#no not waking up because i haven’t even gone to sleep

[missaengg]

Hello! I enjoy your fics featuring the LaDs men, especially Rafayel. Would you consider writing another with feral Rafayel? Everything is with the full consent of both parties, Rafayel is just urgently needy and difficult to satisfy. It could be another Ebb and Flow Day, where he desperately wants to feel and taste the MC. No matter your decision, thank you for opening asks and reading this. Please continue to write what you enjoy.

Hi!! Sorry I haven't been able to get back to you more quickly! I've had this idea in the works now and thought this might be a good fit for a feral Rafayel. Hope it satisfies~ If it doesn't, I have a few more fics planned for him 🤭

Missing You Pt. 2: Rafayel Comes Home

Pairing: Rafayel x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, pwp, creampie, p in v sex, established relationship Word Count: 1783 Read Part One here. Rafayel's been away for three weeks on a tour, and he's finally come home. But he's missed you terribly. ao3 link here.

Your bedroom feels lonely.

Too lonely. 

Especially with Rafayel still gone on his tour. 

You sigh, rubbing lotion on your arms, the last step of your bedtime routine. You eye the dildo molded into the shape of Rafayel’s dick sitting on your nightstand. The one he gifted you almost two weeks ago. You debate whether you want it to lull you to sleep like it did last night, an almost nightly occurrence. You feel your cheeks color because of how dependent you’ve been on Little Rafayel since it arrived, but you miss your boyfriend terribly, and well… having this replica almost makes it feel like he’s with you… almost.

A pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, and you jump, your heart pounding in your chest. It’s late at night, and you’re home alone. A burglar? A murderer? A rapist? Your brain assumes the worst… 

Your Hunter training kicks in, and you sink your elbow into the intruder’s stomach feeling pleased when they groan in pain, but then freeze because you recognize the sound of the intruder’s voice and the scent of their cologne.

His cologne.

“Rafayel?!”

“Geez, now I remember why I made you my bodyguard,” Rafayel wheezes.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear you come in,” you apologize, feeling terrible for how hard you hit him, but… “What were you thinking, sneaking up on me?”

“Hi, cutie,” he mumbles into your hair, simply holding you tighter against him. “Wanted to surprise you.”

You shake your head and sigh. After being apart for almost three weeks, you can’t stay mad at him. You’re just glad he’s returned. “When’d you get back?”

“Just now. Came straight here.”

You melt into his embrace. You’ve missed this so much. His warmth. His hugs. “Welcome back,” you murmur.

Rafayel nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. “God, I missed you.” He breathes you in deeply, almost as if he’s attempting to commit the smell of you to his memory.

He exhales just as deeply as he breathed in, and the long, puff of air hitting your neck tickles, feeling unnaturally hot on your skin. But when Rafayel presses his soft lips in a trail of feather-light kisses down your neck, it burns even hotter in their wake.

“I missed you so… so much,” he hoarsely whispers.

His greedy hands roam your body with a needy urgency, mapping every ridge and crevice. They grab at your clothes, your flesh… your breasts. He kneads them under his palm, squeezing and massaging them together, sultry, breathy moans fluttering from his parted lips.

“Wait, Raf, I want to look at you. I haven’t seen you in three weeks,” you protest, pulling at his arms so you can turn around and face him, but Rafayel locks his arms, pulling you in so tight you’re suffocatingly snug against him. 

“Let me just… just taste you for a bit….” 

The sounds Rafayel’s making are downright erotic. Even without the sensation of his mouth on your neck and his hands on your breasts and your stomach, the noises coming out of his mouth alone are flooding your body with an unbearable, feverish heat.

“I missed your body so much.” Rafayel pants heavily, expelling low, throbbing groans that tingle down your spine into your own throbbing desire. “I missed this. I missed you.”

Your breath hitches when he pinches your nipple and aggressively thrusts his hand between your legs, rubbing his open palm back and forth against your clothed sex. Both his arms are entwined around your chest and between the apex of your legs effectively trapping you against his heaving chest.

“Raf, I missed you too, but–”

He interrupts you by grazing his teeth along the contour of your shoulder. The friction of his hands and his teeth on your body are overwhelming, and you can’t help, but tremble, your knees growing weak from the buzz of electricity coursing through your veins.

He slips the hand that’s been rubbing you under your nightshirt and into the waistband of your underwear, brushing his pointer past your clit and sliding in between your folds. He shivers when they feel how wet you are for him.

“Baby, you’re driving me crazy,” he croaks. “Been dreaming about this for weeks.”

Rafayel grinds the firm erection in his pants against your lower back, placing a sloppy kiss on your neck. He circles his slick finger around your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves in a series of short strokes of varying pressure. Light, firm, long, hard. All while his rock hard length drags up and down the small of your back.

You breathlessly whimper, each stroke of his sinful finger shooting a dazzling spark deep through your center.

“Raf…” you rasp, reeling when a particularly firm pass causes your vision to flash white. 

“Gotta… gotta feel you… gotta…” Rafayel babbles, and it’s obvious how much pain he’s in from the strain in his nonsensical rambling. “Wanna be… inside… be inside… fuck… gotta…”

He lets out an agitated, strangled cry, and before your dazed mind can process what he’s doing, he’s pushed you up against the wall, caging you in, hiking your nightshirt up around your waist, tugging your underwear down mid-thigh, fumbling to pull his own bottoms down with a single hand. Just enough to grant him access.

You brace yourself on the wall with your palms.

Rafayel plunges in, letting out the most delicious guttural groan as he stretches you open with the entirety of his length. 

“Fuck, Raf,” you keen, unable to bite back the throaty moans tumbling from your mouth.

“Still think Little Rafayel is bigger than me?” he snickers.

You feel yourself clench around his shaft stuffing you past the point of being full, and you realize you were wrong. So very wrong. Rafayel didn’t embellish Little Rafayel at all. If anything, Little Rafayel is an underestimation of him.

“I was– was wrong,” you whimper. “You’re so much– so much bigger.”

You can’t see Rafayel’s face, but you just know he’s smirking in an infuriating ‘I-Told-You-So’ manner. “Need to punish you for thinking… thinking so little of me.”

He snaps his hips against you hard, and you cry out as his bulbous head slams into your cervix, pain and pleasure spreading through your flushed, quivering body. You feel Rafayel shudder, and he stumbles a step forward so you’re flush against the wall and he’s flush against you, driving deeper into you.

You arch your back, your head falling back to rest on his shoulder, and Rafayel nestles his cheek in your hair. He moves his hips in shallow undulations, so shallow his tip drags on your cervix with no reprieve. 

“Three weeks,” he husks achingly in your ear. “Three weeks without feeling your sweet, little cunt.” His shaky breaths wisp against your earlobe. “Did your sweet, little cunt miss me?”

Your heart thrums from the longing pulsing in his voice, the same longing you yourself have felt over the agonizing weeks he was gone. “I slept with Little Rafayel every night–” Rafayel makes an adorable, indignant noise, so adorable your heart beats faster and you smile, “–but it’s just not the same. It can’t replace you. It can’t replace falling asleep in your arms.”

“God, I love you,” Rafayel slurs.

Your words must’ve unlocked something primal within him because he rocks his hips, thrusting with passionate need as if he’ll die if he can’t have you right this very second. There’s an agonizing frenzy to his lunging, a frenetic desperation to feel you, taste you, take you.

You push your hips back to meet him, and together, you roll your hips against one another, the yearning you both felt conveyed without words in the way your bodies seek out the other. Just as he desires to have all of you, you desire to have all of him, and your bodies meld together into one.

His ragged gasps feed the delirium swelling in your lower body, ebbing and flowing in waves. Crashing over you. Muddling all your senses. 

“Raf…” you plead.

Rafayel understands what you’re asking immediately, and he drives into you with a new sense of urgency. “Baby, come… come for me,” he croons. “Missed your… your sweet voice… Wantcha to… to sing for me.” 

His voice cracks on the last word he utters, severing the last shred of your composure. A final, roiling wave overtakes you, pulling you under, and you’re tumbling, caught in the throes of its turbulence. Spinning. Drowning. Unable to tell up from down.

You can’t breathe. 

You can only helplessly call out his name.

Your body reacts beyond your control, and as you pulsate erratically around the entirety of Rafayel’s length, he breaks, spilling into you with uncontrolled ferocity. Painting you with weeks of pent-up frustration. Weeks of being away from you.

Your knees buckle, but Rafayel wraps you into his embrace, saving you from crumpling to the floor.

“Raf, I want to see you,” you whine, and Rafayel chuckles, relaxing his hold just enough for you to turn around.

But before you can even look at him, his lips are claiming yours in a deep, tender kiss threatening to turn your legs into jelly once more, and you’re melting in his arms again, your heart feeling as though it might burst. 

He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours, grazing the tip of your nose with his.

You can finally gaze into his eyes, and you’re blown away by how he just looks at you, his deep violet eyes dark with desire, love, and lust. For you.

 “I’m never leaving you for this long again,” he murmurs. “Almost killed me.”

He kisses you again, tracing your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, gently prodding at the crevice between your lips begging for entrance. You accede, parting your lips for him to slip in. In one swift movement without breaking the kiss, he picks you up, cradling you against his chest, and the next thing you know, you’re falling on your bed, Rafayel hovering over you.

“Three weeks, baby. Three weeks.” He slides his hand up your leg, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone. “Gotta make up for… three weeks.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, gently scratching the back of his head and running his hair through your fingers. “I’m off tomorrow,” you whisper.

Rafayel utters a heady groan, and he’s sweeping you up in another dizzying kiss stealing your breath away. “Never again…” he says in between kisses. “Too long…”

You wrap your legs around his waist pulling him flush against you.

You know it’s going to be a long night, but you don’t mind. Not even a little. Not at all.

[seoulmatez]

— 𝒹𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝓂𝑒? ౨ৎ

suna rintaro x reader. 609 wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ timeskip suna ﾉ suna is out of the country ﾉ honestly just lovesick ramblings :3

“do you miss me?” suna asks, only his eyes and the fluffy dark hair peeking out from his hood visible on the screen of your phone. if you had to guess, he must be lying on his stomach, phone lazily tilting back in his loose hold.

“hm, i don’t know.” a crease forms between his eyebrows at your unfavorable answer. you try to stop yourself from smiling as you continue. “having the bed to myself has been nice. i haven’t had to worry about your ice cold feet waking me up in the middle of the night.”

“they’re not that cold…” you can’t see it but you can hear the pout in his voice.

“liar—they might as well be actual blocks of ice.”

with a defeated sigh, suna’s phone tips back even more, obscuring the entirety of his face, leaving you with nothing but a view of the ceiling. even his voice feels a little farther away. “maybe i’ll just stay here forever then.”

“so dramatic,” you declare with a laugh. a smile lingers on your lips even after you put the joke to rest. “i’m just kidding. of course i miss you.”

he adjusts his phone once more, finally fitting the entirety of his face in the screen. he doesn’t look convinced of your words, eyes squinted in skepticism, lips still tugged down in a small frown. “what exactly do you miss about me?”

“everything,” you tell him.

“that’s not specific enough.”

you almost call him out for being so needy but you suppose listing off a reason or two is the least you can do, considering you were the one to start all of this. “okay, i miss the smell of your cologne in the apartment.”

it’s nothing specially, really—the same fresh scent he’s been wearing for as long as you’ve known him, but the lack of it seems to make you hyper aware of his absence. like a candle you light for comfort, his signature scent has become a homey one to you, not so easily replaced by others.

your answer seems to bring suna some type of consolation, his eyes softening. the frown he wore has all but disappeared but he doesn’t let himself smile quite yet. “anything else?”

you hum thoughtfully for just a moment before something comes to you. “i miss your late night snacking and how you always share with me.”

as much as you scold him about eating so late, you’re just as guilty whenever you find yourself sitting down to enjoy ramen with him far past midnight. though, there’s something strangely peaceful about the two of you passing a warm bowl between each other in the silence of the night—when the rest of the city has gone to sleep. little moments like those make it feel like the world belongs to the two of you alone.

suna nods in acceptance of your answer, although he still isn’t willing to let you off the hook. he meets your gaze through the camera, wishing that he was able to do so in person. “one more.”

“fine…” you don’t have to think for long to come up with one final answer for him. “i actually do miss sharing the bed with you. it feels empty when you’re not here.”

that’s probably your least favorite thing about him being away—how you have no choice but to go to sleep without him beside you, how you’re forced to wake up without him near.

