predatory.

From Toto’s perspective, the moment he saw you, time seemed to slow. There you were, standing next to your brother, but somehow, everything else faded into the background. You weren’t just George’s sister; you were something he couldn’t quite describe—captivating, delicate, and untouchable all at once.

He prided himself on being a man of control, a man who calculated every move. But you… you were a variable he hadn’t planned for. The way you smiled, the softness in your voice, the quiet confidence that emanated from you—it all struck him harder than he had anticipated.

She has to be mine.

The thought crept into his mind, uninvited but relentless. He barely heard George’s words as they introduced you, his focus entirely on you. He was a man used to getting what he wanted, and you, without even knowing it, had become something he wanted more than anything.

As the dinner went on, Toto kept glancing your way, watching how you moved, how you spoke. Every detail fascinated him—the way your lips curved into a smile when you laughed at something George said, the way your fingers absentmindedly played with the edge of your glass.

Obsessed wasn’t the right word. It was something more. You were a puzzle he needed to solve, a challenge he couldn’t resist. And in his mind, the outcome was already decided. You were meant for him, and nothing—not even the relationship he had with your brother—would stop him from making you his.

Later that evening, when George stepped away for a moment, Toto seized the opportunity. He made his way toward you, his presence commanding attention without even trying.

“You seem to have made quite the impression,” he said, his voice low, eyes locked onto yours.

Your pulse quickened as he stood closer than before, and for a brief moment, you felt a tension that you couldn’t explain.

“Oh? On whom?” you asked playfully, but your voice wavered slightly.

His smile was subtle, almost imperceptible, but the weight of his words hit you with full force.

“On me.”

You stirred awake in the soft, dim light of a hotel room, the warmth of Toto’s arms wrapped securely around your waist. His chest rose and fell steadily behind you, his breath brushing the back of your neck in a rhythmic, soothing pattern. For a moment, you simply lay there, allowing yourself to enjoy the peaceful silence, the comforting weight of him holding you close.

Since that night at the celebratory dinner, your life had taken a turn you never expected. It was supposed to be a harmless introduction, a fleeting moment in the whirlwind of your brother’s new career with Mercedes. But after that night, Toto had made sure you didn’t slip away. You had started seeing each other in secret, always in the shadows, far from prying eyes and cameras.

The world would have a lot to say about you and Toto if they knew—about the age gap, about you being George’s sister, about the power dynamic. But in these quiet moments, it all faded away. Here, it was just the two of you, hidden away from the world’s judgment.

You shifted slightly, feeling his arms tighten instinctively around you as though he could sense you thinking about pulling away, even for a second. His possessiveness was something you were still getting used to, something you weren’t sure you fully understood. He wasn’t just protective; he was almost territorial, as if the very thought of you belonging to anyone else, even in the smallest way, was unthinkable to him.

"Stay," his voice, deep and groggy from sleep, rumbled against your ear. He nuzzled into your hair, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your head.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, smiling softly as you let your fingers trace his arm around your waist.

His hand moved to cover yours, holding it against his chest, his grip firm. "Good. I don’t like the thought of you slipping away from me."

You laughed quietly, shaking your head. “Where would I go? No one knows we’re here, Toto.”

He hummed in satisfaction, but there was an underlying edge to his words as he murmured, “And that’s how it should stay.”

You didn’t fully understand the depth of his obsession with keeping your relationship secret, assuming it was mainly about the media and the attention it would bring. After all, he was an incredibly public figure, and any news about his personal life would be plastered across headlines instantly. And yet, sometimes, there was a flicker in his eyes that made you think there was more to it.

Toto shifted behind you, pulling you closer until your body was flush against his. His lips brushed the shell of your ear, his breath warm as he spoke in that low, commanding tone that always sent a shiver down your spine.

“Do you ever think about how it all started?” he asked, his voice smooth and rich with emotion. “That night… the moment I saw you, I knew I couldn’t let you go.”

You tilted your head back slightly, meeting his gaze. His eyes were filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter, but beneath it, there was something else—something more intense. “I didn’t know you felt like that then,” you said softly, smiling at him.

He cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek gently. "You’re smart, but sometimes too innocent," he murmured, his lips curling into a faint smile. " From the very beginning, you were mine. I couldn’t let anyone else have you."

His words, though wrapped in affection, held a possessive edge that you had come to recognize. It wasn’t just love that fueled his actions—it was something deeper, a need to claim you, to ensure that no one else ever got close to you. But you trusted him. You believed in the love that you felt from him in these moments, not fully realizing just how consuming it was for him.

You giggled softly, brushing it off, still unaware of the full extent of his obsession. "Well, I’m not going anywhere," you repeated, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

Toto's hold on you tightened once again, his eyes darkening with a fierce protectiveness. “No,” he agreed, his voice low and firm. “You’re not.”

Here's part 2

[hoe4hotchner]

Sunday morning | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!Reader CW: Fluff WC: 0.8k Summary: Literally just watching tv and cuddling with Hotch on a Sunday morning

           It was one of those rare, lazy Sunday mornings where neither of you had anywhere to be. The sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the living room. The room felt warm and cozy, like a soft blanket wrapped around the both of you, as you lay nestled against Aaron’s side on the couch. Your legs were comfortably draped over his lap, your head resting on his shoulder, while a movie played on the TV in the background.

