#or respond to me and tell me what they think

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Mr. Oblivious

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds x F!Reader

Summary: Bob is sometimes oblivious to the fact that people find him attractive and/or like him. One of those people includes you.

Warning: a little bit of angst

Marvel Masterlist

You thought you were being obvious, but, turns out, Bob is just oblivious. You're not sure how else you can show him that you like him, other than spell it out in big, bold letters "I LIKE YOU!"

Even then, there's a chance he might interpret that as you liking him as a friend. So, you just kind of settle in your puddle of frustration.

But you can't be mad at Bob. No way. It seems like he's not used to garnering any positive attention to himself. You can tell from the way he blushes and shies away from any compliment you give him, or how he brushes off nice comments about him and counteracts with a self-deprecating comment.

It kind of pains you that he feels unworthy of such adoration and attention, like it seems ridiculous for someone to genuinely like him.

But you try your best. You give him well-meaning and thought out compliments, ones you know to be true in your heart.

And how does he responds, with a shrug and a blush.

It is sometimes cute how oblivious he can be.

You and he ran errands together while the others were on a mission. John wasn't assigned on the mission, but he wanted to stay at the tower and sulk. So it was just you and Bob.

You were checking out at the grocery store when the cashier looked at Bob and said, "Your hair looks so soft. Can I touch it?"

Bob was like a deer in headlights for a moment until he responded with, "Oh, um, sure."

He awkwardly leaned in and the girl ran her fingers through his hair. She giggled and proceeded to ask Bob his hair care routine. You weren't a jealous person, but also Bob wasn't technically yours so you had no right to be jealous in the first place. But also, you found the interaction a little amusing. The girl clearly found Bob attractive and, honestly, you couldn't fault her for her forwardness.

"I don't know, I just shampoo and dry it with a towel." He gave a shrug and a polite smile.

"What kind of shampoo?" the girl leaned in and batted her eyes at Bob.

He leaned back, confused why she was getting closer, "Oh, uh, I forget. Y/N?" he asked.

"Head and shoulders, I think," you answered with a smirk.

"Yeah. Head and shoulders." Bob replied back with a nod.

"Guess I'll try it out sometime," she gave Bob a wink as you paid, trying to hold back a laugh.

After grabbing the receipt and your groceries, you both exited the store. Bob smiled, "She was nice."

You chuckled, "She was flirting with you."

He paused in his step and looked at you confused, "She was?"

You nodded and hummed, "Mhm. It was cute though. She was cute. Did..you wanna ask for her number?"

Bob looked back into the store and looked back at you, "I'm okay." He continued his trek back to your car.

"Not your type?" you asked jokingly, but also you were curious.

"Ah, I'm-I don't know if I have a type. When I was younger, I sorta just dated anyone who was interested in me...don't know if anyone would be interested in me now."

You pursed your lips at the last bit and you wanted to shake him and yell in his face, "I'M INTERESTED YOU, DUMMY!" But you didn't want to overwhelm him, so you continued to keep your feelings to yourself.

It all came to a head when it was post a successful mission. Alexei ordered pizzas and you all were lounging around the living room of the residential floor. People sipping on their respective alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks.

The random conversations and constant bickering and bantering eventually led to a conversation about each other's love lives.

Seemingly, the only one as close to a love life was John, but it's still iffy.

"What about you, Bob?" Yelena asks. Everyone's eyes turn to him and he's frozen for a moment.

"Uh, what about me?" he asks.

"What are your views on love?" Ava asks before taking a swig from her beer bottle.

"Oh, uh, I don't think I've ever been in love or truly experienced it. Never found anyone who, uh, really loved me, I guess."

"Well, we love you," Yelena says, patting his knee, "In a familial sense."

John snorts, "All of us, but one."

You glare at John and he shrugs, "What? It's not like he knows!"

"Knows what?" Bob looks at you, to John, and back to you.

"Walker," Bucky says his name in a warning tone, "Don't."

"The kid's oblivious! He obviously doesn't know that Y/N is in love with him!"

The world seemed to pause in that moment. People held their breaths as they all turned to you. Seething, you stand up and dump the rest of your drink on John's head.

"What the fuck!"

"Deserved," Ava said.

Yelena shakes her head, "Always have to be such an asshole."

You place your glass onto the coffee table and, without another word, headed upstairs.

Once you're gone, everyone turns their heads back to Bob. He gulps, "Y/N's in love with me?" He starts fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweatshirt, "I-" he looks at his found family, "What do I do?"

"Confess your love."

"Give her some space."

"Fuck, if I care."

"Talk to her."

"Walker, shut the hell up!"

Bob abruptly stands, overwhelmed with the various answers he's receiving. That's when they all go quiet.

Bucky clears his throats, "Do you have feelings for her?"

"I-Yeah. I do."

"Then tell her."

"Okay," he replies and then heads upstairs to find you.

He checks your room, which is across from his, but you're not there. Then he hears a curse from John's room. He pushes the door open to find you kneeling at John's bedside table.

"Y/N?" you freeze and look over your should.

"Uh...hi?"

Bob can't help but smile. He crosses his arms over his chest, leans against the doorframe, and asks, "What're you doing?"

"John's a dick so I left his tv on to play Cocomelon videos on repeat and I'm gluing his tv remote to the bedside facing down so he can't turn it off."

Bob chuckles, "That's...fun."

"Yup," you murmur and go back to adding more glue onto John's remote, "You don't have to say anything to me. We can just pretend that never happened."

Bob walks further into the room, "Why?"

"Don't want it to ruin our friendship, so we'll just pretend it's not true."

"But is it?" You stay silent and Bob continues, "Is it true you're in love with me?"

You shrug, avoiding his gaze, "Does it matter?"

"Well...yeah. The one person who means the most to me, loves me back. So yeah, it matters."

You take in what he's just said and your heart beat quickens. You slowly stand and look at him, "You feel the same way?"

He shrugs so nonchalantly, "How could I not?"

You can't help but laugh in disbelief, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Probably the same reason you didn't. Scared and didn't want things to change. Also...I don't feel like I deserve you. I mean, I'm not the best person. I have a shitty past and still kind of a mess and-" his words get stuck as you rush forward and press your lips to his.

He's taken by surprise so by the time he starts to kiss you back, you pull away, "Please don't talk about yourself like that. You're not a bad person, Robby. It's okay if you have a shitty pass, because, newflash, we all do and now we're all fucking Avengers! Also, it's okay if you're a mess. You're working on yourself and that's a good thing." you swoop away a curl that got into his face, "I wouldn't have fallen in love with you if I didn't see something in you that's worth loving."

He nods, "Okay."

"I love you."

"I..I love you too."

You lean in and he rests his forehead against yours, "I do have something to request of you."

"Yeah? What?"

"You need to be more situationally more aware because I was so obvious I had feelings for you."

He pulls back with furrowed brows, "What? No, you weren't."

"I was! So painfully obvious!"

"She was," John says as he appears in the doorway, "Also, why're you in my room?"

You pull away from Bob and shrug, "Thought I saw a mouse go into your room. Good night!" you tug on Bob's arm, leading him out of John's room.

You two go into yours, locking the door behind you.

Down the hall, you hear John yell, "DID YOU GLUE MY REMOTE TO THE TABLE?!"

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤSTRAP ONㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Batboys x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : What if you ask if you can peg them?

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Terry McGinnis, Male Barbara Gordon, Male Cassandra Cain, Male Stephanie Brown.

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

— BRUCE WAYNE ⋆

You ask him in bed one night, very nonchalant.

“Hey, can I peg you?”

He freezes. Like full reboot. The Bat-OS is updating. Bruce.exe has stopped responding.

“...Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I think I deserve it.”

He stares. Silently. A slow blink. His jaw clenches, like he's negotiating peace with an international terrorist. You see the flicker in his eyes—he’s considering it, and that terrifies him more than anything.

Eventually?

“Once. You get one.”

But then he comes back for more. Doesn’t say it out loud. Just lies face-down on the bed like a Greek tragedy and says:

“Don’t talk. Just… do it.”

And you never let him forget it. You slap his ass and he growls like a wild animal. Gotham’s protector? Pegged by his princess.

— DICK GRAYSON ⋆

You bring it up during foreplay, and his eyes sparkle.

“You wanna what??? …Wait, really? Is that like—hot for you?”

He’s immediately into it. Like too into it. He starts googling positions, stretches, prep routines.

“Do we need a safe word? What’s the etiquette here? Should I make a playlist?”

When the moment comes? He’s spread out like a centerfold, full trust, full glutes.

“I feel so vulnerable. Is this how girls feel all the time??? God, it’s kinda hot—”

He moans so loud. Like theater-level drama. Neighbors can hear. Batfam knows. And Dick? He’s glowing for a week.

“So when’s round two, babe?”

— JASON TODD ⋆

You say it casually while he's cleaning guns.

“Let me peg you sometime.”

He chokes. Gun clatters. You hit a nerve.

“You wanna what???”

He’s mad. Flustered. Pacing. But also blushing. And you notice the way he starts testing the waters—

“If I said yes… hypothetically… would that make me less of a man?”

You just pat his cheek like, “No, baby. It makes you a brave man.”

He glares. And then, eventually, agrees. But he makes it a war zone. He's gripping the headboard, growling like you’re in a gladiator fight.

“You better own it, then. I want bruises, I want pain—do it like you mean it!”

Afterward, he lies there like he got hit by a truck. Whispers:

“...Don’t tell anyone.”

You immediately text the group chat: “Guess who just got wrecked by me.”

— DAMIAN WAYNE ⋆

You hit him with it after a sparring match, while he’s sweaty and happy.

“Can I peg you sometime?”

He short-circuits.

“You wish.”

But he’s curious. You see the gears turning. He starts reading medical journals. Watches porn on mute. The ego battles the intrigue.

One night, he corners you like:

“If you must dominate me… you’ll have to earn it.”

Treats it like a duel. He makes you work for it. Grapples. Resistance. Eye contact like a wolf. But when it finally happens?

He groans. Face buried in the pillow. Tries to act composed, but he’s trembling.

“This… is merely… a power experiment.”

Lies. He loves it. But he’ll never admit it. Until he randomly buys you new gear and says:

“This model is superior. More efficient. Less friction. I did… research.”

— TERRY MCGINNIS ⋆

You ask Terry during post-sex pillow talk. He’s already panting, sweaty, pupils dilated.

“Babe… what if next time I hit it?”

He blinks.

“You mean like… role reversal?”

“No, Terry. I mean I peg you.”

Visibly panics. Short circuits. But his toxic trait? He’s a curious little freak.

He’ll act all alpha, but that man grew up on internet forums and old Batman archives. He’s been exposed. He’s thought about it.

“Okay. Okay. I mean… I’m not against it. But like, do I—do I have to do the… arch thing?”

By the time you’ve got him moaning into the mattress, he's lost all higher brain function. Tries to talk tough:

“T-This doesn’t c-change... the fact I’m still B-Batman…”

“Mmhm. Say that again while I hit that spot.”

After everything, cuddly. A little emotionally destroyed. Always asks shyly afterward:

“So... wanna do it again next week?”

— BARRY GORDON ⋆

So Barry's in the chair, coding. You lean over and whisper it in his ear like it's nothing:

“Wanna let me peg you?”

He doesn’t even look up. Just slowly removes his glasses.

“I was wondering when you’d ask.”

“...Wait. That’s a yes?”

“Baby, I can’t walk, but I can take it. Now help me out of these pants.”

This man is confident and freaky. He guides you through. You’re the one sweating and stammering while he talks dirty.

“Mmm, harder. You call that topping? C’mon, use that core strength.”

Afterward he lays there smug mocking you.

“Good job. You get a gold star. Wanna go again or do I have to manspread harder?”

— CASSIAN CAIN ⋆

You say it during your usual makeout, biting his ear:

“Wanna be my pretty little baby?”

Cassian doesn’t speak much. But his eyes go wide. And the blush? It climbs his ears.

At first, he shakes his head—too shy. But a week later, you find him laid out on the bed. On his stomach. Ass up.

Doesn’t say a word. Just… offers himself.

And he’s so sensitive. Bites his knuckle, whimpers through every motion. Has his whole face buried in a pillow, fists clenched, body twitching.

“You’re doing so well, baby…”

Nods frantically. Tries not to cry from how good it feels.

After? Curled into your arms, completely limp, like you just possessed his soul.

— STEPHEN BROWN ⋆

You barely finish the sentence:

“Hey, what if I pegged—”

And he’s ALREADY stripping.

“YES. PLEASE. I WANNA TRY IT. DO I LOOK GOOD LIKE THIS? DO YOU WANT ME TO SHAVE?? I HAVE CANDLES???”

He’s bouncing. Wagging his tail. Sends you like 10 Etsy links for strap-ons. Makes a mood playlist. Packs snacks.

In the bedroom? Drama. Theatrics. Noise.

He’s moaning like a porn star. Gripping the sheets. Begging.

“I’m your good boy! I’m your little toy! Use me, mommy, pleaaaase!”

You have to put a pillow over his mouth because he’s SCREAMING. And afterward, he wants cuddles and tells all his friends:

“I’m in love.”

