#not enough beds. He's a couch sleeper

[hipsdofangirl]

“baby”

seungcheol x reader

contents: sfw, fluff mess, idol au, established relationship au, repetitive use of word “baby”, kkuma is seungcheol’s daughter

summary: seungcheol finds out he is a grandpa at age 28 in his own way / seungcheol comes home to his (growing) family

wc: 1111 (hehe)

“where’s your toy?” you coo.

kkuma stares blankly at you, sitting pretty. you slap your hands on your knees with an exaggerated grin decorating your face.

you repeat, enunciating each word, “where is your toy?”

she pants with a smile—the crooked pink bow clip melts your heart bit by bit. she stands up and spins in a circle, searching for something; the clopping of her nails against the hard-wooded floor reminds you that she needs her nails clipped, and your boyfriend will no doubt get her groomed for that to be completed.

the fluffy small cloud faces you, tongue out and involved in her desperate recovery mission. she moves her head to the right then the left; you can’t help but huff air with a smile, observing her cute yet calculated movements. her smile fades as she sniffs lightly. there is one more attempt to push kkuma over the edge.

“where is your baby?” you reiterate.

like a sleeper agent, something inside of her awakens. her head moves back to the right, regaining that same grin she trots into the hallway out of your sight.

you stand up, kneecaps cracking from being on the floor for some time; you keep your gaze locked from where she last left your sight, anticipating little patters to get louder.

soon enough, kkuma emerges from that hallway with a plush hello kitty doll, bigger than her own body, being dragged across the floor; if only it was real you could imagine the doll’s face painted with agony of living another day of torment while being lifelessly lugged.

you smirk and clap your fingertips together, creating little yet audible sound. “there she is! do you have your baby?” you babble.

in response, kkuma shakes her head and therefore her body and therefore the doll. you nod your head in respect and walk to the kitchen. kkuma continues her tirade and saunters over to the living room, plopping herself right in front of the couch with baby in hand.

—————

after the sun has been set for some time, the front door creaks open. soft yet heavy footfalls patter against the floor.

from your spot laying on the couch, you glance towards the noise in the dark, only your phone and tv providing light. you sit there and listen: you hear deep breaths and rustling of fabric before something collides with the floor. a defeated grunt comes from the entrance still: you chuckle quietly and turn your phone off, turning onto your stomach to lay on.

you click your flashlight on. the perpetrator standing there being your boyfriend, seungcheol. his eyes widen yet dim quickly when he made contact with the light. he covers his eyes with his hand and sets down the rest of his stuff. you turn off your flash and get up to immediately flick on the living room lights. you stroll to him with a not-so hidden grin.

he takes one glance at your expression before huffing, “you heard me struggling yet here you are taking a photo of me like i��m a cryptid.” your grin hurts your cheeks at this point; he gives one of his own as he watches you.

“you try so hard to be quiet when you come in, it’s hard not to see you as one.” you counter.

his eyebrows raise and grin deflates. “well you should be in bed right now. i swear you don’t have to wait up for me, i’ll be fine.” you both hear little paws barrel towards you. seungcheol’s dimples return once again as he squats, palms open.

“cause this little girl will always be there to greet me.”

you playfully scoff, leaning on the wall, observing the interaction. “yeah because she knows she will get a treat.” kkuma licks his fingers as he scratches underneath her chin.

you squat down yourself and her attention was instantly caught. you gently unclip the bow from the top of her head and smother it in your/his pant pocket.

as you give her your own soft head pats and aggressive spouts of rubs, seungcheol gaze is stuck on your face, basking in the intimate moment he secretly waits for after every day of intense idol-life.

he would never say it, but he appreciates how you wait; he doesn’t understand how you are able to keep waiting after all this time—for him. he glances at the floor, he shouldn't keep you waiting, should he?

kkuma’s rhythm of her happy dance kept him in a trance, but for some reason it stopped? seungcheol blinks and doesn’t see his little girl in front of him. he glances up at you for some clarification as you shuffle his things around, grabbing his workout clothes to put in the washer.

seungcheol blinks again. where did one of his princesses go? every time he arrives home, she follows him wherever he goes. is his little girl growing up?

he mindlessly follows you and stutters with a pout, “w-where did kkuma go?”

you flip open the washer lid. “she’s grabbing her baby.”

seungcheol’s inner demons were confirmed. “her baby?”

you hum in confirmation.

he sadly flicks his eyes to the door to the rest of the apartment. as you shut the lid down and press the appropriate buttons, you feel his fingers weaving into yours; slowly, he drapes his body weight onto you, head searching for his crook. you smile and pat his head.

you both hear little paws barrel toward you both. entering the door frame is little kkuma with her big baby hello kitty doll.

seungcheol’s head lifts up from your body.

kkuma gives him a little shake, showing him and her baby dominance.

he makes eye contact with you. “your childhood pillow?”

you correct him, enunciating your words, “her baby.” his arms sneak around your waist, eyes never leaving the white dog.

he repeats after you, “her baby.”

you hum and nod, pecking his cheek before sauntering out of the room. seungcheol bites his lip, smile breaking through, and skips after you. his arms return to hug your waist as he leans both your bodies sideways with a kiss—soon followed by an onslaught of fleeting smooches.

you blush. “cmon you big baby lets go to bed. you have an upcoming comeback and tour that doesn’t need you to fall ill again. i don’t need you to do that.”

he hums and sways your bodies, widely walking both of your feet in that direction like penguins.

he only hummed, not saying anything. you look at him for any other confirmation. he only beholds your eyes that swallow the rest of the world.

he knocks his head playfully with yours. “my baby.”

a/n: first uploaded fic please have mercy on my soul. also not proofread.

i have some works in the notes app but so far this is the one that is currently making me want to publish because i just got in the mood and it’s his bday. also this is totally not based off my own dog

if you made it here, congratulations! have a nice day/night!! 🫶

tag: @jacixbliss

[nickfowlerrr]

please

GIF by virgo-opinions

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: bit of angst, bit of fluff. sweet ending per usual.

words: 1179

notes: "iM gOnnA WrItE a fiVe SenTenCE dRaBblE". i mean. we all should have seen this coming. thank you in advance for reading, i hope you enjoy this! as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated. let me know what you think!

“Your bed is so much comfier than mine, can I sleep here tonight?”

It’s quiet for a long moment as you make yourself even cozier in Bucky’s bed, nuzzling into the pillow that smells just like him. It is comfier here. And you feel safe as sleep starts to nip at you. It's late, the lights are already out from when Bucky started the movie still playing on the screen, and you know you are both tired - that's why you're already in lounging clothes, having decided to stay in at his place tonight instead of going out to dinner like you'd originally planned. It'd been a long week, as if the mission hadn't been rough enough, the paperwork that's followed has been hell to get through.

All you wanted was a nice night with your boyfriend, and now that you're this comfortable and content, the last thing you want is to move, the leave and have this peace be over as you walk back over to your place. Your bed is a lot colder, and in truth what makes his so comfy is simply his presence.

Even when he's quiet, it's...

Wait, he's still quiet.

You turn your head to look at him as he sits at the foot of his bed. He looks anxious and you suddenly feel your stomach twist. What were you thinking?

You've talking about this before, the night after you first slept together. You'd fallen asleep in his arms and woke up feeling incredible, only to have your heart drop to your stomach when you realized you were alone and Bucky was nowhere to be found... Until you found him on your couch, dark circles under his eyes from no sleep and an apology falling from his lips the second he saw you, sitting up to explain. Nightmares, terrors, he didn't want to get into but wanted to explain why he'd left you alone. He didn't want to risk waking you up to that. You understood, and you'd broached the subject of staying the night a few times since then just to see where he was at, but never pushed. You trusted he'd let you know when he felt ready for it.

But now look at you, pushing without even thinking.

You sit up, a little too suddenly, and Bucky’s head whips to you. The anxiety in his eyes shifts to fear as he meets your embarrassed gaze.

You open your mouth to take it back, to apologize, but he beats you to speaking.

“No, no, no,” he rushes, unthinkingly urging you back down on the mattress as he leans over you; your eyes widen and you let him touch you. It’s a rushed movement, but gentle all the same as he eases you to lay back.

His face is inches away from yours and for a second you forget everything but the gleaming blue of his eyes and the soft plumpness of his lips.

“Stay,” he breathes, “I want you to stay.”

You swallow thickly, finding your throat dry. “Are you sure? I didn’t mean to-“

“I’m sure. I've wanted to ask you for a while, I just… I’m not the most peaceful sleeper,” he says shamefully. "I really don't want to scare you away."

It physically hurts to hear his unease. You want so badly to take his worry away, to show him he has nothing to be scared or ashamed of.

“Nothing you do could ever scare me away."

You can tell just by looking at him that he doesn't believe it, and you don't know how to make him.

You reach a hand to move the strand of hair that's fallen from behind his ear back out of his face before you hold his cheek lightly. You lean up as he leans down and brush your lips against his before you really kiss him, carefully - soft and slow.

"You're always there for me," you murmur, "I wanna be here for you, too." You card your hand though his hair as he lets his forehead fall against yours, his eyes closed in contentment at the feeling before he sighs and sits back.

You watch him for a moment, you can still sense his trepidation...

"You can say no, Bucky," you tell him gently.

He looks at you again, his brows furrowed ever so slighty and a small pout on his lips. "I don't wanna say no. I want you to stay and I want... I want to be normal for you."

Your eyes burn and your throat gets tight as you watch his bright blue eyes blink furiously as he looks away from you again. You sit up all the way and reach for him, turning his head so he's looking you in your eyes.

"Don't do that," you say, doing your best to keep your voice from wavering. "There is no such thing as normal, Bucky. And even if there was, I wouldn't want it. I mean who cares about normal anyway?"

He looks pained as he holds your hand in hand and it's quiet again for a beat.

"I know you don't wanna say no, but you won't be hurting me if you need to."

He doesn't look up from your hand in his, only squeezes it in response.

You smile softly, taking the gesture as his admission that he isn't ready yet, and move to get up off the bed again, only to be stopped by Bucky once more.

"You wanna stay?"

"Only if you want me to," you murmur.

He looks at you, really looks, like he's searching for some sign, something in your eyes that'll give away that you want an escape, that you really want to go. He finds nothing, because it's the last thing you'd ever want.

"Will you lay down with me?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, you almost couldn't hear him over the movie still playing on his television in the background.

"Of course," you say simply as you once again allow him to lay you back down. He joins you this time, slowly laying himself down next to you. When you get comfortable again, he turns into you, and ever so slowly, moves to rest his head on your chest as he lays on his side, hugging himself to you.

It's delicate. One of those moments you know you'll look back on over and over, one you'll always treasure, seeing him feel safe enough with you to be this vulnerable, this soft.

The silence is anything but uncomfortable as you run the fingers of one hand through his hair, massaging away his tension as he relaxes further into you.

"Can I tell you something?" his voice sounds deeper already as he speaks.

"Anything."

"Lately, the only time I can ever manage to fall asleep, is when I picture you here with me." His breathing is getting deeper as he nuzzles into you and you hold him tighter as you push down your rising wave of emotions at his confession.

"I want you to stay..." he murmurs. "Please stay."

[d0youc0py]

heyy - 🍄

Can you write something with 141 reacting to the reader going to sleep alone in another room? like just the reader wanting to be alone or they fought. the way you prefer

Hurt/comfort ♥️ your writing is my favorite

Hi! 🍄Thank you so much! I absolutely loved this prompt!

