#providing hot meals

[filosofablogger]

Good People Doing Good Things -- Young People Today!

“Young people today!”  I heard that in my own youth 70 years ago, heard it when my children were young, and we still hear it today.  And sure, some young people do make you shake your head and wonder where their brain is hiding, but on the flip side, there are an awful lot of young people out there working selflessly to make a difference in the lives of others, to be ‘good people.’  Every now and…

[icewindandboringhorror]

What would you choose? :0c

(note: original image is from HERE (link) - but I edited it to add a wider variety of options.. also added $3 extra to the total, even though I know that makes it more uneven lol, I thought if you're adding 10 whole extra items, the money to spend should at least be increased slightly, if that makes sense..)

[altruistic-meme]

shoutout to walmart for doing more for my community than the government officials are

[chipped-chimera]

Ugh ... I am low-key so worried about how the BG3 ending is gonna play out for Karlach that I'm considering stopping playing and just coming back to it when I can handle it. Some of this shit is just hitting too close to home and I'm not sure I'm cut out for it.

More personal context under the cut if you want.

I relate to Karlach's pain so much. Too much. To the point it makes me teary thinking about it. Both of our lives have been cruel.

It has been hard for me, despite a stable family upbringing that most would envy, in a lower-middle class family that for the large part has been financially stable. I'm also white. I know I'm lucky in that capacity - god I fucking know (and the thought that what I've gone through could be considered a 'lucky' position? What does that mean for others? It keeps me up at night).

But that didn't stop the pain crawling in. I wasn't diagnosed with Autism until 27. I wasn't diagnosed with co-morbid ADHD until I was 28. I wasn't medicated for ADHD until I was 30 (and that was AFTER being told by a psych who also invalidated my Autism diagnosis aka the context for fucking EVERYTHING in my life, I couldn't have ADHD because I could 'read a book').

Before that? I knew I was depressed at 13, but didn't want to burden my family so I did nothing - we may be lower middle class and stable but I knew that was only because my parents tried so fucking hard. We had camping chairs in place of furniture up until I was eight. I lived with the pain because I didn't want to burden them, and without the context of my neurodivergence I just blamed myself for the problem, not being good enough, not trying hard enough - not being ENOUGH. I held onto it until I cracked and couldn't take it anymore at 16. I was diagnosed with Depression and Generalised Anxiety Disorder. It's since been upgraded to chronic Major Depression and it's classed as treatment resistant.

Both of us have had moments of building ourselves up from nothing. Through therapy and medication I was able to feel a bit better, more positive as I left high school. Thinking maybe it was gonna be okay after all, out there in the world.

It felt like I'd slowly reached out into the light, tentatively, hopefully - there'd be something more, that I'd live out the dreams I'd had, the things I'd always wanted to do. I was still optimistic.

Instead it felt like that arm had been immediately lopped off.

The story is long and too complicated to tell without this being longer than it needs to be. But like Karlach, I feel I've lost years of my life. Like Karlach, it's been a decade - ten years. That I cannot get back, that I grieve keenly.

I have been isolated, and then betrayed by those I thought I trusted. First, by the systems that were supposed to help me when I was struggling - my own government's system as they hit me with a debt that I couldn't even pay, on a scheme which has in retrospect been found to be completely illegal, but has left me with lasting trauma and damage and no closure. Not even a sorry. Because I, with my undiagnosed Autism and ADHD and a growing fatigue issue where I was so exhausted from simply being alive I just couldn't fight it. So I let them take money out of my social security payment - which was and still is considered below the poverty line. I was punished for being poor, I was punished for arguably, being disabled.

And then, by the person I trusted most. The person I thought I loved, the person who made it felt like everything was okay - I may be struggling still but there was still a future! There was someone who cared about me, who would be beside me for the rest of my lifetime. He asked me to marry him. We were engaged for three. Years. We'd been dating for 10. I thought everything, despite all the shit happening to me, was going to be okay.

It wasn't.

I had landed some employment for the first time in 3 years. I was working more hours than advised by the psychologist who diagnosed me with Autism but I had no choice - I was literally on the minimum limit available to me, due to the barriers I still have to navigate to qualify for disability supports (again, from a government system that I no longer trusted and gave me the earnest impression that they preferred me dead than 'leeching off their system'). But I was not living. I couldn't handle even 15 hours a week, I was more exhausted than I'd ever been. I felt like a corpse. I spoke with my disability employment coordinator (no, despite what I said, being on disability EMPLOYMENT services does not qualify you getting onto disability support, just means the government will only hound me for a minimum of 15 hrs a week instead of 30 in order for social security, that's a whole other complicated thing) IN CONFIDENCE that I wasn't sure I could keep up with the current work format and hoped I could discuss some solutions. Next minute I find I'm locked out of the work facebook. I was fired, without warning and without protections because I was a casual. Because my employment coordinator told my boss before even discussing anything with me.

My relationship was suffering but I wasn't aware. I was too tired for intimacy, and probably two tired to see the signs. I'd gotten my Autism diagnosis at this point and maybe it was a bit difficult for my fiancée at the time to understand, but he came to terms with it. The ADHD assessment was booked. I had realized at this point pushing myself to be something I wasn't, thinking somehow landing work and earning money for myself would help the depression - it didn't. I was worse than I'd ever been. Then the moment came where I was handed a notice that the government would no longer give me any social security because my partner, on his meager chef's salary was earning too much. All because I'd tried to do the right thing by the government. I'd tried so hard to be good. I'd tried so hard to be ENOUGH.

I wasn't enough.

My fiancée came to me, my fiancée who I'd been talking to about our upcoming wedding plans now the pandemic was over, my fiancée who I'd been cuddling with on the couch last night watching films - he came to me when I was battered, and raw and broken and crying in bed - just said 'I can't do this anymore.' And that was it. It was done. As I processed it, I realised the root of it was, it was because I'd taken the mask off. I decided I wasn't going to try to be something I wasn't anymore, because I knew and it was backed up in countless studies - what I was doing was actively killing me. And he didn't want to deal with that. I wasn't enough, and yet I was too much.

It has been two years since then. My ADHD is medicated. I live in a stable, safe environment with my parents where I don't have to worry about my security. I have set firm boundaries that I learned while I was independent, and they respect them. But the wounds are still deep and it'll take a long time to recover, to get that trust in the world back.

When I look at Karlach, I see some of myself. Someone who has been used, abused and betrayed by those they trusted. Someone who felt abandoned by everything, that there was no hope, no way out. And yet in spite of it all - kept going. Who, deep in their heart kept something soft and safe. Held onto and protected what little shred of optimism left. Because if we don't practice kindness, who will? We want to be the kindness we want to see in the world, because fuck, have we seen so little of it. It is so easy to give up, to fall into despair when you've been through so much shit. It requires so much vigilance and energy and momentum to keep going, when you're wading through a battlefield of carnage and gore in your life, whether metaphorical or literal. We hold on and we are kind because we hope, one day, that kindness will touch us back. That despite it all we try our fucking hardest to wear a smile, and see the good in everything we can.

And I think that's why it hurts so much. Karlach is finally free. And happy. She feels loved. She's finally feeling some of that kindness again kindness that I know, that she knows she fucking deserves. And it's on a fucking time limit.

And that's what's fucking breaking me. I know she's supposed to be some kind of allegory for terminal illness. And I know this isn't my story. I know it's a story that is important to tell, and it will touch others in a different way. But for me it feels like all the wounds I've barely scabbed over are being ripped open again. Because this is not an ending she deserves at all. It makes me sit and wonder, is that all there is for people like us? Just brief windows of happiness in the pain until we die? Don't we deserve saving? Don't we deserve a happy ending? A peaceful one? Don't we deserve to wear that smile, that happiness without us having to fight for every second it with tooth and nail to keep it there? To believe in it?

I don't know the endings in detail for her. But i have seen enough in the vaguest sense to feel it won't be good, and I don't know if I'm ready for that. I have played games with sad themes, like I know Cyberpunk isn't that great either - but I think the difference is who it is happening to. It's somehow easier when it's you, as the player. But when it's someone else? When you know that pain so fucking keenly you would rip yourself apart just to let them escape that hell, it's hard to stomach.