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[pandacherryblossoms]

𐙚 Putting Enhypen on a Sex Ban 𐙚

Request

Genre: Fluff. A bit Suggestive MDNI 18+

Warnings: Suggestive content, Heavy innuendos, Light dominance/power play, Possessive behavior, Teasing/competitive dynamics, Implied intimacy

Heeseung

You’re parked on a quiet side street after your date, the kind of spot he always finds—private enough that he can lean over the console and kiss you like he means it. The kind of quiet that makes your heart race when his hand slides up your thigh and he gives you that smug, lazy grin like he already knows how the night’s gonna end.

“Missed me, huh?” he teases, voice low as he noses at your jaw, already working his way down your neck. “You’ve been looking at me like you’re about to climb into my lap.”

You roll your eyes, but he’s not wrong—and that’s exactly the problem. You let his hand drift a little higher before you catch it, lacing your fingers with his and resting them firmly in your lap. He blinks, confused but intrigued.

“I’m putting you on a sex ban.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then he laughs. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m serious.”

That smile falters. “Wait. What?”

You turn toward him, totally calm, acting like this is just a casual little update to your relationship. “You’ve been way too cocky lately. Always teasing me like you know I’ll fold the second you touch me. So…” You shrug, nonchalant. “Let’s see how smug you are after a week without anything.”

His jaw drops. “A week?”

“You heard me.”

“Heavy petting? Kissing?” he asks hopefully.

“Kissing’s fine. But if your hands start wandering…” You give him a look. “That’s game over.”

Heeseung stares at you like you’ve just declared war. You watch the panic settle in behind his eyes, subtle but telling—because this isn’t just about sex. It’s about control. And for once, you’ve got it.

“Don’t act like this is punishment,” you add sweetly, patting his thigh. “Think of it as a challenge.”

His voice is dry. “Oh, I’m challenged alright.”

Jay

You’re halfway through browsing throw pillows when he says it, so casual you almost miss it.

“I swear, you can’t ever resist me. Doesn’t matter what we’re doing—five minutes alone and you’re done for.”

You glance at him over the rim of your iced coffee, blinking slow. He’s not even looking at you—just flipping through a stack of overpriced blankets like he didn’t just run his mouth in the middle of West Elm. Smug as hell. And clearly feeling himself a little too much today.

“Is that so?” you ask, like you’re just making conversation.

Jay hums, smiling to himself. “It’s fine. I like it. You’re cute when you’re desperate.”

You wait a beat, then: “Cool. You’re on a sex ban.”

His head snaps up. “What?”

You pretend to keep shopping, eyes drifting over the candles. “A sex ban. Starting now.”

Jay blinks. “You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

He stares at you like you’ve just told him the world’s gone colorblind. “What did I do?”

“You just said I can’t resist you,” you say, grabbing a candle and popping the lid like this is just another normal Sunday errand. “So I’m gonna prove you wrong.”

“You’re serious?”

“As serious as those ‘desperate’ eyes you mentioned.”

He doesn’t respond, just follows you to the next aisle, a little quieter than usual. His hand brushes yours. You don’t take it. He adjusts his jacket. Fiddles with his phone. You can practically hear the gears turning in his head.

And when you glance over, he’s already watching you, expression unreadable—but you can tell. He’s plotting.

This isn’t over.

Jake

You don’t even bring it up right away. Not when he wraps his arms around you from behind, not when he starts pressing kisses along your neck, and definitely not when he guides you onto the couch like he’s already got the rest of the night planned in his head. Jake’s warm, all charm and wandering hands, but you can’t stop thinking about what you saw earlier — the group chat open on his laptop, his name lighting up with that cocky little message:

“I could get her to fold in two minutes if I wanted. Watch.”

You let him kiss you a little longer, even kiss back just enough to get his hopes up. Then, right when his hand starts sliding under your shirt, you catch his wrist with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Actually… I think you’re cut off.”

He blinks. “Cut off from what?”

You tilt your head. “Sex.”

Jake freezes like you’ve just spoken another language. “Wait, wait, hold on. What?”

“You heard me,” you say sweetly, pulling away and getting comfortable on the couch like nothing just happened. “Since you’re so confident you can make me fold whenever you want, I figured we should test that theory.”

“You saw that?” he says immediately, eyes going wide.

“Oh, I saw it.” You glance at him sideways. “Don’t worry, I’m just letting you prove your point. No sex. Let’s see how long you last.”

Jake’s already following after you, whining like it’s life or death. “Babe, come on. I didn’t mean it like that—okay, I kind of did, but it was just a joke! You’re seriously doing this right now?”

You just laugh, tossing a blanket over your lap. “Clock’s ticking, Jakey.”

And from the way he slumps next to you with the most dramatic groan, you can already tell — he’s doomed.

Sunghoon

You’re stretched out across the bed on your stomach, scrolling aimlessly while Sunghoon gets ready in front of the mirror. He’s already changed outfits twice and fixed his hair more times than you’ve blinked in the last ten minutes.

“You know,” he says, adjusting his collar, “it must be hard dating someone hotter than you.”

You lift your head just enough to look at him. “You mean me?”

He scoffs, eyes still locked on his reflection. “Be serious.”

“I am serious. You’re lucky I even like you this much.”

He turns, arching a brow. “Oh, is that right?”

“Absolutely.” You sit up, tossing your phone to the side. “You think I walk around looking this good for free?”

Sunghoon laughs, stepping closer with that cocky little smirk you know way too well. “You walk around looking good for me.”

“You wish.”

“I know.”

You blink at him, matching his grin. “You’re actually unbearable.”

“And you’re obsessed with me.”

You hum. “That’s crazy. Because I was just thinking the exact same thing about you.”

He leans down, hands on either side of you on the bed. “Sure you were.”

You stare at him for a second, smile widening. “Sex ban.”

His face freezes. “Huh?”

“You heard me.”

“Wait—why?”

“For being cocky.”

“I was joking.”

Sunoo

You’re on FaceTime with Sunoo while he’s away, just a quick call before bed to catch up. The conversation’s lighthearted, full of laughter as you both banter about random things. But then, Sunoo being Sunoo, can’t resist throwing a little playful jab your way.

“You know,” he says with a grin you can practically hear through the phone, “you’re always the one who folds first. It’s kind of cute, but predictable.”

You raise an eyebrow, a smile forming on your lips. His teasing gets to you, but you’re not about to let it slide without a little retaliation. You casually throw out, “Well, I think it’s time for a sex ban, then.”

There’s a dramatic pause on the other end of the call, followed by an exaggerated gasp from Sunoo. “Wait, what?! You can’t be serious.”

You stay silent for a moment, letting the tension build just a bit before you grin and shrug. “I am. You’re just too easy to tease.”

The next few seconds are filled with exaggerated, over-the-top reactions. Sunoo’s face lights up, and you can practically see him pouting through the phone. “No way! You can’t do this to me, baby. I was just kidding!”

He falls back dramatically onto his bed, completely throwing himself into the situation. “How could you hurt me like this? You know I’m too cute for a ban!”

You can’t help but laugh at his antics. There’s no doubt he’s putting on a show, but you love how much he’s leaning into it. He might have thought he could tease you, but now it’s your turn to turn the tables. And you’re enjoying every second of it.

Jungwon

You trail behind him as he unlocks the door, slipping off your shoes a little slower than usual. The night’s been easy — dinner, a walk, that quiet kind of comfort that only really happens with him. And now you’re tucked up behind him on the couch, knees pressed to his side, your arms lazily wrapped around his middle.

He’s half-scrolling on his phone, half-watching whatever’s playing on the TV, but you’re not really paying attention to either. You’re just pressed up against him, chin hooked over his shoulder, nose brushing the side of his neck. He smells good. Warm. Familiar. Like home.

“You’re being really clingy tonight,” he says eventually, not unkind — just a little amused.

You blink. “Am I?”

He shrugs, still scrolling. “Not that I mind. Just… extra cuddly all of a sudden.”

You’re quiet for a second. Not hurt, exactly, but something about the way he said it sticks. You pull back just slightly, arms still around him, but your face no longer pressed against his shoulder.

“Maybe I won’t be anymore,” you say lightly.

Jungwon glances at you, confused. “What? No, I didn’t mean it in a bad way—”

You lean back fully now, reaching for the remote to turn down the volume. “Actually…” you stretch a little, like the idea just came to you. “Since I’m apparently too clingy, maybe we should cool it. You know, physically.”

He pauses. “Wait—what?”

You smile sweetly. “Sex ban. Effective immediately.”

He stares at you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re joking. “You’re not serious.”

“Dead serious,” you say, folding your arms. “Since I’m overwhelming you and all.”

He sets his phone down, finally giving you his full attention. “You’re not overwhelming me,” he insists, brows pulling together. “Just… affectionate.”

You tilt your head. “I think it’s time to cool off then. I mean, no kissing. No touching. No nothing.”

Jungwon groans, running a hand through his hair like he’s mentally preparing himself. “You can’t be serious.”

You watch him carefully, studying his expression. The amusement is fading, replaced with a slight hint of frustration, and something else. “Oh, I am,” you say, voice low. “This is what you wanted, right?”

He mutters under his breath but doesn’t move toward you, instead leaning back against the couch in defeat. “Fine, whatever. You’ve made your point.”

You grin, feeling victorious. “We’ll see how long you last.”

Ni-ki

You’re on the floor of his apartment, caught up in a little game of back-and-forth teasing, a playful wrestle that started as one thing and quickly escalated into something else entirely. Niki’s laughing, squirming beneath you, his hands pressed against your sides in a half-hearted attempt to pin you down.

“You think you can take me down, huh?” he taunts, clearly having a blast. “This’ll be over in five seconds.”

You smile, feeling that spark of competitive energy flare up. You shove him off with a little more force than necessary, and he stumbles back, surprised. But he recovers quickly, his grin widening. “Okay, okay. You wanna play dirty? Fine. I’m game.”

With a quick shift, he’s on top of you now, his hands circling your wrists, pinning them to the floor. “You’re not gonna win this time,” he says, voice low, almost a dare.

“Is that so?” you challenge, wriggling beneath him, but it’s no use. He’s got you. You’re not getting out.

“I’ll prove it,” he says, leaning down to press his lips lightly against your neck. “You’re not going anywhere.”

It’s all playful and teasing — at least, that’s what it starts as. But there’s something in his eyes, something that shifts the moment he feels you tense up underneath him.

“Is that a challenge?” you ask, breath catching slightly. You give him a pointed look. “If you think you can keep me like this, then fine. You’re on a sex ban.”

Niki freezes, eyes widening. “Wait, what? Are you serious?”

“You heard me. No sex. No nothing,” you say, giving him a daring look. “Let’s see how long you last.”

Niki’s jaw slackens. “But I—”

“I’m not kidding, Niki. I think you need to prove you can keep your hands to yourself.”

The mischievous spark never leaves his eyes, but now there’s something more—determination. “Alright,” he says slowly, smirking. “Challenge accepted.”

You lean back, grinning. “I’m gonna win this one. You won’t last a week.”

And just like that, he’s ready for whatever this little game turns into. You’re not sure who’s winning yet, but you both know it’s only just begun.

[unrequi]

My last text to her was that she was bad ass and she responded positively. I told her to have a good summer and she wished that upon me as well. We didn’t end on a negative note yet somehow this chapter of longing and bliss had been put to a close. She never viewed me that way and never will. What way did I view her. I think it was the line between platonic and romantic. I wanted to know her, to know of her hard days, of her good days. I wanted to be the last voice she heard at night and her to be the last voice I heard or the last text I received. I wanted to be in contact with her everyday, I wanted to know of her unfiltered thoughts. I wanted to see her feel, to see her react to the things that moved her. I wanted a future where we existed in connection no matter the shape. I’m not sure she would have understood if I told her this, so I told her I had a crush and that didn’t do my feelings justice. It is over now (the possibilities, the texts, and the warmth) and I don’t regret telling her or feeling so deeply, or continuing to feel as intensely. I hope whenever she finds herself, others will recognize her magnetism, her sweetness, and that she will know.

— jessica therese, from ‘a different kind of heartbreak’ (via letsbelonelytogetherr)

[konigsluv]

DOMESTIC!Sukuna x Reader

MDNI ꒦꒷ Domestic!Sukuna forgets your birthday, but a surprise picture at work with a 🎀 and donuts makes you forgive him

contains: down-bad Sukuna, dick picture, fem!reader

"Fuck off, Ryomen,"

Sukuna remembers your exact words as you left the house this morning. He had fucked up. He knew all too well.

Sukuna had forgotten today was your birthday.

It was like any other day when the two of you woke up in bed together. He had pressed kisses to the back of your neck to rouse you from sleep, but not once did he whisper the words "happy birthday, baby,"

You had expected anything, just anything. Flowers, chocolates, maybe even a nice diamond necklace, or even better a ring...

But no.

You walked out into the living room to see it the same as it was the night before. Even with the dishes still in the sink that you asked Sukuna so nicely to take care of a day ago!

You didn't even bother giving him a kiss on the way out of the house, or listen to his excuses as you dressed as fast as you could. Sukuna was even baffled that you pushed his hands off of your waist when he tried talking sweet to you. You never resisted his sweet voice...