He thought you were being dramatic. Too sensitive. And he made sure to let you know.

“It was just a joke, sweetheart. Nothing more. I’m a light sleeper, you know that.” His voice was careful, yet firm.

Even though he had assured you he hadn’t meant anything by it, here you were, staring at the ceiling as pm turned into am. He had his arm snug around you, tucking you under his chin. Normally this position had you out like a light, but now you were just focusing on trying not to breath too hard.

Earlier that day the two of you were relaxing on the couch when you commented on his yawn.

“You’ve been yawning a lot, Si. Should put you to bed early.” You snickered.

“Your fault.” He yawned again. “Movin around every five second.” His tone was teasing. His fingers even brushed up and down your foot that was resting in his lap. Despite this, your heart dropped. Were you really that uncomfortable to share a bed with?

Laying in bed was growing increasingly uncomfortable. Your side ached from you spending too much time on it. Your nose hadn’t stopped itching and it took everything in your power not to scratch it every five seconds. Even your quieted breathing felt like it was shaking the bed. The guest room was sounding more and more inviting. You’d be able to flip over whenever you wanted. Scratch that nose of yours, all without having to worry about stirring the sleeping giant behind you.

You carefully gripped his arm and squirmed your way out from under it. He woke up halfway, holding his arm up for you.

“Sorry, Si.” You whispered, guilt already tugging at you.

“Don’t even think about it.” He assured in a groan. He watched with curious eyes as you disappeared down the hall, instead of going to the bathroom like he assumed you were. You must be getting water.

One minuted turned into three, then three turned into five. He huffed, rubbing a hand over his face, your side of the bed already growing uncomfortably cold. His socked feet sunk into the plush carpet as he made his way down the hall. The kitchen light wasn’t on, but the guest bedroom that was normally shut was wide open. Even in the darkness he could make out the lump of your body- already asleep.

The realization was instant. And it hurt.

“Sweetheart.” He knocked at the open door. He didn’t feel too bad about waking you up. He needed to. You gasped awake, your head springing up from the pillows. It seemed even your absence kept him awake. “What do I have to say for you to get out of that head of yours?” He hummed, plopping down next to you. He leaned over you, pressing a slow kiss against your forehead.

“I just feel bad knowing I’m constantly waking you up.” You murmured, rubbing at your eyes.

“Sweetheart, waking up to you isn’t something to feel bad about. It’s nice, being woken up just because someone wants to be closer to you. Now we are going to knock it off with all this ‘afraid to wake me up shit’ and go back to our bed, you hear me?”

You did hear him.

“John, enough! I’m tired of arguing with you, I’m ready to go to bed.” You growled. He followed closely behind you towards the bedroom, unbuttoning his white dress shirt.

“Yeah, let’s just go to bed and forget all of this happened.” He mumbled from behind you. You began tugging off your clothes, throwing a glare his way.

“Don’t do that.” You chided, throwing you clothes on top of his in the hamper.

“Do what?” He gruffed back.

“Mumble things under your breath.” You explained. He tsked and rolled his eyes at you. The action caused another flare to ignite in your stomach. He reached into his dresser and pulled out a nightshirt, tugging it over his head. He reached back in and grabbed one for you, holding it out to you expectantly. It was your favorite shirt of his to wear.

“I’m not wearing that.” You spat, turning away from him. You marched to your shared bed and grabbed your pillow, beginning to make your way down the hallway.

“Where are you going?” He stopped you. His large frame taking up the whole doorway.

“John”-

“Love.” His voice was calm and you hated it. He should be more upset. Upset that you were upset with him. “Don’t go”-

“Why should I liste”-

“You need to stay in bed with me. That’s where you belong.” He said it as though it was a fact. “I know you’re not too happy with me right now, but you aren’t sleepin away from me tonight, honey. Now let’s go brush our teeth.”

*this is so dramatic*

Johnny had fucked up. He admitted it too. Yet it seemed no matter how many apologies flowed from him- you were determined to put a rift between the two of you. At least that’s how he saw it.

You yawned next to him on the couch, your hand brushing some hair out of your eyes.

“Gettin sleepy?” He hummed. You smiled softly, nodding your head.

“Should probably head to bed.” You yawned, stretching as you stood.

“You remember where it is?” It was a snotty comment. Distasteful. You had been sleeping in the guest bedroom for the past week. He was able to choke down his hatred for it the first few days, but after you referred to it as “your room” all grace had been lost.

“You just can’t help yourself can you?” You growled, not bothering to wait for an answer.

“Just don’t understand why you’re so hell bent on punishing me.” He shouted after you. You stopped, turning on your heels.

“Punishing you?” You snarled. “The only one getting punished in this situation is me John. I know to you I’m being dramatic but I really don’t know how I can trust you after all those shitty things you said to me.”

His chest twisted and his hand scratched at his shirt.

“I don’t know what else to do, sweetheart.” His voice was uncharacteristically soft and it made you feel worse than you already did. “I’ve apologized in more ways than one and I’m still not getting through to you. I’m not saying I’m giving up, I just miss you. I know lashing out at you isn’t the answer.” He sighed rubbing at his face. He was exhausted- that was evident just by looking at him. You were his safe place- his favorite person in the whole world and he hurt you. “I made a mistake saying nasty shite to you, but I hope you remember everything before that. We’ve been together for years and I hoped I’ve showed you just how much I love you in that time.”

By the end of his speech tears were rolling down your cheeks.

“Dammit, Mac.” You huffed. You moved forward quickly, practically flinging yourself at him. He reciprocated immediately, wrapping his arms tight around you with no intention to let you go. He wouldn’t let go till you forgave him.

You woke up to two arms wrapping around you.

“Ky.” You grumbled sleepily.

“You took so much medicine, I didn’t think you’d wake up.” He whispered back. You were sick and the last thing you wanted to do was get Kyle sick. He rubbed his hands over your stomach, the action already lulling you back to sleep.

“I just don’t want to make you sick.” You murmured. He ‘tsked’ at you, pulling you even closer to his warm body. You wished it was easier to stay away from him. He was the perfect temperature for your chilled body and he smelled like vanilla and coffee.

“I’d wear it like a badge of honor.” He smiled against you. You rolled your eyes.

“You just always find a way to make everything romantic don’t you.”

“Well I had to get you to fall for me one way.”

“Are you going to be this cheeky when you get sick?” You hummed.

“I wasn’t planning on it, but challenge accepted.”

[heaven4lostgirls]

hello luv! Could you possibly do a poly! marauders with reader who has issues sleeping like some times she can’t sleep for three nights straight and the next day she’ll fall asleep in the middle of class and can’t keep her eyes open? xxx

pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader

summary: request above!

warnings: mentions of not sleeping well, insomnia? not sure. mentions of regulus also not sleeping well.

word count: 2.1K

a/n: really enjoyed writing this, hope you enjoy it! thanks for the request!

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The emptiness on your side of James’ bed is what wakes him up. He blinks blearily as he stretches to reach over to your side of the bed. He’s greeted by an untouched duvet and perfectly stacked pillows.

As if you had never come to bed at all.

Worry gnaws at his heart as he turns over to look at Remus and Sirius’ beds to check if maybe you snuck off to them instead.

Instead, all he sees is Pete’s snoring figure underneath his covers and Remus and Sirius cuddled up together on the latter’s bed as the former’s bed looks unfortunately similar to the right side of his bed.

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and thinks better than waking up Remus and Sirius to find you. He grasps his glasses off of his nightstand and tiptoes to his trunk to grab the map.

With a quick glance he’s surprised to find you in the Gryffindor common room, not far at all.

He stuffs the map  back into his trunk as he grabs a jumper that he tugs on as he walks sleepily out of the dorm and down the stairs.

He’s greeted by the sight of you curled up on the long sleeper couch in front of the fire as you have one of Remus’ novels in your hands.

He can see the tiredness wearing you down and the frustration that you can’t seem to give into it.

His feet shuffle against the marble floor which alerts you to his presence, you take a quick glance and frown worriedly as you catch a sleep befuddled James shuffling towards you.

He collapses on top of you with an uncoordinated movement and you let out a small whoosh of air.

“You didn’t come to bed” he murmurs into your neck before he sighs out blissfully as your hands cascade into his curls.

“I couldn’t sleep, didn’t want to worry you” you murmur back, and he frowns softly before pulling away to look into your eyes.

“I would have helped” he frowns and you smile before pulling your hand out of his hair and smoothing out the frown lines on his face.

“S’okay, I’m used to it” you shrug offhandedly and James lips tug down again.

“I’m sorry love” James says and his big brown eyes blink lovingly and morosely at you.

You only shake your head and push him to lay back down on your shoulder.

“Not your fault Jamie, s’just how it is” you say and go back to running your hands through his hair..

He lets out small puffs  of breath against your collarbone as you feel his form start to melt into you.

You’re unjustifiably jealous as you realise he’s fallen back to sleep, his breathing evening out to notify you enough that he’s no longer conscious

You feel your frustration rising and your form tensing enough that it has James whining in his sleep and snuggling into you harder.

You relax, helpless against your boyfriend as you try to keep your tears at bay.

You just wanted to sleep. It wasn’t fair that you had to work twenty times harder than the average person just to do something your body should do naturally.

It had been days since you had last gotten a proper nights sleep, you’d been relying on naps that lasted anywhere from 20 minutes to 2 hours at most.

It was enough to have you functioning but too little that people had started noticing, Sirius had tried to spray some of his lavender oil onto your pillow which had only assaulted your nostrils.

Remus had offered to give you a massage to help ease the tension in your muscles and relax you but that had only worked until he had stopped.

James had volunteered to do some quidditch practice together but that had only resulted in sore muscles in which Remus had to massage.

In conclusion, you were fucked.

Truly, you had tried everything, and you knew the only way to really go through this process was to wait it out.

Your boyfriends were less than willing to let you wait it out, they hated the idea of knowing you were struggling without being able to help.

You turn your gaze to the fire as you watch the flames crackle in the darkness of the semi-lit common room.

Time continues to pass and soon the sun is taking the place of the moon in the window behind you. As the sun rises, you shuffle carefully out from under James as you leave him with a pillow to cuddle.

You make your way to your dorm and a quick casting of tempus tells you that it’s 5 minutes past 6AM.

Early enough for none of your roommates to be awake but late enough for it to be acceptable for you to be getting ready.

You understand this is your reality, something you have to deal with. Some things come easier for you than it does for others and vice versa. It’s just unfortunate yours had to be a healthy sleep schedule.

As you go through your morning routine you cycle through explanations you can give to people about why you weren’t in bed and why you were up so early.

Fortunately, there was an astronomy assignment you could use as a scapegoat for your sleepless endeavours.

Less fortunately, the only people who wouldn’t believe your lies were the only people  you really wished would.

Remus, Sirius and James were all too aware of the fact that you struggled with sleeping, and you harboured some resentment towards yourself for stressing them out over such a trivial matter.

At least that was how you saw it.

By the time you had finished your morning routine, taken a shower and dressed into your uniform, it was 7AM. Breakfast would only start at half past, so you had time to wonder around the castle a bit and get some studying done.

Considering your lack of sleep, you were already quite ahead in assignments, nearly as ahead as Remus and Lily.