Then there's the disability angle that bothers me so much. Currently her options, as she puts it, are burning up and dying or going back to Avernus. I understand why she's choosing death, like, fuck man I do. Why is it always death though? Why is death better. Why can't she get a replacement heart? Make it shit! It can be a shitty heart that still works, but needs tune ups, and maybe she can't fight like she used to but she gets to fucking live a happy life! Because a shitty, happy life is better than nothing at all. Because as it goes, it feels to me I'm just being told it's easier to just die than submit to the suffering again whenever a piece of media picks an end like this. It's either the cure-all or death, there's never room for something in between. There's never room for making peace with what you have lost and still reclaiming some of your life, grieving what you have lost but still finding something worth having and holding onto. And when you're in that limbo state yourself, it's a hard pill to swallow. And it's hard to let anyone else fall into it.

We both deserve life. We both deserve happiness.

Fuck.

[heywriters]

Details That Convey Intimacy

Developing fictional relationships that feel authentic takes more than dialogue and grand gestures. Every detail below can be used to show platonic, familial, agape, or romantic love depending on context.

cooking a meal for someone, bringing them food, or spontaneously sharing a snack

sharing body heat/warming someone with outerwear like jackets and scarves

fanning them with something if overheated

getting a cold/hot drink for them

offering to carry something, whether it's heavy or just a jacket, to lighten someone's load or free up their hands

more below the click!

changing the subject of a group conversation that will be personally discomforting to someone in the group

making sure to include someone in a group conversation, especially if it's a topic they have special knowledge of

waiting for someone to catch up when the rest of the group has walked ahead

remembering preferences/allergies ahead of time when preparing/ordering food

planning trips, whether in a pair or as a group, that provide something positive for every individual to enjoy

procuring personal healthcare items like sunscreen, moisturizer, lip balm, pain relievers, or a snack and keeping them on hand for that friend who frequently needs them

making room for someone in a crowded vehicle or on public transit

making room for someone under an awning or in another limited space to help them avoid bad weather

warning or wordlessly covering for someone with a wardrobe/cosmetic malfunction

remembering a small luxury someone mentioned they enjoy, and getting it for them the next time it's convenient

running an errand for someone to make their day easier ('importance of errand : depth of relationship' ratio should be explored)

escorting someone to safety in a sudden unsettling event

escorting someone who is drunk, sick, infirm, injured, or emotionally compromised

asking if light, noise, or other sensory factors are bothering someone and taking steps to make them more comfortable

getting gag gifts for someone to show you reciprocate their sense of humor or quirky self-expression (not everyone does this, not everyone appreciates it, and some people predominantly express love through humor and gag gifts; works well with some characters more than others)

holding someone's hand or arm as reassurance, especially when they are afraid*

using their body to block someone from wind, rain, or heat

picking up a dropped item, or carrying a train or other dragging garment for someone else

returning a recognizable possession to someone who may have lost it

This is an inexhaustible list as humans have many ways of showing love for each other. If you are writing spec fic with non-human characters, you can play with variations on these by remembering three core values the "lover" has to consider:

physical comfort of others

emotional comfort of others

social reputation of others

I'd add "sensory comfort" though I think it's tied to physical and emotional comfort.

Please do not try and force any of these into the mold of the misogyny-based "Love Language" trend. Human emotions and expressions of love are diverse and endless.

*While hand holding can be construed as romantic, in reality it varies. Some cultures do not see this as romantic, and some individuals only mean it as a sign of support or compassion. Same goes for long embraces and kissing, both can be done platonically and of course naturally between close family members or friends.

---

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[acid-ixx]

a loving family, an unpalatable desire

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: would anyone hear me out if i ever wrote romantic yan! bruce (ft. platonic yan! batfam AND romantic yan clark kent alongside the superfam ofc) with a neglected spouse reader... because uhm, i've been thinking about it lately just yk... so anyways PLSPLSPLS send in asks about this, ive been thinking about it so much lately.

imagine wanting to raise a family so badly with a man who adopts problem children as a side hustle. you're not some invasive spouse, you've always been good, always been loving, so... so accepting, never questioned where or how he picked them up from the side of the streets, never once complaining about the hickeys on his neck or the once neat tussles of his hair now tangled accompanying lipstick stains on his white suit.

you love your children, you tell yourself all the time. you love them, you love bruce— even if he doesn't love you. you said it in your vows, despite it being scripted, despite your family finally sighing in relief in the sidelines at finally being able to sell you off to one of the wealthiest man in the world, rather than being wasting off under their care— your vows are real.

you wanted someone to love you, unconditionally, so viscerally eternal that it eats you up.

really, all you wanted was to play that fantasy life of trophy house spouses. all you wished for was a loving, healthy relationship. the american dream: the picture perfect family frames, your husband kissing you on the cheek as he leaves for work, your children bickering at the dining room, with the scent of homemade meals wafting about the vicinity. all you wanted was the warmth in your chest to flicker like candlelights. all you dreamed about was that domestic life, an escape from the abusive household you were raised in.

yet the manor is too cold, too unforgiving for a soul such as yours.

the longer you stay inside claustrophobic, yet oh-so large hallways, the quicker you drown in a neverending pool of self-hatred.

but you're not allowed to show them your sufferings. they've been through much worse, you tell yourself. they've suffered more, and as what good spouses do, as what you're taught, you stay silent, enabling them to turn you into their own emotional punching bag.

you only allow yourself to cry at the dead of the night, under the sheets of your too-cold blanket and your too-hot pillows. when the manor is filled with deathly silence and a looming sense of dread and ill fitting thoughts of ifs and when they'll come back in one piece, will you grant yourself temporary respite; worry for a family who never even called you their parent.

yet you've always been so considerate. despite the pang in your chest every time bruce flirts with anymore potential love interest at a gala, you chose to instead monitor your chaotic children, who have always never bat an eye on you despite you always gazing lovingly at them.

you know of their interests, they don't know yours, yet you still give them extravagant gifts on their birthdays, with tired, yet glinting eyes, and a silent excuse to return to your room; one separate from bruce.

you know of bruce's hardships, but you don't push too hard, don't force him to talk, only provide him your silence and an offer to serve him dinner; all the time he refuses without looking at you. you give him comfort only if he ever allows you, only if he allows his walls to crumble— but not even his spouse can amount to a warm, crackling fireplace. to him, you're probably only a matchstick under the deadbeat glaze of the snow in a winter night.

maybe that's why you're such a ghost in the manor, stalking through the hallways, looking out for any of your children in case they come across you with any injuries. maybe that's why eventually your resolve weakened.

and maybe the absence of familial love led you to find comfort in another man's arm.

''til death do us part,' is such a tragic saying in your case, because you know it in your fragile heart that bruce's love for you was never alive in the first place. and yet you allow him to play you like a fiddle, allow him to slowly allow you to slip away from his nonexistent grasp.

and now, you're a stand-in parent for clark's son, jon, after the tragic loss of his wife. now, your world seems a lot less bleaker, as you play the fantasy of a loving house spouse, fully abandoning the life you left behind, a life you've never been gifted with until now. you want to feel guilty, you want to feel absolutely terrible but the heartache of neglect has become too much and all you do was allow clark to warm you up each night, kissing away your tears and spooning your deep-seated anxieties away.

you don't let the past eat you up, not when the present is too perfect, too freeing, too delusionally beautiful.

your son, jon provides you every joy a parent could have. parent's day gifts, heartfelt letters at every nook and cranny of your shared bedroom with clark— even reading him bedtime stories, allowing him to sleep in your lap after he slowly nods off, with clark knocking softly on polished wooden doors, greeting you with a loving kiss on the lips and a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand—

it's everything a parent wants, needs even.

and you're everything clark, and especially jon wants, needs in their life.

so it's such a stupid mistake, really. a slip of the tongue, a too-enthusiastic smile, incredibly bright, shining eyes. it's not jon's fault, you still love him either way. but it's an error still— one a complicated matter at hand, so dreadful for you, that jon accidentally, all-too-suddenly, mentions you as his parent to damian.

a loving, wonderful parent, he says, with a picture of you in his wallet shoved right in front of his friend's face.