Now he knew he was screwed.

Especially when you didn't respond to his texts, and ignored his calls. In all, it made Sukuna a little pissed. Not at you though, just as himself for being such a fuck up. Seriously, how bad of a boyfriend was he to blank on your birthday?

"Fuck, please baby, i'm sorry," he growls into his phone as he collapses onto the couch, "just answer me- answer the god damn phone already," he then hangs up, hoping you'll at least listen to the voicemail.

You don't.

You're at work now, staring down at your phone with furrowed brows. The countless texts:

10:23AM || Ryo: baby i'm sorry

10:23AM || Ryo: i'll take you out to dinner, get you something nice

seen 10:23 AM

10:34AM || Ryo: fuck i'm already pissed off, don't ignore me

10:35AM || Ryo: i'm sorry, tell me what to do to make it up to you

seen 10:35 am

You couldn't believe the audacity of that man. For him to get mad?!

After ignoring him, Sukuna stopped spamming you, which made you feel even shittier.

You kind of wanted him to fight for your attention on your birthday, even if you were mad... and weren't responding...

bzz-bzz

You almost ignore the notification from your phone, thinking you should punish him more. Though you couldn't, you wanted to see what else he had to say for himself.

11:14AM || Ryo: i'm sorry baby. I got your present, just forgive me already

*photo attached*

You purse your lips in suspicion, you wonder what he got you that could make up for forgetting your fucking birthday.

Clicking on the photo you immediately turn your phone off at the speed of light and almost fling it across the room.

Was he crazy?!?! Sending that to you at work?!

Your cheeks flush as you whip your head around, wondering if anyone saw your phone screen. Of course Sukuna sent you a fucking picture of his dick.

11:15AM || You: why the fuck are you sending me dick pics at work?!

11:15AM || You: I'd be dead if someone saw that

11:15AM || Ryo: did you see it

11:16AM || You: your penis? yes Ryomen.

11:16AM || You: I know what it looks like.

11:16AM || Ryo: you didn't, open it again

Groaning internally you wondered what he was on about. You glance around once more before walking into the bathrooms and shutting yourself in a stall.

Clicking on the photo again your eyes widened.

It was Sukuna's cock alright but... he had tied a pink ribbon around it in the shape of a bow. And was that a box of donuts?...

11:19AM || Ryo: i'll let you stack donuts on it. I can get those fruit roll ups if you want me to

You huff a sigh from your nose, running a hand down your face as you try to calm your erratically beating heart. This man was going to be the death of you.

After a minute of conflicted emotions and staring at your phone screen, you respond.

11:20AM || You: you're forgiven.

m.list

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[ghouljams]

I have brown eyes and hair and was teased within my family for it, it was probably "normal" family teasing but either I'm too sensitive (so I've been told) or it's the fact that none of them knew healthy family dynamics and always hid everything behind sarcasm and teasing and as the youngest who always wore their heart on their sleeve I was a good target ig, so I hated my brown eyes for a good long while, but now I like them.

that being said the thought of Ghost and Gaz just constantly complimenting each others eyes would've made younger me cry tbh. I still sometimes remember the "so full of shit it's reached your eyes" joke at times and cringe a little internally. Having a bombardment of compliments about brown eyes from 2 freaks like Ghost and Gaz? I'd perish methinks

The compliments that would be showered upon you would make anyone perish. Ghost and Gaz are nothing if not sincere in their commitment to a bit, or at least what started as a bit.

Ghost and Gaz are getting like a little too into it actually. Gaz is holding Ghost's face and going "Your eyes remind me of being a kid, carting along my stuffed bear everywhere I went. They're so warm and comforting, same color as his fur." And Ghost responds, "Ya got eyes like a forest, the trunks blurrin' together as ya run, big and imposing but holdin' up the sky. Like I could make a home for myself in 'em." And Gaz narrows his eyes and goes, "When did you get poetic?" And Ghost tells him, "I read books."

And then they make out sloppy style on the couch while Soap asks Price if he thinks his eyes are pretty, and Price calls him the F word.

[uncle-fruity]

[Image ID: tags from Tumblr user strawberri-syrup that read: #how do u translate knowing u do this into actually fixing it #my lack of communication has killed all my friendships and idk where to start /End ID]

Hey, good question! It's one thing to know about what your behaviors are and another thing to know how to change them into new (hopefully helpful) behaviors. Idk if this will help you, but I'm going to bring up some strategies to help folks break free of their people pleasing habits.

Let's focus on you, first. Being a people pleaser requires you to objectify and dehumanize yourself in the process, so that is what you're working against. When you people please, there is a part of yourself that has decided your comfort and your needs are not as important or worthy as other people's comfort and needs. This isn't usually a conscious decision, but rather learned through past experiences and current insecurities. It's why a lot of people pleasers have a history of emotional abuse: the abuser requires you to shut down your emotional needs and predict their moods, and when you can't do that (no one can forever) they punish you. So you might very well have picked up the message that you are only as good as you are useful or only as good as you are patient/nice and that any amount of "negative emotion" (anger, sadness, disappointment, etc) will not be tolerated even by people you love.

That is a hard cycle to break out of. So, to start, I think it's good to take some time to reflect on what emotion or belief drives your need to people please and bottle yourself up. Working against feelings of insecurity, fear of abandonment, fear of ridicule, fear of conflict... that's the hardest part of this, but it's also the most important thing to practice. But there are things that will help you.

So let's say you've already figured out why you act like this. You know why you tend to people please and you're in the middle of processing your feelings about it. Good! That will be an ongoing process. But reflection and wanting to change aren't much without action behind them, and that is much harder than just thinking about things.

So! First really actionable thing you can do is set some boundaries! You don't have to do the scary telling your friends part yet, you just need to know what your boundaries are. A lot of people pleasers don't know what their boundaries are. They might have boundaries, but they let people walk over those boundaries because they don't recognize that they were boundaries to begin with. So, define those. Maybe you don't like being touched in certain ways. Maybe you get anxious and need to leave in certain situations. Maybe you need to have a dedicated time for just yourself without anyone contacting you... idk what your needs are; I'm not you. But you are you and you know what you need and want -- or at least have a better chance of figuring it out than I do.

Remember!! Boundaries are something *you* enforce for yourself. Obviously, a good friend will respect your boundaries, but if someone doesn't respect your boundaries, it is your job to respond to that. Let's say you have the boundary, "Don't yell at me/raise your voice in anger when we're having a disagreement." Well, you can't control someone who doesn't care about your feelings and will walk over your boundary even after you told them about it. What you can do is control your response. So, when you think of the boundaries you have, you should also consider what you will do in response to someone crossing that boundary. In our example, perhaps a good response would be to walk away, leave the conversation until the other person can talk to you with respect for your needs.

I've spent a long time on boundaries, but that's because it's one of the most important things for a people pleaser to understand about themselves. Think of people pleasing like muscle memory. If you do it enough, it will be your default mode of action. You won't have to think about it to do it. But breaking your current muscle memory and rebuilding that memory into something else will require intention and dedication. Boundaries help you focus your intentions and define your needs. Many smarter people than me have talked about boundaries before, so look into some resources about how to make and maintain boundaries if you want to learn more.

Next, setting expectations. This is about understanding where your limits are and having conversations with the people you love before it becomes an issue. Best example I have is one of my own experiences. I am very bad at responding to texts and messages when I'm overwhelmed or busy. I can go weeks without responding if the matter isn't urgent. But this can be a problem in my relationships if that behavior goes fully unaddressed. People start to feel like you're avoiding them or blowing them off. So I started setting expectations for folks -- I was open about the fact that my response times are bad. I was clear that it was not a personal thing when I didn't get back to people. And I made sure to reassure people that even if I'm not responding, I am *looking* at the messages soon after they're sent, and I *will* respond if there is an emergency or if there's a time sensitive question. I haven't had a problem with this since having open and honest conversations up front *before* it became a real problem.

All that to say, if you know you have preferences or behaviors that might conflict with your relationships, talk to your friends about it and make sure y'all are on the same page. A lot of times, people pleasers feel like they need to anticipate the needs of the people around them. That can be good and bad, depending on how you go about it. But it is much easier when you actually talk to them about their needs and expectations. This should be a two-way conversation. Everyone involved should state their needs and together you should define expectations within the relationship.

The communication part is really the key here. It isn't bad to want to care for your friends. It isn't even bad to occasionally put your own preferences aside in order to compromise. But if your friends don't know that something is upsetting you, they can't do anything about it. Which cycles around to the emotional abuse pattern of "mind reading." When you hide your anger or resentment, you are essentially making your friends read your emotions and anticipate your needs. It destabilizes the friendship. If your friends don't know what upsets you, how can they know that they're upsetting you if you don't speak up? Not only that, but if they're trying to figure out why you're upset, they might read it wrong and find solutions for problems you don't have while the original problem continues to churn inside you. That is ALSO a thing people pleasers do.

Another example. I have a people pleaser friend who has the history of emotional abuse etc etc. There was a time (years ago) when she'd get drunk and show me her tits and like. Yeah. I appreciated looking at tits. Love that stuff. But what she anticipated is that I would want to have sex with her. So she offered one day (she was sober, fwiw) and I said sure! But I always like to have a conversation about what people are into and all that. She dodged so many of my questions about what she liked, what she wanted, etc. Not only that, but I felt like she wasn't really listening to me when I was talking about what I liked and she didn't ask any questions to get to know my preferences better. So when we finally got to the sex part, I was stressed out. She sounded like she was faking her pleasure. She didn't want to touch me in any way that really felt good to me. She just expected me to use my strap and have my fun. It made me feel absolutely terrible about myself. Like, I didn't need to have sex with her. I didn't think that her showing me her boobs was naturally going to lead to sex. Looking back, this was a particularly rough time for our friendship, so we eventually had a conversation about it. It came out that she only had sex with me because she assumed that's what I not only wanted but expected from her. I honestly felt extremely hurt. I'd originally thought she *wanted* to have sex with me, and that was the only reason I agreed to do it. I felt ugly and undesirable when she didn't want to touch me. I felt like her fake pleasure sounds were condescending. Not to mention she tried to dirty talk in a way that supremely turned me off, which might have been avoided if she was actually engaged in our conversation talking about what we wanted/liked in bed.

The point of that story, though, is that it really damaged our friendship and was a blow to my (at the time) fragile self-esteem. These days, I'd be able to spot some of these red flags and choose not to have sex under those conditions, but at the time it was hard to recognize what was happening until it was over. I learned that she would not be forthright with her own needs and desires and whatnot, so I had to start checking in with her when she offered to do certain things. Questioning her like, "Do you really want that? Do you *know* what you want right now?" And being clear that she could not read my mind and that I didn't appreciate her trying to. That if I wanted something from her, I would ask directly and respectfully and that she was always allowed to say no if she didn't want to and I wouldn't get angry at her for refusing me. Years later, we are still friends. There are still rough spots we need to work out, but she has gone to therapy and is finally dating someone who doesn't treat her like an emotional support girlfriend. It has taken her years, but she is finally working to correct some of her people pleasing behaviors, and we have a better relationship for it. It took her awhile to believe me when I said I would tell her directly if I was upset and that she didn't need to worry about me dropping subtle hints at her.

Which, I think, finally brings me to my last point. So far, I've talked about defining your boundaries and setting expectations within your friendships. I've explained through example why the behavior can actually recreate patterns of abuse or cause harm. A lot of this stuff you can work on alone, but there is another thing you need to be able to work on changing your people pleasing ways: a good, trustworthy friend.

I started being able to talk about my emotions, my needs, my annoyances, my angers when I finally felt like I had someone who would listen to them without getting angry and flying off the handle. When I first started dating my current partner, I was in awe of how level headed our conversations were when there was conflict. They listened to me. They told me how they were feeling. We worked together to see where the issue was and what we could do to address the issue in the future. It was my partner who brought up problems they had, and it was those direct conversations that made me feel safe enough to speak up when I had a problem. It gave me a space to practice being vulnerable with someone I knew loved me and wanted the best for both of us. On the other side of this, I believe my friend that I mentioned above really started to make progress when she started therapy and when I showed her that I was serious about being open and honest with my emotions and that she wasn't obligated to fix my problems for me. It also helped that she got out of a cycle of dating toxic fuckheads who enabled/encouraged her people pleasing behaviors so they could take advantage of her.

The fear of abandonment, fear of ridicule... the stuff I talked about up front. Those are not illogical fears when most of your life you've been taught that you will be punished for your emotions. You need to surround yourself with people who will encourage you to speak up for yourself. You need a friend who will check in with you and make sure you're not just saying "yes" because you feel like you should. You need people who are clear about what they want and need from your friendship.