Those two really were the swots they swore they weren’t.

You make your way out of your dorm quietly as you grab your bag, as you pass through the common room you take a second to take in James’ sleeping form as you press a sweet kiss on his forehead.

He smiles in his sleep  which brings a soft one to your face as you walk out of the portrait hole.

The castle is lovely early in the morning, quiet and undisturbed by the bustling crowds of Hogwarts students that will soon plague the halls.

Now you can admire how the sun warms the walls of the outer barriers and how some of the portrait’s chatter to themselves in a quiet symphony.

The library is open, so you make your way there, slipping into a familiar alcove as you open the book you had been reading the night before.

The unfortunate side effects of reading whilst running on no sleep catches up to you as you feel your eyelids start to flutter.

You wish this would’ve happened last night, or really any of the other nights you had tried to get some rest.

Since  you can’t afford to miss your classes for the day, you shake yourself awake and make your way to breakfast as soon as possible.

As you reach the doors of the great hall, you’re met with the scrutinizing gazes of your boyfriends as they sleepily look over all the students who have also decided to have an early breakfast.

You’re shocked, truly.

It’s one thing for Remus to be out of bed and at breakfast early, he’s only grouchy until he has a cup of coffee, James basically lives for early mornings but what really takes the cake is whoever let Sirius get up before 8AM.

He looks like he’s taken a shower and done his usual morning routine,  but you can see him complaining as he stabs his eggs, his sleep really is important to him.

As you make your way to the Gryffindor table, you catch the sight of Regulus and Barty at the Slytherin table.

You know he also has trouble sleeping, many nights of meeting and bonding in the astronomy tower had told you that much. Before you two had gotten into relationships, those nights had been your crutch.

You both share a small smile before you pass them, James nudges Sirius harshly in the side at the sight of you,  which in turn causes a chain reaction of Sirius yelping and pushing Remus which causes him to spill his coffee and let out a string of curses.

The chaos stops when you reach the bench in front of them and take a seat, there’s only silence. Which surprises you, silence has never been synonymous with the marauders.

“You lot are awake early” you remark softly as you smile and take your seat. They  all exchange a glass before Remus clears his throat and looks at you.

“Where were you?” he asks, not confrontationally, just curious

Your shoulders migrate to your ears as you offer them all a soft shrug, “I was in my dorm, why?” you ask

You see Remus hesitate before James jumps in, “I woke up alone in the common room” he says sadly and you frown in sympathy.

“I’m sorry Jamie, I just couldn’t-” you start

“Sleep, we know” the three of them chorus together and your cheeks warm.

“Sorry” you mumble as you push your breakfast around on your plate.

“Nothing to be sorry for angel, we just wish you’d come to us” Sirius offers placatingly, and you nod numbly

“It’s just, hard y’know?” you say

“We know, but we want to take care of you” he replies, and you can only nod as you munch on your breakfast.

You can feel the tiredness catching up to you so instead of your usual glass of water or juice in the morning, you grab a cup of coffee to chug down before your first class.

The boys watch you with a nervous energy, three days of not sleeping is not good for anyone. You’re bound to crash out at some point.

You walk sluggishly alongside the boys to your DADA class and as you take a seat next to Remus, Sirius and James take their seats in front of the two of you.

You try and listen as the class continues, but the words start to blur as you glance at your textbook and black spots dart around your vision.

You allow yourself a few seconds to lay your head on the desk to rest, the soft scraping of Remus’ quill against the parchment and Sirius and James’ soft whispering lulls you to sleep.

Your breathing evens out as you fall asleep, cheek pressed against your textbook and hair framing your face.

Remus pauses in his note taking as he takes a quick glance to you. He huffs a small laugh as he catches your sleeping figure.

He turns backwards to catch the eyes of his boyfriends as he tilts his head to your sleeping form in amusement.

Although Sirius shares some of his amusement, James’ worry betrays itself in his eyes.

Sirius offers him a comforting smile before learning towards his boyfriend and whispering the word ‘cloak’ which has James’ smile shifting from worry to excitement.

Always one to skip class, James makes quick work of throwing the cloak over himself as Remus and Sirius try to act inconspicuous.

Remus shakes you awake softly as Sirius quickly levitates all of your belongings back into your bag which he slings over his shoulder.

You blink drowsily and look at Remus, who helps shift you towards James outstretched arms in the back corner on the class.

All you can do is sleepily walk into his arms as he wraps the cloak around the both of you as he carries you out of the class.

He waits outside to see Remus walk out the classroom confidently before a crash and a curse is heard before Sirius runs out of the class.

Remus looks at him with a baffled expression. “The fuck did you do?!” Remus asks incredulously.

Sirius gives him a glare, “hex Carrow, what’d you do?!”

“…Ask to go to the bathroom” Remus replies, and Sirius’ mouth drops open.

James huffs a laugh which has you jostling in his hold, he mutters a small apology as he adjusts you comfortably in his arms with your legs wrapped around his waist and his arms around his neck.

“Dorm?” Sirius offers with a fond look to your face peaking out and Remus nods as they make the walk back to the dorm.

[bunnys-kisses]

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ i'm runnin' on something - charles l. ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

your beloved charlie got dumped off at your front door at around three in the morning. you stood there half asleep at the front door, thankful that leo stayed in bed. your arms were crossed as you watched an apologetic carlos sainz bring charles leclerc up the stairs and into your apartment.

you felt hands on your hips and something solid against you. you leaned forward a little more from the weight against you. it was times like these you remembered how much of a sleeper build that charles had. his hands on your hips turned in those strong arms around you middle. you turned off the tap and put the glass to the side. you said his name once, then twice, then three times before his face was in the crook of your neck. he whined against you, his stance was weak and he was swaying a little. his hot voice in your ear. your boyfriend wanted you, he wanted you really badly. through hiccups he said to you, "girls kept talking to me and i kept laughing. they weren't pretty like you. they didn't get me hard like you." you pushed his face away and turned around in his arms. before you could respond he pressed his lips against you. his hands inched up under your shirt and he groaned against your lips. charles wanted you, it was a thrill in his chest as he managed to get the t-shirt off. he know logistically that he needed water, but right now he needed his head between your legs. he whined like a puppy when you tried to give him the glass of water, instead trying to go in for kisses. he rubbed up against you. you felt trapped between his solid frame and the kitchen counter.

you ended up on the couch with your sweatpants thrown to the corner of the living room and charles between your legs. with shaky, drunken hands he took your cotton panties off, almost yanking them too hard to rip them off of you. then he pressed those large hands into your soft thighs and dove in. he shifted your hips up a little so your legs were on his shoulders as devoured your sweet cunt. his licks were sloppy, he was making a total mess of him face. he didn't care if he had to shave all his facial hair off tomorrow because your wetness is just stuck so deeply on the hair. you knew that charles ate pussy well, he was more than happy to go down on a partner before he got his own sexual pleasure. he was so eager to lap at your cunt, his teeth grazing your clit with a drunken laziness and it made him groan. he gripped your thighs tighter, pressing them against his ears like earmuffs. he wanted to be suffocated by you. engulfed by you like a flame. his heart raced which only made the alcohol flood his brain more. which only made him more driven to tongue fuck you. he groaned into your pussy, his teeth against your clit once more which made you tense up. charles loved this, even with the alcohol making his brain short circuit. your pretty pussy in front of him had him panting, it was a siren's call. to pleasure you until you came. and he knew that you were on the knife's edge. he groaned against you, his nose right in there. he tasted you for everything you were worth. it was a throb in his chest and between his legs.

no amount of hard liquor could taste as good as your slick cunt.

you came on his tongue, your mind raced with thoughts of him. you squirmed and whimpered, but those strong hands kept you from going to too far. even that drunk, he had enough coordination to eat you out like the more decadent meal he could buy. you were breakfast, lunch and dinner put together, even with a bit of dessert. it sucked that he had whiskey dick at that moment as he pulled away and looked at you with flushed cheeks and a dazed look in his eyes. you chuckled slightly before you got up to get him that water. he was going to need it now. but you found yourself bent over the counter with the glass nearby and charles rutting into you. even if he couldn't get himself to finish, he was going to try his hardest to do so. as you cheek got familiar with the marble counter top, you reminded yourself to tell carlos to keep a closer eye on your sweet charles next time. <3

[antimonyandthyme]

body swap, for carcar or even landoscarcar?

He wakes up, disoriented. It’s not even light out yet, why the fuck is he awake? His throat’s a little sore, his hips are a little sore. Jeez. Didn’t even bother to put some pants on last night, and did he chafe his ass on like, the sheets or something? Wow. He’s sore all over. A settled, pleasant kind though, a muscle ache too deep for him to reach. Maybe he can skip the gym today, hop on a stream, relax. Grab Carlos for a round of golf before he leaves, if he’s not too busy mapping Monaco on his bike.

He turns to his left. Claps a hand over his mouth, shrieks into it.

Like, he’s groggy. He doesn’t have the remnants of a disaster headache, so he’s not hungover. But it’s early, and he never wakes up early. Must be why he’s hallucinating.

When he can bring himself to look again, Carlos is still there. Close enough that Lando can hear the air whistling softly through his teeth.

Lando shifts uselessly, stares. That’s Carlos, alright. He’s always been a loud sleeper. Back in their McLaren days, when they’d shared hotel rooms, Lando had taken voice recordings to prove to an adamant Carlos that he snored. The memory makes his lips twitch. It’s nice Carlos looks well-rested. Better than he has in awhile. A pretty trophy will do that for you. If he wants, Lando can choose to waste precious time counting Carlos’s lashes while he figures out what to do. He’ll lose count at probably a hundred.

That’s Carlos, alright.

What were they doing last night? Surely Lando would remember. The party was loud, raucous, the Prince of Monaco victorious here at last. All podium finishers present, fourth place included. Drinking, laughing, cozying up to one another. Carlos and Oscar smiling tentatively at each other after sharing just one couch, animosity seemingly forgotten. The prickly itch crawling under Lando’s skin, until Charles finally manages to bag him a set. The music, beats pounding a tattoo into his brain. He remembers all of that.

Surely he would remember taking Carlos’s clothes off. He’s wanted to for—

Lando slaps both hands onto his cheeks, hard enough to sting. He needs to take a leak.

He squeaks out of the bed, as quietly as he can. Trips over a pair of jeans that look vaguely familiar, rams his toe into the wheel of a suitcase that definitely wasn’t there last night. Finds the bathroom, closes the door with a silent snick.

Fumbles around like a dunce for the light switch, right there where all light switches usually are.

Flicks it on. Shrieks for real this time, without his hands to cover the noise.

It’s a good thing Carlos has always slept like the dead. To be absolutely fucking certain, Lando peeks his head out.

Yep, still asleep. That’s Carlos, alright.

Deep, deep breaths. As deep as he can go without passing out. He returns to the mirror. Feels for his face like it’s a foreign object.

Which it is. Because that’s Oscar Piastri, looking right back at him.

--

He means to start off with something useful. Something like, Hey, do you remember what drugs we were on last night? E? Salvia? Because mate, these are the strangest withdrawal symptoms I’ve ever experienced. Or even something funny, like Haha, now I know what you look like naked. The fans are going to have a field day.

Instead, what comes out of his mouth is, “Why are you sleeping with Carlos?”

“Good morning to you too,” Oscar says, after the longest pause on planet fucking earth.

