#not tonight. probably not tomorrow. but soon…

[amazinglyashy]

hello!! can I request fluff reactions of the boys to mc craving something to eat in the middle of the night?

thank youu have a good day 🥰

I'm laughing because you asked this like it would be the most off the cuff situation, when literally every single one of these men canonly have an awful sleep schedule and nighttime habits. Like, there is absolutely nothing weird about this at all except the fact that you're awake when they're awake.

LaDS men when you crave something to eat in the middle of the night -

Zayne -

In all honestly, he was just now getting home from a shift at Akso hospital, so it takes him just a few moments to register why the situation in front of him was abnormal.

He can't help it, he's usually coming home in the early evening, not at three in the morning.

So when he sees you sitting at the counter, snacking on something, he simply sets his stuff down near the door and removes his tie, before coming over to give you a peck on the cheek in greeting.

He's made it halfway to the bathroom, yawning wide and telling himself to get some good sleep tonight- well, technically this morning- wait… morning…? What on earth were you doing up-

He's back in the kitchen in a second, with your eyes flickering back to him in an innocent question, confused as to why he's looking at you so bewildered.

'Why', is the only thing that comes out of his mouth, and when you finally process what he means by that, you can't help but give him a chuckle and a smile, still eating whatever you had gotten from the fridge or cupboard.

"I was hungry."

Not even going to question why you acted on your impulses to eat at three in morning. He'll just sigh, and tell you to make sure you get to bed soon for the sake of your health and mood tomorrow. Gives you one more kiss before heading off to get ready for bed himself.

Sylus -

He's probably just getting up.

So when he starts to rise and notices you lying awake, he's going to be confused, hoping to himself that you didn't have some freakish nightmare, especially not any possibly involving your past experiences with him-

No.

Turns out, you're currently trying to make yourself go back to sleep, despite wanting something warm to eat, but also not wanting to cook.

He's going to find it terribly endearing, letting out a little snicker and making you blush at his reaction, his hand carding through your hair as he leans down over you.

"I think you're forgetting something, kitten. I wake up around this time- meaning, I need to have something for breakfast before working on anything. You do know you can ask the chef to make you something right now, right sweetie?"

He won't say it, but you can tell he's so pleased to be eating with you, even though he knows you'll be heading off to bed right after, it's a nice change of pace for him. He's more than happy to have your company, no matter the odd hour.

Rafayel -

He's finally ready to kick himself into going to bed, but the moment he opens the bedroom door, he runs into you.

At first, he's worried.

Secondly, he's miffed that you got up to come and harrass him into coming to bed again.

Thirdly, he's extra miffed that none of the previous answers are true, but you're actually just hungry.

He's seen the way you snack, he knows you're not just making something up. And he can't exactly let you go back to bed hungry so-

That's how he ended up making a late night dish rather than finally heading to bed.

Any protests to him cooking fell on deaf ears. He's having none of that. He can tell you're still sleepy, and since he hasn't wound down yet, he isn't. So he's more than happy to cook for you.

Definitely wasn't hungry himself, definitely didn't forget to have dinner, no sir-

He'll sit and eat with you, asking if you had any interesting dreams, before making up scenarios that may have occurred involving food monsters and treat fairies.

He's not trying to hear that beautiful sound that is your laugh. Not at all. He's trying even less hard to make the meal last longer, just so that he can spend a little bit more time with you-

Xavier -

He probably saw you on his own way to get a snack, in all honesty.

You two just have to share a look, contemplating the situation, before the both of you begin to grin, realizing what the other is awake doing.

He offers to walk you around the block to the corner shop that's open 24hrs, so that the two of you can get some junk food or spicy microwave noodles to have together.

If you don't want to go anywhere, he'll either go himself or order delivery from somewhere that's open all hours so that you guys don't need to cook. He doesn't want to put out a fire for his attempts this late at night, and you either don't feel like it, or you're not the best at it yourself.

(You're still better than him though.)

Whenever the two of you end up getting your food, you sit together on the couch, legs folded over one another as you tangle together to watch an episode of something you've been binging.

You'll both wake up completely different though- having fallen asleep together on the couch after finishing your food, and ending up snuggled closely, a bundle of warm blankets and pajamas mixed with the relaxing sensation of the other's breathing.

Thank goodness today was the both of your day off...

[cherrielyme]

i like you best

Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader | 18+ content | no other warnings wc: 2931 ∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

It’s Liv who catches him looking first. “Don’t look,” she says, blowing the smoke from her joint out of her nose as she speaks. Someone has strung up fairy lights in the trees and she looks ethereal in their soft glow.

Of course you look, glancing behind you with an inhale on your own joint, feeling the pleasant burn of the smoke coiling in your lungs. He’s standing just outside the glass doors to the yard, staring with that single-minded intensity he gets about things. Obsession.