Standing up for yourself, expressing your emotions, stating your needs, setting boundaries -- you can only do so much alone. The hardest part is deciding to take that leap of faith in your friends and gritting your teeth hoping for a good outcome. Hopefully, you have decent friends who care about your feelings and who will make an effort to support you. But let me be clear: if your friends treat you badly because you've done the hard emotional work to start setting and maintaining boundaries, those are not good friends. I am a big believer in cutting toxic people out of your life when you can, because you *do* deserve better. And, thankfully, most people are not going to react badly to you having preferences and opinions and feelings. It's normal for someone to have their best interests in mind, and as long as they aren't hurting other people, it's okay to have hard emotions like anger, disappointment, sadness, etc. But it's okay for you to have standards for how you are treated in your friendships/relationships. It's not just okay, but it's absolutely essential for healthy relationships to thrive. And it is hard to trust when you've had a lifetime of feeling like you can't trust others to treat you with respect, but you still have to try. And you don't have to be emotionally invested in people who treat you like an object whose job it is to keep them happy. Even just having one friend that you feel safe to be vulnerable with can make a huge difference and give you a way to practice these things.

Tl;dr -- define your boundaries, have a plan for how to respond if someone crosses a boundary, have conversations with your friends to set expectations within the friendships even if there is no current conflict, and believe that you deserve to have a voice and that you are worthy of the full range of human emotion. Ultimately, you have to find a way to convince yourself that you are worth caring about, and you need to surround yourself with people who do care about you and who will help you learn healthier behavioral habits.

Sorry for the long post, but hopefully there's something you can take away from it. Perhaps others will have other strategies they'd like to add, but knowing your boundaries and learning to care about yourself are at the core no matter what.

You're not actually a better friend for not articulating and respecting your own needs, limits and boundaries. Your lack of communication and boundaries is not some impressive sacrifice. You're not doing anyone any favors by acting like you're okay with things you aren't okay with. You're just building burnout and resentment that will eventually damage the relationship in question. And when you eventually snap and walk away because you silently overburdened yourself to be a "good friend", it won't be the other persons fault

[melodyofmbaku]

Pour me Another Lie [Part 2] (Smoke Moore x Annie x Stack Moore)

Preview: “Look how good you are… how perfect you are. How pretty you sing for me.” 

Word Count: 4.1k

Warning ⚠️: They're a trio. Smut (18+ Material)

A/N I made this chapter thicc for ya'll. I really appreciate your comments/reblogs, it's what keeps me writing. Can't wait to hear what ya'll think! 😘 Pour Me Another Lie Part 1

_____

The smell of wet grass permeated their senses and the moisture in the air dampened their skin. It was early, the sun hadn’t risen yet. The crickets had begun their song and filled the silence that sat between the pair. 

Stack just finished up rolling their cigarette before popping it into the side of his mouth and lighting it. A long drag. 

“So?” he started, passing the smoke over to his brother. 

“So what?” Smoke responded before taking a hit.

“What we bouta do?”

“We really gonna let that nigga Hank be talking bout’ how he employed Annie? Had her working behind his bar?” Stack continued. 

Smoke didn’t answer for a bit, letting the question hang between them.  

“It don’t matter what she was doing, it matters why she was doin’ it.” Smoke looked up into the distance and took a drag of the cigarette once more. 

“What you mean?”

“Annie doesn’t lie to us. So for her to feel the need to do that? We fuckin’ up somewhere.”

He passed the cigarette over, and Stack took it without a word. The tobacco sizzled as he inhaled, the smoke curling around his jaw as he tilted his head, slowly nodding. “So again… what we bouta do?”

“We get her to tell us what’s going on,” Smoke said simply, flicking ash off the side of the porch. “Whatever it is, we’ll fix it.”

It was decided. 

From inside, they heard her voice—soft, questioning, worried.

“Elias? Elijah?”

Stack’s shoulders stiffened. They hadn’t meant for her to wake up alone.

“C’mon.” Stack stamped the cigarette out before opening the screen door with a creak, and the brothers stepped inside.

The lamp in the corner of the bedroom cast a honey-colored glow, bathing Annie in warm light. She was perched on the edge of the bed, wrapped in one of of the boys shirts that swallowed her whole.

“Hey, mama,” Stack said, stepping closer. 

“How you feeling?”

She gave them a weak nod. “Sore,” she admitted, but her eyes flicked toward Smoke with something close to warmth. “But good.”

“We wanted to talk about yesterday.” Stack started. Annie cast her gaze down to the floor. Dreading the fact that they’d have to talk about the situation. 

Smoke rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. It was stressing him bad. “You ain’t in no trouble, Annie. We just tryna understand what’s goin’ on in your head.”

“C’mon baby,” Stack said, squatting down beside her. “You can tell us.”

She began twisting her fingers in her lap. “Y’all are gonna think I’m being stupid…”

“We ever said that to you before?” Stack asked, gently tilting her chin up.

Annie let out a breath, shaky and honest. “I miss you.”

Smoke moved closer. “Whatchu mean? We right here.”

She shook her head slowly. “Y’all are asleep all day. Most of the day at least. I barely see y’all anymore.” Her voice cracked. “Yeah, we’re fucking, but… a lot of the time after that… it’s like we’re ships passing in the night.”

She picked at the hem of the shirt she wore absently, grounding herself.

“I… sometimes I feel alone.”

Stack reached out to hold her hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed it. 

Smoke’s jaw tensed. “You got two whole husbands. That’s more than most.”

She shot him a look. Stack tipped her chin to look back at him. His brothers attitude was not helping the situation at all. 

“This why you was working at Hank’s?” He asked softly. Still rubbing his thumb over her hand. 

She shook her head affirming. 

“I just wanted to be a part of something. Fill my day up. See other people. Not just wait around for y’all to wake again. Especially ‘cause… well, I ain’t like y’all. I’m not a vampire. I’m up when the sun’s up. I sleep when the moon’s high.”

Smoke glanced at Stack, who avoided his gaze.

There was always that sliver of distance between them — blood and time and unspoken choices. She’d refused when they offered her the promise of eternity together. She chose humanity even when it made everything harder. 

Stack finally spoke, softer this time. “We’ll figure somethin’ out. We don’t want you feeling like that. Not in this house.”

“You ain’t never alone. Never.” 

Smoke sighed before he made his way over and placed a kiss on her head, his hands went to her shoulders to comfort her. 

“Thank you for telling us. For trusting us.” he said.

Annie’s shoulders relaxed just a bit. She nodded. “Y’all not mad?” Her voice was small. It wasn’t like her. 

Smoke’s chest tightened up. God they had really fucked up. 

“Never upset with you.” Stack murmured from below. More kisses placed on her hands. 

“We’ll figure something out.” Smoke confirmed. And she nodded, leaning into him and taking his affections. 

They didn’t say much else that night. Just held her — Stack curled around her back, Smoke’s fingers threaded through hers as she drifted off to sleep.

She hadn’t asked for much. Just to feel a little less alone.

And they heard her.

____

The Next Day - 4:45am

“I can’t believe we doing this shit.” Smoke muttered, cradling a small box gently in both hands.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stack replied, nudging the door open with his foot. “Just don’t drop it.”

The front door creaked open softly. The boys stepped into the darkened house, dew still clinging to their boots, air thick with pre-dawn chill.

“We could’ve done anything else.”

“Nigga. Shut up. You rather have her serving drinks all day?”

Smoke pursed his lips and kept his mouth shut. 

“Plus… if it makes her happy that’s all that matters.” Stack concluded. 

That — the two could agree on. 

The boys had left the house at midnight as always but this time they didn’t go to the juke. 

They had other plans. Something that would take them alot further out. 

When Annie said she was lonely, it damn near broke Stack’s heart.

He wouldn’t have known what loneliness felt like if you'd asked him a year ago. He and Smoke had been side by side their whole lives — womb to world. That kind of closeness made it hard to imagine being alone.

But if he had to name the moment he first felt it? It was the day he woke up a vampire and Smoke wasn’t right beside him. He reached out and his brother wasn’t there.

If that’s what Annie meant — that empty, aching kind of quiet — then no. She wasn’t gonna feel that. Not when she had them. 

Stack pushed their bedroom door open and the two entered. Annie was curled up in the bed fast asleep. 

“Annie?” He tried softly. 

Nothing. 

“Baby girl?” Smoke tried this time. 

Annie stirred at the sound, emerging from underneath the blanket. She looked around a little confused. “What’re y’all doin’ back so early?”

She began to rub sleep from her eyes. 

Instead of answering, Smoke gently set the box down.

A tiny Rottweiler puppy stumbled out, big eyes blinking up at her, tail wagging like it had no idea what sleep was. 

The pup yipped and ran over to the side of the bed. Trying and failing to jump up. 

“Oh —“

She looked at them with shock covering her features. 

“Oh my god, is this for me?” Her eyes were wide and tears had already begun to well up. 

“Just for you baby.” Stack confirmed standing proudly.

She watched as the dog struggled to get up the bed. 

Annie knelt over the bed, and scooped the pup into her arms. It licked at her chin and she laughed — truly laughed — for the first time in what felt like weeks.

She placed a kiss on the dogs little head before correcting her and saying “We are not that kind of household. But imma give you a pass today.”

“Yall… I’m — I don’t even know what to say. “ she juggled the pup as she nipped at her dress. 

She was beaming.

“It ain’t us but, she’ll give you something to do during the day. Someone to hang out with till we wake up. So you won’t feel so alone.” Stacks smile stretched wide across his face. 

Smoke piped in.  Back slightly turned and not meeting her gaze. He was a complex man and guilt was eating him up. How did he not see it? Her unhappiness? The misstep would plague him for a while. 

“Yeah, you can take her for walks and shit. And when she gets older she could even protect you. Y’all can add some extra feminine energy to the space.”  Smoke added gesturing to the area around him lazily. 

She suppressed her laugh — this solution definitely wasn’t initiated by Smoke. 

“How’d you get him to agree to this?” she asked, jerking her chin over shoulder at Smoke but talking to Stack.

“You try to do something nice for someone…” Smoke said dryly.

“I know this wasn’t your idea,” she teased while bringing the puppy up to her nose and breathing in her scent. 

Stack smirked. Smoke scoffed — but he didn’t deny it.

Stack grinned wide, one arm slung around her. “But he ain’t stop it neither.” 

Smoke rolled his eyes. “Y’all bein’ real funny tonight.”

She crooked her finger beckoning for the younger twin to get down on her level. 

“Thank you baby.” She spoke softly into his lips before placing a kiss on them. 

“I wanna do something nice for you, say thank you”

“Yeah?” The man breathed out as his hands went out to grip her thighs.

“Mhm. Not with my words though. You like that idea?” She asked while her hand traveled down his chest to run over his covered member. 

His eyes fluttered shut. He liked the idea, a lot. 

Getting hard from a few kisses and some touching was insane. 

The puppy whined and wriggled in her arms.

“Put her in the crate for a bit,” she said, biting her lip and looking up at him from the edge of the bed. 

He didn’t have to be told twice. He handled the dog and crossed the room to put her away. 

She got up to stretch and glanced over to Smoke. He held her gaze and said nothing as he leaned against the window sill. 

She could tell he was still a little stiff. A bit uncomfortable with everything that had gone down in the past few days. 

She mouthed an “I love you.” to him and the grumpy man couldn’t help but crack a smile. 

“You’re trouble.” 

Now Stack sat on the edge of the bed, watching her — still glowing from the surprise, the love in her chest blooming like a rose.

She walked over and dropped to her knees between his thighs, unhurried.

She turned her head and glanced to Smoke. 

“You not coming over?” The man was now staring outside. 

He glanced at them before huffing “Ya’ll don’t need me over there.”

Annie let out a giggle before focusing on the man in front of her.

Petty. Petty. Either way the show would have to go on. 

She looked up at him and reached up to unleash the dragon. She unzipped his pants and pulled him out. 

“Hi baby.” She said, big brown eyes staring up at him. 

“Hi.” He responded, voice light. 

She had pulled his dick out and stroked him a few times before she moved his tip along her lips. Slightly sticking her tongue out to taste. 

Her eyes fluttered closed. She kept the head between her lips before nippling and kissing it. She was getting in the zone. She loved the build up. Once she took him fully into her mouth, Stack hissed. Then she went to work.

Smoke leaned against the window, arms crossed, watching the way she rocked on her knees. 

One thing about Annie? She got off on sucking dick. Nothing could get her going faster. So yes, the blow job was for Stack but it was also for her. He was looking right at the proof. Smoke focused intently on the essence that slowly oozed onto the floor from her pussy as she sucked the life out of his brother. 

He adjusted himself in his pants, eyes on the woman’s swaying form and the evidence she left behind. She was so sensual. Everything she did made him wanna bow. He wanted to worship at the altar of Annie. 

Right now, he really didn’t deserve it — her. They had fucked up bad. But could he resist her, like this? Right now? She was a picture if he ever saw one. 

He told himself he’d just watch. Let her have this moment with Stack. But when he saw the way her back arched — the soft sounds slipping out her lips — his resolve cracked in half.

“Fuck it.” He’d deal with the guilt after. 

Before she knew it he was crossing the room over to them and ended up right behind her. 

He flexed his knees a bit and she heard him undo his belt buckle, unzip and pull himself out of his pants. Those were some of her favourite sounds. 

She was gonna get it tonight and she was so excited. 

He placed a hand on her hips and slightly angled her body upward. 

“Lemme see that arch baby.” And arch she did. 

Smoke didn’t have it in him to play for long. He was hard as a rock and watching Annie drip onto the floor earlier did his resolve no favours. 

He rubbed his dick along her folds, collecting her essence and watching it glisten on his dick. Fucking glorious. 