He didn’t mean for that to sound as sulky as he did. But he’s sore all over, and his lips, which are not his, but Oscar’s, feel extremely kissed, and he definitely does not expect that to make something in his chest twist tighter than a coiled spring.

“Aren’t you going to answer?”

“What did we drink last night?” Oscar says, unsurprisingly choosing to be the level-headed one in this conversation.

“Something bright green, something ocean blue. Dunno. Lost track during the set.”

“Lando,” Oscar says patiently, in Lando’s voice. Which is just all kinds of weird. “Something green, something blue, doesn’t sound all that normal.”

“I knew that DJ couldn’t be trusted.”

The world-weary sigh Lando receives makes his skin prickle with heat. Things have been happening. The car’s gotten faster. From his grandmother to the mechanics, everyone’s been talking about a chance he could pull like magic out of thin air. It’s not his fault he wasn’t paying attention. At the club, or to every encounter Carlos and Oscar had prior to this that has led them here.

“Look, I’m gonna—where are you?”

“In Carlos’s room,” Lando says, rudely, unhelpfully.

“Right. I’ll. I’ll be there in. We’re staying just, two blocks away, right? I’ll be there in ten. Could you. Could you please, just—”

Lando expects him to say something totally condescending. Please just don’t freak out. Please just don’t do anything until I get there, because I’m being responsible and you’re being a baby.

“Just, go back?”

“What?”

“Be next to him, when he wakes up?”

Lando swallows. The acid from yesterday must be making his stomach churn. Oscar—in Lando’s fucking voice, sounds smaller and more hopeful than Lando ever wants to hear himself sound.

“I don’t want him to think.” Oscar stops. Lando can practically see him scrubbing at the back of his neck. “I don’t want him to think I left, or anything like that. Could you—”

Lando hangs up.

The earnestness. The, the audacity.

The phone rings again, and Lando hangs up again, out of pure spite. He paces wildly, in front of the mirror. Each time he turns on his heel he imagines his body morphing back into what’s right. Each turn smacks him with the image that Oscar’s pale, freckled skin turns splotchy red when he’s angry.

What. A useful thing. To know.

It’s been half an hour since he’s woken up. Which means, oh fuck. Fuck. Carlos’s body clock has always been impeccable. Eight, on the dot, he springs out of bed like it’s a wonderful thing being alive at that hour, and then goes and makes coffee without fail. Which means in three, two minutes, Carlos will open his eyes. And, and he’ll be alone in bed.

He’ll be alone. That’ll make Lando feel better, right? Carlos will be alone, and then Oscar will no longer be a problem, and then the itch under his skin will disappear, for good.

Carlos will be alone.

He flicks off the light, slips out of the bathroom. Bangs his toe again on that damned suitcase. Slides under the covers, adjusts himself into a position he hopes might be believable. Head on one hand, face tilted toward Carlos. Body leaning, reaching. Always reaching. Eyes half-closed.

But open enough so that he can see the exact moment Carlos wakes. See that small, relieved smile. See the way Carlos clicks his jaw askew, the way he always does before making a decision. Then feel Carlos run the backs of his knuckles against a face he wishes were familiar.

[katerinathesaint]

stanford!subby!art x f!reader blurb? (probably too long to be a blurb)

warnings: smut, comfort, aftercare!!, slight dumbification?, handjob😁, pet names (sweet boy, baby), slight au bc art and reader live a nice apartment together and it has a spare bedroom that patrick uses sometimes, sub and dom themes, art being sad (the usual), arts foot catching strays, bad writing.

synopsis: arts having a rough day and just wants to relax:((, which you gladly help him with.

a/n: guys this is so rushed i know it’s bad please don’t yell at me or ill cum and cry at the same time please spare me there’s a reason i don’t right long blurbs or fics😖😖😖

Art should’ve just stayed in bed that day. It started off blissfully; he woke up, his arms wrapped around your waist and his nose nuzzled into your neck whilst you slept peacefully. His favorite place to be.

From there, it just all went down hill. When he got out of bed to head to the large bathroom you shared, he stubbed his toe on the doorframe, immediately letting out a quiet grunt of pain and a nearly silent ‘fuck’ and ‘god dammit’.

A little later, after his morning shower and such, he tried making breakfast; tried. His hand reached for the pan he was going to use to cook some eggs for breakfast; some protein before a long day of practice sounded good.

Except, the handle slipped from his fingertips and the pan immediately fell onto his foot, then slammed onto the hardwood floor. He leaned against the kitchen counter for stability, as he cradled his now injured (a small bruise formed later) foot.

Art had prayed that the loud ‘BANG’ didn’t wake you. Sometimes, you were a deep sleeper, other times you weren’t. Luckily, it didn’t seem to have waken you; not enough for you to walk in, at least.

Arts day went on that way for the next 10 hours. Once he made it to the courts, after almost being hit twice while driving there, his coach immediately made him warm up.

The practice that day was grueling, Art wanting to do nothing except to pass out in your arms. It was obvious his coach had a stick up his ass and decided to run all the players of their energy, including Art. Not that he had much energy to begin with.

Finally, after a long ass day of shitty luck, Art made it back to your shared apartment. Patrick’s car wasn’t there, meaning he was probably at some girls place for the night; shocker. He prayed you were still awake. Considering the time, you should be, but every now and again he’d come home to you napping peacefully.

Art walked in, the bag on his shoulder immediately dropping to the ground by the door. He walked a little further, his spirits lifting when he sees you wide awake, watching some tv show.

You turn your head when you hear the shuffling, lighting up at the sight of your boyfriend, and your facing curling in worry after clocking the dejected look on his face.

Art plopped down on the couch, his body slotting in between your legs as he snakes his arms around your waist, letting out a sigh.

You knew Art needed you. You could just feel it. You carded your fingers through his curls softly; the tenseness leaving his body slowly.

“What’s the matter, sweet boy?”

Art lifted his head, locking his gaze onto yours. You could see the exhaustion in them. Poor baby.

“Jus’ need you,” He slurred.

Figures. Too dumb to do anything. He needs you to do it for him.

“Tell me what you need, baby. Use your words.” You encouraged.

Arts brows immediately scrunched together, as he slowly shook his head, “I don’t know, I jus’ need you s’bad.”

Usually, you would push for more, knowing he can use his words. But you couldn’t help but pity him.

“C’mon, up.” You sit up from your spot, Art reluctantly lifting up as well. You drag him by his hand to the bedroom, leaving him standing by the bed as you lay back against the pillows and headboard. Art awaited your instruction.

You speak a quiet ‘c’mere’, Art immediately understanding your minimal language. Art layed himself against you between your legs, your chest against his back. You helped Art tug his shirt off, your hands quickly finding themselves running up and down his toned chest, your lips leaving soft kisses and nips at his neck.

He tilted his neck to side to give you more, letting out soft whimpers at the feeling. He bucked his hips, the boner in his shorts now extremely obvious. You nipped at his ear, the bucking becoming more frequent as he tried to gain some type of friction. Your fingers met the waistband of his shorts, lifting it before letting it snap back against his skin.

“Take them off,” You purred into his ear, his hands quick to move his shorts and boxers off. You remove your shirt that you had been wearing, no bra underneath. Your perky nipples met his back when he leaned against you again, his throat bobbing as he let out a soft moan.

His pretty dick, hard and leaking, was in need of attention, that much was obvious. “What do you say, Artie?”

“Please, please,” The boy was nearly in tears, his body squirming under you as your hand got closer to his throbbing cock. “Please, i’ve been so good, i’ll be good, just- please.”

How could you ever deny him after that? Your cold hand grasped his cock at the base, slowly sliding it up until it reached the tip, where you squeezed a little, just for the already leaking tip to leak a little more. Art threw his head back against your shoulder, letting out a loud moan.

You spread the pre over his tip, his moans getting louder. The noises he let out were just so pretty, you could listen to them 24 hours straight if you wanted.

Your hand found a quick rhythm, languidly sliding up and down his pretty cock, as you whispered sweet praises into his ear and soft kisses to his neck.

“You’re doin’ so good f’me, baby.”

Art was getting closer to his release the harder and faster you stroked, his grunts and moans getting louder. You knew for fact your panties were soaked under your shorts.

You could feel Arts body tensing up, his cock throbbing in your hand, “It’s okay, baby. Let go f’me. Let go.”

That’s all he needed to hear from you before letting out a pornographic moan, his back arching as his cum shot out onto your hand and his stomach. It went on for a few more seconds; Art always had big loads.

As he came down from his high, you peppered sweet kisses along his neck and up his jaw, before moving his body to the side.

His hand snatched your wrist as you lifted yourself from the bed, “Please, don’t go. Please,” He begged.

“Just gonna clean you up, baby.” You pressed a soft kiss to his head before grabbing a clean washcloth and running it under warm water. You brought it back, cleaning up Art and your hand before throwing it in the hamper.

Art didn’t care to get dressed after any type of intimacy, as he claimed it would break said intimacy. You slipped your shorts off and changed into a clean pair of panties, as your other ones were soaked.

You climbed into bed, dragging Art under the covers with you.

“Feel any better?” You asked.

Art simply looked at you and smiled before pressing a long kiss to your lips.

“I feel perfect.”

Good. That was your goal. You and Art feel asleep peacefully, cuddled up into each other’s arms. Thank god you helped him relax.

[kisskuni]

sleeping with him

↳ how it would be to sleep with him. [all brothers x gn!reader]

tags: fluff, like one swear in beel’s

notes: anonymous requested sleeping with the brothers headcanons! i hope you enjoy :) i got carried away with lucifer’s i’m not sorry

lucifer ━━━

i feel like he’s the most normal sleeper of the brothers. doesn’t toss and turn or anything, but he does sleep on his back in mummy position………..

anyway, i also feel like he’s really warm to snuggle up to — in part he because only sleeps in sweats pants.

convincing him to let you sleep with him is probably the hardest part. not because he doesn’t want to, but because he doesn’t want himself to be that vulnerable in the presence of someone

therefore, he’ll likely only sleep in the same bed with you if you’re in an established relationship or something close to it.

the actually sleeping with him part is peaceful

his bed sheets are silky and undeniably comfortable. his favorite cuddle position is for you to fall asleep laying on his chest, he’ll ignore his arm falling asleep and deny it happens every single night.

additionally, he sleeps very little. you’d think the nights of going to bed so late and waking up so early would send him into sleep debt, but no he just doesn’t need as much sleep apparently.

so, be prepared for his alarm at 6 in the morning. he won’t wake you up past the alarm, but it will go off.

if you do wake up to it, he’ll feel bad and attempt to tuck you back to bed, sweet little forehead head kisses and all included.