           Neither of you were paying much attention to the screen, though. The dialogue from the movie was a little more like white noise, filling the quiet spaces in the room as you and Aaron enjoyed the peace of being close - just the two of you. His arm was looped around your shoulders, holding you against him as if he had no intention of letting you go. With his free hand, he absentmindedly traced small, lazy patterns on your thigh - light, soothing touches that sent tiny shivers up your spine. Every now and then, his fingers would pause, brushing the fabric of your pyjama pants before continuing their gentle dance.

           Your eyes flicked up to him, taking in how at ease he looked. It wasn’t often you saw Aaron like this - completely relaxed and without a single thought of work stuck in his mind. His hair was slightly tousled, a little messy from the way you had run your fingers through it earlier, and his face held a content expression that made your heart swell.

           “You’re not even watching the movie, are you?” you teased softly, your voice light with amusement as you shifted slightly to get a better look at him. Your words were accompanied by a gentle nudge of your foot against his leg.

           Aaron chuckled, the sound low in his chest, and glanced down at you with a fond smile. “Not really,” he admitted, the corners of his mouth curving into a slight smirk. “It’s hard to focus on anything else when I’ve got you here,” he added, his hand stilling on your thigh for a moment before giving it a gentle squeeze.

           You rolled your eyes playfully, though your heart skipped a beat at his words. “Playing it smooth, Hotchner,” you teased, but your smile gave you away. You reached up, tracing a finger along his jawline before settling your hand on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

           His hand shifted, gently intertwining his fingers with yours as he gave your hand a light squeeze. His touch spread through you, a sense of complete comfort and security washing over you in waves.

           “What’s even happening in the movie right now?” you asked with a playful tone, tilting your head slightly to catch his expression.

           Aaron chuckled again, shaking his head as his eyes flicked briefly to the screen before returning to you. “Not a clue,” he confessed, punctuating his sentence with a grin. “I haven’t been paying attention since it started.”

           You laughed softly, feeling a warmth in your chest at how at ease he sounded.

           “I don’t mind,” you murmured, nuzzling closer to him, your body perfectly aligned with his. “I’d rather focus on this,” you added softly, your head now resting in the crook of his neck.

           Aaron pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Me too,” he whispered, his breath brushing against your skin. His fingers tightened slightly around yours, a small but meaningful gesture that made your heart flutter.

           For a long while, neither of you said anything. The sound of the TV faded further into the background, overtaken by the soft rhythm of your breathing and the warmth of his body pressed against yours. The world outside seemed distant, irrelevant, as if time had slowed just for the two of you.

           You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink deeper into the comfort of him, your hand still resting on his chest. You could feel the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your palm, a quiet, reassuring reminder that this was real - that he was real.

           “This is perfect,” you whispered after a while, your voice soft and barely audible over the quiet hum of the TV. You didn’t even need to open your eyes to know that Aaron was smiling.

           “It really is,” he agreed. His hand moved to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering as he looked down at you with an expression so full of love that it made his heart ache in the best possible way.

           You sighed happily, feeling the weight of the world melt away in his presence. This was everything to you - just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, with no need for words. The outside world could wait along with the next unsub. All that mattered right now was this moment, this feeling, and the quiet, peaceful connection you shared.

           Aaron shifted slightly, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin. “I could stay like this all day,” he murmured.

           You smiled, your eyes still closed, as you snuggled closer into his embrace. “Me too,” you whispered back.

[srslyblvck]

pretty boy, sirius black

pairing: sirius black x fem!reader

synopsis: you called sirius 'pretty boy' and now, he never stops following you.

genre: fluff

warnings: none

word count: 0.6k

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ YOU WERE LYING UNDER a tree by the Black Lake, trying to finish some last-minute homework. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves, providing a soothing background noise as you concentrated on your essay. Suddenly, you felt a presence beside you, and before you could even look up, you heard that familiar voice.

"Hey there, gorgeous," Sirius Black drawled, plopping down beside you with his usual confidence.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. "Sirius, shouldn't you be somewhere causing trouble with James?"

"Ah, but where's the fun in that when I can be here, distracting you?" He winked, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

You tried to focus on your parchment, but Sirius's constant chatter and flirty remarks made it nearly impossible. He leaned in closer, his breath tickling your ear as he whispered, "You know, you're much too beautiful to be wasting your time on schoolwork."

You turned to him, intending to give him a witty retort. Instead, you sighed and looked up at him. "Sirius, don't you ever get tired of flirting?"

"Not when it's with you," he said, grinning. "But why, is it working?"

You shook your head, laughing softly. "You're insufferable."

He leaned back on his elbows, looking up at the sky. "Come on, there must be something you like about me."

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Well, you're easy on the eyes."

Sirius's confident smirk faltered for a moment. "Oh? Do go on."

You laughed, trying to brush it off. "Don't let it get to your head."