He timed his entrance with when she had Stack out of her mouth so he could hear her delicious moan. Fuel for them all.  

Slowly but deliberately he thrust into her. There they set their rhythm, moving in sync. Back and forth — Annie at the center of their world. 

They’d danced this dance time and time again. It never got old. They were a unit. They knew each other's bodies and triggers. It was beautiful for each one of them. Being known so deeply. Being loved so intimately. 

Annie’s eyes had become heavy and lidded from the additional sensation and she set her eyes on Stack. Those eyes coupled with his dick being in her mouth was a problem. 

The man managed to get out a tight “Stop lookin’ at me like that.” Before throwing his head back and letting out a drawn out “Fuck.”

Smoke looked up at his tortured brother and smirked. 

He bent down to whisper comically in his wife’s ear. “Keep going baby. Don’t let him tell you what to do.”

The man could feel the effects of her enthusiasm on him. Every time she came back her pussy would swallow his dick. It was beautiful the way she was creaming on him. It was like an ocean in there and he didn’t wanna stop swimming. 

“If you can make Stack cum, I’ll make you cum. Deal?” Smoke asked.

She bobbed her head enthusiastically and he took that as a yes. 

Annie always felt so sexy when she could have them both at the same time. It was all encompassing and she loved it.  

She grinned to herself and continued to top Stack from the bottom. Licking up and down his thick shaft with her hands twisting at the base periodically. 

She felt the sensation of his dick sliding in and this time she let it slip right down her throat and she held it there. 

“Shit.” Stack exclaimed. 

The man gained the strength to look back down at her and still she looked up at him. Love, adoration and something dangerous in her eyes. 

He made the mistake of glancing even further down and there they were. Annie’s tits were bouncing and jiggling on account of her getting railed by his older brother. 

Oh, the life they lived. 

Stack loved every part of Annie but he went feral for her titties. He was always pinching em, holding em, looking at em, he couldn’t get enough.

His resolve was being tested. He didn’t want this to be over. He wanted to savour this — getting head was a gift. He employed every shred of willpower to hold on. 

He raised his eyes to the ceiling trying to get the graphic image out of his head. He counted 11 planks of wood before glancing down once more. A mistake. 

The man wanted to last, he really fucking did but then Annie took her mouth off him and spat right on his dick. There was a trail of spit still attached to her lip and she held his gaze while rubbing her thumb over his tip. 

She was a wicked wicked woman. 

He watched as her lips enveloped him and she increased her pace and sucked him down her throat once again. 

This time though, she didn’t pull back. She held him tight and he could feel her tongue lapping against the shaft, tickling his skin. Her dark brown eyes stared into his soul. 

She was so heartbreakingly pretty. His hand reached out to cup her face but he didn’t get a chance to. 

She hummed and that's what sealed his fate.  The vibrations created an unreal amount of pleasure. He had no chance against Annie’s prowess. 

His self-control snapped like an elastic band. He was gonna finish. Right fuckin’ now.

At this point he pulled himself out of her mouth and grabbed the base of his dick. 

“Where you want it baby?” He asked his wife, gripping himself tightly. 

She took her hands, pushed her titties together and breathlessly begged “Right here.” 

Her tits then. He let his orgasm rise within him. He was good. 

That was before she dropped her mouth open and stuck her tongue out. 

The man short circuited. 

Annie would save the moan that left Stacks mouth in a box in her mind for later use. 

His internal dialog was overwhelmed. In mere milliseconds he had to make a choice. Her mouth? Her tits? He couldn’t decide in time and shot his thick load somewhere in the middle. 

Most of it landed on the tip of her tongue. She sported a smile as his seed dripped from her mouth right onto her titties. 

It was straight up pornographic. 

The man struggled to catch his breath. He watched the scene mesmerized and as he attempted to recover. 

The little minx that she was, the woman pressed her breasts together spreading his seed across her chest.  

He looked down at her in a flustered accusatory manner. She knew what she did. She fluttered her pleasure laden lashes at him before letting out a breathless “Thank you.”

She continued to smile up at him as if she hadn’t just given him the most insane blow job of his life. 

He had married a wicked woman indeed. 

He cursed under his breath while closing his eyes. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy.” 

Stack was almost in a daze, and he became preoccupied with watching her tits bounce but this time with his cum spread across them. He imagined this was what heaven would be like. 

Behind her Smoke observed their interactions. His measured thrusts were about to become a lot sloppier. 

She turned her head over to look at her husband, her eyes low and lidded and simply said “It’s my turn.”

“I got you baby. You did so good, I’m gonna give you —“ his voice trailed off as she began to fuck back with enthusiasm. 

“Shit Annie.” Smoke placed a hand on her lower back, that arch was doing something to him. 

She was throwing her hips back and letting out soft pants that hit Smoke’s ears in all the best ways. 

Everything was sloppy. And wet. And Annie loved it all. Mentally she was transcending. She felt so special and loved — they paid her so much attention.  There was cum on her lips and on her tits. She wanted it inside of her too. Cover all her bases. 

Stack began pulling at her cum covered nipples, she liked that. 

Smoke reached a hand around her waist to find her clit. 

Slowly he began to tease the sensitive nub. Matching his movements with his thrusts. Back and forth he swiped at her pleasure center.  

“Yes. Yes. That feels so good.” She panted out. 

Her husband was hitting her in all the right places at just the right pace. She met his thrusts with enthusiasm and the stimulation she received on her nipples added to the experience. She was home. 

“I want more.” she let out. 

“More. More. More.” She chanted out breathlessly.

She was getting demanding. This raised an alarm for Smoke. 

How much more could he give?

When she got like this. Hungry for it? He couldn’t control himself. 

“Are you gonna give it to me daddy?” She threw her head over her shoulder, dark low eyes and kiss bruised lips looking back at her partner. 

“Annie — chill out.” He warned, hand placed firmly on the small of her back. 

Annie did not chill. In fact she clenched her walls greedily for a fuller feeling. The very opposite of chilling. 

He gasped. 

“You promised.” She whined. 

Annie wanted — so Smoke provided.

He worked quickly to swipe his fingers across her clit. Leaning over he began to murmur in her ear hard thrusts not letting up. 

“Look how good you are… how perfect you are. How pretty you sing for me.” 

She nodded. A sob building up in her chest. She loved it when they talked her through it. 

“We’re sorry baby.” He continued and she needed to hear it too. 

And he just kept giving — every thrust, every touch, every whispered word. Telling her in the only way he knew how:

You ain’t never alone.

Not while we’re alive.

Not even when we’re dead.

That one final statement did it for her. Her voice cracked as she panted out her pleasure — tears streaming down her face. 

“Yes, yes I’m gonna—” Urgency coated her voice as she reached for Stack’s hand like it was the only thing tethering her to earth.

Stack laced his fingers with hers, grounding her with a steady squeeze. She didn’t have to say anything — he felt what she needed.

Annie always needed a little encouragement to let go. She lived in her head too much — always watching herself from the outside, afraid of losing control. And with the boys? Truth be told, her orgasms scared her. How big they were. How undone they made her.

“Go ‘head, baby,” Stack whispered, voice thick with heat. “It’s okay. You just let go — we right here with you.”

And let go she did.

Smoke watched her — how she shoved her hips back, how tight she clenched around him, how wild and beautiful she looked when she finally let it hit.

She came like a storm breaking open — happy, wild, free.

Stack felt her tremble, felt her trust him — and it stirred something deep in him. If that was loneliness, what she’d felt, then this was the cure. He’d give it to her again and again.

Smoke felt it too. The freedom. Free from last night’s weight. Free from the pressure of always holding it together.

That was all he needed.

He grunted, sank into her one last time, and came with a shout that left him breathless.

____

“Annie?”

“Mhm?” she murmured, distracted as she tickled the puppy’s belly and giggled at its squirming paws.

They were tangled up in bed — a mess of warm skin and lazy limbs. Stack was already out cold, chest rising slow and deep, mouth parted like he’d been knocked out.

Annie rested on his outstretched arm, her fingers drifting up Smoke’s chest, playing with the gold chain that hung between his pecs.

“Next time something’s bothering you…”

“Enough,” she said, cutting him off gently but firm.

He nodded.

“It’s done, baby. We’re good. It’s water under the bridge.”

They were fine. That’s all he needed to know. They didn’t need a hundred words — not when the truth was already pulsing between them.

Stack let out a small snore, body slack.

Annie didn’t know it, but that moment had wrung something out of him too. He’d meant every word — about being there, about her not feeling alone. And when she let go, so did he.

Silence stretched, soft and full.

“You sucked the soul outta him,” he joked.

“He deserved it.” she replied.

Smoke smiled, watching her settle deeper against his chest.

Yeah. They all did. ____ Interested in my future works? Let me know if you'd like me to add you to my tag list. a/n Thank you for every single comment and reblog of Part 1. I was cracking up 🤣 I'm really glad you're enjoying this AU, though a little unconventional. Your thoughts and encouragement keep me writing. Can't wait to hear what ya'll think! My other works can be found in My Masterlist. Thanks for reading! ___ Taglist @chaneajoyyy @pyraomen @browngirldominion @sarcastic-sunshines @goddessofthundathighs @rolemodelshit @bbymuthaaa @boonoonoonus @joysofmyworld @twistedsistas-stuff @blackctrl

@heytemporary

[jjhyunz]

How to ride a bike(r)

mark | jaemin | renjun | Jeno | jisung | chenle | Haechan

NSFW ★

─────────

XFEM!READER late night drive home with jaemin after teasing him at a party. that motorcycle isn’t the only thing you’re gonna ride ;)

Warnings : established relationship, lots of praise, slight dumbification, subspace, implied cock warming & breeding at the end

A/n : Sumn short n simple, but it’s been on my mind for a while

All you can feel is wind. Chaotic gushes of it whipping your hair and hitting you in the face as you hold onto jaemin for dear life. Although, it’s not out of fear—you’ve been sat at the back of his bike many times— you’re used to this high speed adrenaline rush. You just like the way he feels against you, broad and defined back pressed your chest as you both speed through traffic. His jacket smelled like leather and something uniquely his, and every time he leaned into a turn, you felt trust. Your grip loosens.

The city, just hours ago buzzing with music and laughter, had quieted to a low hum — streetlights casting golden halos on the pavement. It was the perfect night for a late drive but you just wanted to get your destination, home.

“We’re almost there, baby.” His voice breaks past the roar of his engine. It’s like he knew, he could feel the restlessness radiating off of you. It was obvious how bad you wanted him, from the moment you got to the party. Music thumping through the floorboards, colored lights flashing across the walls, body’s against bodies, and jaemin against you.

He couldn’t keep his hands off you, lips against your neck and fingers slipping past the hem of your shirt because he just can’t help himself. And then when that wasn’t enough, he was pulling you through the crowd towards the door. “I need you, just not here.”

The low rumble of jaemins bike faded into Silence as he killed the engine. Body still buzzing from the ride, you swing your leg off the bike and jaemin follows. His rough hands interlocks with yours and you’re being pulled along again.

The next few steps are quick, all you can remember is getting into the elevator— jaemins lips against yours, the chime of the elevator door and then you’re in your apartment.

Articles of clothing riddle your floors, outlining the path you made to your bed room. The last few pieces; some lace and a pair of boxers.

Jaemin lays you down, sharp eyes tracing and noting every curve and divot of your body. “Good god, you’re so beautiful” he groans, hands prying your thighs apart. “what should I do? Hm? Can’t think about nothing else other than fucking you,”

“Jaem,” you reach out, fingers finding refuge in his in the softness of his hair. “Please don’t make me wait any longer,”

The tip of his cock presses against your entrance, stretching it as he pushes his way through. you let out a gasp as your walls accepts him, sucking in every inch until he’s so deep in you that your stomach starts to ache.

“Fuck, you feel so good around me. Taking me so well, I can finish right here.” but he won’t, not when he’s just getting started. His hips reel back, length pulling out just to dive back in.

he takes his time with you, finding a steady rhythm and watching you unravel beneath him. You’re so full of him, each pump leaving you breathless and weak. His fingers on your clit, digits rolling the bud around and sending you over.

“you like that?” he tuts, voice low and smooth. “You like when I fuck you like this? Or should go faster? Huh? Would you like that? “

You can’t even respond. You’re so spent, eyes dilated and mind numb. You couldn’t care less what he did, just as long as he didn’t stop touching you.

Jaemin chuckles at your state. “Baby, are you there?” He leans down, lips kissing your neck and collarbone. “Don’t get all quiet on me now. Where’s the girl from the party earlier? Pushing your ass against me, telling me how’d you ride me. You’re not going back on your promise are you ?”

You gulp, “n-no,” your voice shakes and jaemin cracks a smile.

“atta girl.”

Your positions switch, those dark eyes now shining brightly under you as he watched you sink down onto him. He groans at the feeling, being stuffed inside of you once again. if you thought you couldn’t feel him before, you can definitely feel him now.

Hips rocking against his, you throw your head back. Fucking yourself with his cock, using him in such shameless way and jaemin loved it. He loved watching your chest bounce as you hold his knees behind you for that extra amount of leverage. Loved the way you’d whimper when he thrusts up to meet your movements. “That’s right, sweetheart. you’re doing so good.”