[wyvernest]

mating szn

part 1 (part2)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!gf!reader

warnings: smut, fluff, scent marking, primal play, rutting miguel, possessiveness, reader is ovulating

summary: miguel comes home feeling extremely needy

You're preparing dinner when you hear the opaque glass doors of your shared mansion open for your lover to come in. It's almost midnight, and it doesn't take you longer than a few seconds to realize how tired he has to be.

Miguel walks into the open kitchen, frowning. 

"Baby! I missed you!" You jolt to him, pans clattering dangerously as you throw them aside, careful enough not to ruin your work but swiftly enough to get to him as fast as possible.

You curl your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes, pressing your chest flush against his hard pecs. His hands grab at your hips, absentmindedly and by habit.

"What's wrong?". You place a gentle, loving hand on his cheek, trying to meet his gaze. But he's not looking at you. His eyes are darting all over your face and body, brows still creased. 

He could feel it, your scent. A collection of the whole day, everything you've done. The food, the places you've been. He feels like it's been so long since this morning, when he woke up beside you, kissing along your neck. 

He feels a surge of blood rush from his heart and through his lucidity, a shot of adrenaline inexplicably taking over him.

You don't smell of him anymore. Anger bubbles in his chest as he thinks of all the people you must've talked to around HQ, who didn't smell his strong musk on you, who had no idea you belonged to him.

He's never felt like this before. He brushes the unfamiliar feeling aside for a moment, grounded by the silent plea in your eyes.

"I'm good. Just a bit tired." He brushes wild strands of baby hairs out of your face, finally matching the loving look you've greeted him with from the start.

He leaves you to finish the meal and steps into the shower, hoping that an ice cold stream would cool him down. Only it doesn't do anything but worsen the situation.

The second he feels the water spray hit his body, he flinches, unlike the usual relief he gets. His skin is abnormally feverish, the ghost of your body in his arms taunting him further into madness. He soon finds himself desperate to get out, to be reunited with you and the warmth only you could ever provide for him.

Images of your supple body breaking in his embrace flood his already lust crazed mind against his better judgment, and he feels his cock fatten slightly at the memory.

When he takes it in his hand, he nearly starts bucking his hips into his hold, sensitive and insanely needy. He imagines you in the bathtub with him, arching your back over the edge, spreading your legs for him to pound his cock into you under the hot stream, your moans echoing and ringing into the stone tiles.

He can't take it anymore. His body aches for your touch and attention.

Exiting the shower, he pulls a pair of loose boxers up his thighs, the only thing he can tolerate with the fever that has taken hold of him so suddenly.

And then, he focuses on the image of you, standing where he left you, gently stirring in a bowl. You're wearing one of his t-shirts, draped down to the middle of your thighs and over your elbows, an oversized dress. 

He approaches you, wrapping his arms around your front and waist, dropping a fraction of his weight on your back just to keep you from moving or fighting against it. You throw your head back, closing your eyes.

His head drops to your neck, kissing here and there, exhales smoldering hot on your throat, stopping momentarily to deeply inhale your scent. Among all others, there is a distinctive smell of you, of your arousal and need for him that drives him mad.

"Wait- Miguel, let me finish this-" You protest, your creamy tone betraying your true intentions. 

He groans, kissing your naked shoulder, his hands squeezing your form in front of him. 

All tasks are ultimately abandoned as he pushes you against the counter, his defined abs hitting your back, the marble surface cold against your thighs. He presses his fat, hard cock up against your plush ass, his hands fondling your breasts through his shirt, groaning low and quiet in your ear. 

With his biceps curled and constricted around your navel, your body goes limp in his hold, trembling ever so slightly as his warm, broad palms squeeze the soft flesh of your tits. He pushes them together, massaging gently, almost experimentally. He flattens them with the heels of his palms softly, only to them constrict his fingers around them so perfectly, fondling and groping away.

"Mm- Miguel, oh-" You breathe out, finding balance on your hands, arching your back into him. You feel your core pulsate with need, swelling up under his movements. You're almost completely wrapped up in his massive body, with nowhere to go. 

And just then, you accidentally knock a knife off the counter, startled when it hits the marble floor with a loud clank. He jumps, backing up from your body. Your face is flushed, eyes half lidded, breath heavy, nipples perked under the thin cotton. Landing back to your senses, you move to bend down and pick it up.

His eyes automatically snap to your round ass and the dark wet spot on your panties that invites him so blatantly to shove his cock in between your pussy lips. 

He can't help it. He can't control himself anymore.

Balance leaves your position as you feel his rough, eager hands grip your hips, harshly pulling you back into him. The plumpness of your ass hits the girthy shaft of his cock, but before you can look for the lost balance with your hands in front of you, he thrusts his erection up against your clothed cunt, making you whine in need.

"Ay, mi amor-" His voice is rugged and satisfied, laced with a deep groan. A broad palm hits the side of your behind, making the tender flesh ripple against his hard-on. "Te necesito muchísimo ahora." (I need you so badly right now.)

You yelp, perplexed, instinctively grabbing his wrists for balance. He pulls you up with your back against his chest, splaying a cursory hand across your abdomen, sending shivers thundering down your spine and butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"Miguel!" You playfully fight against his possessive hold, "Is this your way of helping me prepare dinner?!" You free yourself, giggling and letting a wide smile take over your features. Stepping back and extending your arms in front of you in an attempt to shield yourself from him, you chuckle wholeheartedly.

Seeing you resist, he lets out a defeated exhale.

"Fine. I'll be good, lo prometo." (I promise). He motions for you to come closer and trust that he'll behave. Letting your guard down, you approach the counter, eyes fixated on his playfully.

He feels your body heat nearing him, so comfortable and tempting. The smell of you, and everything that drives him crazy about your presence alone. His breaths deepen and quicken abruptly, his cock straining in his boxers, twitching freely against the material, begging to be enveloped in your wet warmth.

He looks down at you like a panther about to pounce, waiting for the perfect moment to do so. Your smile curls wider, eyes shining with lust and a teasing playfulness. His body dwarfs yours, his shadow alone making you feel puny. His shoulders are tense, the same way they are when he's on top of you, riding you into next Tuesday.

He shifts to place a clawed hand on the counter, the sharp edged digits tapping against the surface catching your attention momentarily in the corner of your eye. He exploits the split second it takes you to look down to his arm, snapping and squatting to grab your thighs, throwing you over his shoulder.

"NO! You promised! Miguel! The food!" You try to reason, throwing any and each accusation you can think of, knowing that you definitely don't want him to drop it and leave you alone, truly. And he knows it. 

And that's when he feels it. With your ass on his bulky shoulder, he can smell it. Your arousal, dripping hot. His fat cock finally hardens completely, its monstrously girthy shaft poking through the shorts. 

You're ovulating.

Groaning ruggedly, he delivers a rough spank to your plump ass before pushing two fingers over the wet mound of your clothed pussy, running them over your slit, teasingly, collecting more of your scent.

He swears the only thing stopping him from fucking you raw right on the kitchen floor is your comfort.

"Okay! You win! Put me down, I'll let you fuck me."

Without a second thought, he places you back on the floor, hands on your hips, talons grazing your tender skin deliciously.

His eyes have reddened, pupils blown wide, exhales hot and labored. You don't want anything more than to wrap your arms around his neck, to press yourself into him, to feel his hard abdomen on your stomach, his pecs on your soft tits, his mouth on your neck.

But you want to see more of how needy he is.

You jolt to the stairs with no warning, climbing the winding wooden steps like a cat. You hear him behind you, his weight put onto each movement as he chases close behind, the staircase creaking under him.

Looking behind before reaching the hallway of the first floor of your mansion, you feel your panties dampen at the sight of the man and the sheer size of him, massive shoulders slightly hunched forward in focus and adrenaline, his height successfully making you stagger on your way to the bedroom.

divider by @cafekitsune

HOPE YALL LIKE IT IMMA CONTINUE ‼️‼️

a/n: primal play is thoroughly discussed beforehand. insisting that your partner has sex with you even after resistance without having discussed the aforementioned resistance is abusive.