He moved closer, his tone more earnest. "No, really. What else?"

You hesitated, then muttered, "Maybe you're a bit of a...pretty boy."

Sirius's eyes widened, and he stared at you, momentarily speechless. His usual swagger was replaced with a look of genuine surprise.

You immediately regretted it, your cheeks flushing. "I-I didn't mean—"

"No," he interrupted softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Say it again."

You blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"Call me that again," he repeated, his eyes still locked onto yours.

You shook your head, embarrassed. "No way, Sirius. Forget I said anything."

He moved closer, his expression serious. "Please."

"No," you said firmly, gathering your things and standing up. "I'm not going to call you that."

Sirius stood up too, a determined look on his face. "Then I'll just have to make you."

True to his word, Sirius became your shadow. He followed you to the library, sat next to you during meals, and even walked you to your classes. His constant presence was both endearing and infuriating. He'd poke your sides, and ruffle your hair, just to get a reaction out of you.

One day, as you were heading to Potions, he was right beside you, humming a tune. You sighed, exasperated. "Sirius, don't you have something better to do?"

"Nope," he said cheerfully. "Being with you is my top priority now."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile creeping onto your face. "You're impossible."

"And you're beautiful," he shot back without missing a beat.

Despite his antics, you found yourself growing fond of his company. His relentless flirting and playful nature made your days brighter. And every time he looked at you with those big doe eyes, you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest.

One afternoon, as you sat by the Black Lake again, Sirius sat down beside you, quieter than usual. He looked at you, his eyes soft. "Why won't you call me that again?"

You sighed, meeting his gaze. "Because it makes you look... different. Not the confident, cocky Sirius everyone knows. It makes you look vulnerable."

He smiled softly. "Maybe I like being vulnerable with you."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you looked away, feeling your cheeks heat up. "Well, I still won't say it."

He laughed, a warm, genuine sound. "Then I guess I'll just have to keep following you around until you do."

And as frustrating as it was, a part of you didn't mind at all.

[icallhimjoey]

please bestie i want some soft love that's so second nature joe doesnt even have his attention with you whilst he gives it, please can you write something like that?

im not allowed to write right now because work and stress and boundaries and mental health etc etc so 🥰fuck you🥰 for this Wordcount: 1.8K

---

Cotton Soft Touches Gentle Voices Smooth

“What are you doing?”

You barely even heard Joe ask the question from across the room. You were so buried in whatever was happening on TV, focus completely zoomed in, mind somewhere else entirely. It took Joe another try for you to register the question directed at you.

“Hey. What are you doing?”

“Hmm?” you turned your head to Joe before your eyes followed and for a moment, you just slowly blinked at him. Something about his face combined with the fact that it really took you a minute to find yourself back in the room made you smile. You were so cosy.

“Watching TV.” you answered innocently, because you were, eyes back on the screen already.

You were warmly nestled into the sofa, curled up, knees pulled in, all comfortable in your white ribbed cotton pyjamas. The throwpillows and blankets on the sofa created the perfect nest for you to happily curl up into.

Snug.

Soft ambient light from several lamps placed in strategic corners lit up the room just enough. If you stood and opened the curtains a bit more, you could still catch the faint and fading oranges of the sunset.

You were shower fresh, limbs covered by white clean cotton, nose still a little cold from the difference in temperature after getting out of the hot stream, and wet hair cool where it touched your skin.

But you felt so warm.

So fucking cosy.

When you’d walked back into the living room post shower, skin glossy and wet hair brushed back, Joe had installed himself at the dinner table with his laptop and a notebook.

He’d cleared away the mess from dinner and had turned his spot into a desk.

“Just need to do these e-mails,” he said after you’d let your arms curl around him from behind, arms that he grabbed hold of for a second, and you kissed the top of his head.

“Will only be a minute.”

You’d left him to it then, not minding that Joe had some work to do, just happy that he was in the same room instead of hidden away in what he called the office and you called the guest bedroom.

The ‘only a minute’ easily turned into an hour plus. Joe kept busy on both his computer and his phone, and would sometimes scribble some things down onto paper. There was a phone call or two, just quick “Sorry to call so late, but have you seen the...” and, “Hey, yea, I'm just reading it now, can I call you back in a minute?” type things.

Joe became background noise to you the second you snuggled up, and similarly the low sounds coming from the TV were just a nice reminder that Joe wasn’t alone.

But then, halfway through typing a response to an e-mail, something in Joe’s peripheral vision caught his attention.

Something moving slowly.

A little rhythmically.

When he peeked over his laptop screen and saw his girlfriend looking just about the most comfortable she’d ever looked, he didn’t even think you were aware that you were doing it.

In your layers of soft cream fabrics, head slumped to the side, Joe saw how you let your fingers softly skim over the area below your ear. They danced in circles and lines by your jaw, onto your cheek just a little before trailing back to your neck and—

That was what Joe always did.

That’s where Joe let his fingers draw shapes.

He would brush some hair from your face and would then let his fingertips linger, and it always made you hum. Made you relax. Gave you tingles that made your hearing go funny for a second.