Your legs feel like they could give out at any second but you’re so desperate, chasing after his high and your own— you don’t give a fuck. “Jaemin, please please please.” You beg, tears threatening spill. “So close.”

“Me too, baby” he grunts hands moving to your hips and guiding you against him. His cock twitches inside, pulsating and ready to explode at any moment. “just a little more. you can do that do that, can’t you?”

you start getting sloppy, thighs starting to shake as you pant and beg like a dog. You’re a mess, both of you are. fucking each other dumb until the coil in the pit of your stomach finally pops.

“Ah, shit” jaemin hisses as your wall clenches around him harshly, pulling out the white ropes of his seed. he fills you up, cum spilling out and onto his stomach as you ride everything out. “you’re too perfect, milking me like this.”

Exhausted, you lay against his chest—listening to the soft drum of his heart as you both catch your breaths. “You did so well,” Jaemin runs his hands through your hair, whispering soft nothings until eventually you both drift into a deep sleep.

[witchslove]

I’ve written you a couple times but can I be 🚀 anon :)

thinking abt sub!milf!wanda that’s a little inexperienced and repressed with a more sexually confident reader…

Yes, you can! Also I kinda got carried away with this one so enjoy!

I love this idea, Wanda being inexperienced because the only person she’s slept with was the father of her children and the sex with him wasn’t even good most of the time. She has no idea what it feels like to really be taken care of by someone else, until she meets you.

She’s so sweet and innocent when the two of you start sleeping together, she’s definitely not used to her partner wanting to please her so badly. She’s shy at first, her useless ex-husband never making her feel beautiful or desired during sex. You encourage her to let you see all of her and she blushes when you tell her she’s gorgeous everywhere.

What really gets her is the dirty talk. No one has ever spoken to her like that before and here you are, telling her what a pretty pussy she has and how badly you want her to cum in your mouth. You bring her to orgasm with your fingers first and she’s surprised when you want her to go again, barely having been given one orgasm by her ex, let alone two.

By the end of your first time together, Wanda has cum at least four times and she’s shocked that she’s the one stopping you from continuing, her oversensitive pussy begging for a break. She admits she’s never been taken care of like this and you promise to always make her feel good whenever she wants.

Wanda’s also super embarrassed about masturbation, despite having to do it so often in her marriage just to get off at all. When you catch her in the act one day, she’s blushing profusely and apologizing, wishing the ground beneath her would swallow her whole.

What she isn’t expecting, however, is for you to pull up a chair and tell her to keep going. “I- really?” She asks, blushing even more at the thought of you watching her. You nod, getting comfortable, and she hesitates at first. “Go on baby, touch your pretty pussy for me. Show me how to make you feel good.” Your words go straight to her core and despite how embarrassed she feels, she can’t deny that the whole thing is turning her on.

With shaky fingers, she obeys, rubbing circles over her clit while you watch, eyes glued to her wet center. “Fuck, you look so pretty like this,” you say breathily, giving her the confidence to pick up her pace and slide a finger inside. She fucks herself under your lustful gaze, her shyness dissipating with every thrust of her fingers. The wet sounds of her pussy make you moan and she comes undone at the sound, trembling as she arches off the bed.

You praise her after and tell her how good she was for you, then reward her with your mouth. You make her tell you what she was thinking about and heat flushes through her body when she responds. Describing her fantasies to you feels slightly humiliating but it only makes her wetter under your touch.

I’m up and barking for repressed milf!Wanda ❤️

[peachesanmemes]

I also recommend just using the "whole message model." Similar to these examples but all-encompassing and you can literally just checklist it once you practice it a few times. Other people respond really well to whole messages instead of partial ones.

Partial message example: You don't really want to talk to me right now do you?

Lots of implications, lots of room for misinterpretation, isn't clear what the person wants done about the situation.

Whole message example: I've noticed we haven't been talking much and your responses have felt really short. I don't think this is the best way for us to resolve the thing that happened. I feel bad when we don't talk because I care about you/our relationship. Can you tell me what made you upset so we can work on a solution together?

Works really well, the other person doesn't have to guess anything, and they know plainly what you would like to see happen.

The whole message model also works for good things!

Happy example: You've really been picking up the slack for the team this week! It's really helping us all be more efficient and keep things running smoothly. I'm really glad we have you on the team, I feel better knowing you're around. :) I hope you know how meaningful your contributions are and I'd love to hear if there's ever any support you need from me.

I hate that thing some people do where it's like. "I left my wallet on the table to see if you'd say anything" or "I wanted to see if you'd wash the car if I stopped doing it"

Cause like

I dont know about anyone else

But I am perpetually hovering three inches above the strong subconscious belief that everyone knows what they're doing at all times except me, so if you change your normal patterns and I notice, then I will assume it is an intentional choice with a thought-out plan behind it and I will avoid interfering

And if I don't notice, because I won't, because why would I, because not much bothers me and if you don't say anything to indicate you are bothered then how would I KNOW

[toxicanonymity]

hii angel!! i hope you’re doing well 💕

would it be okay if you made a drabble about going in for your yearly check up and pervy doctor!joel miller very shamelessly stares at ur cleavage and suggests (more like insists) he performs a breast exam?! hehehe

-🍰 anon

Bad Doctor (one shot), 18+

“Hey, not a lot of doctors will tell ya this, but cock is one of the best things you can put in your body.” He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head forward like he’d just let you in on a secret.

(dark) Dr. Joel Miller x f!reader | 2.1k

Joel Masterlist | About my asks

NOTES: ty for the ask, cake! Post-outbreak, doesn't have to worry about losing his license 😼 ✨️

WARNINGS: 18+ dubcon - power imbalance, inappropriate dirty talk touching sucking and arousal, drug use, shotgunning, pet names, praise, titty pronouns, discussion/misuse of women's health concerns for manipulation, medical disinformation, mention of future pregnancy & lactation

PLEASE CHECK YOUR BREASTS and support cancer research. Gustave Rossy Cancer Campus Foundation Paris 💗

“You practice safe smokin’?” Dr. Miller asked as he was about to light up the joint he rolled from the weed you provided as payment. 

“Safe smoking?” You asked. 

He shifted his weight onto one foot and held up the joint. “Only one way you should be smokin’, darlin’.”

He lit the joint, then walked over to the exam table where you sat with your legs over the edge, fully clothed. When he was almost up against you, he took your jaw in his hand. He brought his face nearly to yours. He let the cooled smoke out of his mouth slowly and you breathed in to accept it. He looked at your mouth with a little smile when he finished, then shamelessly eyed your cleavage. “Alright, let’s finish goin’ through these questions then get you outta here.” 

He put out the joint, then sat back down on his rolling chair. He was manspreading broadly, with his crotch on full display. His scrubs left nothing to the imagination either. They were tight and he clearly had a big package. Big balls, too. His hands dwarfed your medical chart. 

He looked up at you from above his glasses and asked, “Have you been taking a multivitamin?”

“Not as much as I should,” you answered.

“That's okay, baby. Just put it on your counter and take it when ya think about it, okay?” The pet name tickled your cheeks. “Okay, let's see,” he continued. “How ‘bout exercise? You movin’ around?” 

“Yeah,” you said. “I'm pretty good about that.”

“Good girl,” he commended you. “Okay now, women’s health….Hows your period? You regular?” 

“Regular enough.” 

“Alright,” he chuckled. “Remember the last one?”

“Around the first of the month.”

“Good,” he muttered. “Sexual activity?”

“Uh, what about it?” you asked. 

“Well, are ya havin’ enough sex, and how's it feelin’?”

“I guess it’s been a bit of a dry spell,” you said.

“Damn, no stories for me, then?” 

You laughed. 

“That’s a shame. I like hearin’ about that shit. Findin’ out who spits and who swallows. Which guys got a big dick or not.” He chuckled, then saw you didn’t know how to respond and added, “I’m kiddin’, darlin’. But  really... good lookin’ girl like you? A dry spell?” He paused to look you over, before commiserating, “That is a real shame.” 

Your upper body heated.

“Take care of yourself at least? Make yourself cum?”

When you hesitated to respond, he said, “Don't gotta answer that, but it's important, okay? Make sure ya do that.” 

“How often?” you asked. 

“Oh, once or twice a day should do ya… And if you're havin' trouble, sometimes direct contact can be too much. Try somethin’ else. Different angle, different pressure. Every woman's beautiful and different.”

“Thanks,” you said, feeling like his words were heartfelt.  

“Bet you're beautiful when ya cum,” he muttered, then held his hand up in mock defense, with a smile. “Sorry, that won't go in your chart. Okay, still in the women's health section here.” He lifted up one page and looked at the next. “You do your monthly breast exam?” 

“Um…. yyyeah, I try, I try to check regularly.” You answered. 

“When's the last time ya did it?”

“Um…”

“Ain’t sure? You oughta be trackin’ that, baby. Tell ya what….” 

He closed the chart and took off his glasses. “Let's take care of that while you're here. How's that?”

“Oh, um, you know, I could just do it when I get home,” you offered, feeling shy. Maybe if he wasn’t so hot, maybe if you weren’t so aware of his big dick in those tight scrubs, then it wouldn’t be so embarrassing. 

“Well, I hate to say it, but I really should take care of this for ya…. Ya know, now that I'm aware, it wouldn't be right for me to send ya home when I coulda done this in five minutes. Alright, shirt off, sweetheart," and cracked a little side smile with a wink.  "Let's see the girls."

Still manspreading on his rolling chair, he watched with his elbow on the counter and a pen in his mouth, looking you up and down as you took off your top.

“Alright,” his deep voice took on a softer, more intimate volume.  

After dimming the lights, he approached slowly. “That's a little better, ain't it?” He asked, looking up at the fluorescent overhead light he had turned off. He laid his massive hands one on each knee and said, “spread’em, sweetheart. I need to get a little closer.” He helped you spread your legs, then reached around you and mumbled, “You know, a bra comin' off is one of the most beautiful sights.” He unhooked it and nudged the straps off your shoulder. 

“There we go. Good girl,” he said, and admired them with an audible, “Mmm.” 

“Well, they look healthy,” he said. “You got a real pretty pair here, baby. You can tell a lot about a woman by the shape of her breasts, by her nipples.”

“Really” you asked? 

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “And by the way they feel, their density. It's all connected. Your whole–all your anatomy, your whole reproductive system, it's all connected….. Just from lookin’ at ya I can tell you’re real fertile.  If you're looking to get knocked up, you’re in luck,” he chuckled.  “And your milk supply will probably come in pretty quick, too.”

As he spoke, he began the breast exam with his fingers on the outside of each breast, cupping each one at the same time. “All right, good,” he said. I'm gonna check each one.” 

For your first breast, he moved so one of his legs was on the outside of yours to get closer to that side.  He caressed your hair and asked, “this okay?” As his other hand lifted your breast. 

“Yeah,” you agreed, heart beating faster. Your chest buzzed with the weed. 

He took in a long breath through his nose as he felt you. "She's got real nice milk ducts." He lifted your breast, pressed it up against your body, kneaded it, and kept glancing at your eyes. You were tingling between the legs already. He wet his lips, then used both hands in more of a clinical approach to feel around your breast, looking for any abnormalities.

“Okay, good,” he said to himself. “Shoulders back for me, sugar.” 

You complied, making your breasts jut out a little more. 

“Good girl,” he said. He caressed your breast from each side, then palmed it.  “Mmm.. Now I'm gonna check your reflexes.” 

He put your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, gently caressed it with his thumb, then squeezed a little. “Hmm,” he hummed as if unsure.

“What?” you asked. 

Your nipple fully hardened and you got goosebumps. “A little slow, but that's okay,” he said. “Let's come back to that. It’s a real important indicator. Important for all kinds of stuff.” 

When he moved to your other side, his package grazed your knee. Then he pressed his hips forward, and you felt the warm bulge in his scrubs. Your knee jerked away. “Oh, it’s alright. It's okay, baby," He said. "Don’t worry, you ain’t gonna hurt me….unless ya get feisty with me,” he chuckled. “All right, now let's see if she's sleepy like her sister.”

Your nipples were both relatively firm. He flattened his palm against it, let out a nearly silent grunt. His pupils were dilated. He caressed around the curve of your breast, then grabbed a handful, holding the weight in his hand, before dropping it. 

“You got a real nice pair, sweetheart. Real healthy.” As he kneaded your breast, his manhood hardened against your knee. “Shit, I bet you drive the fellas crazy,” he said. “Pretty girl, pair of jugs like this. Mm-mm, mm-mm-mm.” 

“Thanks,” you said. 

“So what's stoppin’ ya?”  he asked. 

“From what?” you replied, already knowing what he meant. 

“Keepin' that kitty nice and stuffed,” he chuckled.. “Hey, not a lot of doctors will tell you this, but cock is one of the best things you can put in your body.” He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head forward like he’d just let you in on a secret. He began to massage your breast idly as he spoke. 

“Now, with your legs spread like that, I can tell you're turned on.” 

Your face got hotter than it had ever been. 

“I can smell it,” he explained. 

You moved to close your legs, and he kept them open. 