“i knew it.” a grin takes over his face but it isn’t victorious nor cocky—he’s genuinely happy that you’ve admitted it.

because sleeping without you is like not sleeping at all to suna.

thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, please consider reblogging or commenting ❤︎

[weirdsht]

Heya!! Can I request a tcf x reader fic from where the reader is teenager and got teleported there? Somehow they can see the dreams of the future and knew about tcf novel while also being a full on simp for the main characters?(But also the thing that the young reader was someone who has been to various worlds and was in a loop, repeating things but without the memory of them doing so each time. They get glimpses ofcourse but it was just their past self trying to give out signals to not repeat any mistakes)

Definitions - Cale & Teen! Reader

notes: sorry anon i couldn't reflect all of your ideas because i found some of them hard to combine when i started writing. also this plot is better suited for a long fic/series but i don't have that time and energy huhu

tags: gender-neutral reader, mentions of death and dying (can be a little graphic but nothing too bad), teenager reader, nightmares

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome (for a limited time)

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“You should be more careful, this is uncharted territory.”

The look-a-like caressed your face softly as they spoke. Eyes filled with concern and uncertainty bore into you.

You may look alike but there’s something different about them.

Maybe it’s their mature aura. Perhaps it could be the tired look in their eyes. As though they have been suffering for eternity and want everything to end.

Whether they long for peace or eternal rest even you do not know.

“Still… this is a good opportunity and something we haven’t tried yet. Maybe you’ll be safer under his watch.”

“What do you mean by that? Who are you?”

You spoke for the first time since being transported in this weird abyss.

Being transmigrated into a novel like a lousy isekai protagonist was already confusing, but now you have to add weird dreams on top of that.

However, it beats trying to survive in that place you used to call home.

Between being endlessly confused and going back there… you’d choose the former any time of the day.

“I am you, well a part of you at least. As for what I mean… let’s just say this is for your own good.”

The supposed “you” paused briefly as they rested their hand on their chin. Probably thinking about how much they can disclose. Once they made up their mind their fingers caressed your head.

You may not know what’s happening, but you can tell they’re trying to provide comfort.

And it’s probably for the arduous path waiting beyond this dream.

“We’ve been through this many times, and each time you forget… I do not know if god has forsaken us or is playing a cruel joke…”

The look-a-like sighed before hugging you tightly. You meant to reciprocate, however, before you could raise your arms a sharp pain went through your neck.

“AGH! IT HURTS!”

It really does. It feels as though someone’s digging a knife through your neck, Trying to separate your head from your body.

When you manage to come back to your senses the other you are gone. The only thing left in the abyss is your and your throbbing neck.

…And wouldn’t you know, the moment you looked at your hands that were previously clutching your neck… all you could see was blood.

“-[me]”

“-[me]!”

“[Name]!”

“[Name] wake up!”

You jolt up as the familiar voice wakes you up from your dream. That’s right, you are currently under Cale Henituse’s wing after being transmigrated inside the novel you were reading. You have momentarily forgotten such a fact.

Clutching your throbbing neck, you tried to look at the redhead through your tears. Not that you are succeeding at the moment. However, you think you could see a slightly startled look on the young master’s usually calm face.

“Young master..?”

You asked, unsure of everything as your mind is still hazy. Still trying to get out of dreamland.

“You were screaming and crying in your sleep.”

Cale stated calmly as if he wasn’t panicking a minute ago. Still, his eyes roamed around you several times to double-check if there was anything wrong.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The redhead asks as he gently wipes your tears and pry your hands away from your neck.

“I’m sorry young master. I don’t think I can for I don’t remember the contents of my dream… All I could remember was that there was a searing pain in my neck. It-it felt so real. As though I was in the middle of the battlefield and someone was sawing their sword back-and-forth on my neck…”

You tried to explain to the best of your abilities. You didn’t want to lie to the man that you considered your saviour.

Both when you were reading the novel and when you transmigrated.

In every form, fictional character or not, Cale Henituse has always been your saviour in one way or another. And thus you hold deep respect for the man.

“Don’t push yourself. Sometimes forgetting and never remembering is better than being reminded constantly.”

Ah, he must be referring to his record ability. A blessing and a curse indeed…

“Still, if you feel unwell or anything come to me. I took a kid like you in so I must take responsibility for you till the very end.”

Cale Henituse probably doesn’t know the impact of his words. Just how much you have longed to hear such things.

No, perhaps he does. Perhaps more than anyone, Kim Rok Soo has been the one longing to hear those words since he was a child.

“I’ll keep that in mind…”

With that, Cale stepped out for a moment to ask a servant to fetch a glass of warm milk. After doing so he returned to your side, sitting on the side of your bed. He looks unwilling to leave you, despite having three younger children waiting for him in his bedroom.

“Don’t hold back, have you seen me holding back from doing and saying whatever I want? You don’t have to push yourself to act like a grownup around me. I’m the adult, those things are for me to bear.”

Cale’s words suddenly found their way to your memory when you were about to urge him to go back to On, Hong, and Raon. That combined with the redhead’s determined gaze to not leave your side has you clamping your mouth shut.

Soon enough a maid delivered the glass of milk to your room and you drank it to your heart’s content. Then the morning after that you could feel the children averaging 7 years old sleeping beside you.

The weeks following that are peaceful. Well as peaceful as Cale’s life could get at least. Not that it says much since he has the tendency to meddle in things that will only jeopardize his slacker life.

Despite that, your days are looking better. After that night you didn’t seem to experience excruciating nightmares anymore. You also seemed to have opened up to the rest of the crew.

Perhaps that’s why Cale became complacent, causing him to lower his guard.

And perhaps that’s also why his face hardens 10x more than it would have weeks ago. His anger soars through the sky, reaching the gods even, as he hears the heartbroken sobs you utter on your lips after waking up from a nightmare.

“Am I such a bad child for the gods to do this to me? Have they forsaken me? What did I do that was so wrong that warrants this kind of suffering?”

You sobbed on the young’s master chest. You look so out of it. Eyes glazed over as if you’re not with Cale despite being in his embrace. You continued to wail, continued to curse the world for putting you in a type of pain that not even Cale can comprehend.

“I’m tired, I’m so tired. How many times has it been? I’ve tried my best… I always did, but I don’t know what the gods want.”

As you looked up at the ceiling, perhaps trying to directly ask the gods, Cale could finally clearly see your eyes.

They were filled with pain and suffering. Such young eyes carry the weight of the world.

It did not belong to the teen who was laughing and playing around with the kids and Choi Han.

It was still you, but it wasn’t the you that Cale is currently raising.

The meddlesome transmigrator couldn’t understand it himself, but he was sure of this feeling that he had about you.

Hence why when you finally passed out he immediately ordered someone to summon Cage and Saint Jack.

Cale Henituse might be a piece of trash but he always sees through his promises.

Even if he has to fight every god out there to fulfil it.

Because for Cale Henituse, that’s what it means to be a guardian.

[hellneedsaruler]

I can’t believe i survived this semester ! (Literally bloody , limping , lost weight , crawling on the floor , insane , demonic noises , a shell of who i used to be , made like 3 deals with the devil last week )

[ervotica]

hot rod — a.donaldson & p.zweig

pairings; art donaldson x fem!reader, patrick zweig x fem!reader, art donaldson x patrick zweig

summary; patrick comes to visit you and art at college. he finds college life is a lot more adventurous than once anticipated

warnings; mdni, 18+ only, SMUT, threesome, overstim, oral (m receiving), sub leaning!reader and art, more dom leaning!patrick, established throuple, polyamory

a/n; i’m not so sure how i feel about this tbh. i love the dynamic though so i pushed through even when it got away from me a little🥲 there will be another drabble for older!art and his pretty girl soon!!

you and art fuck until you’re brain dead and passed out from exhaustion. always have. neither of you possess an off switch, and when patrick’s not there to rein the pair of you in, things get a little… messy.

his cum is dried in your hair, the sticky substance smeared across your cheek, his knuckles still wet with slick.

patrick walks in, full belly laughs and peels you from art’s sweat soaked form, gives your cheek a pinch when you stir and whine.

he doesn’t clean you up because he likes to leave you naked whenever he has the opportunity — which is more often than not. seriously, you two need close supervision.

he just carries you with him to that shitty little armchair in art’s dorm, the room still stinking of sex and the humid summer air clinging to your skin; art shines with perspiration where he’s face down on the bed.

pat makes do with the lack of room, hooking a bare leg over the backs of your thighs until you’re squeezed snugly against his torso, face smushed to his chest. you’re snoring, and it makes patrick smile, slumping down in his chair to rest his lips against your cheekbone.

you wake slowly, eyes sticky and crusted over with exhaustion. your face is almost nestled beneath patrick’s armpit where you’ve been writhing in slumber and you grumble at the scent of sweat, layered with cheap aftershave. his hard-on presses to the center of your stomach and you can feel everything— the curve it makes now it’s hard and weeping, the feel of the spongy head, the vein that runs through the middle.

“you smell, pat,” you grumble, reaching up blindly to snatch the cigarette from between his teeth and take a long pull from the stick.

“yeah, well you’re not so hot yourself, babe. the whole room reeks.” he reaches down to tug on a loose strand of hair at the crown of your head. “there’s cum in your hair.”

“not my fault.” you stretch upward like a cat, curling into patrick’s chest. “where’s art gone?”

“still sleeping, baby.” he lights another cigarette, sacrificing the first one to you - still resting between your lips - and the clicking of the lighter draws your head upward to gaze through heavy lashes at him.

“come to bed,” you murmur, kissing his knuckles. your free hand coasts a long line across his jaw and you dig your thumb beneath his ear, giggling when he scrunches his features and relents, and pushes you to stand with a swat to your naked backside.

art curls into you instinctively when you roll onto the mattress, your hand threading through the curls atop his head. you scrub sweeping circles across his bare back and he hums a pleased sound, smearing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. patrick splays himself over the pair of you, all long limbs that sit askew to cover as much of your naked frames as possible.

art squints through the yellow light that illuminates the room, bright and artificial on his sensitive eyes. your movements against him don’t halt, a slow, rhythmic, loving sweep of your hands that he’s come to look forward to in moments like this. his jaw tilts upward as he mouths at your neck like a starved man, like you haven’t just gone five rounds and collapsed from overstimulation.

“you two need supervision,” patrick snorts. you quirk a bemused brow. “i’m serious, look at what you’ve done to each other! you look like you’ve been mauled.”

“jealous, much?” art mumbles sleepily, the sound muffled through your skin. you’re laughing and it splits your expression in two, eyes crinkled with amusement as the strawberry blonde boy snipes at patrick.

“should’a come to college with us, pretty boy,” you giggle. “could’a had this twenty four seven.” you dip your head until your brow presses to art’s. “poor pat, with no one to stick his dick in. how will he ever cope?”

“you could help me out, sweets,” he deadpans, the nickname saccharine and sour on his tongue all at once. art watches you through heavy lids. you huff, biting playfully at art’s lip before you tilt your head to face patrick,

“okay,” you chirrup. art’s quick to sit up, separating from your warmth in favour of nuzzling against patrick. patrick tips his chin down, slanting his lips against the blonde boy’s.

meanwhile, you’re working his cock through his shorts, palming the muscle until it chubs up beneath your hand, drooling a wet patch through the fabric. patrick groans, hips rolling up into your touch when you hook your fingers beneath his waistband and tug his cock free.

he moans into art’s mouth and your mouth goes dry at the sight. you’ve always loved to watch them like this, the way they get lost in each other, the way they start fervently pushing into one another’s space until patrick inevitably makes the first move and sticks his tongue down art’s throat.

patrick turns to putty beneath art’s roaming touch, huge paws that squeeze and grope and push at every inch of skin they come into contact with, not stopping even as you press your face to the seam of patrick’s balls, inhaling the sweat-soaked musk that creeps up your nostrils.

art’s hand snakes downward, flicking over pert nipples and ridges of muscle before he’s flicking a thumb over the weeping slit of his cock. patrick’s back bows into an arch as you lave your tongue over his sack, humming into the sensitive skin, full and heavy and begging for release. his hips rock upward into you as you seal your lips over him, eyes heavy with lust as art comes down to meet your mouth over his mushroom head.

it’s filthy and messy, downright pornographic as art licks over patrick’s cock, tongue pressing flat against the corner of your mouth and letting his spit pool there. you’re moaning - unable to help yourself - pressing your face forward to slant your lips over art’s fully. it’s all spit and drool as you lick into art’s mouth, the heady taste of the brunette boy still on your tongue, and then patrick’s bracing a hand against each of your heads and easing his cock through the seam where your spit slick mouths mesh.

you gasp and your damp lashes flutter, heavy with tears, and art’s tugging you frantically by your waist, pressing your bare chest to his own as patrick throws his head back and groans, shallow thrusts deepening. his breath stutters out in short, sharp bursts, chest heaving when your face slides down, down, down, all the way to the base of him until your pretty plump lips are wrapped around his sack.

you suck it into your mouth just as art takes patrick down his throat, the head of his cock bulging through the hollow of art’s throat as spit stretches and bows from the corners of his lips and lands in globs across your face.

you’re too drunk on the pleasure to care, the vibrations of your little sounds shooting right through patrick until you feel his balls tighten; he groans, long and loud, pushing closer to the pair of you as his cock pulses rhythmically and he releases down art’s throat.

you push your way through until your mouth is on art’s again, tongue licking into his mouth to taste patrick, wanting to be marked, claimed by both of them. his lips part, nose pressing to your cheek, and then he’s lifting you into his lap, his cock an angry red and pressed to the seam of your thigh.

patrick groans. there’s no fucking way he’s hard again.