Joe watched you lazily self soothe, and after a moment he decided that he’d actually done enough work. He could finish this e-mail tomorrow.

“What are you doing?”

“Hmm? Watching TV.”

Your eyes were back on the screen before Joe could’ve even said anything about how you were touching yourself.

It was nothing sexual - not really. Not what he was witnessing right now anyway. He imagined it just felt nice.

He closed his laptop and got up from his seat, and without looking away from the TV, you moved to make space for Joe next to you, knowing he’d make his way over to press himself into your side.

Joe smiled as you moved blankets aside but kept that one hand near your ear, index finger mapping out your hairline towards the nape of your neck and back.

Instead of sitting down though, Joe pushed a knee into the sofa right next to your thigh and placed his fingers right were yours were, pushing them aside.

“I do this,” Joe said as he hovered over you, and you grinned as you let your head fall to the side more. “This is my job.”

Joe tickled his fingers along your soft skin, fresh and clean from the shower, and it only took a few seconds for you to sigh into his touch.

It was nicer when Joe did it.

“S’nice?” Joe murmured, still with just one knee on the sofa, and you hummed, eyes closed, nodding.

“Is nicer when you do it.”

“Yea?”

Joe leant forward to press a kiss to your cheek, getting you just under your eye, and then he moved to sit down next to you.

After a shuffle of throws, pillows, and limbs, you found yourself under Joe’s arm, curled up into his side.

You were comfortable before, but this would always be infinitely better.

“Hmm, you smell nice.” Joe commented after taking a moment to press his nose into your still damp hair.

“Yea? What do I smell like? Shampoo?” you whispered, voice not wanting to be any louder.

Joe easily bit, taking the invitation to get another real good whiff of you, his whole face now pressing into the crook of your neck.

You relished the attention, feeling fuzzy on the inside, heat blooming in your chest.

“Yea, sort of lemony… all fresh and clean.”

You blushed and were unable to hide your smile as you settled together for some TV watching, warm bodies pressed together, always fitting just right somehow.

Joe’s arm rested on the back of the sofa and bent around your head just right for his fingers to play. To touch the skin around your ear like you’d been doing before. To lightly trail and leave goosebumps down your whole body.

You could easily fall asleep like this, legs intertwined, head on his chest.

You lazily watched TV in silence for a while and if Joe was going to keep up the barely there shapes drawn down your neck you knew you actually would fall asleep.

It was becoming difficult to keep your eyes open, every blink a comfortable invitation to just keep them closed, but then the soft buzzing of Joe’s phone pulled you both from your haze.

Joe had your earlobe in between his fingers when he answered, and for a moment you were fully expecting him to get up. Move to where his laptop lay shut to open it once more to maybe finish something he hadn’t yet.

But when you tried to sit up a little for Joe to slip out of this cocoon you’d created, you felt his arm tense. He wasn’t letting go of the soft skin of your ear and to make sure you stayed put, he bent a leg to keep yours in place.

“It’s past ten, mate,” Joe answered and although you didn’t know who was calling him, just from his tone of voice you knew it wasn’t work related.

Joe gently rubbed your earlobe between his fingers and it felt so nice, it turned the world blurry as you unfocused your eyes.

When you relaxed back into him, sinking into the line of his body, Joe tilted his head down to look at you, barely catching your little smile but happy to see you were still enticed by whatever was happening on TV.

You weren’t though.

Not really.

Because as Joe spoke, he let his fingers continue what they’d been doing and if he thought you were able to try to follow his conversation as well as what you were watching whilst he made you melt with his touch, he was wrong.

You were bad at multitasking on a good day, and you knew Joe was too. The fact that he was somehow able to keep you lax and floating whilst simultaneously being mentally present for this phone call was impressive.

Joe laughed through casual conversation with a friend who had some questions about future plans they’d made. Their chat quickly turned into a hey-now-that-I’ve-got-you-on-the-phone catch up.

The low vibrations from his smooth voice were nice. You felt them where your face rested on his chest and relished in the tender love you were receiving that felt like a second nature sort of thing.

“No, I’m just at home. Watching TV.”

Not being mentioned suddenly made Joes fingers feel a little scandalous. Like the person on the phone wasn’t allowed to know you were there and how he was making you feel right now.

It got a little worse when you felt how Joe let his fingers trail down your neck to disappear into your pyjama top where they slowly caressed over your collarbone.

Your voice let a little noise escape when his hand snuck back up again, finding its way into your hair, and Joe chuckled lowly.

You let yourself balance on the borders of consciousness, half asleep with thoughts so far removed from where you were, yet half laser focused on Joe’s fingers and where they tickled your skin.

Unsure of when you’d drifted off, or when Joe had finished his phone call, the next thing you registered was a soft and low far away, “Have I done a plait?” that pulled you back into the room a little more.

With your eyes still closed you reached a heavy hand up to feel what was essentially just a twirled strand of hair, not a plait at all.

You couldn’t hide the little smile that spread at how adorable you thought it was that Joe’d just been playing with your hair and thought he’d actually done something.

He hadn’t.

He just made you feel loved, which was actually far better than a plait.