(if you don’t wake up to it he gives you the forehead kiss anyway)

mammon ━━━

10/10 a cuddler. it does not matter the circumstances; it can be the middle of a hot summer day and he is still going to be cuddled up to you

ok well he’s gonna try to anyway. he falls asleep cuddled up to you but by morning he is somehow spread eagle and lost a sock?

he kicked you off the bed once

i feel like he also has a mini fridge by his bed LMAO he uses it to store water in bc he wakes up thirsty in the middle of the night all the time..

he wakes up late, always. if you have an alarm set you have to drag him out of bed, or else he WILL be sleeping in.

there’s also a 50/50 chance that he’ll not let you get out of bed in the morning anyway.

leviathan ━━━

you’d def have to tell him multiple times that you want to sleep in his bed, established relationship or not. he just won’t believe you the first few times.

after u convince him… sleeping is strange.

he sleeps in a bathtub and it’s not much comfier than it looks. it is for him because he’s used to it, but not really for you.

he tries his best though! he puts down cushions and covers the sides in blankets.

i think therefore cuddling is kind of a given though. the bathtub is bigger than a normal sized one but it’s not big enough for two people to sleep comfortably, especially not without touching each other.

that means cuddling mostly looks like one of you sleeping half on top of the other :)

he sleeps late usually, but he’s not as bad about waking up early as you might think.

although if you asked him to come to bed early he would jump at the idea, he’s wasting absolutely no time

satan ━━━

satan ends up passing out on the couch in his room most nights, but he does sleep in bed occasionally lol

but! whenever you mention wanting to stay the night and sleep in his bed, he’s suddenly sleeping in his own bed every night. he always has, what do you mean you remember him sleeping on the armchair before?

he sleeps on his stomach or his side mostly. he doesn’t cuddle all that much but he does like touching you in some way, be it his hands resting against you or your leg thrown across his

that said, he’s not against cuddling if you want to

he sleeps very little as well, sleeping late and rising early. he’s careful not wake you up when he rises, though there is a 50/50 chance that he just lays back down and sleeps some more if you aren’t awake when he is.

he doesn’t toss or turn in his sleep much, but he does whenever he’s stressed or you’ve had an argument

also a light sleeper. please don’t kick him in your sleep; he will wake up and never tell you you’re half the reason he can’t sleep

asmodeus ━━━

he’s so excited!! makes you do his nighttime routine with him and everything.

his taste in bed sheets is luxury, of course. the sheets and pillowcases are silky, his blankets light but incredibly fluffy.

he definitely sleeps nakey if he’s alone but for your sake he wears shorts to sleep (they’re silky and match his bedsheets?? somehow???)

he has a pretty normal sleep schedule, sleeping and waking up at pretty reasonable times

that said, he’s not immune to when you roll over all sleepy-eyed and ask for five more minutes. he will thoroughly enjoy an extra hour or two of sleep.

he wakes up pretty and it’s almost sickening at times. where is his bed head. where.

side sleeper but will sleep in whatever position you want him to if you want to cuddle with him, he just likes being close to and being able to touch you :)

beelzebub ━━━

he sleeps like a brick.

he also sleeps on his back and would absolutely love for you to sleep on his stomach

don’t hit him with the “im gonna crush you” bullshit either i’m fairly sure he could get hit by a small car and walk it off

anyway! he also has a fairly normal sleep schedule, but if he doesn’t have any where to be, there’s a good chance he’ll turn the alarm off and fall back asleep

he’s weirdly clingy in his sleep as well? he could be passed out and still wrap his arms around you when you try to get up

sleeps in pajama pants but usually no shirt. if you want him to, he’ll gladly put on a t-shirt or tank top though i want to eat his biceps

he’s good about not tossing and turning in his sleep but it’s not an impossibility. u have been crushed by him on multiple occasions i am so sorry.

belphegor ━━━

ok i know ur thinking “ok he’s the sleep demon of course he’s the best to sleep with-“

WRONG. ur wrong. he snores like a fright train and sleeps like a zombie

he talks in his sleep SO bad. you have had multiple conversations with him that he just fully does not remember in the morning

that said, he’s so comfy to sleep on and he’s super down to cuddle in whatever way that you prefer to

because he sleeps at odd times, his circadian rhythm is messed up. however, since you’ve asked to start sleeping with him, he’s made an attempt to fix it to some degree to make sure you’re sleeping at the same times.

he’ll ask you to stay with him when he naps as well but he doesn’t always expect you to sleep

he sleeps in pajamas but if he’s hot he’ll lose his shirt sometimes

he also has some sort of control over dreams. it’s not every night, but he does make an effort to visit your dreams and keep your nightmares at bay on a regular basis :)

[moonstruckme]

bonfire! spencer reid + only one bed trope pls 💕💕

Thanks for requesting!

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 535 words

You wouldn’t have pegged Spencer for a heavy sleeper. 

You suppose it makes sense. With a brain like his and a schedule like your team’s, good rest when he can get it is probably essential. You’d all worked late into the night tonight, so late that Hotch had decided you should just sleep here and get on the jet home in the morning. Rooms at the hotel had been purchased for your team for the last two nights, but none of you had used the first one, so when you and Spencer had gotten here a few hours ago it had come as a surprise that you’d been double-booked. Or single-booked, maybe. 

Two cards, one room. One singular bed, plus a pull-out couch that you’d both offered halfheartedly to take before collapsing into the plush mattress and 300 thread-count sheets. You’d both changed into your pajamas and fallen asleep almost instantly, at least two chaste feet of space between you on the bed. You’d woken hardly an hour later with an embarrassing pool of drool on your pillow and a long-fingered hand curled in the material of your shirt. 

You can’t decide whether to be grateful for the fact that Spencer doesn’t so much as stir when he hooks an ankle over yours, urging you closer to him almost entreatingly while your fatigued heart starts kicking in your chest. You stay facing away from him, looking into the pitch darkness. You can’t move any farther away without edging off the bed, but you try anyway, inching until one of your legs is dangling off the mattress, and when you slip the other from beneath Spencer’s ankle there’s a soft, plaintive sound from behind you. His fingers wind tighter into your shirt. 

You freeze. 

Spencer’s breaths are deep and even, and you marvel at it as he crosses his ankle over yours again, bare calf sliding against yours and interlocking your legs more securely. And frankly, you’re too tired to fight it. 

You scoot backwards on the bed. It’s twice as easy as it had been going the other direction, probably because of the way the mattress dips in the middle or Spencer’s slight tug or maybe even some sort of magnetic pull like in those books Penelope’s always reading. You suppose anything is possible. Whatever the case, it seems to be a relief for you both. Spencer’s other hand wraps around your middle as soon as you’re close enough, gentle and contented, and he’s warm enough to make the freezing air blasting through the A/C feel comfortable. 

His quiet sigh hits the back of your neck as you both settle, a few careful inches still between you. Even unconscious, you think politeness must be ingrained in Spencer, because his touch stays over the material of your shirt, courteous and unmoving. You let your fingers stroke over his once, and they twitch in his sleep. 

You don’t remember closing your eyes, but heavy as they are it can’t take long. When the blue light of early morning cuts through the drawn curtains and Spencer’s limbs stiffen where they’re twined around you, his breath catching in surprise and embarrassment, you’ll pretend you’re a heavy sleeper, too.

[thisismeracing]

Timeless | CL16

⸺ the one where you dream about a guy you’ve never met before as your fiancée. ✓ kind of soulmates!au; fem!reader (she/her). 0.7k words

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

Your bare feet clapped against the cold hardwood floor as you sleepily walked into the dark house. It was too foggy, you weren’t even sure you were looking for something –or rather someone until you saw his broad form lying on the couch. The TV was on lighting the living room space, and he was in an awkward position, one leg up on the back of the sofa, one arm hanging off to the ground where a small golden dog lay. You smiled.

He looked soft.

He looked comfortable, even though the position seemed nothing like it.

Your legs moved at his own pace to his side, bending just enough to pet the dachshund and sitting in the small space beside the man. He stirred. He was a light sleeper.

Your fingers found their way to his bare chest, dancing the path to his jaw and then his chocolate hair.

You kissed the rosy skin of his face just like the sun did a couple of days ago. He burned so easily, yet his skin always got a perfect amount of golden mixed with the few burn spots.

“Amour?” He whispered, eyes still closed.

“Oui,” you tried the words and loved how they tasted in your tongue. Just how he taught you during sleepless nights. “I missed you in bed,” was your confession.

“Leo was scratching the door for a snack break, I came down to feed him and ended up falling asleep while waiting for him to finish,” he explained, sitting up just enough to face the dog peacefully snoring on the ground. “Let's go to bed,” he called, kissing your exposed shoulder and getting up.

He laced your fingers together and you walked hand in hand to your bedroom. There was a candle lit near the bathroom door – he liked candles and you liked to have a bit of light when you needed to pee in the middle of the night. The sheets were messy but still warm. It smelled like the two of you.

He lay down, grabbing your sides and propping slightly on top of him. His warm lips found your temple, and your mouth searched for his like a prayer begging to be said. His fingers dug into your soft flesh, and you sighed before pecking his jawline and closing your eyes so that sleep could find you again.

Your alarm blarred in your room making you jump from the covers. It took you a second to realize you were alone. And not alone in the sense that someone once was there, but alone in the sense that the spot beside you in bed was never previously occupied in the first place. You had no dog. No warm lover. It was all just a dream.

Something weird ached in your chest, but you tried brushing it off and going on with your morning. Mornings turned into days, days into weeks, and still something felt off. You kept feeling the warmth you felt in that dream. Kept imagining the same guy whose face was now starting to blur. Did he have green or blueish eyes? Was his hair brown or black? Did he had dimples? Did he speak French all the time or just small bits?

He plagued your mind.

You tried your best to forget - even if by doing so part of you felt guilty, for what you were not sure. Yet, you kept going, kept reading new books, watching new shows, and going to your spot in the park to watch the leaves and ducks.

It was a Tuesday when it happened. You were lying on a picnic blanket with a book. The weather was slightly cold, but not enough to bother you. There weren't many people around, and that is why you frowned when you felt something sniff your hair, right after someone called out “Leo!!! Viens ici!” 

*come here!

The French accent lit your body giving you warmth even with the cold wind. There it was the small dog, the golden dog, the one he left bed to feed. And there he was, greenish eyes, chocolate hair, dimples when he smiled, and the most beautiful accent you’ve ever heard.

“I’m so sorry for him,” he apologized once you were face to face, but you dismissed it with a headshake still too stunned to speak. “I’m Charles, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, Charles. I’m Yn.”

He smiled when his palm found yours, and just like in the vision, everything felt warm and cozy.

He was real. And something told you that part of your dream was too.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, besties! A couple nights ago I had a weird dream just like in this small blurb, I tried but I still can't put into words how it felt - besides magic. I dreamed of a guy whose features I started to forget since I woke up, he was warm and soft, I don't remember his voice but I was pretty sure he loved me, maybe he never said it to me like in this blurb, but I felt it. Anyways, not gonna overshare, but yet I needed to get a bit of it out of my chest cuz I dunno how to feel. Hope you guys like this very self-indulgent piece. *mwah* if you do, make sure to reblog and send it to a friend.

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘

▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

[leighsartworks216]

Nyctophobia

Sylus x gn!Reader

I still have to sleep with some sort of light on at night and I was like well what would Sylus think about this. And now here we are

Warnings: hurt/comfort, crying, kissing, nyctophobia (fear of the dark), embarrassment, fear, pet names, swearing, implied sexual content, established relationship

Word Count: 2,153

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You feel so fucking stupid. Not because you did something wrong or made a fool of yourself (yet), but because this dumb problem you had was so childish. Even a 10-year-old is braver than you, a literal fucking Hunter!

You pout at the nightlight on your laptop. Sylus’s black card sat on your coffee table, just waiting to be used. And yet, the thought of using a card with access to millions of dollars (perhaps billions), just to buy a nightlight, halted you in your tracks, He hadn’t even said much about anything else you’ve bought before, and what he did say usually encouraged you to buy more expensive, lavish things. Surely, he wouldn’t flinch at this at all.