“no more, you horndogs!”

[nereidprinc3ss]

light of the morning

in which spencer sneaks into bau!reader's hotel room and they share a little more than just the bed

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom!spence x sub reader, munch!spence, unprotected piv sex (dont do that), creampie (hate that word btw) praise, mentions of having to be quiet because morgan is right next door LOL, fluffy, established co-workers/friends with benefits, soooo idiots in love a/n: here is the promised smut. i am literally kicking my feet and twirling my hair and giggling and blushing at my own writing. I'm gonna have a freak out. requests are open like my legs

It’s late when the knock finally comes. Late enough that you’re dozing on the bed above the covers. 

It takes you a moment to reorient yourself—you’re rubbing your heavy eyes when you finally get the door. 

"Hi."

"Hey," says Spencer, hands awkwardly shoved into his pajama pants pockets. It’s funny, really. He never gets any better at this. 

You step aside and he enters the room, looking around as you close and relock the door. 

"Did I wake you?"

"How could you tell?"

"You’re in pajamas. And you look tired. I mean—you don’t look bad. You never look bad, I just meant… you don’t look tired but you’re not—I didn’t mean to—"

"Relax," you yawn, putting him out of his misery. "I was joking. I know I look tired." You glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. "It’s late. We have to be up early tomorrow."

"Yeah, I got, uh, sidetracked. Sorry."

He was reading. If it was anyone else, you'd be offended--but a sinkhole could open up under Spencer's feet and he probably wouldn't notice if he was absorbed in a book.

You shrug, a knowing smile lifting the corner of your mouth. 

"It’s fine. But I don’t know if tonight is a good night. I really am exhausted."

His eyebrows dart up. 

"That’s fine. That’s totally fine. I’ll just, uh—"

When you don’t move from in front of the door, he pauses, unsure. You bite the inside of your cheek, studying his rangy frame and choice of clothing. Blue pajama pants, slippers, grey CalTech zip up hoodie. It feels wrong to describe a 6'1 man as adorable, but that’s how he looks in his sleep clothes. There’s a very real chance, you find yourself thinking, that you are the only member of the BAU to ever see him in something other than slacks and a button-down. He looks so cozy that you kind of really want him in your bed even if he’s not doing anything but sleeping. The invitation slips out before you can think too hard about it. 

"You could… stay, anyway, if you want?"

His mouth parts slightly, and those eyebrows raise again. There’s a moment of awkward silence and you are very much beginning to regret your offer, wondering if you somehow violated the sanctity of your co-workers/friends with benefits situtationship. Clumsily you try to backtrack. 

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, you can—"

"No, no! You didn’t, I just don’t want you to feel obligated to invite me to stay in your room. I’m right across the hall, I can go back if you want me to."

You smile awkwardly, silent relief replacing the brief anxiety. 

"It’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before." And not like you wouldn’t have ended up doing it tonight anyway, if things had gone as originally intended.

He chuckles, looking to the floor and nodding. The blush on his face does not go unnoticed by you. "Fair enough."

It’s incredibly endearing how nervous he still gets after six months of this little arrangement. 

"Do you wanna get your stuff, or…"

"No, that’s okay. I’ll just go back early tomorrow. The chances of someone seeing me leave your room are significantly higher if I do it so soon after entering."

You squint, unable to tell if he’s fucking with you or if that’s an actual statistically sound probability. And then you realize, blissfully, that you don’t really care. 

"Okay, well. Make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to brush my teeth."

Once you’re enclosed in the bathroom, hotel vanity lights blinding you as you brush, you find that there is a jittery sort of apprehension buzzing in your chest. But that’s silly. As you yourself pointed out, the two of you have shared a bed many times over the past few months. But the sleeping together is always a byproduct of the sleeping together. Never have you shared a bed in a completely decent, virtuous, strictly non-sexual manner. It’s always been a matter of convenience—less bother if he doesn’t have to worry about sneaking back into his room in the middle of the night when you’re both exhausted. Or maybe that’s just what you’ve been telling yourselves. 

You rinse your mouth out and exit the bathroom, flicking off the light and finding that Spencer has indeed made himself comfortable. The hotel room is dark and he’s already under the covers, fiddling with his phone. 

"What time should I set the alarm for?" He asks, looking over at you as you crawl into bed, drawing the covers over yourself. "I was thinking 6:23. That should give me enough time to—"

"Sounds perfect," you affirm, wiggling under the blanket as you get comfortable. He schedules the alarm and sets his phone on the bedside table, dousing the room in complete darkness. Your eyes stay open despite, waiting for them to adjust. A few moments of utter silence and stillness pass, and you can tell Spencer is completely stiff next to you. 

"Spencer."

“Yeah,” he answers immediately. Like he’s even more wired about this whole situation than you are. 

"You know you don’t have to avoid touching me at all costs, right? I’m not a leper."

He looses a nervous laugh. 

"I know. We’ve just never really done this."

You frown at the darkness.

"We’ve definitely slept in the same bed before."

"Yeah, but… this feels different."

That, you can’t argue with. Can friends with benefits share a bed just to be near each other? Does that blur some line? And why does it feel more intimate than the sex? 

Screw it. If there is one thing you don’t want your relationship with Spencer to be, it is uncomfortable. Uncertain, you can work with. But not uncomfortable. You reach for him, hand sliding under the duvet—and find his hand already waiting for yours. 

"I don’t think it’s that different," you lie, interlacing your fingers together slowly. 

"Prolonged physical non-sexual contact does have measurable health benefits…" the words are murmured, like the moment is fragile and he doesn’t want to shatter it. 

"Can’t argue with the facts," you breathe, trying to modulate the shakiness of your voice. But you have a feeling you’re doing about as good of a job at concealing your nerves as he is. He shifts.

"Can I…"

"Yeah."

Your heart is pounding as he slips one arm under your neck and the other around your waist, pulling you close. Instinctually you curl into him, slinging your top leg over him as you’ve done before, but always dismissed as post-sex brain chemicals making you feel all warm and fuzzy. A neurological reaction that is so solidly scientific, neither of you ever questioned it. But it feels bigger now. 

He exhales as you settle against each other—a sound of relief that mirrors your own. He’s so warm, so safe as he envelops you, physically and sensorially. In such close proximity, so clear-headed, you notice each layer of his scent. Toothpaste, lavender, vetiver, detergent. You sort of feel like a creep, but you can’t deny how comforting it is. Nor can you deny the pirouette your heart does when he begins minutely rubbing your back, like he’s not even thinking about it. 

"Goodnight," you whisper into his shirt. 

"Goodnight," he whispers back. 

You fall asleep pretty quickly after that. 

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

It’s unclear what wakes you up—maybe it’s the blue-grey dawn light filtering in through the filthy window (doubtful, it’s still mostly dark) or maybe it’s the blinking green digital clock on the nightstand. 5:02 AM. Your alarm will go off in an hour and 21 minutes.

Sometime in the night you shifted, turning over in your sleep, but Spencer is still holding you close. The arm slung so casually over your waist is slightly domineering, but you manage to rotate again and face him once more. Mere inches away from his face you can see every detail. His expression is so peaceful, it makes your heart ache. 

But you’re just friends. 

Perhaps he felt you moving, because his eyes flutter open and you watch as they flood with consciousness. He takes you in, takes in his arm over your waist. For a split second you’re nervous he’ll pull away. 

"What time is it?" His voice is scratchy with sleep. 

"Five."

"Why are you awake? We have over an hour til the alarm goes off."

"Sometimes waking up early is okay."

His eyes flicker between your own, and momentarily you’re paralyzed as you realize this is a limbo state for the two of you in which you’ve never operated. You don’t know what’s acceptable. You don’t know what to do. Being close to him feels so good, that the idea of separating hurts. But you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, or—

He leans forward and kisses you softly. In the blue light of dawn, rather than frenzied and hidden in the dark, a desperate tear of clothes and teeth and hands—it’s almost freeing. All the anxiety you were feeling just seconds ago begins to melt. 

Friends. 

"You looked anxious," is his whispered answer after he pulls away a moment later, like a kiss is the simplest remedy in the world. He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "We should go back to sleep."

"I don’t want to go back to sleep."

The corner of his mouth twitches as he studies you.  

"No? What do you want?"

Emboldened by your mutual indiscretion, it’s your turn to kiss him. You feel him smile against your lips, hand finding the back of your neck and raking up through your hair to pull you closer. 

The delirium of sleep seems to have softened you, filed down the rough edges of your boundaries and kicked away the lines in the sand. What’s a kiss or two when you’ve just woken up? A small, innocuous display of affection while you’re still barely conscious. Nobody could fault either of you for that. People don’t think clearly when they’ve just been asleep.

So what if your lips part against his, and his other hand finds its way under your shirt to stroke the bare skin of your waist and hips? So what if you hitch that leg over him again and press closer?

Spencer breaks the kiss, still ghosting over your lips. 

"I thought it wasn’t a good night?"

"It’s not night time anymore, is it, genius?"

You sneak another kiss, nipping his bottom lip gently as you pull away. 

Instead of whatever array of responses you were expecting, Spencer smiles slightly, eyes almost sparkling in the faint light. The hand on your hip moves to your face, gently thumbing across your cheek. He begins to say something, and stops himself—biting his lip to hold back the words. 

"What?" you ask, heart dropping. Illusion fracturing. 

"I was just—" he begins, pausing for a moment before the words all come out in a rush. "I was just going to tell you how beautiful you are, but I don’t know if that’s something I should say, or if it would feel too… I don’t know…"

He trails off. A rare instance in which he doesn’t have the words. 

You do. Intimate. Real. Romantic. And he’s right, it does feel too much like all of those things. But that doesn’t mean you don’t like it, perhaps more than is strictly good for you. 

"It’s fine. Thank you."

He continues chewing on his lip for a moment. 

"Did I just ruin the mood?"

"No," you laugh, "not at all."

"Thank god," he sighs, surging forward again. 

"Since when do you thank god?" You manage between kisses. 

He moves to press his lips to your jaw and down your neck. 

"Do you want me to talk about the historical and cultural transition of religious expressions into ubiquitous secular colloquialisms right now?"

"Kind of," you breathe.

"No you don’t," he murmurs against your neck as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "You want me to take your clothes off."

Well, he’s not wrong there. 

You help him tug the shirt over your head before leaning back into the pillows as he situates himself over you and lavishes more kisses down your neck and collarbones, pausing to suck a mark only when he knows it’s low enough to be covered by your clothing later. 

You gasp when his lips brush over your nipple, before running his tongue over the sensitive skin. He glances up at you, and though his mouth is occupied, you can see the humor in his eyes. He loves how sensitive you are—how easy it is to get a reaction out of you. 

Of course, you continue to prove him right when he takes the other into his mouth, trying to hold back your little whimpers as he darts his tongue over the peak. Maybe somebody else wouldn’t hear them, but Spencer does. He’s hyper attuned to the sounds you make. Something of a catalogue has begun to form in the back of his mind; he knows exactly what each noise means and how to get them out of you. 

Once satisfied, he moves to press a kiss to your sternum. 

"You’re gonna be quiet for me, right?" Another kiss above your bellybutton. "Because Morgan is sleeping right on the other side of that wall, and we don’t want to wake him up."

"I’ll be quiet," you promise, somewhat breathlessly. Spencer’s mouth trails lower until he’s pulling your shorts down your legs, leaving you completely naked. He tosses them somewhere on the floor and hooks your legs over his shoulders. 

"Good." He plants one last kiss to your thigh and the next one lands right between your legs. 

You regret the need to be silent almost as soon as he drags his tongue over your clit. It’s not like the two of you have ever had the privilege of making a lot of noise, as the hotel rooms are always so close to each other, but it doesn’t make it any easier. 

Instead you opt to rake your hands through his hair and try to take deep breaths. But he knows exactly what you like—he knows starting light and slow, teasing around your most sensitive spot will work you up to the brink of insanity, just like he knows gentle circles make your back arch and elicit the prettiest little moans. 

"More," you beg, and the hands wrapped around your thighs rub soothingly, reassuring you that if you can just be patient you’ll get what you want. 

He takes your aching clit into his mouth, sucking lightly and you’re forced to clap a hand over your mouth, muffling the sob of pleasure you can’t hold back. Spencer keeps it up until you’re practically riding his face, teasing your dripping entrance with the tip of his tongue when you get too close. 

"Fuck, please, Spence," you whisper through your fingers, hips rutting in your desperation. Somehow it always ends up like this—with him in charge and you begging. Not that you have a problem with it, of course. 

He hums into you, and if the way his tongue moves back to circling your clit with newfound fervor is any indication, is apparently satisfied with your entreaty. 