“Mhm,” you hummed approvingly, snuggling up into Joe more, understanding that it was likely much smarter to just get up and find your way into bed, but you’d quite literally never been more comfortable before.

“I’ve done a plait.” Joe whispered, gleefully proud of himself and making sure that you knew, that you’d heard him, give him some praise.

“Well done.” You lied, because he’d not done a plait, but that was okay.

You weren’t going to shoot yourself in the foot, because you were about to sink back into sleep and there was just one thing that’d make you feel even more comfortable.

That would send you right back off into sleep.

 “Do another.”

---

The Taglisted

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add yourself

[inkbybambi]

best friend!simon riley picking you up from a bad date —

words: 2.2k rating: nothing explicit apart from a brief mention of sex, just some light angst and comfort. my blog is 18+ so minors please dni. warning: hurt/comfort, fluff, pet names, insecurity/doubt/worry, mentions of sex, simon is the softie we all know he is notes: originally written for @ghosts-cyphera ♡ we all need a bestfriend!simon in our lives who's so sweet and gentle with us.

One thing you love about Simon — besides everything — is how reliable he is. Strong, steadfast, there when you need him. Even when he’s not physically there — his work taking him away for weeks or even months at a time — you find yourself reading over the messages he’s sent, the little sticky notes he’s left, whatever memento you’ve kept of him tucked away in the drawer in your bedside table.

Not that you’ll tell him that.

You hate asking him for favors — asking anyone for favors, really, but him especially. Whenever you ask someone for help, it's always accompanied by a long-suffering sigh or a roll of the eyes or some very clear indication that they'd rather do anything else.

Except for Simon.

Which is why you're hesitant to ask him more than you absolutely need to. You don't want to push your luck too far, less he eventually tires of you as well.

Losing people hurts, always assuming it's you that caused the problem. You've come to accept this, even if the dark feelings of being too much or a burden claw at the edges of your mind.

But losing Simon? You don't think you'd ever get over that.

It's just after 9pm, the sky dark and clouds threatening, with thunder rumbling steadily in the sky. Your hand shakes as you fumble your phone from your pocket, trying to hold tears at bay as you scroll through your contacts.

Your call log is all Simon.

Some appointments here and there, but Simon everywhere else.

Fuck.

You hiccup, the tears spilling from your eyes as the sky finally opens up, joining you in your mourning.

You don't have any other choice, really, so you click his number before you can talk yourself out of it and walk home instead, bringing it up to your ear as it rings.

He answers before the third ring.

"I'm so sorry to bother you," you sniffle into the phone, before he has a chance to say anything. You take in a sharp breath, blood turning to ice. "Am i bothering you?" you sound so meek and small and tired. “No, dove, you’re not,” comes his calm, reassuring voice. You’re only half-convinced.

"I'm sorry," you begin again. Your heart falls to your stomach, convincing yourself that this is his final straw. You're overtaken by a wave of nausea, despite not having eaten anything since lunch. "I didn't know who else to call, and I lost my tram pass, and I don't have an umbrella, and — "

“Dove,” he says, his accent soothing to your ears — he's so endlessly patient and kind. You ache.

"I can just walk home, I-I'm sorry," you whimper out, unable to stop the tears blurring your vision, feeling pathetic and weak and so, so alone. “Darling,” he says, a little stern. Not angry, never angry. Trying to focus you. “What’s wrong?”

“U-um, my date stood me up,” you sniff, swallowing hard. "I waited an hour," you mumble, looking to your shoes. "Messaged him too, y'know. He just. Didn't show."

You think you hear Simon curse over the line and your heart lurches, feeling like you're about to be sick. “Where are you?”

There's a rustle of fabric, the clink of keys, the heel of his boot walking across his floor. You manage to tell him the name of the restaurant, voice cracking. “Twenty minutes,” he says, and you’re about to protest but he beats you to it. “Sit there and be good and patient and I’ll pick you up, yeah?”

"Okay," you whisper in agreement, before the line clicks dead and you allow yourself to cry, huddling under the awning as some protection from the rain, now coming down in thick, sharp waves.

Thirteen minutes later, the headlights of his truck shine through the dark, pulling up to the curb. You make a mad dash for the passenger door, still getting drenched in the process.

You can't even look at him, hands shaking as you buckle the belt, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

He says your name gently. You take in a shuddering breath and let it out just as shaky, looking over towards him. He's wearing his balaclava, but his eyes — even in the dark, you can make out his beautiful eyes. Assessing you, worrying.

"I'm sorry," you croak out. You can't help it. It's burned into your tongue, driven into your mind to make him understand you didn't want to bother him. He doesn't have to forgive you, but as long as he knows, that's enough.

"Love," he says, and there's... something in his voice, as he reaches over for your hand, holding it gently in his own. His eyes never leave yours. "'m never gonna be mad about you askin' for help." Your eyes flit away, but he squeezes your hand and you reluctantly look back. "You know me better than that," he says, as if he can read the treacherous thoughts swirling in your head, drowning you and making it hard to breathe.

You can only nod, not trusting your voice at the moment. He hums, bringing the back of your hand up to graze his covered lips over the back, pulling out to drive you back.