You blow out the smoke and look right back. He jerks his head a little, to the left, and you know what it means, know what he’s saying when you turn back around to stub out what’s left of your joint.

“I don’t know what you see in him, Ames,” Liv says, warning in her voice, her eyes tracking him as he walks back into the house.

“I know.”

She sighs, grinding out her own joint before checking her phone. 

“Hey,” you say. “You ok if I go?”

“Yeah. Jack’s gonna be here soon.” You wonder if she knows how much her eyes light up when she talks about her boyfriend, and then you wonder what your face looks like when you talk about Rafe. Actually, you don’t talk about Rafe, and nothing really makes you happy anymore, so there’s that.

“K,” you say, and move to go but she grabs your wrist and looks at you, serious.

“Be careful around him. I mean it,” she says, and your stomach warms at the worry in her tone. You guess some things still make you happy.

“He’s giving me what I need.” You give her a small smile, as if that will make it ok.

She frowns, but lets go and says “Ok. See you tomorrow.”

You trail across the backyard, not really in any hurry to get inside. Your head feels fuzzy, not too much, just a little bit, the way you like. You know he’s waiting for you. It’s quiet out in the yard, just the stoners and smokers and the Pogues who don’t care that it’s a Kook throwing tonight’s party.

The noise hits you like a slap when you slide the door open to the living room, the humidity hits you right after, and you blink a little in the dim light of the room, surveying the crowd inside. It’s a mix of people, mostly Kooks, some people you don’t recognize who are probably Tourons. There’s a harsh song playing, and someone has set up a strobe effect so you hurry through the room to the stairs.

The sounds melt away the further into the house you get, and you take it slowly, trailing your fingers along the wall. You know where he’ll be, see the room at the end of the hallway spilling soft light onto the floor.

You pause in the doorway, struck by him, just like you always are. He’s lounging on the bed, wearing a stupid pink polo and khaki shorts, and he’s barefoot, haloed in the glow from a lamp on the nightstand.

You shut the door, completely closing out the noise from the party downstairs, and you go to him.

He surges up off the bed in an instant, one strong hand around your waist, hot on the bare skin of your back in the gap between your shirt and shorts, the other tangled in your hair. He yanks your head back, and you gasp at the pain. He takes the opportunity to capture your mouth in a searing kiss, more teeth and tongue than anything else.

You wind your arms around his neck, holding him as tightly as you can. He moves from your mouth now, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your jaw before latching on to your neck, sucking and biting at the thin skin there. You moan, wanton, knowing that the pounding music from downstairs will ensure your privacy, but not really caring if anyone does hear. Distantly, you think that you’ll have to borrow one of your brother’s stupid ascots to cover these marks at work tomorrow.

He nips at you, viciously, and pulls your hair harder, encouragement to be louder. You whine, and grind down against him. He grunts, pulling you down against him, and you feel how hard he is for you, know that the only thing keeping you apart are his stupid little khakis and your cutoffs.

Suddenly, you can’t wait anymore, and you shove off of him, wincing when he comes away from your neck with a sharp sting. You sink to your knees in front of him, swallowing when he comes up on his forearms to watch you, bracketed in between his thighs. His hair is mussed and his lips are swollen and red, wet. It’s not fair, that someone like him could be so beautiful.

You touch him over his shorts, reveling in the way his eyes close and his head falls back, the way he breathes out harshly as you rub him. You go for his fly, but–

“Stop.” His hands are on yours, pulling you away from him. You’re confused, and a thin coil of embarrassment threatens. He’s not turning you down, is he?

But no, he’s speaking again, commanding. “Stand up. Take your clothes off.”

You do, reaching for the hem of your shirt, but he stops you again.

“No. Turn around. Do it slow.” 

You stop, look at him. His eyes are dark and his eyelashes are thick as he looks up at you, face expectant.

You turn and give him a show, pulling your tight tank top over your head. “Fuck,” he breathes out when he realizes you’re not wearing a bra. You hook your fingers around the waistband of your shorts next, slowly pulling them down until you’re just in your lacy black thong. You go to pull it down too, but for a third time, his words stop you.

“Leave it,” he says, and you shiver from the proximity and the need you hear in it. He’s right behind you now, breath brushing the back of your neck as he pulls your long hair over your left shoulder before licking a stripe up your neck and nipping at your ear.

Dreamily, you sigh, sinking back against him. He’s taken his shirt off, and you could swear you feel his heart beating as he presses his chest to your back. He wraps his arms around you again, caging your arms down against your sides so you can’t do anything but take it as he grabs your jaw with one hand, moving it to the side to give him more leverage as he goes back to ravaging your neck with his teeth. The other hand he puts on one of your tits, palming it and rolling the rapidly stiffening nipple in his fingers.