But that stupid, unrelenting voice in your head made buying the light impossible.

Which sucked.

It really, really sucked.

‘Cuz every time you stay in the N109 Zone in Sylus’s manor-slash-base, your room is so dark. Being in the lawless area doesn’t help, either. All the violence and danger you’d seen walking in the streets at night painted visions of stalkers in the corner, murderers with knives under your bed, and worse, just waiting for you to close your eyes and sleep.

But you don’t want to impose on the nice atmosphere Sylus has cultivated in his home. So you sleep with the light off, clinging to your blankets and telling yourself over and over again that nobody else is in the room.

Your phone buzzing interrupts your pity party. You shut your laptop and place it on the table next to the card. It buzzes again as you pick it up.

What’s wrong, sweetie?

I’ve only seen you make that face when a plushie falls out of the claw

You look up at your window. Sure enough, Mephisto’s red eyes greet you.

Stop spying on me >:(

Fine

The mechanical crow disappears from sight. You can just barely hear his caws as he flies off back to the N109 Zone.

But my question still stands

It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it

Sweetie, if someone says not to worry about something, people are going to worry about it

Damn him for giving you a chance to tell the truth. And damn your brain for reminding you that if you tell him the truth, he’d probably laugh at you. What does he have to worry about when he sleeps anyway? He’s already a light sleeper, but he also sleeps during the day, when creeps skitter from shadow to shadow. He wouldn’t understand.

Like I said, it’s nothing

Nothing happens for a few moments. The little dots to signify he’s typing don’t even show up. You can’t help wondering what he’s doing. What he’s thinking.

Maybe he’s getting ready to start the night, getting into his car so Luke and Kieran can drive him around to his many business dealings. Or maybe he’s picking out a vinyl from his shelf, taking it from the paper casing with a delicacy only shared with you, and setting it up on his phonograph. Or maybe he’s mimicking you: sitting on the couch, staring at the phone, wondering what to say next.

The dots appear, finally.

Come to the N109 Zone, kitten

Let me cheer you up

If Mephisto was still lurking around, he’d have seen just how fast you packed your things and hopped onto your bike.

Yes, the N109 Zone is dark and scary and extremely dangerous at the best of times. Yes, you’d be forced to sleep in the dark once again. Yes, your mind would play tricks on you and you’d probably stay up all night anyway.

But Sylus is there. And you haven’t seen him for almost a week. Who could blame you for jumping at the opportunity to spend time with him now?

-

Sylus greets you at the door with an amused smirk. “You got here fast.”

You playfully glare at him, smacking his chest as you pass by. “There wasn’t any traffic,” you tease.

The manor is as dark as usual. If it’s not black, it’s dark red. If it’s not dark red, it’s the occasional white furniture or golden accent.

Sylus trails behind you as you beeline it straight to your room to drop off your stuff. He leans in the doorway as you toss your bag onto the plush bed. “You seem to be in a better mood now,” he hums.

“I always feel better when I get to see you.” You smile up at him. It’s a soft remark. Genuine. Not the usual joking, back-and-forth banter you’re usually all too happy to supply during your visits.

His expression melts into something just as tender. Just as honest. He casually pushes himself off the doorframe and crosses the few steps it takes to get to you. His hands cradle you like one of his precious antiques, tilting your face up while he cranes his neck until the world has shrunk to just this moment.

He grins. His eyes keep glancing down at your mouth. You grab onto his waist. Your fingers curl into his soft red sweater, desperate to keep him this close. His lips brush against yours, stealing the air from your lungs.

“Then let me make it worth your while.”

-

It’s still dark when you wake up. The navy blue behind the curtain carries no hint of light, reassuring your sleep-addled brain that there is still plenty of time before day.

You roll over, silk sheets caressing your bare form, fully intending to go right back to sleep. Cold air slips underneath the blanket. You shiver and pull it tighter around you. Without thinking, you reach out toward the other side of the bed. It’s too large for just one person. The bed is cold beneath your fingers, even as you reach out farther.

You blink open your eyes, blearily staring into the darkness, searching for some answer you can quite grasp yet.

What are you reaching for…?

You turn your face into your pillow, determined to ignore that strange feeling in your gut and enjoy the last hours of the night. The rich scent of bourbon and vanilla catch on the edge of your senses. It smells just like Sylus…

You open your eyes again. Where’s Sylus?

Your fingertips brush the edge of the bed as you reach out. A discordant chord of terror strikes in your heart as you quickly pull your hand back. Thoughts of something reaching out to grab you flood your mind. Your heart races, chasing off the last ounces of sleepiness from your body.

You pull the blanket even tighter around you, curling it under your feet and tucking it into your sides until you’re in a cocoon of safety. No matter how hard you strain your eyes, you can’t see anything. But in your mind, everything can see you.

You curl up into a pitiful ball.

You could get up, but you can’t. What if something grabs your ankles?

You could grab your phone, but you can’t. What if something is waiting in ambush and your phone is the bait?

You could do a thousand things to get out of this darkness. But you can’t, for a million reasons.

The door knob slowly turns. The only indication the door has opened at all is the sound of the lower edge brushing against the carpeted floor. No light comes in from the hall. It’s all pitch black. The door clicks shut.

You hold your breath.

Footsteps. Large, heavy footsteps. They don’t stomp. You’re not sure if it would be better if they did. They creep around the side of the bed.

You don’t move.

Weight shifts the mattress. Slowly. Deliberately.

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears. You strain to hear anything else.

Something slides over your blankets.

You squeeze your eyes shut so tight you see spots. You bite your lip to avoid making sound.

The something - a hand, you think - wraps around your waist.

You flinch.

Oh god, oh god, oh god. They’re gonna know you’re awake. They’re gonna cover your mouth or stab you or put a pillow over your face or-

“Kitten?”

Your body shudders as you finally let yourself breathe. You grab your pillow as you quickly sit up and swing it at the face of your lover.

“I thought you were gonna fucking kill me?!”

Sylus laughs, chucking the pillow back onto your side of the bed. You can’t see him in the dark, but your body can’t stop taking in every ounce of him that it can. His smell - the bourbon and vanilla tinged with a natural musk. His voice - that rich, lively sound of his laugh and the breaths he takes. His touch - his hand, trailing patterns over the blanket at your hip.

You crawl toward him, clinging to his chest like a koala. He’s still shirtless from your escapades. His hand slides to your back, pulling you in tighter to him. You can feel the rumble of his voice in his chest. You press your ear against him to hear more.

“Why would you think that?” he asks once he’s gathered himself.

You don’t answer. You squeeze him tighter.

“Sweetie?” The amusement is replaced with concern. His other arm wraps around you. The muscles tense with the slightest effort. He says your name.

Relief settles heavy in your bones. Tears prick at your eyes, while you remain utterly powerless to stop them. “It’s too dark,” you whimper. It’s all you can think to say.

His arms tighten around you as he rolls onto his back, pulling you on top of him like you weigh nothing. He begins playing with your hair. “Does it scare you?” he asks softly.

You nod. You pull one of your hands out from around him to wipe the tears off your face and his chest.

God, you feel so fucking pathetic.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You don’t answer. His chest rises and falls with you on it, moving with his sigh. He pulls your hand away from your face and replaces it around him. You want to fight it. Complain about how gross it is to get all your tears on him. But he shushes you gently and you can’t find the strength to try.

“Do you want to go downstairs?”

You nod again.

The world shifts as he sits up with you. He pries you off of him so he can stand up, but he doesn’t go far. He grabs his sweater off the ground and helps you put it on. Then he goes through your dresser for some clean underwear. He helps you stand and slides them on. You don’t open your eyes. You don’t want to see the darkness. So you hold onto his shoulders. You put all your trust into him, and he refuses to betray it.

He lifts you into his arms like you’re a damn princess. Usually, he’d throw you over his shoulder, but not this time. This time he’s careful, treating you with the utmost care as he carries you down the stairs and to the living room. With a wave of his fingers, the lights turn on, black and red left in its wake.

“It’s not dark anymore,” he promises as he sits down. You keep your face safely tucked into his neck. He rests his cheek on your head. His fingers go back to your hair. His other hand rubs patterns against your bare thigh.

After a while, your terror finally dissipates completely. You can see the light shining through your closed eyelids. Feel its subtle warmth against your skin. When you find the strength to open your eyes, the warm, comfortable ambiance of Sylus’s home greets you once more.

You use the sleeve of his sweater to wipe at your face. “I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks. You cringe with embarrassment. “It’s stupid, I know.”

He hums noncommittally. “Is this what you were telling me not to worry about?” he asks instead.

You nod. “I was looking at… at nightlights,” you admit in a murmur.

“What kind?”

“Hm?” You pull back to look up at him. He lets you, meeting your gaze with a soft seriousness. “What d’you mean?”

He smirks slightly, eyebrow quirking upward. “I mean, what kind of nightlight would you like, sweetie? Fairy lights, a wall light, one of those animal-shaped ones that glows…”

You frown and look away. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

“I’m asking,” he cups your cheek and guides your face to look at him, “so I can buy you one. Now, will you tell me, or do I have to buy every single nightlight on the market?”

You laugh despite yourself. “I have it pulled up on my laptop…”

He grins. “Good.” He pulls you into a chaste kiss. “Don’t hesitate to buy it next time. Or to tell me what’s wrong. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a sad kitten.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44

[ssahotchnerr]

Hiya Katie! How about domestic Aaron pampering her when he find out she's pregnant and jack makes her a get well soon card because he thinks she's sick but she tells him he's going to be a big brother and jacks ecstatic and Aaron is just like all smiley and happy about being a father again and maybe hoping for a girl because hotch is such a girl dad like 🤭🤭 also I love your work so much! It makes my day! Your an amazing writer ❤

newest addition

thank you so much & ughh that's the sweetest <3333 cw; fem!reader, jack calls reader mom, pregnancy, reference to vomiting wc; 1.1k

"buddy, what are you doing?"

you've been awake for awhile now, unwilling to part from the comfort of bed. your eyes are still closed, and in curiosity, you keep them that way.

"i made mom a get-well card." jack's voice is closer than aaron's, and you can hear him shuffling at your bedside. you hear a soft crinkle of a paper, a quick stagger of your water glass, as he sets the paper against it. "i heard her throwing up this morning, so i wanted to make her feel better."

morning sickness has been your worst enemy so far during your pregnancy. it was what made you question if you were pregnant at the very start, and has been frequently reoccurring throughout your first trimester. it feels like the majority of your time these days is either spent in the bathroom, or in bed absolutely overwhelmed with nausea.

if permitting - when you're leant over the toilet, aaron is always seated on the bathroom floor beside you; rubbing your back in soothing circles, holding back your hair when necessary, whispering an apology or words of encouragement. you insist he doesn't need to be present, the sounds and visual of you retching surely disgusting nonetheless. but he insists he remain put, joking it's rather romantic actually, there's no place he'd rather be.

but in all seriousness, he claims it's the least he could do, and wants to support you in all and any way he can.

even this morning at promptly five am, you had made a mad dash to the bathroom. aaron, never the light sleeper, accompanied you in the bathroom just as quickly as you had entered it.

his tenderness doesn't stop there; he'll grab your ginger ale, crackers, pretzels, anything to relieve your queasiness and keep it at bay. he even joked (but did consider) with the idea of buying you a mini fridge to keep in your bedroom - for even easier access. or if he's not home, you don't have to search far.

the two of you have known about your new littlest addition for a few weeks, and couldn't be more ecstatic. jack - not just yet. but you figure that's a case that will soon be remedied.

you can hear a soft chuckle escape from aaron, and you can easily picture the smile you know is on his face. "that's real nice of you bud, i know she'll love it. but in the meantime, c'mon, let's let her sleep, yeah?"

you hear jack's sock-covered feet pad away on the carpet, the sound of the door softly shutting following soon after.

you fall back asleep without meaning to, exhaustion reigning over your body. but an hour later, and after tearfully looking at jack's card, his scribbly print wishing you well and a doodle of yourself and him, you find the two of them in the living room; jack's on the carpet, busied by legos, while aaron's on the couch, watching some show on the television.

aaron notices you before jack does, raising an eyebrow slightly in question - silently seeking confirmation on how you are feeling now.

you give him a nod, and he seems to relax more against the back of the couch. as you join him, jack's eyes lift.