You gasp and try to control your breathy moans, but his mouth feels so good on you that your vision is going out and you’re losing touch with reality ever so slightly. You use the last of your brain power to bite down on the back of your wrist, hoping it adequately muffles the noises you make as you come on Spencer’s tongue and he greedily continues lapping at you. There’s really no way of knowing—your ears are ringing anyway. 

When you come to a moment later he’s peppering kisses on your thighs, rubbing your hips gently. 

"So pretty," he murmurs, climbing back up so your lips can meet again. "Everything about you is pretty."

You paw at his shirt, signaling that you want it off as you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, feel your slippery arousal staining the kiss. Spencer helps you, sitting up briefly to unzip his hoodie and pull off his shirt. 

You’re the one to drag him back down, and you notice that he pulls the covers back over the both of you in a sweet gesture he probably didn’t even think about. 

"Need you to fuck me," you beg, reaching down to try and undress him further. 

"So crude. What happened to my nice, sweet girl?" He mumbles against your neck, but helps you with his pants anyway. 

"You must have me confused with someone else."

"Doubtful."

You don’t have much time to consider what that could mean before he’s running the head of his cock over your clit and you’re gasping into his mouth, saying please like it’s the only word you know. 

"There she is," Spencer croons, slipping inside you slow enough for you to feel every inch but quick enough for it to expel all the air from your lungs. Once he’s opened you all the way up, impossibly deep and close, you’re seeing stars, barely breathing. His head has dropped to your shoulder but now he drags his lips up your neck and jaw. "We okay?"

It’s been a while, you realize, since that last case in Maine. He always takes some getting used to. Hardly able to think around the pressure of his cock you nod, trying to string together a few words. 

"Fuck, I need a second." The words come out choked, but you manage. Spencer rubs your hip, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. 

"Relax, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you."

He curses to himself, dropping his head momentarily. You’re so fucking soft, and warm, and perfect, he can’t think straight. But he has to try because he has to take care of you. 

"Spence," you gasp, failing to verbally communicate the intensity of the physical sensation. 

"I know, baby," comes his sympathetic coo. "You know you can take me. Deep breaths."

"Mhm," you squeak, trying to take follow his directions and soften your muscles. Spencer keeps rubbing soothingly over your hips, stomach, whatever he can get his hands on, really, pressing kisses all over your face and telling you how good you are, how perfect you feel for him. After a few moments he feels you fluttering around him and experimentally pulls out halfway, before pushing back in equally as slowly. Your jaw drops as he begins to leisurely fuck you, arms wrapping around his back. He gets deeper than you expect every time, rubbing you raw and stretching you out in the most delicious way. 

"Perfect, baby. Such a good listener, did exactly what I asked."

You cry out when he begins fucking you impossibly deeper, but still so slow and sweet.

"You feel so fucking good for me," he groans. "This is what you were made for, huh?" You agree enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut. 

"Only for you."

Just three words—but he wasn’t expecting to like hearing you say that as much as he does. A strong desire to possess you overtakes him—one that he’ll probably have the decency to feel guilty about later, but for now feels fucking fantastic and intoxicating. 

"Only me?"

You moan an affirmation. 

"Good. I don’t want anyone else fucking you, do you understand me?"

"Yes!"

"I’m the only one who gets to touch you," he breathes, speeding up ever so slightly, "nobody else is going to feel you like this. Such a good girl, spreading her legs for me at five in the fucking morning. You’re not doing this for anybody else, baby."

"Uh-uh, please, pleasepleaseplease Spence—"

He knows what you need, reaching a hand down between your bodies to rub your clit. 

You gasp an airy, high pitched curse, hips twitching but unable to escape the near-punishing rhythm of his own. It’s obvious that your orgasm is close, but you can’t even warn him, too overwhelmed with pleasure. He kisses you, swallowing your moans that have probably become just a bit too loud given the whole hotel thing. 

No words are exchanged between the two of you as you near the finish line for a change, open mouths slipping against each others in what is too messy to be called a kiss. Your orgasm body-slams you, a choked silent scream as you tighten around Spencer and he seems to come at nearly the exact same moment—deep inside you, slowly rolling his hips in a few more strong thrusts as he finishes. 

You let out a delayed moan at the sensation of being filled up, still pulsing around him as he comes to a halt, buried inside of you. He drops his head to your neck, and you can feel each breath against your flushed skin. Other than the panting, you’re both silent for a while. Spencer seems to gather himself sooner than you do, finally breaking the quiet. 

"You okay?"

All you can manage is a little squeak, at which he looses a breathy chuckle. His hand slides to your hip, gently stroking the skin with a thumb. 

"Need your words, angel girl."

"I’m okay," you coo into his shoulder, but he has to strain to hear it above his own breathing. 

"Yeah? Why so quiet?"

But it seems that at least for the moment, he’s gotten all the words he can out of you. When he tries to move, you whimper indignantly, clutching onto him tighter. 

"I really did a number on you this time, huh?" He laughs when you nod into him. "Are you falling asleep?"

"Mhm," you hum dreamily, little puffs of warm air slowing against his neck. 

"You can have…" he cranes his head to check the digital clock, "48 minutes."

"An hour."

He settles his weight on you once more, pressing a chaste kiss to your throat. His voice is low and gentle as he admonishes you. 

"I said 48 minutes."

But it doesn’t matter—you’re already asleep, or close enough to it. Spencer takes the opportunity to shift you to your side, and the way you wrap around him like a vine even unconsciously makes his heart ache. He really should go now—the earlier he gets out of your room the less likely certain complications will arise—but how can he possibly leave you like this? A vulnerable, dreamy girl with tangled hair haloing around her on the pillow case, clinging to him with blind trust that he’ll watch over her as she sleeps? No—there’s no way he’s leaving yet. Instead, he brings you closer. 48 perfect minutes will go by far too quickly, he’s sure. 

[lowkeyremi]

Slightly suggestive!!

“Brat’s down,” your husband murmurs quietly with a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Thank you for putting Shoko to sleep babe.” Katsuki nods firmly. You’re sitting on the couch minding your own business but you can see the blonde staring at you out of the corner of your eye.

“What? Is something wrong?” You ask wiping your face, thinking that there may be some chocolate cake crumbs left on your mouth.

“No it’s just… our other three brats are at sleepovers ‘n Shoko’s down for the night with Mina comin’ ina few minutes.” His lip turns upward at the corner; just acknowledging the fact that all four of your kids are occupied for the night.

“And..?” You ask with a knowing smirk.

“And, we have finally have some time for a date.” Katsuki’s not wrong. With his line of work he often doesn’t come home until late and when he does come home early you guys are busy with your four children.

It seems you two are always missing each other. The passion is still there of course, it just feels like you guys don’t have the time to just enjoy each other’s company, which you both knew that would be the case going into parenthood, but it’s still something you’re learning to get used to.

“Seems that way, huh? Are we gonna get some dinner then do something else?” You can’t remember the last time you and Katuski went out to dinner without the kids with you.

“Was thinking dinner and a lil bit of fun after that.” You know what he’d implying by “a little bit of fun” by the way he licks his lips.

“That fun better involve some condoms, because I’m done having kids.” He chuckles at that, and that’s when you truly realize how much time the two of you have spent together. When he laughs there are little wrinkles around his eyes and you usually hear him complain about the occasional grey hair growing on his head.

“Fuck rubbers, I’ll pull out.” Katsuki folds his arms just hearing the word condoms.

You snort at his statement, and he glares, “I don’t see what’s so funny.”

“You say you’ll pull out. Every. Single. Time. And guess what? We have a seven month old baby now.” It’s your turn to fold your arms at Katsuki’s ridiculousness.

“That’s different, I was trying get you knocked up.” Your eyes widen and you gasp loudly, “Katsuki!”

“You seriously didn’t realize it?” His lips turn upward again and you chuck a pillow at him which he catches and throws back at you with more force.

“Condoms. That’s final.” He groans quietly as to not wake the baby.

“God, we haven’t used condoms in years. Aren’t you getting to the age of menopause anyway?”

“Are you serious??? I am NOT that old.” You know he’s joking by the way he snickers.

“Fuck, fine. I’ll go buy some. Just for you.” He says it with a grimace on his face, but you know deep down he’s okay with it because he’ll do anything to make you comfortable.

“Thank you baby. I’ll go get ready for dinner while waiting for Mina.”

“Damn, I don’t even know what size I’d be.” The blonde scratches his chin in thought.

“Probably a small.” He charges to the couch to lift you up over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” Your demand is followed by a shriek when he slaps your ass, hard.

“Take it back then.” Back in the earlier stages of your relationship, Katsuki never held back with slapping your ass, but now that you guys have kids, you’ve deemed it inappropriate. You were used to it back then but now it’s caught you off guard since it’s been so long.

“Take what back?” The innocence you fein doesn’t faze your husband at all.

“Take back what you said about my monster sized cock.”

Now you can’t help but laugh at that. “Do you always have to be so childish, Katsuki?

“S’not childish it’s the truth.”

“Okay your dick is big, put me down.” He huffs, clearly not satisfied with your answer, but he puts you down anyway.

10 minutes later he returns from the convenience store, with no bag in hand.

Mina had arrived while he was gone and the two of you had been catching up for a little while.

“So, Katsuki… where are the condoms?” You ask when you realize he has nothing in hand.

“They didn’t have my size.” He says cheekily and you’re sure that was far from the truth.

“Really?” You say sarcastically.

“Really. Anyway, thanks Raccoon Eyes for stepping in to watch our baby.” Mina giggles at his implications earlier.

“You two have fun!!!” You roll your eyes, but you’re secretly very excited to spend time with your husband one on one.

©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!

Interested in other dad!bakugo works? Check out:

Morning with the kids, He wants a big family with you (drabble) and When you give birth (drabble) !

tagging: @omitea and @satorisoup hope you guys enjoy!!! 😂😂

[softspiderling]

chaotic (and a little silly) pogue reader who never fails to surprise rafe with her dumbass hot takes, even like a year into the relationship.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

sometimes you get extremely specific cravings and immediately have to get them. you wake up fairly early in the morning, rafe's arms around your waist, pressed into your back, his breath tickling your neck as he sleeps.

"rafe"

no reaction.

"rafe."

you pinch his bicep and he groans, burrowing even deeper into your side.

"sleeping. 's too early."

"i'm hungry"

"let me sleep in and i'll buy you anything you want for breakfast.... later."

“i don’t need you to buy me anything,” you insist, wriggling in his arms, “i just need you to let go of me so i can get out of bed and get some soup.”

rafe groans again, not loosening his grip around you and you start to think that he fell asleep again, before he lets go of you, huffing and puffing. you press a kiss to his cheek, before you get out of bed.

“can’t even sleep in peace” you hear rafe mutter as you pad to the bathroom to go do your morning business, before heading to the kitchen downstairs.

it doesn’t take long for rafe to get up again, not having been able to get back to sleep now that you’re gone. he’s also not sure if he heard you correctly, wanting soup for breakfast, but figures that he probably dreamt it. after taking a piss and brushing his teeth, he goes downstairs, hearing you tinkering in the kitchen. you’re sitting on the counter, knees up to your chest as you are eating out of your bowl.

“morning baby,” he sighs, kissing your head with a smack and going to make himself a coffee.

“morning grumpy”

rafe rolls his eyes, turning the espresso machine on, before he pauses, turning back to you.

“… did you say you wanted soup for breakfast?”

“I did,” you answer, pouring some more cereal out of the box into your bowl. “i am.”

rafe stares at you, a little slow. he hasn’t had his coffee yet. “what?”

“cereal… breakfast soup.” you continue on, unperturbed, as if you just haven’t said the most insane thing rafe’s ever heard.

“you’re eating cereal,” rafe repeats. “cereal’s not soup”

you lift your head, a frown on your forehead. “cereal is soup. it’s a liquid dish and you eat it with a spoon”

rafe blinks, because you’re definitely not right, but somehow you’re also not wrong, and he’s not quite sure what to say, so he just sighs and turns back to his espresso machine. as the ground coffee falls into the portafilter, he runs a hand over his head, turning to you over with shoulder with narrowed eyes.

“you should hang out less with jj, i feel like he’s starting to rub off on you, and i’m not sure if i like that.”

you only snort into your soup.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[peachesofteal]

Hi, I don’t know if you take requests, but I love your stuff and haven’t been able to read much of anything lately because of how busy I have been. Right now, I have pneumonia really bad and have been sick for almost two weeks. I need some comfort, and I was wondering if you could write about Simon taking care of a sick reader and just comforting her. If not I complete understand.

Simon/female reader

"I don't think you should come."

Your lungs scrape against bone, ragged breathing echoing through the speaker. "I feel like shit, don't wanna get you sick." There's a long pause on the other end.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, really. I look like shit too. Trust me, you don't want to be here."

"Of course I want to be there." His voice tips into that softer pitch, the one he uses when he's holding your hand in the grocery store, or tugging you into his arms on the couch.