"This is your flat," you say, fifteen minutes later as he shuts the car off. You were too busy looking at the window, watching the rain drops race down the glass, to notice that he wasn't driving the familiar route to your place.

"Yes," he replies, as if it's obvious he'd bring you here. "You really think I'd let you stay home alone?"

His eyes are so fucking bright. It startles you, and you hate how your heart twists and thumps at how intently he's looking.

"I..." you start, chewing on your bottom lip for a moment. His eyes flicker to your lips, snapping away just as quick. "I was gonna eat ice cream and drink shitty, cheap wine," you say.

"As if I don't have either of those things here," he replies, opening the door and effectively ending the conversation. You scramble after him, eager to be inside in the warmth and burrow yourself into his couch.

"Go get changed," he says, voice clear as he removes the balaclava and bends to untie his shoes.

You hesitate for a second, until he looks up to you and there's that something lingering in his gaze — the same something that was in his voice.

"Go on now," he repeats, softer, and you ditch your shoes and your uncomfortably wet jacket by his.

His flat is as familiar as your own — you could walk through it blindfolded at night and you wouldn't knock into a single thing.

Well.

You might knock into a corner or two, but that's not a vision thing. It's a you're a bit clumsy thing. Simon finds it endlessly amusing, poking at the bruises that blossom on your skin while you bat his hand away.

His bedroom is familiar as well. Which is why you don't think twice before you're shimmying out of your clothes — undergarments as well — and rifling through his drawers, finding your favorite shirt of his and a pair of his boxers.

You take a moment to smell the collar, taking comfort in the scent that lingers. You’ve been dressed in his clothes many times before this but it feels different this time.

As you pad back out to the living room, Simon’s already on the couch. Your favorite blanket is draped across his lap, two bowls of ice cream and a bottle of cheap wine sitting open, glasses filled far more than you would’ve. You’ll indulge him, mostly because you have the sneaking suspicion that he’ll have you sleep here anyways.

His balaclava is off. The last dregs of tension drain from you as he looks over to you, face soft in the lowlight of the lamp, tv ready with a show you’ve watched a thousand times that he watches with you without complaint.

“Knew you’d choose that one,” he says with a bit of a smirk as you crawl on the couch, burrowing yourself into his side, his arm slinging across the back of the cushion.

“Am I that predictable?” you mumble, a small thank you as he hands you a bowl.

He doesn’t answer, but you feel the burn of his stare before he snorts, flicking the tv to start playing, the familiar theme relaxing you further.

The silence with him is comfortable, lingering in a hazy in-between of awake and sleep, empty bowls and mostly empty glasses sitting on the coffee table.

“Were you going to fuck him?” he asks, three episodes in, bottle empty.

You blink, not sure if you heard him properly as you pull back to look at him. You can’t read his eyes. Something hot twists in your gut.

“I-I don’t know, Simon,” you start, the weight of his stare heavy. “Maybe?”

He doesn’t say anything and you chew your lip for a moment, fingers curling to play with the blanket. “Depends how the date went, I suppose. Doesn’t matter much now,” you snort. His gaze hasn’t changed. “Why?”

His jaw clicks, taking a deep breath. “You deserve better ‘n that.”

A confused frown pulls at your mouth, unsure how to reply. “I know how to be safe,” you tell him, voice soft.

He seems to be weighing his words in his head, lowering the volume of the show. You feel sick.

Dark eyes rove over your face, taking in every minute detail. You bite at your nail, just for something to do.

“Don’t think there’s a bloke in the world that’s worthy of ya.”

Your frown deepens, breaking your eyes from his, twisting your fingers in your lap. Relationships aren’t easy. Being that vulnerable with someone isn’t easy.

You never want someone to pay for you, and even the smallest gestures like opening the car door or pulling out your chair feel like it’s too much. You don’t deserve that kind of attention. After a while, they’ll get tired. You’ll become a burden to them like everything else in your life.

It’s easier to be by yourself. The only person you have to worry about bothering is you.

“Love.” He tilts his head, eyes trying to catch yours. How hasn’t he gotten tired of you yet?

A hand under your chin forces your gaze up, and you try to shrink yourself against the back of the couch. Your voice catches in your throat, words stuck there.

“What’s goin’ on in tha’ pretty head f’yours?”

You swallow thickly, finding it damn near impossible to keep your eyes on his.

“‘s not like it matters,” you start. his brows furrow, but he stays silent. “No one would want me anyways.”

“‘n why would you say that?”

Frustration burns the back of your throat. Isn’t it obvious? You can barely call him in a dire situation without thinking the worst of yourself. How can he think of you as anything but a nuisance? How could he think anyone else would put up with it?

“You wouldn’t understand,” you say, defeated. You crumble back into the couch.

“Make me understand.”

Heat flashes at the nape of your neck. He takes your hands in his, cradling them in his warmth. Your name sounds so soft in his voice.

“How aren’t you tired of me?” comes your whispered question, nose tingling and eyes threatening to water. You look at him. Hesitant. Scared.