"c'mere," you pat the empty spot between you and aaron, and soon enough, jack's sandwiched between the two of you, curled more so into your side. aaron grabs the remote, clicking off the tv.

"thank you so much for the card." you place a kiss on the top of his head, your arm going around his shoulders and giving him a squeeze. "you're the sweetest, have i ever told you that?"

"all the time." jack says, his emphasis making you laugh gently. but concern quickly fills his face, his eyes a bit troubled. "are you sick?"

you shake your head, brushing some hair away from his forehead. "nope."

the concern is now replaced by confusion. his eyebrows furrow, making him look extremely like this father. "why'd you throwed up?"

"well..." you exchange a look with aaron, glancing at him overtop jack's head. there's a smile tugging at his lips, a small sparkle in his eyes. "sometimes... it happens. when you're going to have a baby."

it takes jack a few seconds to internalize what you've just told him. but his head whips up to look at you, and then aaron, and then back to you. his eyes are wide. "a baby?"

"a baby." aaron confirms, arching an eyebrow in question. "any objections to being a big brother?"

"no!" jack vigorously shakes his head, his face lighting up even more, grinning from ear to ear. "really?!"

you grin right back. "really."

jack nearly jumps right onto you in excitement, aaron's hands flying out to catch him so the fall isn't as forceful. his gentle warning of careful, is barely audible over jack's next inquiry.

"is it a girl?!"

"we don't know yet," aaron answers, his voice catching slightly which prompts your gaze to switch to him. there's tears threatening his eyes, pooling at his waterline. you swear, you've never seen him so happy.

you help him, adding on, "we'll find out in a few more weeks."

jack nods at this information, still buzzing. "i really really want a sister. but a brother would be super cool too."

aaron nudges jack with his elbow, lips quirking into a smile. "i really, really do too. but more than anything, a healthy baby is what we want."

"a healthy baby." jack agrees, with a small nod of his head. his arms wrap around yourself, burying his face slightly into your abdomen. "that's so cool! i can't wait."

now it's your turn to look at aaron, tearful.

somehow, now that jack is aware, your family feels more complete. you and aaron have talked about growing your family, have discussed it with jack, for as long as you can remember - what it'll be like, having another little hotchner running around and causing havoc, potential names have been tossed around, jack wants to teach his expertises, legos and soccer. you’re eager to see a newborn in aaron’s arms, the new-dad-to-another glow present in him. at the time, it was distant; all memories to hopefully be made someday.

that time, that someday, has finally arrived. and if jack's reaction is anything to go by, you just know, the two of them will the absolute best of friends.

you can’t wait, either.

[konigsblog]

how does konig cuddle? like i actually had a dream about this but it's like fuzzy and i can't remember, is he little spoon or big spoon? lmk what you think if you get the chance! ❤️❤️

könig sleeping hcs 💤💤

he's mainly a larger spoon, just because his body is hotter and he's keeps you secured, from thrashing about and kicking him in your sleep. he doesn't mind being a little spoon though, because he also has the tendency to roll about, and he's worried about suffocating you in his sleep with his fast, swift movements.

könig snores, not loudly, but if you're close enough it might bother you. it's mainly his breathing that's heavy, his mouth open and jaw slack, arms behind his head and his legs sprawled out.

doesn't enjoy sleeping with blankets on the bed, due to being too hot. he needs it to be freezing - windows open, fan blowing cold air, ect - for him to sleep. just don't crawl onto him with a huge throw, he'll wake up sweating, bedsheets sticking to his legs...

is surprisingly a great sleeper. he doesn't have insomnia or anything that'll keep him awake, in fact, as soon as his head hits the pillow, he's out! but, he wakes up early (4-5a.m) because he likes to go on morning runs. you'll find him on the couch, reading glasses on, newspaper or a book in one hand, and a cup of coffee on his thigh.

[hencheri]

hihihiii !! could u please make somnophilia hyuck or nana ?? I love your fics sm ‼️🙏

18+ mdni.

pairing: best friend!jaemin x fem!reader

warnings: somnophilia, noncon.

.

jaemin has kindly offered you to stay at his place as you didn't feel safe enough to go back home this late at night while being a bit tipsy. you were hesitant at first, not wanting the situation to be awkward considering jaemin and you had sort of had a fall out, having not seen each other once these past few months.

tonight, your group of friends was going out to the bar, and jaemin wasn't really down for it at first until he got the information that you were going to be there. tonight's become an excuse to see you and to have you alone for himself as well.

he knows his intentions aren't the purest, but he also knows that he's the best option you could've ended up with tonight. jaemin wants nothing but to make you feel good.

he was lucky you even agreed to sleep in the same bed, feeling guilty to let your friend spend the night on the couch, now both draped under jaemin's sheets.

he stares at the way the bedsheet slowly slips down your shoulder as your breath deepens. you're not the heaviest sleeper, but he runs the tips of his fingers across your leg under the covers without waking you up, liking the softness of your skin, falling in love with it.

he can only imagine how it's going to feel with his whole palm on your stomach, reaching into the small shorts you're wearing, and he does. his breath is caught in his throat for a short moment as he glances at your face, but he's rapidly reassured when your eyes remain closed.

he's so pleased to finally touch your bare pussy, even though he would've liked to see it, too, but he's satisfied like this. he puts his crotch right against your butt, grinding his hips while feeling your pussy, circling your clit with the lightest touch.

he's not surprised to hear you moan, slowly waking up from your slumber. he thought it would've happened sooner, but he's fine with it being a little bit later. he can speak to you, telling you everything he's ever wanted to do to you. all in details.

[dilfomaniac]

❝𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙢 𝙈𝙞𝙡𝙠❝

leon kennedy x fem!reader ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

ft. Death Island Leon S. Kennedy

wc: 3.409

cw: ddlg, age gap, innocence kink, p in v, riding, creampie, praise kink, rough sex

note: This was supposed to be a drabble but ended up being a rushed fic ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა writer’s block has me in a chokehold lately, ignore parts that don’t make sense !! i’ll fix those tmrw cuz 3 in the mornin… ͟mdni 18+

The silence in the room is steep, the lack of light even more than so. Wind knocks itself against the window, every tremor making you feel like its aim is to break in. Your heart is racing, your eyes wide and on the lookout for the source of your alarm. Of course, there’s none, but you haven’t really grown out of childish habits. You’ve heard stories after stories about houses being haunted, ghosts residing in each and every corner waiting to pounce on defenseless girls like you, and it’s been stuck to you ever since. Stored inside your head as a core reminder that something’s creeping in the dark.

You’re the ripe age of nineteen, there’s no particular reason for you to believe this still. Fear of the dark should’ve been abandoned when you were twelve - when the failing of classes and smothering glare of teachers vanquished the rest of the worries. At this point, it’s just laughable. Even your stuffed animals are starting to look awfully odd. You look past one shoulder, past the other, detect no strange entities and wash down the dryness in your throat. You’re curled up in a ball, snug like a puppy, hoping to fall asleep like one when something welts your window. Your head snaps towards the sound and you see something flit behind the windowpane, flashing its ominous identity to you. The child inside you screams - you’re quick to comply with it, tossing the blanket off yourself and scampering out of your bedroom like an overgrown puppy.

-

You scurry your way downstairs, hand on the railing gathering dust on your fingertips. There’s better lighting here, because Daddy’s fallen asleep with the TV on, snoring to the mumbles of another sitcom you told him about, as if he genuinely watches those. You lower the volume until it’s mute, not daring to turn the TV off because it’s the only source that illuminates the room enough - save for the crescent moon which didn’t do you much help back in your bedroom. Making your way towards the sofa you observe Leon who's sleeping like a top - head over the back of the couch, mouth tipping agape. You fail to stifle a giggle, but this is no laughing matter, mind you. He promised you, oh, he promised you so many times he’d come and join you in the bed eventually, but he didn’t. “Okay, sweetheart. You go, and I’ll be there soon, yeah? Daddy has some things to finish,” No, Daddy just wants to make an empty promise and fall asleep on the couch. He always does, likes the feel of giving you a heavy heart. Your brows crinkle with lack of guilt when you go to nudge his shoulder. Leon’s a light sleeper, so his eyes burst open like a puppet, old geezer snoring cut short.

“Baby—” His chest rises in a beat, hand clutching your wrist reflexively. He takes a moment to shake the remaining sleep off, tossing his head back and clearing his throat to waken. “You were supposed to be asleep.”

The audacity he has to say those words, when you were supposed to be asleep with him, not without him. Ghosts don’t come up to scratch when Daddy’s with you, because you know he’s stronger and that they’ll be put off by his mere presence. “You didn’t go to bed. You lied to me,” the accusation comes down as you sink your nails into his forearm, small flecks of red imprinting onto his skin. “You promised me.”

“Yeah. Yeah— Daddy knows,” His brows furrow. Your antics extort a rumbly groan from his throat, but it isn’t until he glares at you that you let go of him sheepishly. It’s just that you can’t help it while you’re like this. Leon is your only safe zone, but he’s so old he can’t even control when he sleeps. “Well, I thought you’d be a big girl and be asleep by the time I’m back. Guess not, huh?” He chuckles silvery and before you see it he’s propping you over his leg, letting you sit pliantly like a puppet with your knees dipping in the gaps, entwining in his legs. You’re not easy to play like one, though - you opt to stay your ground by smacking him on the cheek to which he balefully clutches your wrist. “Don’t go throwin’ hands now.”

“You’re an A-hole.” You say bluntly. He blinks at you as if trying to say how insufferable you are in morse code. “Something— something was behind the window. I think it wanted to break in, and you weren’t here.” You say more like a protest than a distressed denunciation. Leon’s hands come to cradle you, from your back all the way to your scalp, holding you to himself like a baby who can’t support its head yet. He shakes his head, tongue in cheek, so sick of being woken up in the middle of the night because of things so mediocre, but all the more understanding of you. Because you’re his baby. His ray of sunshine. A pretty little thing who makes his day-to-day routines somewhat more endurable. “What, you scared of ghosts now?”

“I’m not!” You say crossly, God forbid your fragile little ego is hurt. “I’m not scared of ‘em, okay? I’m just saying, if someone were to break in, and you weren’t there, it’d be your fault.” It’d also be his fault if you had a nightmare and had no one to lull you back to sleep. Things like this aren’t easily forgivable, you want to tell him, but he already knows.