"Really, Si. You're due to leave in two days." Tears stick to your lashes. You only got two weeks this time, two short weeks, and now you probably won't even be able to say goodbye, or see him off. You'll be here, in your bed, wallowing in self pity and snot.

"Alright, love. I'll call later to check in."

"Okay."

The light disappears behind the curtains between fitful bouts of sleep and moments where you're barely able to drag yourself from bed to get a glass of water. The only time you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you wince.

You feel like a zombie. You look like a zombie.

The last time you're up, you swallow an array of meds for your fever, and fall back in bed, pulling the covers over your eyes. Maybe you'll feel better the next time you wake up.

"Shhh," a warm palm presses to your forehead. Heat blazes against your back, an arm caging you in, holding you close. It's dark, too dark to see, but you feel him, know him, without even opening your eyes.

"Simon?"

"Go back to sleep."

"Y'shouldn't be here." He ignores you, tucking you closer, and you blink in and out, unable to focus on his response as sleep pulls you under.

"C'mon." You're being jostled, irritation swelling in your chest at being woken, alleviated when you open your eyes to find him leaning over you with a worried frown.

"Let me sleep."

"No," he grips your shoulder, fingers in flesh, and tries to slide you upright. "You need to eat. Brought some soup, want you to try to get some down."

"No." You croak, throat on fire.

"It's not optional love, c'mon." He lifts a spoon to your lips, and you swallow it done, one after another until you're turning away. "Good girl."

"You're bossy." You're delirious, tipping back and forth, one way and another, still too warm, too cold, sweating and shivering. The back of his hand moves across your forehead, and he sighs.

"Still have a fever." A water bottle tips into your mouth, and you drink greedily until he pulls away. "Not too much."

"'kay."

The next time you wake, your head doesn't hurt as much. The ache lingers, still wet and sticky from your stomach to your throat, but the burn of it all is gone, temperate down, fever regulated.

"Hey sleepy." He's on your side, sitting up, tv flickering on mute. He's not watching it, not even paying attention, too fixated on you, stroking fingers up and down your temple.

"Hi." Your voice is still scratchy, and he smiles.

"Welcome back. How are you feeling?"

"Better." You scoot back against the headboard, cheek finding his shoulder. "Shouldn't you be on a plane or something?"

"Got delayed." You exhale with deep relief, and curl into him, arm stretching over his stomach.

"Oh. Good."

"Mmm," he's rubbing an idle hand up and down your spine, and you sigh. "You're still a little warm." Your mouth is sour.

"I know." You're hesitant to close your eyes, not wanting to squander the time with him, and like he can read your mind, he brushes his lips against your forehead.

"Sleep, love. I'll be here when you wake up."

[ponderingmoonlight]

can i request geto and reader having an argument and reader coming back home drunk venting to geto about the argument they had🩷🎀

Getting back home drunk after an argument with Suguru Geto

Pairing: Geto x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,1k

Synopsis: You always supressed the pain in your heart when your boyfriend dumps you for his best friend again. Until one day you've had enough. Until you get uncontrollably drunk to forget your fight.

Warnings: hurt to extreme comfort, language, reader being drunk lol

Hope you like what I came up with love, let me know what you think 🤍

„Hey sweetheart.“

Oh, how much you longed to hear his voice again, how long you’ve waited for him to come back. When was the last time you really saw your boyfriend? To be honest you lost count a long time ago. It shouldn’t bother you this much that he’s gone for so long. After all, Suguru is a special grade sorcerer, one of the best jujutsu sorcerers out there apart from Satoru Gojo himself. It’s only logical for him to be out on missions every free minute.

But there’s also Satoru. Satoru who’s busy himself. Satoru who steals your boyfriend every free minute. You tried to brush this ugly feeling away more than once. Are you really jealous because your boyfriend spends more time with his best friend when he’s around than with you in general?

Normally, it doesn't affect you this much. But since you haven’t spent more than 2 hours in a row with your beloved boyfriend apart from missions here and there, you can’t help but feel that violent sting in your heart when Suguru begins to pack his bag in front of your eyes.

“Are you leaving again?”

You desperately try to hunt away the petty tone in your voice, the feeling of frustration crawling up your spine.

“You know it’s been rough for Satoru these past weeks. As his best friend, I have to be there for him. We want to grab something sweet to eat-“

“You don’t even like sweets that much.”

Fuck, you hate yourself for your harsh tone, for the way your throat begins to ache in upcoming tears. Don’t lose your composure, just accept the fact that he’ll be gone today as well. But something inside you forces you to stand up, to cross your arms in front of your chest, to let your anger run free.

“But he does. What’s the problem, (y/n)? I just want to hang around with my best friend as long as I get the chance. Most of the time he’s on his own, going out on missions each and every day”, your boyfriend explains softly, his hand on its way to gently caress your head-

Until you slap his hand away.

“I’m having enough of this. When was the last time we spend time together, Suguru? You come back home when I’m asleep and leave before I wake up. I’m still your girlfriend”, you press out.

“This is the first time you ever said something about this. We’re still sleeping in the same bed every night”, he replies with low voice, making another attempt to touch you.

No. You can’t stand the feeling of his fingertips brushing against your skin, you can’t stand the stinging fact that he doesn’t seem to miss you the slightest. You take a big step back, blood pulsating through your veins. Why can’t he see that something is wrong in this relationship?

“Go ahead and sleep in Satoru’s bed if that’s enough then”, you bark back at him.

Suguru straightens his shoulders and crosses his very own arms in front of his chest, jaw tight.

“You know what he went through, (y/n). Do you really want me to leave him all alone over some cuddles? That’s pretty egoistic, don’t you think?”

You have to pause for a second, feel the sensation of your heart shattering onto the floor before his words truly hit you. What Satoru went through? You violently bite into the soft flesh of your cheek, desperately try to stop yourself from screaming into your boyfriend’s face. What about you, though? What about you almost getting killed because you tried to stop that man from following Suguru? What about you, caring for Suguru like no one else when Shoko healed his wounds? What about you, staying up each and every night and waiting for his return while he was out with Satoru?

What. About. You?

“You know what, Suguru?”, you mutter, teary eyes fixated onto the floor.

Never in your life did you feel this misunderstood. Doesn’t he miss you a single bit? Doesn’t he miss you lying in his arms while watching a movie, going out and grabbing something to eat? Doesn’t he miss to have you around, to hear your voice? Doesn't he understand that it's more than "some cuddles"?

You swallow hard. Because you miss him like hell. You miss those cuddles more than you ever imagined. And it fucking hurts to feel that he doesn't care.

“Fuck you.”

You can’t have it anymore. With a swift motion you turn on your heel and walk out of his room, ignore the way he shouts after you while hot tears stream down your face. There’s no way in hell you’ll stay here at Jujutsu High. No, you need distraction. And you already know who you’ll call.

“What’s up, (y/n)?”

“Shoko, get yourself ready. We’re leaving in 10 minutes.”

-at the bar-

You mindlessly draw circles into the fifth cocktail of the evening, mind clouded by guilt and alcohol.

“I told you alcohol won’t solve your problems girl”, Shoko comments dryly while sipping on her cola.

“Smoking doesn’t as well and still you’re out there smoking like a chimney”, you reply dryly before taking another sip of your drink just for demonstration.

“Fair enough. All I’m saying is you can’t run away from him.”

“Suguru? I already drank enough to forget his name”, you mutter.

"You just said his name, (y/n)..."

Truth is, you fucking miss him. What time is it? You lift up your drunk gaze, heart still clenched in sadness. Normally, you’d lay right by his side, eyeing him up and down while he’s already sound asleep.

This is not fair. You shouldn’t feel this way, shouldn’t fear to come back home. But you just know that you’ll get greeted by your very own empty bed. And what about the morning after? Shivers run down your spine just by the sheer thought of it. The way you just left him standing there like an idiot must have been hard to swallow for him.

Still…

You ball your hands into fists and empty your glass with one last gulp. He deserved every single word of truth that came from your mouth, he deserved all those things you’ve said.

“One more”, you mumble when the bartender arrives in your foggy view.

“No, that’s definitely enough for her. We gotta get going, (y/n)”, Shoko interrupts gently and pays for your bill while it takes all your inner will to not fall off this sky-high chair in the meantime.

The cold air of the night hits you like a wall, Shoko holding onto you with every bit of strength she has. Suddenly a wave of nausea crushes down on you, the icy air making your lungs burn uncomfortably. Damn, you just want to get home, just want to get into your bed. A glass of water…Yeah, you definitely need to drink something before you go to sleep.

But the sheer sight of Jujutsu High makes you realize that you won’t close your eyes this evening, pictures of your boyfriends’ hardened features still occupying your mind. You hate it. You hate every damn thing about the argument you’ve hard earlier, how unnecessary it was. Did he leave after you in order to see Satoru? The thought alone fills your numb veins with sheer anger again, makes you cross your arms in front of your chest just like you did earlier.

“You’re fine, aren’t you? I don’t want you to choke on your puke”, Shoko comments when you arrive at your doorstep.

Your fingers clumsily fumble for your keys until you finally grab the right one, gifting her a weak smile.

“Will get through it…Get ya ass into bed, Sh-Shoko.”

“You’ll talk things out tomorrow, okay? I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

You watch after her, how she disappears into darkness with one last wave. Then she’s gone, leaves you in the dark that seems to swallow you whole. What are you supposed to do now? All those memories flooding back in, the stinging fact that you don’t know how to act towards your boyfriend in the morning. All you want to do right now is take off your clothes, sip a cup of water and cry until you eventually fall asleep.

“Yeah”, you mumble to yourself while opening the door to your dorm.

“Cryin’ sounds good.”

“Hope you had a pleasant night, (y/n).”

Your heart stops, keys falling to the ground violently. No, this can’t be true. Did that really sound like…Suguru? Your tired eyes dart towards your bed, widen in sheer shock.

There he sits, on the edge with his arms resting on his knees, staring straight through your soul while all you are able to do is standing there like the drunk idiot you are.

“You drank, didn’t you?”

“None of your business”, you bark back at him, exposing yourself with your sloppy words.

“(y/n)…”

He sighs heavy, your name sounding so exhausting coming from his lips that your throat gets tight for a second. With a swift motion he lifts himself off your bed, his silhouette only lit by the moonlight that peeks through your window.

Just when he’s about to wrap his arms around you, you take a step back and almost trip over the bag you dropped onto the floor mindlessly the day before.

“Woah, easy there.”

Of course, he catches you mid-air. Of course, you feel like pudding in his strong arms. His scent hits you with full force, that baggy shirt not being able to hide his muscular frame from your trained eye. Oh, how much you’d love to lick his six-pack, to let your hands roam over his hot back. Why are you always this horny when you drank? But when your hand almost touches his chest, you remind yourself of what happened earlier.

The argument.

“Hope you had a great time with ya best friend”, you jeer at him.

Instead of letting go of you, he pulls you even closer. His eyes are near enough to inspect the colorplay of his chocolate brown orbs. If you stretch out your hand, you can play with his hair…

Get yourself together.

“Lemme go”, you protest weakly, almost tripping over your own feet while trying to get out of his arms.

“(y/n), look at me.”

You can’t escape his command. His eyes meet yours, reflect nothing but sorrow and sadness.

“I’m sorry for what I’ve said earlier. You made me think and I guess you’re right. I’m sorry for not making enough time to see you lately. It’s just that…I’m beyond stressed from all those missions and the fact that these people rely on me while on the other side, I don’t know what I’m fighting for anymore. I feel alone, trapped, lost in my fate. I feel guilty for the fact that this girl had to die, for the things that happened to Satoru…I…I feel like I don’t deserve a girlfriend like you anymore, your cuddles, your love, your food… You sleeping next to me felt so normal and familiar that it was everything I needed, (y/n)…”

Your foggy mind can’t comprehend all those senseless words put together, but his sight…The way his eyes turn glossy makes your heart shatter all over again, makes you wrap your hands around his neck out of instinct.

“No.”

You press yourself against his much taller frame, get lost in his scent, in his hair, in him.

“Please don’t say that. You deserve all the love in the world, Suguru. None of those things are your fault and I get it. Maybe I was the one being egoistic when all I could think about was having you for myself from time to time…”

“You running away in all that anger you supressed so long made me realize how much you really mean to me. I love you, (y/n). And I was the one being selfish when I cut you short because of my own feelings. I promise to make more time for you, at least two evenings in the week, I promise-“

“Shut the hell up”, you interrupt him with a wide grin.

“I don’t understand a word ya say. But I love you too, Suguru. And I want you to promise that we’ll watch a movie tomorrow.”

He sniffs while chuckling in the most precious way, his grip around your waist tightening.

“Oh yeah, what did you think of?”

“I thought about something like…Twilight!”

“I don’t know if I’m able to promise that, (y/n)…”

“You just did! Now, I’m so damn tired, let’s jus’ go to bed…”

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreoi @tachiharazsstufff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299 @busyreader17 @4pgletter @okay-it-is-ivy @iluvtoru @starlightanyaaa

[gilverrwrites]

Best friends to lovers, but it's Dick Grayson.