The silence is loud. His own frown deepens. It takes a few painful minutes, but you see the moment something clicks in place.

“You know I’d do anything for you, yeah?”

Your lip quivers, sniffling as you beg yourself not to cry.

“Because you do the same for me,” he continues. You doubt it, mind going blank of every time he’s come to you for something.

His touch moves to your elbow, tugging you forward gently until he can arrange you in his lap. He slips his hands beneath the hem of his shirt, thumbs rubbing on your hips just above the waistband of his boxers.

You slowly brace your hands on his shoulders. Firm and broad and safe.

“You apologize so much. You worry so much.” the tears slip down your cheeks, throat aching, but now you can’t look away from him. One hand moves to cup the nape of your neck, thumb rubbing gently at the skin behind your ear.

“You’re allowed to ask for help.”

You shake your head, a no caught in your throat, tears blurring your vision.

“Oh, love.” He cradles you into the curve of his neck, arm wrapping around your waist and keeping a gentle hold at the base of your skull. “You have me wrapped around your finger ‘n you don’t even know it.”

He lets you cry into his neck, dampening the collar of his shirt. His cologne is soothing and you eventually slump against him. You’re so tired.

His lips graze your temple, his soft touch lulling you to sleep. You’ll talk about it tomorrow, but for now you want to stay wrapped up in his arms, held by someone who genuinely loves you.

[cassidyandonlycassidy]

my pretty girl

words: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, protected sex, tit play, established relationship, fluffy

“you coming fishing?” jj asks pope, slapping him on the shoulder, not even waiting for an answer before he begins pulling him along.

“baby-” pope looks to you, and you quickly fix your face, a smile spreading over your features. 

“go ahead.” you encourage him. “ive got some cleaning to do around the house anyways.” you shrug.

pope frowns. you should have known better than to attempt to hide your emotions from him, he sees so easily through you. “sorry, jay.” he steps out of his friends hold. “im staying home with y/n.”

jj sighs dramatically, tipping his head back. “fine!” he leaves the patio, grumbling something about all of his friends having girlfriends and leaving him behind.

“you can go, i don't mind.” you say softly as pope sits down on the sofa next to you.

“nope.” he shakes his head. “need some alone time with my pretty girl.” 

you feel your cheeks heat up as he pulls you into his side, kisses being pressed against your head. despite dating for almost a year now, pope never fails to make you blush.

“i missed you.” you coo out, snuggling into his chest.

“yeah?” he smirks down at you. “even though it was literally less than 24 hours since i saw you last?”

“ugh, still too long.” you roll your eyes, even though you're happy pope got to spend some time with his friends, a boys night only at the chalet.

“so what cleaning do you have to do? i can help.”

“baby, i was just making something up so you wouldn't feel bad.” you giggle. “i mean, i do have laundry to put away but…”

“but you'd rather do something else?” pope questions.

“mhm…” you stand up slowly, hand squeezing around popes as you pull him inside, walking him towards your room.

“so this is what you meant by missing me?” pope laughs, shutting and locking the door behind you even though no one is home.

“hey.” you pout. “i missed you and i missed you.”

“aw, babygirl.” pope laughs gently, cupping your cheeks and pulling you into a kiss. you're instantly lost in his lips, not even realizing that pope had moved you further into the room until he's laying you down onto your bed.

“pope…” you whisper. “please.”

“i got you, baby.” he keeps his voice soft and soothing as he kisses you again, allowing you to focus on the kiss as his hands trail over your body, running his fingertips down your arms and cupping your waist, anything to touch you.

“will you-” you begin before suddenly feeling shy when pope looks down at you.

“will i what?” a smile spreads across his face. he loves when you ask him specifically for what you want, instead of just letting him take the lead and do whatever he pleases, having to guess what feels best for you.

“um…” you cover your face with your hands, only getting the confidence to say anything when you don't have to look pope in the eye. “play with my chest.”

you can't get the actual words out. breasts, boobs, tits, whatever you want to call them, and you have to settle for chest as it's the least embarrassing.

“hell yeah.” pope let's his excitement slip before calming himself, knowing how much his energy effects you.

popes large hands cup over your chest, rubbing at your breasts through your tank top and bra. pope kisses you again, but keeps them light so you can really pay attention to his palms rubbing against your nipples.

“can i take this off?” pope asks, hands moving down your stomach and disappearing underneath the hem of your shirt.

“yeah.” you nod, sitting up to allow him to pull the fabric away, leaving you in just a bra. pope has seen you naked many times before, but every time feels new and intimate with how gentle and caring he is.

“my pretty girl.” he coos out, warm brown eyes looking into yours.

pope reaches behind your back and unclips your bra after struggling with the clasp for a second, but he doesn't instantly pull it away.

he starts with the straps, slowly guiding them down your shoulders as his mouth follows with kisses, spreading goosebumps along your arms.

“pope.” you whimper out, a plea for more.

“mhm.” he hums, understanding what you're asking for as he pulls the cups down, revealing your already hard nipples.

he doesn't even wait to get your bra all the way off before his mouth latches onto your skin, tongue briefly flicking over your nipple before his plush lips wrap around the bud with a soft suck.

your hands come to his curly hair, scrunching it between your fingers as he plays with your chest using his mouth, switching back and forth to give each side equal attention.