You can’t even drop your head back because of his grip on you, all you can do is take it, let the sensations wash over you. You can move your hips though, and you grind your ass back against him as much as you can, desperate to feel his length against you. And there it is, still tucked away in his stupid fucking khakis, but he’s shifted to, rocking gently against you.

He moves now, slowly walking you backwards towards the bed, and you think he’ll sit you both down, but at the last second he spins you so that the back of your knees hit the bed and you stumble onto your back. He goes with you, arms bracketing your head and hips snugly nestled in between your thighs. His pupils are blown, and you don’t know if it’s because of you or the coke you saw him do earlier or some combination of the two.

“Tell me what you want,” he says, barely a whisper, mouth so close you could capture it with yours if you leaned up.

“You know what I want,” you say, coy even though this is hardly your first time with him.

“I want you to say it,” he says, and your thighs clench around him involuntarily at the intensity in his voice. He notices, eyes crinkling even though his mouth stays in that harsh thin line you’re used to.

“Fuck me,” you say, barely a whisper, giving him what he wants. “I want you to fuck me so hard I forget about everything that isn’t you.”

He smiles, just a little, just a smirk, but it’s just for you so it’s ok.

“All you have to do is ask,” he says, just as quietly as you, and then it’s like a switch has flipped and he’s a maniac, pulling his dick out of his shorts and yanking your panties aside before shoving into you in one smooth motion.

You gasp at the stretch, the almost pain of it. You’re wet for him, always so wet for him, but he’s so big, and he’s rough. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to him, already setting a punishing pace, snapping his hips into yours.

He’s got one hand on your hip, fingers gripping so tightly that you know you’ll have marks in the morning. He lets go, just for a moment, so that he can yank one of your legs up to his shoulder, and you moan as this shifts him deeper into you.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans. “You’re so fucking tight and wet for me. No one else makes you feel like this.”

You barely hear him, so focused on the sensation, so good you could stay in it forever.

He doesn’t like this, and a sharp slap to your face brings you back. “Tell me,” he says, eyes hard, moving his grip down to rest lightly on your neck. He doesn’t squeeze, just rests his palm there, implication heavy and heady. “No one else makes you feel as good as I do.”

You nod, reveling in how it drags his calloused hand against your throat, how you can feel his fingers flutter around you when you take a breath. “It’s just you, you’re the only one,” you say.

“Good. Can you come like this?” he asks and before you can answer he moves his hand down to your clit, pressing in with his thumb, tracing the smallest circles.

Can you come like this? Yeah, you can, and you do, vision whiting out a little with the intensity with which it takes you, hadn’t realized how much the anticipation and his huge cock splitting you open had turned you on, how close you’d already been.

You cry out, first with pleasure and then with oversensitivity as he doesn’t relent, just keeps pounding away and circling your clit. You try to wiggle away, you’ve barely come down and you can already feel another orgasm cresting, and it’s not entirely a good feeling right now, but he doesn’t let you move.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, leaning close and biting your bottom lip hard and then soothing the sting with his tongue. “You’re gonna come again.”

You nod jerkily, knowing the game by now. This is what you’d asked for, when you told him to fuck you so hard the whole world was him. 

He changes his angle, just a little bit, getting a better grip on the sheets next to your head and pulling his hand away from your clit and moving it up to your throat. This time he does squeeze, just the way you like, light enough that you won’t pass out but hard enough that you can’t take a full breath.

“Touch yourself,” he demands, and his eyes shift from your face down to where he’s inside of you, to where you slip two of your fingers to the bundle of nerves. Even at your light touch, your pussy jumps, tightening around Rafe at the sensation, and he groans, hips stuttering a little.

You can tell he’s close, and you want him to come, want him inside of you, dripping down your thighs for the rest of the night. The combination of your filthy thoughts, your fingers, and his cock combine, pushing you over the edge once again. 

“Oh, fuck, Rafe!” You cry out, strangled, and you can’t breathe and your pussy tightens as it spasms, and Rafe finally pulls his gaze away from where the two of you are joined, his head dropping and eyes closing as he finally joins you, his hips smacking into yours as he falls over the edge, the sound of skin on skin obscenely loud in the quiet room.

You moan again when you feel him filling you, his cock jumping as he comes. He lets go of your throat and you realize how light-headed you were. Dragging in a full lungful of air for the first time in who knows how many minutes, you let him manhandle you, tugging lightly at your hair until you turn your face towards him so he can place a surprisingly gentle kiss on your lips.

“How do you feel?” he asks softly, and your heart hurts a little bit. When he’s rough with you, when he hurts you, it’s good. The softness is hard to handle. He seems to realize this though, because he doesn’t push you to answer, instead he pulls out of you, leaving you feeling bereft in his absence. The feeling doesn’t last for long though, because he’s already plunging two fingers into you,  holding your jaw so you can’t turn away from him.