[monstersholygrail]

Proper Appreciation

It had started innocently enough. You were lounging around and admiring your Dragon Hybrid Husband as he hovered over the fire in your shared den, preparing a meal for the two of you. Always so happy to provide for you and take care of you. To make sure you were eating enough and happier than you could’ve ever dreamed.

You almost couldn’t believe it. This dragon was your mate. He was yours as much as you’re his. Emotion wells up inside your chest, gratitude and affection blossoming within you as you stare at your husband. A husband who is totally unaware of your current oogling or the hearts currently present in your eyes.

Now, now, that just wouldn’t do. Is a mate truly at their happiest unless they know how utterly loved and adored they are? You think not.

Throughout your relationship with your Dragon husband, it’s been revealed that there are many differences between the ways that humans and dragons show their affection for another. You sneakily glide up to your husband and give his ass an appreciative slap, but it’s not until he whirls around, staring at you as if you’ve lost your mind do you wonder if dragons have this sign of affection or not.

“Mind telling me what that was?” Dragon husband asks, his face aghast. Even as he shivers at the echos of the sting left on his bottom. A blush creeps up on your cheeks as you scramble to explain.

“I thought you looked hot.”

“And that’s how you think to tell me? Is this another human custom I have yet to learn?” He saunters over to you, walking around the fireplace like a predator cornering their prey. The dinner he was making now long forgotten.

Heat blooms in your belly as fierce as a dragon while you gush with arousal. One look at your Dragon Husband and you’re absolutely fucking soaked.

“Kind of,” you say, your voice sounding breathier than you expected. Your husband’s eyes flash with a deep simmering lust. The fire inside him sparks to life and you know you’re toast.

“And is that how a human male show his appreciation for his mate in return?” He rasps.

He scoops your plump form into his arms with ease and before you can even manage to hold on he’s plopping you down on the pile of furs that make up your bed.

He throws your body around like it’s nothing, flipping you over onto your belly and jerking your ass high up in the air. And you swear you’ve never been so desperate. You know he can see your glistening folds by his low growls, your arousal dripping down your thick thighs and onto the chains of gold he adorns you with.

You startle when you feel his hands cup your bottom, pulling the cheeks a part to make room for his big aching tip. You can feel how affected he is by this too as he smears his pre-cum into your slick, mixing them together and teasing you. Clearly waiting for your answer.

“Yes! F-fuck, yes they do,” you whine, rocking back into his cock and trying to take him inside you.

Just as eager as you are, your Dragon Husband slams into your wet scorching heat in one solid stroke. His hips slapping against your ass at the same moment his hand does. You release a pitiful scream, full of need. A need for more.

His hips move in a blur, pumping into your fat cunt at a brutal pace, spurned on by the act of spanking you. It drives you just as wild as you rock back, meeting his every hard thrust.

Obscene noises of pleasure fill the room as he fucks you like a beast unchained. The loud squelch of his massive length stuffing you full meets the loud ringing of his hand meeting your ass. Your toes curl as the delicious sting mixes with the waves of ecstasy that course through you with every jerk of his hips.

“Please, baby, please h-harder!” You beg, tears pricking at your eyes.

Your husband lets out a low hiss, his hand swinging down and delivering a hard smack on your ass. Your body surges forward at the force and you moan, body arching. The invitation more than clear.

“As you wish. My mate needs to know the true depth of my appreciation after all.”

With a renewed vigor, your husband picks up his back, pounding into your gummy walls with in-human stamina. His hands delivering blows in equal measure and his claws only adding to the sensation as they prick and tease at your skin with each smack.

The mix of pain and pleasure has the pressure in your belly growing tighter and tighter till you can’t take it anymore. The cord snaps and you don’t recognize the mewl that comes out of you as you cum so hard on his cock you see stars.

Your body shakes with the force of your orgasm and you lose all feeling besides the pleasure washing over you. You lay limp as your husband works you through the best release of your life. He cums deep inside your pussy with a roar that shakes your entire den.

The strength of his climax takes as much out of him as it did you as his tall form curls around you. Keeping his cock inside you to the hilt. Not wanting to put too much pressure on your red sore bottom.

Though He can’t stop himself from giving it a little squeeze, relishing the way you hiss and clench around his cock. His mouth hovers over your ear and his hot breath sends goosebumps down your arms.

“Think you got the message, mate?” He growls, giving your bottom one final little slap.

[rheheartssquirrels]

Would you do sevika x reader with tribadism? 👉👈

This is probably the dirtiest thing I’ve ever written. Ykw, fuck it!! HELL YEAHH

Times Two

Sevika x Female Reader! (Smut)

Contains: No plot, sex: scissoring and oral (r! receiving). Lips are referred to as your folds, js so yk.

A/N: another short fic sighhh + i didnt know how to end it STOPP PLS AHHHH.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Of course your girlfriend wanted to ruin you, what else could she possibly want from your tight cunt?

Legs spread and wrapped around your girlfriend’s head, she gave you the honour of having your pussy ate out. With her tongue exploring every inch of you she let herself taste it all. Your cum was, undoubtedly, her favourite thing to eat. Morning or night she’d have to have a lick of you. So, with it almost reaching midnight your girlfriend never slowed her pace and only sucked, bit down, onto your clit to taste more of your sweet skin.

You tasted amazing, as she’d said multiple times in a row. “You always taste so good,” “could eat you for hours, baby.” She’d even humm in approval every now and then to let you know just how delicious you were.

To be frank, she was addicted to your pussy.

With your hands gripping onto hers, fingers intertwined tightly, you couldn’t help but be vocal. Sevika’s mouth was damn good at everything it did. Spreading your folds while delving into your cunt? She was a master when it came to making you cum with her tongue alone. Even the feel of her hot breath against your pooling cunt was enough to send a shiver of pleasure through you. It was like every nanometer of her had you going, had you cumming in minutes.

“S’good for me, hm?” She spread your lips apart with her flesh hand, and sucked on your clit until she was satisfied with how swollen it was. The room was filled with your moaning and the slurping noise coming from your girlfriend, who was eating you out like it was her last meal. It was the way her lips curled around your clit that had your legs shaking, had you utterly weak. “Y’gonna cum for me, baby?” Of course you’d cum, how the hell could you not?

Feeling the last bit of composure slip you reached your peak. Eyes fluttering shut with a cry, you let the orgasm hit. With your thighs tightening their wrap around Sevika’s head, you feel your body shake and tremble with the overwhelmingly intense pressure you’d just released. Your girlfriend only stared in awe at your sensitivity, she could watch you cum for hours and never get bored.

As breathless as your girlfriend had you, she wasn’t done. Heavily kissing her way up to your breasts she nipped on your nipples, sending you back into building the pressure you’d just released again. “You’re damn pretty like this..” with her voice a grunt, she grabbed your ankle and rested it on her shoulder while her legs stayed on either side of one of yours. Her neglected cunt was only a few inches away from your soaked one.

Sevika was gonna have fun with this one.

On her knees, your girlfriend rocked her pussy against yours and created the delicious friction she’d been craving. “Vika—.. oh god..” your mind was going fuzzy and you knew damn well you’d finish quickly again. “You like this?” Sevika, herself, was enjoying it all. Her mech hand came to hold your shaking leg, the one on her shoulder, in place as she increased her pace, she wasn’t going to stop until she got the release she needed. “It’s good.. shit, Sevi…”

And, there you were, about to cum with only a few good rubs. Your girlfriend wouldn’t hold back when it came to her own release, it was your job to provide her the same pleasure she did you. With a soft whine, “don’t stop.. please,” you found yourself delaying the, much needed, orgasm in order to please the muscular woman inbetween your legs. The muscular woman who was a whimpering mess.

Yeah, she was whimpering.