Leon takes in the scent of your hair balm, fingers threading aimlessly through your hair. You can tell he’s not as worried as you are, but maybe that’s because he knows better and you’ll never know as much even if you conjoined the three remaining brain cells in your head. “Well, I promise you sweetheart, no scary monster s’gonna take you while I’m here,” then he bounces you on his knee and you feel your senses liquify. “You know you’re safe with me, yeah? You aren’t a dumb girl, are you?”

You shake your head, peeking at him between your lashes. You are a dumb girl but don’t entirely want to be one. It’s funny to see how all your worries dissipate once the honeyed lilt sinks in, putting you into an entirely different mental state. “I was scared,” you murmur. Leon only hushes you, bobbing his knee like consoling a toddler.

“I know, baby. I don’t blame you for it.” His stubble scrapes your cheek and then you’re dipping your face lower, nose brushing over a bared clavicle. Leon smells so good, so falsely evocative and citrusy and paternal. Like a daddy you’ve never had but always wanted, and it has you addicted. “Guess I have to make it up to you then, huh?” He stops to look you in the eye, his glare piercing and yet soothing all at once. It’s like he’s trying to read you by your expression alone, find out what goes on in that little head of yours that can’t fit more than maybe a few social interactions per day.

You clutch the hem of his shirt and give him all the puppy eyes you’ve got, tilt your head and play dumb like he equally appreciates. “Uhm, yeah?” He cups your cheeks instantaneously, plants a slew of sloppy kisses across your forehead because cute aggression is real, and he’s more than likely to eat you up if your cheeks don’t deflate. “You owe me big time, idiot,” you pout, “ ‘Cause you never listen to me.”

You’re met with an eye roll and then Leon’s flipping you over so your positions are swapped, you now spread over the couch and him hovering above you. He holds both your hands in one hefty palm and pins them over your sternum, pushes down like he’s trying to submerge you into the cushions. You peep and fend off, even in your sleepy state because you know what comes after he’s fully overpowered you. You’ll scream bloody murder if he starts tickling you. However, to your surprise, he doesn’t. Instead, he shores you up on the couch and slumps beside you with a soft grunt. “Think we can reserve playtime for tomorrow?” He says. After getting you riled up? No, but, matter-of-factly, it’s way past your bedtime. You bat your lashes solemnly, cast your gaze elsewhere. When you think about it, there will be no playtime, really. Because Leon’s always off on business trips - always on the go to fill his devoir while you’re at home rotting away in pink comforters and stroking yourself to sleep. It’s unfair - so, so unfair, how he makes you wait like a puppy, because you’re so entirely co-dependent on him. You fold your arms and clamber to the opposite side of the couch, avert your face to hide the crimson scattering your cheeks. Leon knows this change of air by rote, knows that his pretty princess is upset, and he knows by heart what your doleful puppy eyes look like, even if you try to hide them from him.

“I’m just kiddin’. I had something else in mind, actually,” he coos at you, one hand planting itself on your thigh and parting it from the other. “Daddy would never lie to you, yeah baby?” The wetness across your neck takes you by surprise when Leon seals the gap between you, making you want to shrug off.

“Tickles,” you mew, raising your hand to his face which he swiftly takes hold of and sets down. You don’t object, ‘cause while you may be bratty, Daddy’s wants will never go over your head. Heat uncoils inside your lower stomach and you start rubbing your thighs with need, stealing glances from Leon who’s nipping you with such fervor, you start doubting whether this takes less energy than your regular playtime.

“Thought you’d get away so easily, huh? Not a chance, baby. You know me.” The metal clink of the belt has you transfixed when you’ve just started squirming, as you sit stockstill beside Leon. He looks at you with a grin - you sit there with panties soaked from one-sided kissing alone. There’s that tent on his lap, like he gets in the mornings. You try to wet your lips but clamp your tongue when he sucks a hickey onto a velvety patch of skin, tugging his briefs down until the forbidden part springs up and whacks him on the gut. Seeing it makes you shudder, snap your head away so fast as if a bare look will contaminate your innocence.

“Yeah, bunny? That so? Don’t like Mr. Horsey?” He exhales with a sneer - you try not to hyperventilate because of the amount of blood that gushes to your face then. You steal one small peek and turn away again, closing your eyes as if the thing will disappear on its own, making Leon chuckle heartily. “Well, I think Mr. Horsey likes you.”

You’re sure neither you nor Leon imagined your lives would ever lead to this moment. Leon for an entirely different reason, but you due the fact that you’ve been turned down by every partner who failed to break down the nature of this play. You never realized how much it meant to you, though, to be purely virgin. “Um,” you teeter more to the edge, eyes darting to all corners of the room, “I like him too— I don’t know.”

He takes it for granted, moving closer until you feel his breath waver. The glow of the TV strains your eyes, casting a fluorescent light that disguises your blush. Leon sets your hand on his crotch, hums contentedly when your palm lays smoothly on his shaft and your fingers grip. “Yeah,” he says. “He likes it when you play with him, baby.” His hand comes to rest on his side and he lets you take the lead, leaning back and exhaling in a way that screams he’s pent, and you better get stroking.

You palm him to the best effort, watching closely to see if what you’re doing with your hand is good enough. All the jerking off you’d done before was winged, and you never really put your mind to it. Leon gave you a chance to learn to actually please a man, and you can never wait to suck up all the praise you can. “Like this?” Your voice squeaks - you suck the inside of your cheek meekly. Leon nods and lets his eyes fall shut when your hand delivers the wet squelches, pre slicking up the entirety of your palm and leaking through your nimble fingers. There’s the faintest bucking of hips and you see him tense before coming to a halt, restraining himself. You’re so wet it hurts. You need him bucking into you instead, and not holding back.

Leon’s cock oozes generously upon your ministrations, and before you know it you’re moving on top to straddle him. Real cowgirl in the making - so excited to have her first ride. He croaks dizziedly, hands hooking behind your knees and helping you up on his lap. You think back to how the Redfields see you two, what they don’t know about you. Maybe the fact that Leon has a college kid for a lapdog isn’t the worst thing that's been happening around here. Maybe that he breeds it on a daily without a pinch of guilt is a fair enough transgression. The waistband of your mini is yanked down when Leon hikes you up on his knee, forcing you to shimmy out of it. He feels up the plush of your pussy, prods through your dampened panties like that doesn’t make you all the more desperate. You’re drooling, practically. If Leon didn’t know any better, he’d stick his fingers down your greedy cunt, but you’ve got to work for it first.

“Come on, baby. Rub yourself on Daddy,” he pulls your panties aside, and you’re so quick to listen. You sink down, hands perched on your ankles until your slippery folds engulf his tip. You’re making quite the mess - to that he toots but otherwise leans back to observe how you’re willing to get started. You buck your hips back and forth, run your nub over his slit repeatedly and whimper like a bitch in heat. When you slide too close to your hole, he slaps your tit, cups your cheeks in one large palm like a warning. This is the root of this whole ordeal - him fucking you to a pulp, turning you into a full crazed nymphomaniac and then leaving like nothing happened. It’s not fair, not fair at all - and the worst part is he’s sure to serve you justice using the same treatment. Fucking you so hard you forget you ever doubted him in the first place.

“Just like that. Good girl,” he murmurs, speaking to you like you’re mentally deficient - which you are. You test your luck by squeezing yourself down, attempting to take him in a little, but Leon’s cock springs like a twig, flaps over you with a wet squelch. You whine.

You grumble like it’s his fault you failed so miserably. He shakes his head, “You know I spoil you too much,” and with that, Leon jams himself inside until he’s breaching you to the brim. You were wrong for being so hasty - he’ll give you a bitter taste.

Startled, you drape your head over his shoulder and sink your nails into his back. You could feel the jab to your cervix, and while that wasn’t particularly good, the feeling of Leon seating you to the hilt sent you straight to heaven. You haven’t had him since so long - you swore at times you clenched on nothing. Leon fills you so good, God, he fills you better than anyone has ever had, and it drives you mad when he doesn’t. You sit bandy-legged when his arms lock around your shoulders, bringing you up so he can slump you back on his cock. Horsey, right? Chris and Claire wouldn’t see either of you in the same light if they knew.

“You might be the dirtiest girl, yeah baby?” He groans, and the tone alone is enough to have you gripping. You shake your head, dirty isn’t exactly your most-liked title. “No?” Leon thrusts deep and you jump up with him, hugging him tight for comfort.

“No! ‘m not—” He rocks you on him, does all the work cause you’re a princess even on top. So spoiled, and yet he’s to blame. Maybe you’ll change one day, but so far he hasn’t had the guts to work you for that outcome. “But you woke Daddy up so you could have his cock up that drooly pussy, didn’t you?” he says and the words jab straight into that spot. Leon groans and then you’re moving on your own, sheathing yourself on him over and over until a ring of cream gathers around the base of his cock. Now you get it. Now it’s horsey.

“Sorry, Daddy. I missed you so much— sorry,” you recite like a plea, stumbling over your words until it’s just unintelligible moans, because Leon’s cock pounds you so good. You lick the sweat off his temple, watch his brows furrow when his hands grip your hips and squeeze impossibly tight, lips catching over yours when your movements grow shaky.

“Sorry— I’m sorry, sorry— Daddy—” Leon shushes you when he begins to thrust in tandem with your wobbly hops, thrusting to a depth you thought was impossible to reach before. You whine and soon he’s lifting your body, holding you up as he drives relentlessly into your cunt, hitting all the spots. Daddy fucks you so good. Daddy pampers you so much. Daddy loves you to the moon and back, and he’s going to give you warm milk to put you to sleep.

“Fuck, baby— You’re a natural. Rode the horsey so good, now it’s Daddy’s turn—” your heart sinks into your throat when you’re thrown over the coffee table, the surrounding items toppling over with a row of clattering and Leon being able to dig deeper into you. You throw your legs over his shoulders, hearing the table creak when he drives into you once more. Fuck. God. The pressure inside you amplifies and then you’re struck by unadulterated bliss, the familiar warmth coating your inner walls as Leon grinds against your cervix. His hair is wet and he heaves like a dog, hands still holding you tightly against the table which you fear might collapse any minute now. You shiver - he gives your side a good smack and pulls out of you with a lewd plop, all what he planted inside you oozing out in thick dollops. Not on his watch, though, ‘cause he pushes it back placidly, panting.

“Good enough for today, princess,” he says but you’re already out of it, lashes fluttering as you try to grasp your consciousness. Leon knocked all the breath out of you, you’ve expired. You hum, feeling your walls pulse and chest swell in a slow-paced rhythm. It’s like that one time you convinced him you’d be able to handle an all-nighter but fell asleep one hour past midnight. Well, you set yourself a record, because it’s just one hour later which is impressive for a little girl like you.

He’ll have to change you into something more comfortable. A miniskirt and knee highs on a winter day? What, were you trying to whore yourself out to the Ghosts? He gets it, you were just asking for it, just wanted to stick your cute ass to get his attention, but sometimes you’re genuinely stupid. His stupid girl. Drunk off Daddy’s milk - he’ll bear that in mind. Sliding his hands under your frail body, he makes the dire mistake of trying to lift you when the coffee table caves in and snatches you with it. Auntie Jill called Daddy a ‘fucking cheapskate’ once when she was over - now you get what she meant.