≈1.3K words, CWs: F!Reader, cunnilingus, dirty talk. Pet-names: Princess, baby girl, pretty girl. Rating: 18+ MINOR DNI

Your best friend Dick Grayson has no boundaries.

He helps himself to your food, swapping and changing dumplings for noodles, carrots for celery, dips his fries in your milkshake, without even asking.  

He leaves his dirty clothes in your washing hamper, ‘borrows’ your lotions, and leaves his streaming services logged in on all your devices. In the winter he puts his cold hands under your shirt, stealing your warmth, and laughs when you flinch. “But you’re so hot!” He whines, hugging you tighter, “Let me hold you a while longer, please.”

In the summer he struts around your apartment, shirtless and sheening with sweat, eating your ice cream, pumping up the AC so he and Haley can chill out post-run. Not that you mind, it’s just that ‘oh, no, he’s my best friend’ is a hard sell when you bring dates home.

At random hours of the early morning, he wakes you up by crawling into bed with you, clings to the over-sized shirt you're sleeping in that is clearly his and makes fun of your tattered old underwear. “They’re comfy!” “They’re… something...” He trails off, all dreamy and quiet, refusing to expand before falling asleep, and is gone by the time you wake up.  

Your best friend Dick Grayson brings you gifts from all over the world. Chocolates from that one mom-and-pop you once mentioned in Keystone, jewellery, and perfume he probably paid way too much for from market vendors in cities like Paris and Istanbul, risqué pieces of underwear from Milan.

On late nights, he rests his head on your tummy, settled between your thighs as you watch your favourite film series for the nth time, smiling to himself as you babble on about your favourite scenes, about facts he already knows because you already told him, but he wants to hear you say it again anyway. When you start falling asleep on the couch, he lifts you, bridal style with ease, and carries you to the bedroom. “Come on then princess, let’s get you to bed.” “I can do it myself.” “You can’t even keep your eyes open, let me.”

He brushes stray pieces of hair out of your face when you’re too engrossed in something to do it yourself, when your hands are too full to reach, or when he wants to get a better look at you, just because he loves looking at your face.

“Um, what are you doing?” He nonchalantly hooks his finger into the waistband of your trousers, disappointed when he gets a not-too-subtle peek at neither your endearing threadbare usuals, nor the lacey Italian ones he’d bought for you.

Your best friend Dick Grayson flirts with you blatant and publicly;

“The red or the blue?” “Neither.” “I have to wear something!” “I’d love to see you wearing nothing.” “Wear the blue, always the blue.” Jason would never let it go otherwise.   “What do you want?” “You.” “I meant to eat.” “Same answer.” “I could never be you.” “What? Why?” “Must be tiring, being that cute.”

He texts you when you’re not together. “Good morning pretty girl” “saw this and thought of you.” “What are you wearing?”

One day you text back a picture, a mirror selfie from behind, your skirt hiked up, showing off the tiny navy-blue thong and he doesn’t text back. You worry that you’ve taken it too far, overstepped a line. 

Until your best friend Dick Grayson is waiting for you when you arrive home, sporting a nasty black eye and a smile the size of titan tower. In actuality, that image was exactly what he’d been hoping for every time he messaged. That image had been ingrained in his mind since you sent it, and it was one thousand times better than he’d imagined. That image was his hook, time to reel you in.

“Sorry I didn’t text back, I was speechless. No really, I got this” he points to the purple bruise forming around his eye “because I was distracted, thinking about you.”

“It’s cool, you didn’t have to say anything.” You lie. “Not like you haven’t seen it all before.” 

“Can I see it again?”

In the middle of your cramped kitchen, your best friend Dick Grayson lifts your skirt above your waist and drops to his knees, brazenly eying your folds. On request, you take the skirt from his hands, holding it up, exposing yourself as you do a little twirl for him, letting him see the full picture. 

When he lands a playful smack on your ass-cheek he grins, thrilled by the playfully petulant look you fire at him over your shoulder. When he runs a finger over your clothed slit, he’s even more delighted by the way your body shivers, by the hint of wetness he can feel seeping through the thin piece of fabric.   

You don’t stop him when he hooks a finger in the crotch, pulling the obstructing lace to the side, or when he runs his fingers through your now exposed lips. Deft fingers tease you, ghosting over your clit with no real fiction, making your pussy clench around nothing. 

“Want something?” The sight of him at your feet, watching you through defiant eyes has you weak.  

“Yes, touch me.” The sight of you, spread and writhing has him near feral, but he wants something more. 

“I’m already touching you, Princess.” He laughs, his warm breath against your slick tingles. If his breath is enough to make you quiver, he can’t wait to find out what his tongue will do to you. “Ask for something else. Nicely.”

You’re not sure exactly what he wants you to say, so you stammer the first words that come to mind; “Please Dick, stop teasing. Just do whatever you want to do, I want it too.” 

It’s enough. 

Your best friend Dick Grayson lifts you by your knees, setting you on the counter and securing your thighs over his shoulders as he descends on your folds. He’s messy and desperate, unable to get enough of your sweetness, darting his tongue in every direction until he finds the select few motions that have your fingers curling in his hair, have you panting his name between loose lips.

When you start to roll your hips, using his mouth for your own pleasure he can’t help but moan, the reverb sending further vibrations through your body that has your toes curling. He’s rock hard, itching to palm his cock, to grind it against the closest surface, but that’s an afterthought. He won’t get off until he’s lapped up your climax at least once. 

“Are you gonna cum for me?” His words are slurred, muffled between your legs, unwilling to pull away long enough to get his words out cohesively. “I want you to cum all over my face, okay baby girl?”

If he wasn’t already salivating against you, Dick’s mouth would water at the sight of you. Your body begins to jerk, your back arching, head thrown back as your orgasm hits you, his firm hands tighten around your legs, locking your lower body in place until all your tension is gone, and his face is soaked with your fluids. 

As you come down from your high, he savours the flavour, occasionally licking up stray droplets from your skin. He admires the way you look, head lolled to the side, eyes static under heavy lids, jaw slack, until it’s too much, until he needs to see you high on his doing once more. Without warning he lifts you. The collar of his shirt is damp, his cheeks are flushed, his hair a mess.

“Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable for round two.” Your best friend Dick Grayson says as he cradles your body in his arms. 

[waldau-archived]

pipe dream — chwe hansol | 1,730 words | fluff

friends to lovers with vernon (again)!!! here's the writing exercise i did because my hands were freezing.

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

“do you have your keys?”

you peel your eyes away from the movie you’re not really watching and look up at vernon. you couldn’t even tell the title if vernon asked.

vernon, who’s dressed in the most casual attire possible and still manages to look incredibly handsome as he stands in front of you, hands in the pockets of his jeans jacket.

“my…keys,” you repeat, focusing on not looking at his lips. you look at his eyes instead. maybe a second too late, because he raises his eyebrows.

“yeah,” he says, slowly. “keys. to our apartment. your set.”

our apartment. you ignore the tingle that runs through you at the possessive word. “i do, but…why?”

he sighs. “i left mine at seungkwan’s. he’s back in jeju right now and i don’t know when i’ll be back, so i don’t want to disturb you.”

“you mean you forgot yours. for the second time in the past few months.”

he raises his hands in surrender, a smile on his face. “not denying that.”

“what would you do without me?”

he pretends to think. “die, maybe. but can i have your keys? i promise i’m not going to lose them anywhere.”

you scrutinize him for a few moments. he probably thinks it’s under the pretense of wondering if you really want to give them to him, but you know you’d give them to him in a heartbeat. your hesitation is more about why he’s heading out tonight.

your mutual friend jeonghan’s set him on a blind date with a friend of a friend, and vernon’s heading out because he doesn’t have any other obligations. apart from your weekly movie night. which happens every saturday, without fail. you get a chance to pick a movie every other week. it’s your turn tonight, and while you usually love watching…spirited away, you remember, looking at the screen before looking back at him, it doesn’t seem that fun when you’re the only one on the sofa tonight.

it hurts that he’s okay with skipping movie night this time around. it always happens, even if either of you has to go somewhere the next day. it’s something that started out of boredom and has become an unspoken tradition.

but it doesn’t matter now. vernon’s going to go on a date with someone handpicked by jeonghan. someone who’s no wonder gorgeous, and funny, and smart, and the perfect match for him. he’s going to fall in love despite his whole i don’t fall in love easily at all shtick. and he’s going to go on even more dates, and move out, and maybe even marry—

“what if i say no?”

“either i wake you up from your sleep, or i spend the whole night freezing outside our door.”

you roll your eyes. vernon can be pretty dramatic when he needs to be. “i’m not that cruel. you can take my keys. they’re on my table.”

vernon’s eyes widen slightly. “really? i’ll get them, no worries,” he says, hand reaching out to push you back down into the sofa when you try to get to your feet. you shut your eyes for a moment at the touch, and he’s gone when you open them.

is it some kind of cosmically unlucky coincidence that jeonghan set vernon up on a date just days after you confessed your feelings about vernon to seungcheol? or is it some sort of conspiracy to get you jealous enough to confess to vernon, and then sit back and watch your life fall apart when he inevitably rejects you?

either way, it’s not going to work. there’s no magic than can possibly bring the two of you together.

a loud sound from the television startles you and makes you realize it’s been a minute or two since vernon’s been in your room. your mind first jumps to wonder whether you’ve left it in a mess, but you haven’t. your bed is neat, your laundry is washed and folded, and your desk is empty. you don’t have any journals dedicated to your feelings for him, thankfully. the notes app in your phone is a worthy substitute.

what the heck is he doing there, then?

“vern?” you call out, a bit uncertain. “aren’t they on the table?”

“yeah,” he calls out, and you hear his footsteps as he heads out of your room. “sorry. i got distracted.” he dangles your keys in front of you. “didn’t know you kept this,” he says, pointing to one of the keychains attached to the keys.

it’s a small mario figurine he’d given you for one of your birthdays. it’s eroded past the point of recognition, and the only reason you can tell it’s mario is because vernon had given it to you. specifically because of the sheepish smile he’d had as he caught you at the end of the party, apologizing for not being able to get a better gift in time. it’s still one of your most cherished gifts, and it’s even more valuable because vernon has a matching luigi keychain for his car keys.

“there wasn’t any reason for me to throw it away,” you point out.

vernon jerks his head to the side. “fair. also, you lied to me.”

“i…did? about?”

“not having this picture with you,” he says, sliding his hand into his pocket and pulling out a small polaroid. it’s too far to recognize anyone in it, but when he brings it closer to you, you swear you understand what people mean when they say their blood freezes.

it’s a picture of you and him at seungcheol’s last party, a few months ago. you’re sitting next to vernon, his hand around your shoulders and his head resting against yours. you don’t remember ever seeing him smile this much in a photo before. but he’d also been tipsy that night, which explains why he might’ve been like that. if it had been him and anyone else, it would have looked like a picture of a couple, but with you in it, it’s just two friends. nothing more.

the incriminating thing about the photo, however, isn’t the photo itself. it’s what’s written on the back. it says tell him you love him already! in soonyoung’s half-tidy scrawl. pipe dream, is what your reply was. i’ll tell him when he does first. because, obviously, he’d never do that.

you can’t bring yourself to meet vernon’s eyes, afraid of what he might say. the only reason the picture was ever pinned to your bulletin board was because you never expected him to see it there, and yet your worst fears have come true.

“if you’d shown me this earlier,” vernon says, placing the photo on your lap, “i wouldn’t have had to say yes to jeonghan hyung tonight.”

you don’t comprehend his words immediately, but he’s not upset. okay. you can deal with this. “why would it change—”

“because i love you.”

time stops, too. vernon is looking intently at you, his gaze never shifting as he reaches out for the remote and presses the pause button. that’s…kinda hot, you think, sinking into the sofa as much as you can. you’re done for.

“aren’t you going to say it back to me?”

“i…what? love you?”

“you’re going to have to sound more convincing if you want to make this dream reality.”

“i…love you?” you ask, swallowing.

“one more time?” he asks, sinking to his knees in front of you. his hand reaches for yours.

this is vernon. your best friend, your roommate, and your only crush for the longest time ever. you can almost see seungkwan in your mind’s eye, urging you to say something.

“do i have to say it?” you ask, your grip on his hand tightening. “wasn’t the photo still being up there proof enough?”

“it was,” he says, that small smile you love so much gracing his lips, “but i’d like to hear it from you.”

“i…” dreaming of being able to say those words to him is one thing, but actually saying those words to him, knowing that he knows you love him feels…unlike anything you’ve felt before. you’re unable to meet his eyes.

again, this is vernon. you’ve shared a good number of embarrassing moments with him as your roommate, and yet…

“hm?”

“i love you,” you say, eyes shut, stomach feeling not unlike how it does at the precipice before the roller coaster falls towards the ground.