Who knew she could do such a thing; you and no one else. “It’s.. too damn good..” sevika would breath out. Fold rubbing against fold, clit rubbing against clit, your girlfriend looked utterly beautiful in the position. Her abs highlighted by a thin layer of sweat, her breats looking as gorgeous as ever, and her damn pussy. It was all pretty, soaked, and heated.

“I’m close, baby..” was all your girlfriend whimpered out before gripping tightly into your leg, her fingers digging into your flesh as she rode through the orgasm. Sevika was fast when it came to cumming, she couldn’t last as long as you even if she tried. Seeing her at her peak was a sight for sore eyes, one you’d never forget. Eyes shut, brows furrowed, and her bottom lip being bit your girlfriend looked hot. And she didn’t stop her grinding until you, yourself, were cumming alongside with her.

It lasted a good while, your hips shuddering against your girlfriend’s and you were slowly beginning to feel the exhaustion creeping in. It felt good, too good. It wasn’t just the feeling though, it was the way your girlfriend looked weak in the knees for the orgasm that ran through her muscular body. It was the way her head rolled back that had your eyes glued, had your cunt throbbing until the orgasm hit. Everything about her had you cumming harder than usual. Her naked form infront of you would definitely cause distraction, cause the butterflies in your stomach to fly wild.

[tbaluver]

When You're Sick- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader

genre: fluff fluff

a/n: only wrote this because i was sick for a couple of days heh (':

any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

You two were on a mission together but you noticed as the day goes by your movement has become weaker and slower. Xavier also notices that and asks if you were okay but you reassured him you were okay and brushed it off. As you both finished the mission, your headache was increasingly getting worse and your vision felt blurry. The last thing you saw was Xavier running up to you before your eyes fluttered shut.

He would carry you home and is extremely worried about your health. He just doesn't want to lose you even if it could be the smallest thing.

You would wake up to this man checking your temperature and constantly making sure you're comfortable. He would be fluffing your pillows and making sure you have plenty of blankets.

He would have accidentally bought too much medicine because he didn't know what sickness you had. His search history would be filled with how to make you feel better or what to get you.

If you were tired of being in your bed, he would carry you to the couch so you both could watch shows or movies together. He would nuzzle his head in the crook of your neck and you would freak out because you don't want to get him sick. He would reassure you and say he'll be okay.

Would have food delivered to your home so he doesn't leave your side. He would make sure the food is healthy and nutritious so you can feel better soon. He would blow the food if it was too hot and feed it to you.

Zayne:

You would cancel on him the day before your date because you felt sick and then you would find him a couple hours later outside your door with a plastic bag of medicine and goodies for you.

You knew he had work the whole night but he explained that he called off sick to take care of you. He would lecture you on being careless about your health and explain what's best to do on how to get better. He's naturally concerned when you're sick and although you can't tell from his expression, you can tell from what he does through his actions.

He would prepare you yummy and healthy meals that provide you nutrients and vitamins for a swift recovery. Would give you little praises after each bite you take and once you're finished with your food.

He would make sure that you take your daily medications and medicines. He would even give you a small treat after you take your medicine to get rid of the nasty aftertaste. He would insist on hand feeding you meals and would lecture you on how it would save your energy on recovering.

When you're sleepy, he'll place a cold washcloth on your forehead and brush any stray hairs in the way. He'll gently rub your cheek, to reassure you that he's still there while you're still asleep. Before he would change the washcloth, he would give you a kiss on the forehead before applying a new one. Since he's busy, he'll leave the medicine on the bedside table when he has to leave early in the morning. Would leave little sticky notes or put a reminder on your phone to take your medicine when he has to go back to work.

Rafayel:

He was away for a collaboration event for a couple days but you two would call and text each other to make up the missing time in person. Until you texted him that you felt sick and didn't respond for a couple hours to a day. This man was worried sick about you and he would be pacing around in his room trying to call you but it would end up right into voicemail. So when you wake up with one of the worst headaches ever, you open your phone to find many notifications all from Rafayel.

When he returns home early from the event, he'll be noticeably pouty and explain that he came back home early because he was genuinely worried something might have happened to you. You'll apologize and promise you'll make it up to him.

He would usher you back to bed and is quick to get you a drink and tuck you back in if you were cold. If you needed anything he would get it right away. He would stay close to you so he can hear you ask for anything.

Would not let you do anything other than rest. Will literally feed you with his own two hands to help you get better immediately but will playfully complain that his hand would hurt . He would get worried when you would cringe from the taste of the medicine. Lowkey worried that maybe someone is trying to assassinate you so he tries a teeny bit of your medicine and he would also cringe from it. Would try to find a better tasting medicine for you and when he doesn't, he makes sure you take a sweet treat after. He'll lowkey joke about the face you make after you take the medicine.

He would have you rest on his chest as he tells you about his trip to the event. He would get worried when you didn't respond but he looks down to see your cheek pressed against his chest and your soft snores matches the steady beat of his heart makes him relax and in awe.

Would get sick because he's all over you. Just because your sick just gives him more of a reason to be closer to you! He would get really pouty and offended if you would refuse to kiss him or give him any physical touch because you were worried he would get sick. Still would sneak kisses on your forehead or the top of your head.

Sylus:

It was the weekend and you didn't have any work. You woke up with a headache but you paid no mind to it. You tried to do your daily chores but as the minutes go by, you start to feel worse. You laid back down on your bed and pull up your phone to text Sylus but your eyes fluttered shut.

You wake up from loud noises in your home and you slowly peek out of you room with the stinging pain in your head, only to find where the noises were coming from only to find Sylus in your kitchen.

"Ah your awake. I was worried you were going to sleep the whole day." He says, putting some medicine in your cabinet. You would ask him why he came in and he would show you the keyboard smash texts you sent him before you knocked out on your bed. He also would mention that Mephisto would notice your slow movements and alerted Sylus right away. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner." He apologizes that he had business to take care of but he brought medicine and other things that he think would help you feel better.

Seeing you in a weak state, he would get to work. He is observant and attentive to your body language. If you show any signs of discomfort he would be quick to soothe you and rub comforting shapes on your back whenever you feel nauseous.

He would carry you back to bed, preparing you fresh blankets, feeding you medicine and food. Would do anything and everything to ensure that you're feeling okay. He ignores your protest that he should also take a break but he continues to stay by your side when you wake up and when you fall asleep.

He would grab everything and anything you need so you don't have to lift a finger at all even if you say you can do it yourself. He just wants to make the whole process easy as possible for you.

[brrahbrrahcharacterimagines]

Old Man (Wolverine/Logan Howlett x Reader)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Wolverine/Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3615

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Minors DNI!, Sexual themes, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), p in v penetration (wrap it before you tap it), cum, swearing, use of "Baby" as a pet name, small alcohol mention, Older man/younger woman, Reader has female genitalia

Summary: After moving in to the mansion, you have developed quite the crush on the older, grumpy Wolverine. After he finds you walking the grounds one evening, what could happen if you face the fact that you've been flirting with each other for months?

A/N: I have always had such a crush on Hugh Jackman's Wolverine so Deadpool and Wolverine is like a dream come true

You were thankful that the other mutants had found you when they did. You had just lost your job, behind on your rent, and the most recent Tinder date had ghosted you. When a group of likeminded individuals came to you with a promise of a free place to stay, how could you say no?

Once you had arrived and decorated your room, Professor Xavier revealed the place wasn't quite free. With a mutation allowing you to manipulate food at will, he thought you may be able to help provide for all of the children and teenagers living at the mansion. Despite feeling a bit slighted, you were glad to have been given a purpose.

Over time, the mansion began to truly feel like home. You felt at peace in the kitchens, putting together meals for the other occupants. Many of the residents saw you as a maternal figure despite you not being much older than them, only being in your twenties. No matter your age, they tended to enjoy talking through problems with you over some tea and your famous chocolate chip cookies.

Something else that had grown over time at the mansion, alongside others fondness of you, was your own fondness for a particularly grumpy mutant. You couldn't explain it, as it didn't seem like you had much in common. You were generally a pretty bubbly, happy person, eager to speak with the children to help them out. The Wolverine was, well, not exactly described the same.