“does that feel good?” he asks, a smile on his face. it's a rhetorical question, if the moans didn't tell him, then the blissed out look on your face would.

pope goes back to sucking on your nipple, one of his hands cupping your other breast, thumb swiping over your nipple as his other hand skirts down your stomach.

you feel your breath suck in before you even realize as he passes over the button on your shorts and delves right between your legs, cupping your pussy through the fabric.

“oh, god!” you squeal out. “pope!”

you can feel his smile against your chest as he rubs his fingers into you, pushing your already wet underwear against your cunt, focusing in on where he knows your clit is, having memorized your entire body from head to toe.

“i need you.” you whine. “come on, please.”

pope looks up at you, his gaze heated as his hand continues to rub against your core. “need me where?”

“need you…” you whisper out. “need you to fuck me.”

“that's my girl.” pope leans in and gives you a kiss. he always tries to encourage you when you manage to use your words.

pope moves so he's kneeling between your spread thighs. the first thing he does is rip his shirt off, and you ignore the urge to reach up and rub your hands against his defined muscles.

“my handsome boy.” you smile up at him, love so evident in your eyes, echoing the words he always says to you.

“love you.” pope knows his cock is straining against his shorts, and you are beyond desperate for him, but he still pauses to lean down and give you yet another kiss.

“love you too.” you coo back. it hasn't been all that long since you've made that declaration to each other, so the words still feel exciting every time they're said.

popes hands focus in on the zipper and buttons of your shorts, quickly undoing them to slide the jeans off your legs as he tosses them away. 

you smile shyly as he begins to focus on getting himself the rest of the way undressed as you slip your underwear off and let them fall off the bed as you splay out.

“look at you.” pope coos, making sure to get the condom out of his pocket. despite you being on birth control, you're always extra cautious, way too young and responsible to get pregnant.

“come on.” you giggle, impatient, as he takes the condom and rips the foil, spreading the rubber over his length.

“kay, ready.” pope gets himself into position, holding himself up over top of you as he lines his cock up with your entrance.

you take a deep breath to relax your body as he pushes inside, making sure to go extra slow to allow you to adjust.

“f-fuck.” you whine, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him further into you as popes hips press all the way forward, cock buried inside of you.

“give me a minute.” you hum, shifting your hips from side to side. pope distracts himself with kissing along your jaw and neck until you give him a nod, a signal that it's alright to move.

“feel so good baby.” pope groans out, keeping his thrusts slow and steady at first.

“mmm.” you hum out, unable to actually form words in response.

popes back arches as he ducks his head to wrap his mouth around your nipple again, sucking as his hips slowly increase in pace.

you moan out, arms pressing him closer into your chest, encouragement to continue as he pumps into you, knowing neither of you can last that long.

“so warm and wet for me baby.” pope praises you, switching to the other side of your chest as the wet squelching sound spreads over the room with every movement of his cock.

“only for you.” you smile softly, glad when pope lifts his head to press a kiss against your lips. 

“love you, love you, love you.” pope says, forever the soft and sweet boyfriend that you fell so deeply for.

“cum for me.” he urges you, shifting his weight to one arm to allow his other hand to drop, rubbing circles over your clit.

“oh my god!” you squeal out, head tilting back, pressing into the pillow as his fingertips work against your bud, having figured out just what you like and what touches get you there fastest.

“fuck, can feel you clenching around me.” pope gasps, hips moving faster, fucking into you with a fury that you know means he's going to cum soon.

“i-i-” you try to warn pope, but the words dissolve into moans as your orgasm hits you, high washing over your body as your legs shake, the tightening of your pussy causing pope to cum as well, pushing his hips forward to cum as deeply inside of you as possible, even if he is sheathed with a condom.

“fuck! baby!” pope shouts out, a few final thrusts before he pulls out, collapsing against the bed next to you.

“oh my god.” you giggle, legs snapping closed to cover the mess between your thighs as your hands come to your face, hiding your bright red cheeks from pope.

“you're so cute.” pope kisses over top of your hands before standing up and heading to the bathroom to discard his condom, coming back with a warm wet washcloth.

you keep your face covered as he cleans you up, always feeling a little shy right after sex.

“hey.” pope pokes you.

you put your hands down, a soft smile on your face as he hands you your clothes to put back on. despite knowing no one will be home for many more hours, you don't like to risk getting caught by hanging around naked.

you both get dressed quickly before you wrap your arms around popes shoulders, tucking your head into his neck.

“thank you.” you whisper. “that was really, really, really, good.”

“always happy to help.” pope laughs, reaching down to pick you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you through the house, back towards the patio to continue relaxing.

“ah, so that's why you didn't go fishing.”

“jj!” you squeal, jumping out of popes arms.

“what? john b was busy with sarah so i came back here. y'all are loud by the way.” jj shrugs.

“dude, im going to kill you.” pope says, rushing after jj as your laughter spreads throughout the backyard, watching your boyfriend chase his friend through the grass.