“you’re not even going to look at me?”

you’ve nearly said it thrice till now, and the more you say it, the easier it seems to get. especially when vernon wants you to say it to him. you open your eyes and glare at him. “fine. i love you, chwe vernon. i think you already knew it, but do with that what you will.”

vernon smiles that brilliant smile soonyoung had captured on camera months ago, and getting to see it directed at you feels amazing. “what i’m going to do, is apologize to jeonghan hyung,” he says, getting up to his feet.

“why? what about your date?”

“there’s someone else i’d like to have as my date.”

several hours later, when you’ve both watched a movie each of your choice, vernon leans against your shoulder while you wrap your blanket closer around the two of you.

“i thought i’d been clear that night,” he says. whispers, given how tired he sounds. you look down at the messy mop of hair resting on your shoulder. his hair’s gotten longer. when was the last time he’d gotten it cut? with little hesitation, you lift your hand and push his fringe back so it doesn’t cover his eyes.

“i thought you were tipsy.”

he huffs a laugh. self-depreciating. you know him well enough by now to be able to tell what he means. “liquid courage. i hoped you’d take a hint.”

you’d wanted to, so badly. vernon hadn’t left your side that night even once, and he held onto your hand all the way back home. you figured it had been for physical support.

apparently not.

you feel a surge of fondness run through you. you wish he could see it.

“vernon?”

“yeah?”

“i love you. i’m sorry i took this long to say it.”

you feel him press his cheek against your shoulder a little harder. he’s going to fall asleep soon.

“don’t be. i love you, too.”

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched

@minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu @bewoyewo

[6okuto]

AN INCH BETWEEN US

osamu x gn!reader | ~800 words, he calls you hon once, you're getting married! :3

“you don’t usually get nervous.”

“well,”—osamu fiddles with his cufflink, eyes trained on the metal around his finger—“today’s kind of a big deal, isn’t it?”

make sure you don’t see each other before you get out there, atsumu warned as he pat your fiancé’s back. bad luck or somethin’.

doesn’t make sense if we’re doin’ a first look, idiot.

oh, shut up. don’t look at each other ’til then, then!

your back rests against the door, his on the other side keeping it from closing. maybe it’s just a silly superstition, but it cements today as something real, reminds you that it’s happening.

you reach your hand around to search for his own. “at least we’ll be together the whole time. and then we can say goodbye, and go home, and get out of these clothes, and sleep—”

osamu groans and rests his head against the wood—you don’t think he’s slept properly in two weeks, head scrambled and busy with preparations and the same nervous buzz as yours; the fact that he fell asleep before 1am last night was a miracle.

his hand finds yours, engagement ring resting cool against your skin, palm warm and a little rough. he mumbles, “thank god i closed the shop for a few days, if you told me to wake up any earlier than 9 tomorrow i think i’d die.”

“why are you- we haven’t even gotten to the actual wedding, ’samu.”

“okay? i’m tired and ’m gonna get even more tired. i just wanna cuddle at home. can a man not dream?” he defends, and all but whines. you snort but relent, letting him pull your hand closer and settle into a quiet.

“what if i fall?” he blurts out.

“...what?” a laugh escapes you. “you won’t fall.”

“i could trip down the aisle.”

“you won't.”

he squeezes your fingers. “didn’t realize i was marrying someone who could see the future?”

“’samu. you won’t fall, but if you get in my head and i fall, i’m blaming you,” you warn with a teasing lilt.

a beat passes, and you can tell he’s smiling as you stare at the couch ahead of you.

sitting on a wooden hotel floor, wedding attire on and hair not done, bed covered in supplies and friends’ outfits, the buzz of the air conditioner making it a little too cold in your room—you think you’re content like this, because at least you’re here with him.

shuffling a little closer, he says your name.

“hm?”

the inch between you feels a little bigger as osamu lifts your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles, lingering on your ring finger a second longer than the others—“i’m glad i get to marry you.”

your grip tightens, and if osamu listened carefully, you think he could hear your heart trying to beat out of your chest in search of his.

the elevator dings somewhere down the hall.

“i’m glad i get to marry you, too.”

“samu!” his twin’s voice rings out. “are you done cryin’, or do i haveta drag y’back to get your hair done?”

“god, ’tsumu, yeah, i’m comin’, stop yellin’!” he chides with a huff.

atsumu scoffs before replying—something about his twin being ungrateful for all he does—then walks back to the elevator. you hear a sigh. “guess i should go, huh?”

a thumb rubs the back of your hand, and you almost tell him to stay, but there isn’t much time, and it won’t be long before you’re pushing it. taking a deep breath, you let go to stand up first. “mhm.”

the door squeaks at the weight now gone as you both stretch.

you turn to say goodbye, the open door and shadow in the hall taunting you, but freeze when a familiar hand starts to push the door open.

“wh- samu!” your hand flies up to push his grey bangs out of view.

“woah- what- shit- sorry, sorry. habit, was gonna kiss ya,” he apologizes with a stumble.

panic evaded, your heart rate comes down and he huffs. “my- seriously, hon, you’re lucky my hair isn’t done yet.”

“...sorry, i—” you try to hide a laugh. “i’m sorry, i panicked.”

“no, really?”

“’samu,” you whine, embarrassment painted across your face, though he can’t see. he laughs outside, and you try to ignore the heat in your face.

“...at least you’ll kiss me later, right?” you ask quietly.

“....yeah.” there’s a smile in his voice, a pause, a rustling of fabric as he pats down his suit once more. “see you out there?”

you place your hand on the doorknob. “see you out there.”

@devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @semifilms @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm @idontlikeyourjob @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @kuroaka @sunaslay @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @scill-a @curiouslilbeast @fiona782 @cvhenia @mitskiologist @chirikoheina @sleepyxxhead @milkbreadforlife @itsukkie @sirimirihiro @mylahrins @aria-chikage @akari-fujikawa @chocopuchino @hearts4itoshi @ur-local-simp @tnshjfk

[inazuman]

breakfast on a day off

☁ wriothesley x f!reader x neuvillette s.mut, genshin impact ☁ reader is afab and goes by she/her, oral sex f receiving, light orgasm delay/denial

You’re barely awake when you feel the cold cuffs sliding over your wrists, stubble sliding across your inner thigh, a tongue lapping into your folds. You moan even in your half-asleep state, slipping in and out of consciousness as Wriothesley pushes your thighs apart further, nose nudging against your clit before his tongue moves up and slowly swirls around it.

Your head is groggy, but your heart beats faster with each lazy lather of his tongue. He’s clearly taking his time, moving to lick elsewhere and kiss your inner thighs every time you get too excited, letting you come back down only to build you back up again, calloused hands smoothing against your skin. Your hands struggle against the cuffs in your wake cycles, as if you’ve forgotten he’d done that in the few minutes you managed to drift back to sleep.

You properly come to as the shower shuts off and the bathroom door slides open, revealing the beautiful Chief Justice himself, strikingly casual in his fresh pajamas.

“I’ve gone out, bought breakfast, came back, showered, and you’re still devouring her,” Neuvillette sighs at the sight of you, your heaving chest, nipples perked, thighs shaking and breath coming short.

“Mm, can’t help it, she tastes good,” Wriothesley grumbles against your cunt, hot breath ghosting over, winking at you from below. He scoops your slick up with his tongue, swallowing it before his tongue delves into you again.

“Has she even cum once in that time?”

“Nope.”

“Tsk.” Despite his response to Wriothesley, Neuvillette approaches you with a soft smile, sitting on the bed and moving the hair out of your face. Your forehead is sticky with sweat that he gently swipes off for you, but it’s with love all the same. He closes in, lips brushing against yours before pressing in for the sweetest kiss, soft and pillowy, his breath minty fresh. You moan into the kiss, pressing into him for more.

“Aren’t you lovely,” he lifts himself from you, hand cupping your face, thumb caressing your cheek, taking in how you look flushed with arousal. “Haven’t even had breakfast yet, and yet the torture has already begun.” He loops a finger between your wrist and the cuff, frowning at the scuffs it’s made on his bedpost.

“I’m having my breakfast right now,” Wriothesley groans. Your slick has descended down his chin, evident in the way his stubble is wet against your thigh as he leans against it. “Besides, I think she wants to cum first, don’t you?”

“Let’s speed things up then, shall we?” Neuvillette lies down next to you, descending down to kiss at the top of your breast before bringing a nipple into his mouth, his fingers pinching your other nipple. Your back arches immediately, letting out a whine as Neuvillette cups your breast and grazes his teeth lightly over the bud.

Wriothesley, not one to be outdone, moves to press his hands to the back of your thighs, pushing your knees up as he finally, finally focuses directly on your clit, sucking the bundle of nerves into his mouth and lapping his tongue over it at the same time. You let out a scream from the contrast of going from being lazily eaten out to an onslaught, your hole pulsing around nothing. Wriothesley must’ve noticed, because he moves to slide a finger in, your thighs threatening to close as your hips buck into the pressure. Wriothesley holds your legs open, moaning into you as he hears his and Neuvillette’s names slide off your tongue. 

“You’re doing so good for us, darling,” Neuvillette’s mouth moves against your breast, speaking between kisses. “Go ahead and cum for us, show us that beautiful reaction of yours.”

Wriothesley crooks his fingers inside of you and presses once, twice, and then pleasure racks through your whole body, back arching and thighs tensing as your orgasm crashes over you. Neither of them stop, Neuvillette’s hands still playing with your breasts as he moves back up to suck a hickey into your neck, softly whispering “that’s it, baby.”. Wriothesley grips your thigh tight as your pussy clenches around his fingers, tongue still lapping at your clit even as you struggle against the handcuffs, whining out ”too much, sensitive, ah, wrio,”. He only stops as you shuffle away from him, patting the side of your butt and kissing your thigh softly.

“That’s my girl, you did so good.” Wriothesley wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and moves up your body to join you and Neuvillette, caging you both in his arms as he leans down to kiss you, and then Neuvillette. Neuvillette cups his face, tongue lapping into his to get his own taste of you.

“Mm, you’re right, she does taste good.” Wriothesley, despite all his swagger, goes pink in the cheeks at Neuvillette’s bold response, making you giggle.

“As much as I love you both, a proper breakfast may do us good,” Neuvillette continues, reaching for the keys on the bedside table for Wriothesley to uncuff you. “We have all day to spend together, you’ll both dehydrate yourselves if you don’t at least drink some water.”

Wriothesley carefully checks your wrists as he uncuffs you, kissing them softly. “Hmm… breakfast in bed, Neuvi?”

Neuvillette frowns. “You’ll get croissant crumbs all over my bed.”

Wriothesley grins, thinking it’s cute when Neuvillette gets all pouty. He picks you up bridal style with a little squeal from you.

“Alright then, let’s fuck in the living room.”

“Wriothesley.”

[sansaorgana]

I just need to know how buck would react to his wife Breastfeeding! I feel like he is definitely a tits kind of man

oh, darling, let's be real – he's a ✨personality ✨ kind of man 🤭😂 but yeah, I agree 👀 also, I love him being a softie so much 😌 I didn't put any warnings but I assume you know already what to expect from this fic lol 🍼

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

my requests are currently closed 🙅🏻‍♀️

Usually, it was Buck who would leave the bed in the middle of the night to bring the crying baby to you but today he seemed to be so deep in his sleep that no amount of your daughter’s screaming was waking him up. You sighed and caressed his hair softly without wanting to wake him up – he deserved his rest as well, after all, and it had been a long and tiring week for him at work.

You got out of the bed and put a robe loosely upon your nightgown as you slid your feet inside a pair of slippers waiting for you on the carpet. Softly and quietly you left the bedroom and hurried to the nursery where your little girl was crying her lungs out.

“Hey, shh, shh,” you cooed to her while picking her up after turning a small lamp on. It was not very bright and perfect for the nighttime when little Dolores was getting hungry.

You sat with her on the rocking chair by the window and kept shushing her softly, trying to unbutton your nightgown clumsily with your free hand while keeping her steady with your other arm.

“Don’t cry, little one, don’t wake daddy up, he needs his rest,” you smiled at her and adjusted her in your arms so she could finally get fed as you watched her tiny features in awe. You were still quite sleepy but you would never change anything. Sleep was not as important as spending time with your baby.

Lost in thoughts and Dolly’s sweet little face, you didn’t notice Buck leaning on the doorway and watching you with the same amount of love as you were staring at your babygirl with.

When you looked up for a second, you got startled at the sight of him and then you chuckled.

“Sorry,” he mumbled out. “I woke up and you weren’t there but there was a light coming from the hall so I knew where you went,” he explained with a soft smile.

“You should have stayed in bed, love,” you whispered to him.

“And miss this? No way,” your husband approached you and crouched down next to you so he could see Dolly’s face, too. She opened her eyes and looked at him as she kicked her little feet. Buck grabbed them and caressed them gently. “Isn’t she perfect?” He looked up at you and gasped.

“Yes, she is,” you nodded but you furrowed your brow at his gasp. “What is it?”