Nonetheless, he began to consume more of your thoughts. At first more of a schoolgirl crush, thinking about how you found him attractive. Of course you had thought about the fact that he was much older than yourself, but you didn't pay that much mind as you expected the little crush to go away over time. Instead, the crush became stronger and stronger until it was something you knew would not go away soon. Laying in your bed at night, you couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to feel Logan laying in bed next to you. Or perhaps, on top of you.

Using your powers to conjure ingredients for the student's lunch, you let your mind wander again as you worked. You imagined what it would be like to feel the Wolverine's hands on you, walking up behind you while you were cooking to place his hands on your hips. Resting his chin on your shoulder as he relaxed into you, making you giggle as his beard tickled your neck.

"Do we have any beer?" Came a voice, startling you from your daydream. What startled you most was the fact that it was his voice, as you spun around to face Logan, hoping your face was not as flushed as it felt.

"Give me just a minute," you said with a smile at him. "You know Charles doesn't like to keep any on hand since there are so many kids here," you said slyly, "but lucky for you my powers can extend to food and drink."

He sat down at the table nearby with a sigh. You tried not to notice the picturesque way he seemed to pose as he sat, legs spread and chest puffed out. Stop being such a creep!

"Why couldn't he have found you sooner?" Spoke Logan. The lazy smile on his face as he said those words made your face hot, hoping he didn't notice as you got to work on his request.

Handing him the drink, your fingertips brushed his. As you moved to let go, you felt him linger.

"Thanks, bub," he said, looking up into your eyes as he took the drink from your hand. You turned away quickly, resuming your work in hopes he didn't notice the way that his stare made you heat up.

Thankfully, Logan chose not to stay long. Once he left the room, you felt you could finally catch your breath and focus on the task at hand.

-

This was a pattern that the two of you fell into. Simple conversations never lasted long, but they always seemed to end with a linger. Oftentimes you would find yourself trying to sneak a glance at the man, only to meet his own eyes before shifting your own away quickly.

You tried not to look too far into those moments, after all, there's no way that Logan would be looking deeper himself. Surely it was a coincidence, or perhaps it was merely a symptom of the social cues he tended to ignore in favor of brashness. He never seemed rude during conversation with yourself, but it may be correlated. At least, that's what you decided to believe. Allowing yourself to believe the alternative, that he was purposefully flirting with you, could never end well. You were not going to open yourself up into that kind of disappointment.

Walking the grounds of the mansion, you took in the cool autumn air. After a busy day, you thought a walk in the moonlight would be the perfect thing before making your way to your bedroom. It was a futile attempt to clear your mind before trying to fall asleep, even though you knew despite your efforts your mind would still drift to Logan before you did so.

With a sigh, you took a seat down on a nearby bench. Looking up at the sky, you were grateful Charles did not allow much light pollution nearby, allowing you to admire the stars.

"The hell are you doing out here?" Came a gruff voice from behind you, making you jump. Even though the suddenness of the voice breaking the silence making you jump, you knew who it was immediately.

"I could ask you the same thing, Logan." You said, turning to find the man coming up on the bench. He rounded the corner, motioning to the empty seat next to you as if to ask permission to sit down. You nodded, and he did just so.

The two of you sat in silence, taking in your surroundings. At least, that's what you assumed he was doing. The only surrounding you could take in now was him. He smelled good, like smoke and a cologne you couldn't place. Your thigh brushed against his seated so close, and as soon as your leg touched his it felt as if it could have caught fire, spreading through your body quickly. The power he had over you was undeniable, and you pled that he wouldn't notice.

Looking over at him, you saw him looking into the distance. You took the moment to observe the way he looked under the moonlight. His hair looked soft, as if begging to have hands run through it. The stars reflected within his eyes, giving them a subtle sparkle. Your eyes trailed down the slope of his nose, down to his lips. You were sure that if you were to kiss him, his facial hair would tickle your cheeks in the most delectable way. You felt your breathing deepen.

Logan turned towards you, a look that you couldn't quite place in his eyes.

"What are we doing?" He asked.

You felt your heart clench, unsure if you should be confused or nervous.

"What do you mean?"

He chuckled, "you know what I mean. As if you weren't checking me out a few seconds ago." You turned away in embarrassment, feeling your face heat. He continued, "we've been dancing around it for months. I should have put a stop to it a long time ago."

You felt your body heat in embarrassment even more. Not only had he noticed how you felt, but just as you assumed he did not reciprocate those feelings.

"I-I'm sorry," you said softly. Afraid that if you rose your voice any louder, you he would hear the wobble in your tone. You didn't want to cry in front of him, especially now.

"I'm the one who should be sorry," he said with a sad chuckle. "It's not your fault. When I said I should have put a stop to it, I mean an old man like me shouldn't be flirting with a young thing like you."

So he was flirting, you thought. Even though he seems regretful now, at least you know you weren't looking into something that wasn't really happening.

"It's not like I wasn't flirting back," you said with a sigh. "If I wanted you to stop I would have told you."

You could feel his eyes flip to you quickly, as if he was surprised.

"What did you just say?"

"I-I would have stopped you?"

A smirk made its way slowly onto his face.

"You wanted me to flirt with you?"

Your face scrunched in confusion at his words. "Was I not obvious?" There is no way he didn't pick up on your feelings. "Did you not just comment on me checking you out literally minutes ago?"

His smirk only grew, "maybe I just thought you were naive. Good to know there's more to it."

"You were flirting with me, thinking I was just naive?" You questioned, a slight burst of confidence making you reflect on what he had said previously. "A young thing like me?" He faltered at your words.

"What do you-"

"You said so yourself," you purred, confidence clouding your judgement, allowing you to reach toward him to place a hand gently on his outer thigh. You were sure to note his sharp intake of breath as you did so, only emboldening you further. "You liked flirting with me didn't you, Old Man?"

He nearly groaned at your words, sending a rush through your body. his eyes, previously glued to your hand placement, flicked back up to your eyes. They didn't stay there, and you noticed his heavier breathing as his eyes began to flip between your eyes and your mouth. Not wanting to wait for him any longer, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his. You were right, his beard did tickle.

You kissed Logan softly, moving your lips with his as soon as he got over his shock. The softness of your lips on his, paired with the near-innocent way you kissed him drove him crazy. Logan's arms made their way around you, pulling you towards him so that you were sat on his lap. His strength was already known to you, but the ease of his action still made you squeak. If he can move you this easily while kissing you, your mind ran wild with what else he could be capable of.

He deepened the kiss, leaving you just about breathless. Your excitement, and ego, only grew as you felt Logan's own excitement growing under your lap. Hands frenzied across his chest, grabbing his shirt while he continued to use his arms to press you close to him. You didn't even register you had begun moving your hips against him until he pulled back, his head rolling back with a groan that was purely sinful.

"You're a little minx, you know that?" He grumbled, but made no move to stop your motions.

"Logan," you whimpered, batting your eyelashes at him with wide doe-eyes. His last thread of self-restraint snapped inside of him as he heard his name fall from your mouth. He had already let himself go much further with you than he had planned, but now that he's heard how you sound saying his name he needed to hear it, again and again and again.

He rose from the bench quickly, grabbing your hand in his much larger one.

"Come on," he grumbled, pulling you along with him. He moved hastily, but you kept up easily. His pace only made your growing sense of arousal quicken as well.

Before you knew it, he was pushing open the door to his room. The room matched the man, and you noticed how it smelled like him too.

"Sit," he commanded motioning to the bed. You had never thought yourself one to obey a man so easily, but something about his tone made you do as he said. Logan made sure the door was locked behind you both before returning to you quickly, taking your lips in his own again. His tongue darted out, running across your bottom lip. A moan escaped you involuntarily, and he relished in the noise. To have you here with him, so needy, so willing, so young. Even though he knew he should have blocked himself off from you as soon as he heard you were only in your twenties, he couldn't deny the fact that it only turned you on now that he had you in this position.

He held your thigh with one hand, using the other to snake under your shirt to cup one of your breasts over your bra. You moaned again at his touch, only encouraging him further.

"Take it off."