“You only came twice. I bet you can go again.” With his hand on your jaw instead of the bedspread, he’s balancing on his elbows, and he’s that much closer to you. He doesn’t kiss you again, and you don’t kiss him, but your mouths are so close you’re breathing the same air. And now his fingers are curling, pressing through the mess inside of you to stroke your front wall and your whole body jolts at the sensation, so different from him pumping into you.

You let out another moan, still too overstimulated to do anything besides lay there and let him do what he wants. He shakes you, just a little. “Louder,” he commands. “I want everyone who comes up those stairs to know what we’re doing in here. What I’m doing to you.”

You acquiesce, your moan turning into a shriek as he does – something – inside of you that has you lifting your hips, involuntarily seeking more friction. He chuckles and you feel a blush forming on your tear-soaked face. He does it again and you’re really crying now, so out of your mind with overstimulation that there’s nowhere else for the emotion to go, both of your hands are on his arm, his wrist, clutching on because you don’t know what else to do and he twists his fingers again and tilts your head so his mouth is near your ear and you realize that he’s been saying something all this time, it’s just that it’s only now with his mouth so close that you realize it’s your name, he’s chanting it over and over again like it’s a prayer and– you shatter, screaming for real as you come the hardest you’ve come all night, practically gushing on his hand but he’s not stopping he’s still working you and you’re so oversensitive and his fingers are so big, you swear he added a third one at some point, and you don’t even come down before you’re flying again and you really and truly do black out at this point, the sensations just too much.

When you come back online he’s pulled his fingers out of you and he seems preoccupied with rubbing your thighs, massaging your combined fluids back into your skin. Of course he is, the freak is obsessed with having his mark on you.

You must have moved or made a noise because suddenly he’s laser-focused on you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, and it would be too much, too intimate but he knows that about you, and keeps going. “I love when you cry for me. Because of me.” And maybe that should scare you the most, that he knows what he can get away with saying to you, dressed up in language like he doesn’t really care.

He doesn’t let you dwell on it though, because he’s sliding his hand, the one that was inside of you, up to your mouth. “Open,” he says. “Taste us.”

And you do, tasting the swirl of his bitterness and salt mixed with your sweet, almost tangy juice. His pupils are still blown wide, his blue eyes deep and dark in the dimness of the room, and you know it’s been long enough for the coke to wear off, you’re not even really high anymore either, so it’s just him and you now.

You lie like this for a little while longer, letting him wipe your tear tracks away and trail his fingers over your skin and look at you, deeply, in a way he can’t do in the real world, when he’s a Kook and you’re a Pogue, and not just two people like you are now. 

He gave you what you needed. The world is quiet now, your problems feel far away. You feel sore and wrung out and sleepy. And if he can give you what you need like this, then you can give him what he needs too. Someone to lie with. Someone to be still with. Someone to take care of, even if it’s just in these quiet, stolen moments.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

if you made it this far, thanks for reading! this is my first time posting my writing lol if you like it please interact! i love to chat :)

[livvyofthelake]

i’m sooo overdo to watch cole and phoebe….. i miss them :(

[scrimmification]

(belated) TWST-tober Day 12! - ☀️🦋

[rexscanonwife]

I'm definitely not finishing this before the end of the day but here's a sneak peek at a little something something! 💙💙💙

[maladaptivewriting]

after i upload chapter 92 of the golden king, im going to take a two week break from the fic.

[running-in-the-dark]

my niece is staying with us for the whole weekend for the first time. until now it's always been one night only, not two.

it's the second night now and I have already decided this is not happening again anytime soon. I'm so fucking exhausted. it'd be less exhausting if it was my nephew, I think - he's older and also doesn't need as much help (even when he was her age).

I love my niece but she just asks so many questions. like when we're watching a show or a movie, even if it's one she has seen before (even multiple times), she doesn't understand what's going on and constantly asks me to explain everything. I don't mind it, really, but it does take a lot of energy. plus tonight it took over two hours for her to fall asleep because she was scared by the noises of the house and the nearby road. I get it, but damn I'm so fucking tired, I just want to sleep 😭

[tokiwarcube]

i am normal about Fucking That Middle Aged Man

[epickiya722]

Writing Yuji talking to Kenjaku and Kenjaku isn't talking at all is probably one of the funniest and hardest thing I have written so far.

[irrational-pie]

Ohhhh I've got my DATV screenshot situation sorted it's over for everyone

[cryptidwrestling]

Me waiting "patiently" for tomorrow so I can catch up on 7hrs worth of content like

[cementcornfield]

[violetsareblue-selfships]

good morning!! <3

[vampirebiter]

finally finished reading the vampire lestat. anne rice really wrote quite the guy with that one.

[miodiodavinci]

undergoing self-immolation from stress

[phagodyke]

wheres the "why is it so saaaad" image with the cat with big sopping watering eyes ouauauuugh how I feel is the embodiment of that