“You’re a goddess, really,” he admitted and you felt your cheeks heating up.

“Oh, Gale, please,” you dismissed that praise shyly.

“I mean it,” Buck whispered and gently let go of Dolly’s feet to caress your cheek with his finger. “After everything I’ve been through, all that death and darkness… You’re a beacon of light, a life-giver, a mother,” he explained. “And I will forever worship you for that.”

You cracked a smile at his words and fought the tears forming in your eyes.

“I wish you haven’t gone through any of that,” you confessed, nearly inaudibly.

“But I have and maybe thanks to that I can appreciate what I have even more,” Buck nodded.

“You’ve always been a good man,” you reminded him and it was true. Your husband had always been kind and generous and a gentleman. You had never complained about anything that actually mattered. He didn’t deserve any of the suffering he had been through and he certainly hadn’t needed it to help him shape his character because he had simply always been a good man.

Even in that dim light you could see your husband’s cheeks turning slightly pink. He was adorable, like a little boy. You wished you could hold him close and make all his pain go away, all the awful memories, all the nightmares, all the triggers. You just wanted him to relax, you wanted to give him peace.

Little Dolly squealed a bit and you looked down to see her mouth curling up in a small smile as droplets of milk were dripping down her chin. You chuckled at that and lifted her up as Buck took a tissue from the changing table to wipe her face gently.

“I’ll take her,” he offered and you let him take the baby. Buck started to carry her around while patting her back delicately and you wiped the milk leaking out of your breast swiftly before buttoning the nightgown up.

You kept sitting in the rocking chair and watching your lovely husband walking around the small nursery that he had prepared by himself before Dolly’s arrival to this world. And now was humming a lullaby to his little girl and everything seemed to be so perfect and cosy. You couldn’t be happier than that, you thought.

When Dolly could be placed back in her crib, Buck made sure to watch over her until she fell asleep. He told you to go back to the bedroom and even though you felt guilty that once again he was the one to stay up in the nursery, you were grateful for him telling you to rest instead.

You were still weak after the childbirth and all the pregnancy and he was just one of those husbands who actually appreciated their wives for carrying their children for them. He was tired after this previous week, too, but he knew his exhaustion was no match compared to yours.

So, you went back to the bedroom and you sat up with the pillows behind your back because you wanted to wait for him. You weren’t that sleepy anymore but you were grateful for the possibility of going back to bed – especially your spine was very happy about it.

Buck came back not so long after you since it never took Dolly long to fall asleep in the middle of the night after being fed. You hoped it would stay this way. In general, so far she had been a quite unproblematic child of a gentle nature and you suspected it was a trait she had after her father.

Buck went under the cover and laid down next to you, looking up at you with his pretty puppy eyes as he leaned in to kiss your tummy.

“You sleepy, darling? Want me to turn the light off?” You asked him and caressed his hair.

“It’s fine. I want to stay up and keep looking at you for a while,” he admitted and you giggled.

“You’re mad,” you pointed out playfully.

“Sure I am. Mad about you,” Buck answered and you rolled your eyes as you kept caressing his hair and face – gently, with your fingertips, tracing the outlines of the thin scars scattered all over his face.

“I love you,” you whispered with all seriousness.

“I love you, too,” he whispered back with a soft smile.

There were many other things that had been told between you two with those three words but you didn’t have to actually list them all out loud. Your “I love you” was enough to thank him for his sacrifice, for surviving the war and coming back to you. It was enough to let him know you would take it all away from him if it was possible. And his “I love you, too” was enough for you to know that he knew what you meant and he thanked you for understanding and for waiting for him, for always treating him so kind and soft – for giving him a baby, too.

Buck moved closer to you and buried his face in your nightgown, breathing in your scent. You kept playing with his hair and sighed softly when he looked up with a smile.

“It smells so sweet,” he whispered and you furrowed your brow because you hadn’t used any perfume before going to bed. “The milk, I assume,” he added and unbuttoned two of the small buttons of your nightgown to bury his face deeper into your chest and take a deep breath in. “Yeah, it’s the milk,” he nodded.

“It tastes sweet, too,” you told him with a smirk and Buck tilted his head as he kept looking up at your face.

“How do you know?” He chuckled.

“Sometimes, when it leaks out on my fingers, I am too lazy to wipe it off and I just lick it off of my fingers,” you confessed. “Well, I was pretty curious about it, too,” you told him, hoping he wouldn’t judge you.

But Buck would never judge you.

He swallowed a lump in his throat and looked down between your breasts as if he was contemplating on something. Finally, he looked up again and his cheeks were crimson red.

“Can I… Can I taste it, too?” He asked.

You were taken aback by this question. Not that you found it obscene or disgusting but you definitely did not expect your husband to request such a thing.

“Yes, my love, of course,” you smiled at him with a nod and began to work on your buttons. You would never deny him anything.

“Only if… If it’s still gonna be enough for Dolly in the morning,” Buck interrupted you by placing his hand on top of yours.

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart, she’s gonna have enough,” you assured him with a chuckle and he nodded.

Buck watched in awe when you kept unbuttoning your nightgown – a sight he had seen many times now but this time it was different. It was only for him and you were doing it slowly, which was done on purpose to give him a little show. It felt intimate on a level he had never been with you before although he had never thought it possible.

He nearly moaned at the sight of your swollen breasts jumping out of your nightgown. They had gotten so big due to your pregnancy and he was obsessed with them even more than usual now. A simple thought that they were swollen with milk for his baby was enough to make him have impure thoughts sometimes. He had always worshipped you and the ground you walked on but you becoming a mother of his child only intensified the feeling – he couldn’t believe his happiness, really. The woman he loved so much was loving him back and she wanted to give him a family even though she had to sacrifice so much and her body was a real miracle for actually being able to grow a child and give birth… For Buck you truly were a goddess and he couldn’t care less if it was a blasphemy or not.

Carefully, he touched your breasts and you hissed quietly because they were so sore and sensitive. But Buck knew that already so he was trying to be as gentle as possible when he softly massaged them and watched the milk leak out. He allowed it to flow for some time and only when your breasts were covered in white streamlets, he licked them up while peppering your skin with kisses.

“So sweet,” he said and looked up as you noticed his pupils darkening. You knew that look very well.

“Baby, it’s too early for us to…” You started.

“I know, don’t worry,” he interrupted you and moved up a little to get better access. “I won’t hurt you,” he assured you and you believed him because Buck would never do anything to harm you.

He attached his lip to your nipple and began to suck. You sighed out of relief and threw your head back while caressing his hair and feeling how his muscles relax under your touch. It was all you wanted for him – to finally rest and be at peace, to feel safe in your arms.

His soft, plump lips sucking on your sore nipples softly were making you feel warm all over your body. You were sighing and gasping with pleasure as the hardness of his cock grew, brushing your thigh under the fabric of his pyjama pants.

You felt bad for him because he wouldn’t be able to properly fuck you in two more weeks so you decided to please him in a different way. One of your hands wandered all the way down and under his pants to take his hard and swollen cock. You could already feel the leaking precum and you had to admit, you were pretty surprised that sucking your breasts could make him get so hard so fast but on the other hand you two hadn’t had sex in over a month now.

“Ooh, so heavy. Let me help you with that, baby,” you moaned at the feeling.

With your other hand you kept caressing the back of his head as you started to pump his cock. Buck moaned into your chest and attached his lips to the other nipple as his hands played with your free breast. He bucked his hips to help you jerk him off since he was so desperate to finally have his sweet release. He was nearly as desperate as he had been after coming back home from Europe but you didn’t mind that at all. In fact, you found it pretty hot that he was so needy for you and that it wasn’t taking much for him to finish because of you.

“Shh, you’re such a good boy for me,” you assured him in a whisper. “Let go, baby, don’t hold back.”

You picked up your pace and let your thumb circle around his tip to stimulate him even further and in a few chaotic thrusts of his hips, he came all over your hand while gasping and holding on to you. You kissed the top of his head with a soft smile and caressed his softening cock a few more times before reaching out to your nightstand for a tissue to clean up the mess.

“Did it feel good?” You asked, looking down at his face. His pretty baby blue eyes were hazy and his lips slightly parted. His flushed cheeks and messy hair were making him look even more adorable.

“It felt like heaven,” he breathed out.

You chuckled at that and wiped the corners of his mouth with another tissue to clean him up from your milk before cleaning up your breasts, too. Buck rolled over to lay on his back as he ran his hand through his hair and down his face.

“We can do it more often if you want to,” you told him after throwing the tissues away. “It felt nice… Such a relief,” you told him truthfully. “Sometimes she doesn’t drink enough and I am too full,” you added and rested your cheek on your elbow as you stared at his face lovingly.

Buck turned his face around to look into your eyes. He was still blushing slightly but he cracked a shy smile at you.

“Yeah, well, I’m your husband and it’s my duty to help you then, is it not?” He raised an eyebrow and you giggled before leaning in to kiss his cheek and then the top of his nose and lips.

“You’re an amazing husband, darling. Performing all of your duties so well that you should get a medal for that,” you teased him playfully.

“I don’t collect my medals,” he reminded you. He still didn’t collect the ones he had been given in Europe.

“Oh, this one you will,” you assured him with a wink. “Just give me two weeks.”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[slayfics]

Izuku overhears your late night call with Katsuki.

800 Words~

Izuku shuffled in bed becoming conscious of his surroundings as he blinked heavily. His hotel bed was nowhere near as satisfactory as his one at home. Not that Izuku was one to complain- but he found it amusing that Japan’s top two heroes were placed in a shared mediocre hotel while out on a mission.

Shuffling around once more Izuku became aware of what had woken him at such a late hour. It must have been two or three in the morning, but his friend’s low voice surrounded the silent room. Trying not to make Katsuki aware, he peeped an eye open and was met with the sight of his friend on the phone. Even though he was across the room on his own queen-sized bed, Izuku could see the tension in the way Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his hand over his face.

It didn’t take Izuku long to guess who Katsuki was talking to. It had to be you, there was no one else Izuku had seen Katsuki speak to with such softness. Not to mention how strict he was with his sleep schedule. No one else would be lucky enough to get away with calling Katsuki at this hour.

“You don’t need ta’ worry about me- you know that” Katsuki spoke quietly into the phone. “No- I’m not going to hang up… I’ll stay right here till you’re asleep, ok? So quite down… breath alright…”

Izuku fought the urge to interrupt and ask what was going on. It sounded like you must have been upset on the other line. Despite his helpful nature, he resisted the urge knowing Katsuki would only be infuriated by his interruption.

“It’s fine I’m-… I’m glad you called… I missed you too,” Katsuki spoke into the phone, causing Izuku to hold back an audible gasp. The words sounded so foreign coming from Katsuki. He always knew Katsuki had an affinity for you but- it felt so surreal to hear it with his own ears. It was such a sharp contrast to the Katsuki he was used to.

“I’m sorry I haven’t called or- reached out to you since we’ve been gone… I’m just- not good at this stuff you know…,” a low chuckle came from Katsuki at whatever you said next.

“It’s… nice to hear your voice again…I’ll come to see you when we’re back ok? … Yeah, yeah I promise brat. Now sleep for me alright? It’s late as hell and I can hear how exhausted you are… Good just drift off- and I’ll see you soon,” Katsuki said.

Izuku wasn’t sure if the conversation continued any longer because the next thing he knew his alarm was buzzing and waking him up for their mission.

He and Katsuki both sleepily stalked around the room getting ready. Against his better judgment, Izuku had to ask.

“Hey… last night… were they ok?” Izuku asked.

“HAH?! You listened to my phone call?!” Katsuki yelled; the annoyance clear on his face.

“Sorry-,” Izuku stuttered. “It’s not like I had a choice though. This room they gave us isn’t very big!”

“Yeah, cheap asses- whatever… they are fine don’t ask me about it again,” Katsuki spoke sternly.

“Ok Kacchan,” Izuku spoke respecting his friend's privacy as he continued to get ready, but to Izuku's surprise Katsuki called back out to him.

“Hey-…” Katsuki exclaimed, keeping his gaze away from Izuku.

“Yeah?” Izuku answered back.

“… What…,” Katsuki groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. “What the hell do I say to them? I… I don’t know how to do this crap.” He spoke. Katsuki knew he wasn’t good at showing affection. He hadn’t even reached out to you in the week that they had been gone- which caused you to call him in panic. He hated that he did that to you but- these things just didn’t come easy to him like they did to Izuku.

“Well- I think that depends. What do you want them to know?” Izuku asked, treading carefully with his friend.

“I don’t fucking know… I just want the brat to take care of themselves…” Katsuki said frustrated.

“That doesn’t sound like such a bad thing to say: Take care of yourself.” Izuku answered.

“Fine…” Katsuki huffed and typed a quick message on his phone before tossing it aside. “Let’s fucking get this mission over with- wanna go home.”

Izuku nodded in agreement.

The next morning you woke up to a text from Katsuki.

Take care of yourself, idiot.

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