You pulled away from him just far enough to grab the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head. You then reached behind you, unclasping your bra and throwing both articles of clothing to the floor.

Logan smiled, eyes not leaving your breasts as he spoke.

"Well damn, I just meant the shirt but I'm not complaining."

The blush that rose to your face spread down to your chest as well. The way you flushed at his words was gorgeous to him. He never wanted this vision of you to stop. There was a part of Logan that was still convinced he may be dreaming.

Wasting no more time, he laid you down. His bed was much softer than you would have guessed. One hand made it's way to one of your breasts as his mouth made its way to the other. You moaned as he squeezed one breast, using his tongue to flick over your nipple on the other. The heat pooling between your legs was nearing a point of becoming uncomfortable. From the rigidity of Logan pants where they pressed against you, you could assume the same was true for him.

You reached down, palming him through his jeans. Already, you could tell his size would break you. It's not a thought you minded. He groaned at the contact, the vibrations making their way from his mouth to your nipple. Every part of you felt on fire, overheated as each touch of his sent you deeper into arousal.

You gasped at the sudden loss of contact, Logan pulling away to pull his own shirt off his head. You made no attempt to look away from him, taking in his built chest and abdomen. You wanted to put your mouth all over him.

"Like what you see?"

He pulled his jeans off before crawling back on top of you, one hand fingering each of your nipples as he attached his mouth back to your own. He captured every moan of yours into his mouth, as if devouring them would mean he could hear another.

Your hips has a mind of their own, craning upward towards the bulge in his boxers. As your clothed heat came in contact with him, he reciprocated with a growl, grinding down into you. Your mind spun at the increased contact, heat continuing to grow in your belly.

Logan pulled away from you again, making you whimper. His mouth trailed down your body, stopping at your breasts before continuing further. His fingers looped under your waistband, and he looked up at you as if asking for permission.

"Please, Logan," you whined with a wiggle of your hips. With your confirmation, he nearly tore the bottoms from your body trying to take them off so fast. Revealing your panties to him, he groaned as he saw the way that they were clearly soaked through. He loved the effect he was having on you.

The panties didn't stay on you long though, tore from you as well as you felt his warm mouth find your cunt. His tongue licked slowly from your hole up to your clit, nearly making you scream. Your hands found their way to his hair, tangling your fingers in his tufts. The soft tug from your fingers make him moan into your pussy and you tucked that information away.

His speed increased, tongue flicking over your clit in sloppy circles. Your moans and whines only continued to spur him on, and you felt a finger prodding at your entrance. He pushed it in slowly, feeling your velvet walls clench around him.

If one finger feels this good, you thought, how the fuck am I going to take him?

He began to fuck you with his hand, adding a finger when you were ready and pushing slowly in and out of your soaking pussy. Combined with the movements of his tongue, you felt yourself reaching your peak quickly.

"Logan, I-" you whimpered.

"Come on baby," he said gruffly, only backing off your cunt long enough to get his words out before continuing his motions. "Cum for me baby. Show me how good you taste."

You moaned at his words, it being all you needed to push you over the edge. Your body shivered at the intensity of your orgasm, walls clenching around his fingers. Logan eagerly lapped up your juices as you came, only slowing down as your moans became breathier as you came down from your high.

" 'm gonna fuck you now baby," he growled. Despite having just orgasmed, his words sent a wave of tingles to your core. "That sound alright?"

You nodded, looking into his eyes as he made his way on top of you. He leaned down to kiss you, and you could taste yourself on his tongue.

"Use your words."

He took his length into his hand, mesmerizing you with the way he lazily jerked it in his hand.

"Please," you whispered.

"What was that?"

"Please, Logan, fuck me!" You cried.

"That's it," he said cockily as he pressed the head of his cock to your entrance. "Damn you're fucking soaking wet for me, aren't you?"

You could only moan in response, his cockhead stretching your walls as he entered you. It hurt as he stretched you in the best way, feeling more full than you ever have before you had even felt him bottom out. When he finally did, he used every ounce of restraint to stop himself from moving too much as he allowed you to adjust to his size. Before too long, you began to squirm under him. Your hands roamed his body, from his abs to his chest to his arms. With the way you whimpered under him, he was glad for your motions as he wasn't sure he could stay still much longer.

He began pulling out, before pushing back in tantalizingly slow. You moaned wantonly at the movement, feeling his dick twitch inside of you. You wiggled your hips, trying to push closer to him.

"Logan," you whined as if begging. Looking into his eyes, you could see how dark they were with lust. His pace increased, only making you louder as you kept your eye contact with him.

"Fuck baby," he grunted. "Not to bad for an old man, huh?" The way you moaned in response, mouth open in an 'O' shape as your eyes stayed locked to his told him he was correct. Your hands clawed your way down his chest, your eyes falling shut in your pleasure.

"Look at me," he demanded. You did as told, your big, lidded eyes filled with want nearing him towards his orgasm. All you could do was whine, whimper and moan, no hopes of formulating any real response. It was as if you were drunk on the way he felt inside you, pushing in deep and hitting all the right places.

"Are you gonna cum again for me baby? Let me feel you clench around my cock?" All his words did was make you moan louder, as if that were even still possible. You had never felt this level of pleasure before, and you knew you were going to be addicted. One of his hands made its way to one of your nipples, pinching it and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. You felt your tummy flutter, clenching as you reached your second orgasm.

Your vision filled with stars, nearly screaming as you reached your peak again. Your walls clenched around Logan's cock, prolonging your orgasm as he continued to pound it in and out of your cunt.

You felt his thrusts begin to falter, grunting and growling as his movements became even harder and deeper than before. He suddenly pulled out, making you miss that feeling of fullness as he jerked himself off with his hand, spilling his cum onto your stomach and breasts.

As you both began to relax again, he couldn't take his eyes off you. The way his seed looked across your body, your flushed face and the way your breasts moved as you huffed breathlessly.

"Take a picture," you joked, "it'll last longer."

"Can I?" He replied cockily, breathless himself as he cocked an eyebrow making you giggle.

After helping you clean yourself up, Logan laid down next to you with a deep huff, pulling the blanket over the both of you.

"We've got to start doing that more often," you whispered. His arm opened for you, letting you snuggle into his chest sleepily as he wrapped his arm around you. He placed a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

"Oh baby," he chuckled softly, "after all that, I don't think I ever want to stop."

You drifted off to sleep, feeling protected under Logan's grasp, happy you had decided to take that walk.

[moonstruckme]

Thanks for being patient with me! This is edited on about four hours of sleep so apologies for any errors <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.6k words

Water sizzles on the stove. You reach over to turn down the heat, your side heating from its proximity to the boiling water, before spinning back around to keep speed-chopping onion. This is a result of poor planning. 

It’s possible that some of your nerves could be reinterpreted as excitement. Giddiness, even. You’re finally—finally—doing something to try and repay all the kindness James shows you. You’ve felt like such a mooch, eating his cooking and stealing his time with his friends, but last week had been too much for you to take. He’d discovered the stomach bug you were weathering, and James had completely devoted the next two days of his life to making sure you were looked after. 

Your fever had gotten so out of hand he’d very nearly followed through on his favorite threat (going into your phone while you’re sleeping and phoning your mum), and though you’d done your best to downplay it at the time there are admittedly gaps in your memory wherein you think you were simply too out of it to know what was going on. It’s not a very comforting thought when you’re harboring a humiliating crush on your roommate; you may well have been just as talkative as James always is, you don’t know. At least he hasn’t said anything. 

He had, thankfully, managed to avoid catching it. You’re not sure how he managed what no one on your shift at work did, but you assume it has something to do with all that kale he eats. Which is why you’re doing your best to make the thank-you meal you’re making him as healthy as might suit his standards. 

You hear his key in the door, and a little frisson goes up your spine. 

“You’re early,” you accuse as he walks in. 

“Since when do you know when my training ends?” James asks. You sound like you’re sniping at one another, but as usual the joviality in his tone is unmissable. 

The sounds of his entrance are familiar, perhaps more ingrained in your mind than they ought to be. Keys jingling as he hangs them on the hook, shoes toed off and left by the mat, heavy footsteps headed for wherever you are in the apartment. 