“No, that's a good thing, sugar. Means everything's workin’. Everything's workin’ fine…. We think… so far.

Alright,” he said as he stimulated your nipple. “Well, she's a little sleepy too. Tell ya what, we'll try a different stimulation.” 

“Okay,” you agreed.

“And a little education never hurt either. You know what your nipples are for, darlin’? Two things. Pleasure and breastfeeding. 

“So it's real important they react to a mouth and tongue.” 

You looked at his mouth, and he wet his lips. “Cause pleasure’s important to help ya cum–and again, that’s real important, baby. And breastfeeding’s real important too, once ya have a baby.” 

You sat silently awaiting his next move. 

“Okay, so I'm just gonna make sure they're as reactive as they need to be…. get up on your knees for me, sweetheart.” 

You complied,  which put your breasts closer to his face. 

“Good girl,” he said. “God damn, you look real good.” He palmed himself over his pants, then let out a low whistle. He lifted your breast and approached it with his face, making contact tongue first, then closing his lips around it.

He closed his lips, swirled his tongue, and sucked gently. You inhaled sharply and he looked up with a mischievous glint in his eye. He suckled at your tit until your nipples were painfully hard, then let go of it and cleared his throat. “Oh yeah, that's better….oh yeah.”  He used his wrist to rub a visible erection through his obscene pants again.  “Now let me get the other one real quick. It's already hard, but i just gotta make sure it's the same.  Down the line, don’t wanna get in a situation where your milk supply is imbalanced– you know, once you have a baby.”  He framed your nipple in the crook of his thumb. “And baby I’d kill to see you pregnant. Damn. You lemme know if you ever need help with that.” 

You were throbbing wildly. He lifted your breast slightly before giving it a gentle kiss, looking up and making eye contact as he did it, then swirling his tongue around your already hard nipple, sucking it into his mouth. His tongue lapped just below your nipple, and he hummed, “Mmmn,” into your breast as he sucked.

After taking it out of his mouth, he said, “Good, real good.” He rested a hand on each of your thighs. “Now, you gotta promise me you're gonna do your breast check every month.”

“That whole thing?” you asked. 

“Well, grab a partner, sweetheart. It can be one of your girlfriends. All else fails, you know where to find me, don’t ya?” 

“Yeah,” you agreed. 

“Anything else I can do before ya go?” he asked and ran his hands up your thighs, then squeezed them. .

“I think I’'m okay,” you said. 

“You sure?” he asked and brought one of his hands between your legs. He two knucklesto ghost your cunt through your yoga pants, one on each side of your wet spot. Then he ghosted your clit with his thumb.  “Don't be shy now,” his chest expanded with deeper breaths. 

“I should really get going,” you said. 

“Fair enough.” He put his glasses back on, stepped back, and said, “you can stop spreadin’ your legs now.” He squeezed the thick shape of his cock before telling you, “Make sure you come back in a year, okay?”

 It felt abrupt. 

“Wait,” you said as he turned to leave, with his silhouette sporting a significant bulge.  You asked, “What if I need help or something? Just come back?”

“Yep. Sure thing, sweetheart.” 

He came back to the bedside and cupped your cheek. “You're a beautiful girl, real healthy. Just make sure ya do what I said, okay? Take care of that sweet little pussy for me.”

“Okay, Dr. Miller.” 

“Alright, take care now.”

Thank you for reading! 💕

[randominchident]

lucky kisses

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. charles leclerc x reader ⋆ 𐙚 ̊.

It starts with a nervous smile in Monaco and a soft kiss on the tip of Charles’s nose—just a little kiss for good luck. It becomes a habit. max version here

It starts in Monaco.

You’re leaning against the Ferrari garage wall, arms crossed and sunglasses on, trying not to look like you’re bursting with nerves. Charles is in his race suit. Half-zipped. Bouncing on his heels like he’s got Red Bull running through his veins.

He walks over, fiddling with his gloves, and gives you that crooked little smile—the one that melts you every time. His head tilts just slightly to the side. Butterflies still erupt in your stomach everytime he smiles like that. Even after months of dating.

“You nervous for me, chérie?” he teases, as if he isn’t just as stressed himself.

“I’m always nervous,” you reply honestly. You reach for his wrist, tug him closer to you.

He laughs and bumps his forehead against yours for a second. It’s all you need to press a soft kiss right on the tip of his nose, spontaneous and sweet.

“There,” you murmur. “For good luck.”

He blinks, surprised, but a cautious smile spreads across his face. “You think that’ll help?”

You shrug. “It felt right.”

Charles just grins, red tinting his cheeks. “Then I better win.”

He’s quiet for a moment, about to turn away towards the garage. He should go. But instead he turns back to you and whispers softly in your ear:

“Maybe I need just a bit more luck first.” 

The kiss he presses to your lips is soft, a feeling of complete devotion behind it. Then he’s gone. Being pulled away by engineers before you can even whisper goodbye to each other. 

He finishes second.

Not a win, but a clean race. A podium in his hometown. Smart overtakes. No mechanical failures. And—most importantly—a smile so wide it crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he spots you after the race.

He practically bounds into your arms the second he’s free from interviews, suit half-peeled off, hair flattened from the helmet, skin sticky from champagne, and absolutely glowing.

“P2,” he says breathlessly. “Not bad, huh?”

You grin, looping your arms around his neck. “I told you: my kisses are lucky.”

He kisses your cheek. Then your temple. Then rests his forehead against yours and sighs contently.

“Next time, I’ll win.”

The next race, you’re sitting on the pit wall bench when he approaches you in full race kit, gloves tucked under his arm.

He says nothing—just stands in front of you and raises a brow, expectantly.

You blink up at him. “What?”

He leans in. Taps the bridge of his nose. “I believe you owe me something.”

You laugh, cheeks warm. “Oh, we’re doing that again?”

“Chérie,” he says, deadly serious, “I need it. I promised you I’d win. The team says tire degradation will be bad. I’m starting P4. There’s no way I’m going out there without my good luck.”

You lean in, laugh breathily, and press a gentle kiss to his nose.

“There,” you say. “You're ready now.”

Charles closes his eyes like he’s soaking it in. “Mmh. Already feel faster.”

He opens his eyes again, lashes fluttering, and looks at you with that infuriating, devastating half-smile.

“You sure you don’t want to kiss the front wing too?” he teases. “Could use all the help we can get.”

You snort. “Tell the front wing to get its own girlfriend.”

Charles laughs, full and bright, and leans in for a quick kiss on your lips—just a brush, fleeting but grounding. Then he’s off, jogging toward the car with a kind of lightness in his step that hasn’t been there in a while.

This time, the race unfolds perfectly.

Lap after lap, Charles seems to move impossibly faster. He glides past his opponents with a practiced ease, pushes hard but stays smooth. The tires hold better than expected. The car responds like it’s alive, perfectly tuned to his every desire and move.

When the checkered flag waves, the timing screens flash his name first.

He wins.

You scream louder than anyone else in the garage. 

Later, on the podium, the crowd is roaring. Charles stands tall, champagne in hand, eyes scanning the sea of fans and cameras. Then, his gaze locks on you—your heart leaps.

With a mischievous grin, he taps the tip of his nose once—twice—then points directly at you. You're sure the internet will erupt in jokes and speculation about it later, but for now the moment is just between the two of you.

You press a kiss to your fingers and send it flying up to him.

That night, when you're wrapped in his arms and the soft hum of the city outside his bedroom window, you kiss the bridge of his nose again.

His eyes are still closed as you curl into his chest, his breath steady and slow. He holds your hand tight. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and certain.

“Don’t ever stop.”

And you won’t.

Because some things—like him—are forever.

requested by: @skz8riley (thanks for the request! i hope you enjoy!)

[writeriguess]

request/idea

katsuki x reader where reader gets really depressed and doesn’t leave her bed for days and doesn’t really eat

Only if you want of course!

When the Fire Goes Out

It starts slow. At first, it’s just a heavy feeling in your chest, a weight that makes everything feel harder than it should be. Getting up, eating, showering—it all takes too much effort. And then, one day, you just stop trying.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been in bed. The curtains are drawn, but dim light still leaks through, enough to remind you that the world is still moving outside, even if you aren’t. Your phone buzzes somewhere on the floor, probably another message from Katsuki, but you can’t bring yourself to check.

It doesn’t take long for him to show up in person.

The first time he knocks, you ignore it. The second time, he pounds on the door, the sharp, angry raps rattling the walls. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping he’ll go away.

He doesn’t.

“Damn it, I know you’re in there,” Katsuki’s voice is sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade. “Open the damn door, or I’m kicking it in.”

You don’t respond. You can’t. Even breathing feels like too much effort.

A moment later, there’s a loud boom, and the door bursts open, swinging on its hinges. You flinch at the sound of heavy footsteps stomping toward your bedroom.

“Oi,” his voice is closer now, laced with something that sounds almost like panic. “The fuck is this?”

You don’t turn to look at him, but you don’t have to. You can picture him perfectly—wild blonde hair, crimson eyes burning with frustration, arms crossed in that defensive way he always stands when he’s feeling something he doesn’t know how to express.

He storms to your bedside, the mattress dipping as he sits down heavily. You still don’t look at him.

“Hey.” Katsuki’s voice is softer now, but still firm. “You gonna tell me what’s going on, or am I gonna have to drag it out of you?”

You swallow thickly, but say nothing.

You hear him sigh, the sound uncharacteristically unsteady. “Shit… how long have you been like this?”

When you don’t answer, you hear rustling—he’s checking your nightstand, probably noticing the untouched water bottle, the empty snack wrappers from who-knows-how-long ago. Then he’s moving again, probably checking the trash can, the floor, maybe even the bathroom. You don’t have to look to know he’s putting the pieces together.

“Have you even eaten?” His voice is lower now, almost too quiet.

You shake your head once.

“Dumbass.” There’s no real bite in the word, just a strained kind of frustration. “You think you’re just gonna lay here and waste away? Huh?”

You don’t have an answer.

Katsuki exhales sharply through his nose, then stands up abruptly. “Alright, that’s it. Get up.”

You don’t move.

“Not fucking around, babe. Up. Now.”

Still, nothing.

Then, suddenly, the blankets are ripped away, and a burst of cold air rushes over your skin. You curl in on yourself instinctively, but Katsuki is faster. His arms hook under your body, and before you can process what’s happening, he’s lifting you up against his chest.

“K-Katsuki—” your voice cracks from disuse, barely above a whisper.

“Shut up,” he mutters, adjusting his grip so you’re secure in his arms. “You really think I’m just gonna let you rot in here? Hell no.”

He carries you out of the bedroom with ease, his strength making it seem effortless. You want to protest, but your body is weak from days of neglect, and part of you doesn’t even mind.

He sets you down on the couch, then disappears into the kitchen. You hear cabinets opening and closing, the sound of water running. A few minutes later, he returns, holding a glass of water and a small plate of food—something simple, toast with butter, a banana, and a protein bar. He sits down beside you, shoving the glass into your hands.

“Drink.”

You hesitate.

“I swear to god, if you don’t drink that, I will force it down your throat.” His glare is unwavering, but there’s something softer underneath it—something almost desperate.

You take a sip.

His shoulders relax just slightly.

“Good. Now eat.” He breaks the toast in half and holds out a piece to you. “Don’t care if you only take a couple bites. Just eat something.”

You take the toast with shaking fingers. The first bite is hard to swallow, your stomach protesting after being empty for so long, but Katsuki doesn’t look away, doesn’t let you stop. Slowly, you finish it.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

You sit in silence for a while after that. Katsuki doesn’t push you to talk, doesn’t ask for explanations. He just stays there, close enough that his warmth seeps into your skin.

After a long pause, you finally whisper, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Katsuki clenches his jaw, staring at his hands. “Nothing’s wrong with you,” he mutters. “You’re just… struggling.”

You blink at him, surprised. He sounds almost guilty.

“I should’ve noticed sooner,” he says, voice rough. “Should’ve been here before it got this bad.”

You shake your head. “It’s not your fault.”

He scoffs. “Like hell it isn’t. You’re my girl. It’s my job to take care of you.”

You feel something tighten in your chest—something that feels dangerously close to relief.

Katsuki shifts closer, resting his arm along the back of the couch. “I ain’t letting this happen again. From now on, you eat, you drink water, you move—even if I gotta drag your ass out of bed every morning.”

A small, tired smile tugs at your lips. “That sounds exhausting.”

“Yeah, well, you’re worth the trouble.” His gaze softens, and for a moment, there’s nothing but quiet understanding between you.

It’s not a solution. You know you’re not magically better just because Katsuki showed up. But right now, in this moment, you don’t feel so alone.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough to hold onto.

[veal-exe]

What To Do If You're First On Scene at a Pedestrian-Vehicle Accident

(Or really, any sudden traumatic public injury)

Today, I witnessed someone die in a vehicle-on-pedestrian accident. Nothing could have saved them. But what struck me was how few people around me knew what to do. I ended up taking charge, and I want to share what I know, what helps, and what you need to know, in case you're ever in the position of being first on the scene. These are things everyone should know:

1. Call 911 immediately.

Never assume someone else already has. In a group, it's very common that no one actually calls because everyone thinks someone else is doing it. If you can't do it yourself (for emotional or practical reasons), point to someone directly and give them direct instructions: "You in the blue jacket, call 911 now." Direct communication saves lives.

2. Do NOT move the injured person.

Unless there is immediate active danger (like an active fire), do not attempt to move them. Movement can worsen spinal injuries or internal damage. What you can do is:

Steady their head and neck to prevent further movement.

If you can't do this yourself, direct someone else: "You in the red shirt. Kneel there and hold their head steady, like this."

3. Don’t crowd them.

People want to help. But a crowd around a critically injured person does more harm than good. It:

Makes it harder for EMTs to get in fast

Can increase panic for the injured person

Increases the risk of accidental harm

Help create a clear space around the person. Stand firm if you have to. Say: "Please back up, EMS needs a clear space when they arrive."

4. Control the scene.

If the injury happened in or near traffic, the scene is still dangerous. Direct others to:

Flag down or slow traffic around the accident

Create a visible blockade using cars (with hazards on) if safe

Assign someone to visibly wave down emergency vehicles when they arrive, especially if the scene is obscured by layout or location

5. Do not film. Do not allow filming.

This shouldn't need saying, but sadly, it does. Someone is dying, or might be, and this is not content. If you see someone recording, ask them to stop. If you feel safe, tell them directly: "Have some respect. They could be dying. Put your phone down."

6. Talk to the person, even if they’re unconscious or unresponsive.

If they’re conscious:

Reassure them that help is coming.

Keep them as calm and still as possible.

Speak gently, confidently, and with clarity.

If they’re unconscious or beyond help, speak anyway. Speak gently. With kindness. They may still hear you. Dignity and humanity matter.

7. After it’s over, take care of yourself.

Even if you did everything right, witnessing an accident is traumatic.

You do not need to “be fine.” It’s okay if you aren’t fine.

Emergencies are horrible. They happen fast. People freeze, panic, or get overwhelmed. But even a few calm actions can make a huge difference; for the injured, the emergency responders, and the other bystanders around you. I hope this helps someone else, because I can't be in every emergency situation, and not every emergency situation will have someone who knows what they're doing.

Stay safe out there.

[neonbonded]

Their breaking point — When you tease them just a little too much

♡ ft. love and deepspace men x fem!reader ♡ cw: explicit themes, power dynamics, rough language, dominance/submission tones, possessive behavior (18+)

Xavier

♡ don’t mistake quiet for soft—he’s just waiting for you to beg for it.

It starts innocent. You straddle his lap during downtime, playful and light, your fingers slipping just under the hem of his shirt as you lean into him, lips brushing his jaw like a tease.

He doesn't move at first. Doesn’t speak. But his eyes? His eyes are tracking every shift of your body like he’s calculating how long he can stay composed.

You murmur against his ear, deliberately soft:

“What if I don’t want you to be gentle?”

His breath stills. And then his hand snaps up, catching your wrist mid-stroke. Not harsh. Not angry. But final. Like he’s made a decision.

His voice is low, rough—like it’s been dragged from somewhere dark.

“You think I don’t want to lose control with you?” “I think about it every time you touch me like that.”

And then he shifts. One knee wedges between your thighs, and you gasp—your hips reacting before your brain does. He watches your face twist in surprise, his mouth curling just slightly.

“Look at you,” he whispers, breath hot against your throat. “Already shaking. And I haven’t even started.”

You try to respond—but he moves faster.

One hand tangles in your hair, angling your mouth open for a deep, consuming kiss, while the other trails under your shirt—slow, torturous. His fingers barely ghost the edge of your bra and you still whimper like you’ve been touched raw.

He breathes your name against your lips, and it sounds like a warning.

“You don’t get to act this sweet and pretend you’re not begging for it.”

He kisses down your neck, biting just enough to make you arch into him, and then he grabs you—lifts you—and carries you to the nearest surface like you weigh nothing.

“You want me to be rough?” he growls, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand. “Then take it. Every. Fucking. Inch.”

And when he finally pushes inside—deep and slow, holding eye contact like it’s everything—your breath catches. Because he’s still not rushing. Still completely in control.

But that control is cracking. Every sound you make, every grind of your hips, it’s unraveling him.

“Say it,” he pants, voice wrecked. “Say you want me like this.”

You do. Over and over.

And when he finally breaks—hips stuttering, mouth messy against your shoulder, voice shaking with something too big to name—you know one thing:

Quiet doesn’t mean soft. Not with Xavier. Not when it’s you.

Zayne

♡ it’s always the composed ones who ruin you the most.

It starts with a smirk. Yours. You crawl into his lap while he’s mid-review—patient records on one screen, his fingers absently scrolling—but you don’t care. Your thighs slide over his, settling just right. You tug on the knot of his tie with two fingers, lazy and deliberate, and lean in so close your breath fans over his cheek.

“Am I distracting you, Doctor?”

Zayne stiffens. Doesn’t answer. His jaw tenses, eyes flick to yours over the rim of his glasses, and for a second you think he’s going to tell you off.

But he doesn’t. He just watches you. Like he’s waiting.

So you push further. You kiss beneath his jaw, slow and taunting, shifting your hips in his lap until you feel him—thick and hard against your core, straining under the fabric. You moan softly, breathless against his skin.

That’s when he moves.

His hand comes up, fingers wrapping around your throat—not tight, but commanding. Grounding. Possessive. You freeze, breath catching in your lungs.

“You think you’re in control of this?” he says, voice low and even—but his pulse is racing.

You open your mouth to respond, but you don’t get the chance. Zayne surges forward, kissing you hard—deep and ruthless, stealing the breath from your lungs. His tie is already undone. His shirt, half unbuttoned from your teasing fingers, gets shoved aside as he grips your hips and drags you down against him with a frustrated growl.

“I’ve stitched up lacerations with steadier hands,” he mutters, lips brushing yours between kisses. “But you?” “You make me fucking lose it.”

Before you can even fully process it, he’s lifting you, laying you flat across the edge of his desk. Papers scatter. His name badge hits the floor.

He kneels.

And then he drags his tongue up the inside of your thigh—slow, methodical, like he’s mapping pressure points with every flick and kiss. His hands slide under your skirt, pushing it higher until you’re exposed and trembling.

“You wanted my attention?” he murmurs, licking his thumb and pressing it exactly where it hurts. “Now you’ve got it.”

He doesn’t stop. Not when your legs start to shake. Not when you sob his name like a prayer. He pushes you to your edge, pulls you back, and starts all over again. Controlled. Measured. Absolute.

Because Zayne might have been calm when you teased him— But now? He’s going to make sure you never dare try it again.

Rafayel

♡ the teasing king gets dethroned—then shows you exactly who’s in charge.

It starts with a shift in power. You crawl into his lap, straddling him in his paint-stained studio chair, arms draped loosely over his shoulders like you’re just relaxing. Like you don’t have a plan. But the moment you press your mouth to his jaw and whisper—

“What’s wrong, baby? You’re usually the one making me blush…”

—Rafayel forgets how to breathe.

He freezes. Hands gripping your thighs like a man caught off guard, lips parting, eyes blazing. You grin against his skin, smug and wicked.

“Oh, you’re evil,” he groans, voice rough, breath hot. “A menace. A certified brat.”

You roll your hips once—slow, deliberate—and that’s when he snaps.

His hands slide down to your ass, squeezing hard, dragging you flush against him. You feel him—hot and already so hard beneath you—and it makes you gasp.

“You wanna act bold, cutie?” he grits out, pupils blown. “Then take responsibility for what you’ve started.”

His mouth crashes into yours, all tongue and teeth and need, and when you whimper into him, his groan rips from his chest like he’s been waiting forever.

And then?

He flips you.

You barely process it before you’re bent over the edge of the canvas table—brushes crashing to the floor, half-finished painting forgotten, his hands already dragging your panties down your thighs like he owns you.

“You wanna play games?” he hisses against your neck. “Let’s fucking play.”

He doesn’t even undress fully—just enough to free himself, enough to pin you with his weight, his mouth grazing your ear as he presses inside you all at once.

“Still smug now?” he growls, thrusting deep enough to make your knees buckle. “Huh? Still wanna tease?”

But it’s not just rough—it’s worship. His hand slips between your legs. His fingers circle exactly where you need him, teasing and coaxing moans from your throat like he’s painting with your pleasure.

“You sound so good like this,” he breathes. “You always do.”

You try to speak—but your voice breaks on his name.

“Say it again,” he whispers, teeth grazing your shoulder. “Say my name like that, and I’ll let you come.”

And when you do?

He paints the memory of it in every corner of his mind—and later, on canvas too. Because he might’ve lost control in the moment—but you? You’re the only masterpiece he’s ever truly come undone for.

Sylus

♡ you poke the wolf—and now he’s done pretending to play nice.

You knew what you were doing. Showing up late at his private Onychinus suite, all soft legs and sweet lips, wearing one of his silk shirts that barely covers anything. You strut in like you own the place, settle onto his velvet desk, and give him that look—the one that says “come get me.”

He doesn’t move at first. Just leans back in his chair, red eyes locked on you, sipping whiskey like he isn’t already seconds from snapping.

“You’re bold tonight,” he says, voice lazy and lethal. “Trying to make me lose focus?”

You tilt your head, innocent and shameless.

“You looked tense. I figured I’d offer a distraction.”

He closes his drink and stands—slow and deliberate, like a predator that’s finally finished circling.

“You want to be a distraction?” he murmurs, stepping between your thighs. “Careful. I don’t do half-measures.”

You grin and graze your fingers up his chest.

“Maybe I want to see what happens when you stop holding back.”

And just like that, the leash snaps.

His hand wraps around your throat—not tight, but possessive, anchoring you to him. His mouth crashes into yours, devouring every teasing word you were about to say. You barely register being lifted until your back hits the desk, his body caging you in completely.

“You think this is a game?” he growls, yanking your panties to the side. “You think I don’t notice every time you sway your hips around my men? Act like you don’t know what you’re doing to me?”

He slides two fingers between your thighs, feels how soaked you already are, and smirks.

“Of course you know.”

He spreads you with one hand and lines himself up with the other, dragging his cock through your folds in lazy, torturous strokes.

“Beg,” he says, hovering just outside you. “Beg me to ruin you for anyone else.”

You try to stay quiet.

You fail.

And when he finally sinks into you—slow, deep, all control and no mercy—you shatter around the sound of his low, broken groan.

“That’s it,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “That’s what I wanted. You—under me, ruined, mine.”

He doesn’t fuck you fast. He fucks you thoroughly. Every stroke calculated. Every movement designed to make you sob his name. His hand stays firm around your throat, not choking—just keeping you right where he wants you.

When your legs tremble and your voice breaks, he leans in, teeth grazing your jaw.

“Next time you wanna tease me, remember this—” “You don’t get to play with fire unless you’re ready to burn for me.”

And burn you do. For him? You’d burn gladly.

Caleb

♡ you thought he was soft—until you touched the part of him he hides from everyone else.

It’s supposed to be playful. You curl into his lap on a lazy evening in his Skyhaven apartment, still wearing one of his flight jackets—nothing underneath but your underwear and a mischievous grin. You start slow: kissing his jaw, tracing the edge of his collar with your teeth, whispering against his throat.

“Colonel Caleb,” you tease. “You’re awfully quiet tonight. Cat got your tongue?”

He huffs a laugh, pretending to keep his focus on the report in front of him. But his grip on the tablet tightens. His breath catches when your hips roll forward, just enough for him to feel how wet you already are through your panties.

“You really think I’m gonna sit still while you tease me like that?” he mutters, voice low and strained.

You press closer, mouthing at the shell of his ear.

“I don’t think you’ll do anything at all.”

And that’s it.

The tablet hits the floor.

In one motion, Caleb grabs you by the waist, lifts you, and throws you down onto the couch like it’s instinct. His body is on top of yours in a second—knees on either side of your hips, hands already yanking his shirt over his head.

“You wanna poke the bear?” he growls, dragging your panties down your thighs with zero patience. “Fine. Let’s see how long you can handle the fallout.”

You open your mouth to say something smug—he shuts you up with a kiss that leaves you dizzy.

“You think I haven’t wanted to fuck you breathless every time you strut around in my clothes like you own me?” he says, biting your bottom lip. “You do own me. But now I’m gonna make sure you remember who you belong to, too.”

He sinks into you with one deep, hard thrust—and the moan you let out? It wrecks him.

“That’s it,” he groans. “You sound so pretty when you break.”

But he’s not rough without tenderness.

He holds you down with his body, forehead pressed to yours, his mechanical hand gripping your thigh with perfect pressure, fingers shaking with restraint.

“You’re everything,” he whispers, fucking you deep and slow, “everything I’ve ever wanted. And I can’t—won’t—lose you.”

You wrap your arms around him and pull him closer, and something in him shatters.

The pace snaps. His hips slam into yours, needy, desperate—like he’s making up for all the nights he held back. All the time he tried to pretend he wasn’t this far gone for you.

“Say it,” he pants against your skin. “Say you’re mine.”

You do. Over and over—until your voice is hoarse and you’re clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

And he is.

Because for Caleb? Loving you was never gentle. It was everything. All at once.