When he finds you in the kitchen, you both speak at once. 

“What happened to your shoulder?” 

“You know how to cook?” 

“Hurt it at training,” James answers, shrugging with the shoulder that doesn’t have an ice pack held to it. He’s probably too nice for it to occur to him to withhold his answer until you’ve given yours, as had been your first thought. “What are you making?” 

“How did you hurt it?” Worry pries at your tone. Your hands have stilled on the cutting board. 

“We had a scrimmage, and I got shoulder-barged.” He gives you a smile, a shadow of the real thing, but gentler. Reassuring. “It’s not bad.” 

You frown. “I don’t know what that means.” 

“Didn’t expect you to, love.” 

“Why do you need to ice it if it’s not bad?” 

There’s a look in James’ eyes that’s wavering between smugness and softness. You balk at the sight of it. “I need to be a bit careful with it,” he hedges, “but it’ll be good by morning. Now, you’ve distracted me. Do you mean to tell me you’ve known how to cook this entire time?” 

“Yes,” you concede with a laugh. “I’ve always said I cook for myself when you’re not around.” 

“And here you are, doing it right before my eyes.” James leans on the counter with his good arm. He looks immensely entertained. “I’m honored.” 

“This isn’t just for me,” you say, looking down to resume chopping onion as your face warms slightly. “It’s for—” Another remonstrative hiss from the stove, and you whip around, moving the pot off the hot part entirely. You’re a bit relieved for the excuse to face away from him. “It’s for both of us. Also, I just want to provide a disclaimer right now that I never said I was good at cooking, only that I knew how.” 

James’ laugh rumbles behind you, just as you knew it would. He’s too easy. You can practically feel the force of his smile hitting your back, like the sunshine brought inside. 

“Here,” he says, taking a couple of steps toward you, “let me help.” 

“No!” You whirl again, stopping him before he can actually enter the kitchen. “No way. James, I’m trying to do something nice.” 

“And it is very nice,” he says, earnest. “It just seems like you could use a hand.” 

“I’ve got it,” you insist. Your hands are up to ward him off, but you put them at your sides when you realize how close they’re hovering to his chest. “It doesn't count as doing something for you if you do it yourself. Anyway, you’re incapacitated.” 

“I’m…” James looks confused, but then he glances down to his icing shoulder. “Oh, come on. I’m hardly immobilized.” 

“For all intents and purposes, you are.” You do your best to infuse your voice with conviction. You’ve found that’s usually the way with James. If you show any hesitation, he’ll turn on the charm and have you eating out of his hand before you know what’s happened. You herd him away from the kitchen. “Go sit down. Dinner will be ready soon.” 

You can’t help but be aware of him as you finish up, knowing he has to hear the sizzling when you accidentally spill things onto the stove or the one mumbled curse you’re not quick enough to bite back. All evidence that you’re not nearly as practiced a cook as James. You can practically feel his grin from a room over. Still, when it's done you’re fairly proud of yourself. 

James is beaming as he accepts his bowl. He hikes his knees up so you can pass between the couch and the coffee table, making a show of sniffing the steam rising from the food. 

“Is this risotto?” he asks, waiting for your little nod before his mouth drops open in astonishment. “You are so sneaky! I didn’t know you could cook at all, let alone fancy shit like this.” 

“It’s not that hard to make.” You look down at your fork as you raise it to your lips, blowing. 

“Sure it is! Loads of people have a hard time with it.” 

“Do you?” 

James grins, caught. You feel your own smile tugging at your lips as you take a bite.

He follows suit, forking a bit of the risotto and blowing to cool it before taking it in his mouth. His eyes dip closed, head lolling back, and he moans. 

“Oh my god, this is good. I’m never cooking again, now that I know you can do this.” 

You take another bite to avoid a response. You’re fairly sure the heat from your face could power the apartment for a month. 

James makes a few more over-the-top compliments of your culinary skills, which you deflect as best you can. As always, you eat mostly silently while he chatters, but when you look over your attention gets snagged on his shoulder. 

He’s only using the one hand to eat, bowl resting in his lap while you hold yours up closer to your face. His ice pack sits beside him now that he can’t hold it on anymore. You catch yourself gnawing on the inside of your lip. 

“Does it hurt?” you ask. 

James looks over, following your gaze. “Yeah,” he admits. “Nothing I’m not used to, though.” 

You feel your eyebrows pinch. “You get hurt often?” 

He smiles bemusedly. “It’s rugby, love. Getting a bit roughed up is part of the deal.” 

This doesn’t sit right with you. Though you hadn’t pondered it much before, you realize you’ve sort of been thinking of James, with his muscles and constant smiles and easygoing manner, as somewhat invincible. He seems like such a source of light in the world, it hadn’t occurred to you that anything bad could happen to him. You don’t like the idea of him being hurt. In any capacity. 

You realize this is likely playing out on your face when you notice James watching you. His eyes are soft. “As much as I would love to milk this for attention and maybe a sponge bath,” he says, setting his fork in his bowl, “it’s really not that bad. See?” 

He pulls down the sleeve of his shirt, and the effort to placate you is wasted. You take in a quiet, horrified gasp at the deeply colored bruise on James’ shoulder. One of your hands raises as if to touch it. It hovers in the space between you. 

“That’s not that bad?” you look at James in alarm. “It looks broken.” 

“It’s not,” he laughs. It’s a bit awkward, as close to self-conscious as you’ve ever seen him. “Trust me, I’ve had a couple broken bones in my time. It’s only bruised, and the muscle’s a bit strained.” 

The muscle, you’re noticing now, is quite substantial. Your focus is on the bruise, but the shoulder beneath it is eye-catching as well, hefty and taut-looking, presumably from the strain. That, or James is flexing. 

You raise your gaze quickly to his. Brown eyes tinged with smugness. 

“You’re worried about me.” His lips stretch into a grin. Not your favorite one in his arsenal. “Aw, sweetheart, I love you too.” 

You direct your attention back to your food, face hotter than hot. “I have justification for worry,” you say, the teasing tone you were going for undercut by the unintentional softness of your voice. “You’re voluntarily participating in a sport that seems like it’s trying to kill you.” 

James takes a self-satisfied bite of his risotto. “I don’t know, I was pretty worried when you fainted in my arms last week.” 

You side-eye him suspiciously. “I didn’t actually do that.” 

“Guess you’ll never know.” 

[allthecanadianpolitics]

For the first time since 1877, Montrealers without housing may soon be unable to get a hot meal at an Old Montreal soup kitchen. Fiona Crossling, the general director of Accueil Bonneau, said her organization can no longer afford to serve people on weekends, and she warns that if it can't secure stable provincial government funding, it will have to stop providing meals altogether next month. "We're operating at a deficit and we just don't have the funds," she said in an interview Tuesday. "We've announced that we will close weekends as of this coming weekend, but we're doing everything we can to negotiate with the government to ensure that it doesn't go any further." Crossling said her organization, which gives hot meals to around 400 people every morning, has done everything it can to avoid closing its food program. The province gave Accueil Bonneau emergency funding to keep it running through January, but Crossling says her organization has run a deficit for the past three years and can't continue offering food without more help.

Continue Reading

Tagging @politicsofcanada

[balladeerssong]

a piece of me.

| SYNOPSIS | sweet things they do out of love.

| INCLUDING | Albedo, Cyno, Dottore, Kazuha, Tartaglia, Wanderer.

| A/N | posting this draft i've been procrastinating on for a while. Dottore's is the longest lol (can u tell i like him a bit)

𝐀𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐨 - ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡⁱᶜᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍˢ ʷⁱᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˢᵗᵘᵖⁱᵈ.

oh, you don't understand how his latest thesis works? don't worry, he'll explain! he's got just the right vocabulary to translate how all of these messy assumptions and ideas connect. no matter how small your knowledge is when it comes to alchemy, you will understand everything after he's done explaining. he never doubted your ability to understand, either. he believes the key to grasping this kind of knowledge starts with a good, patient teacher.

𝐂𝐲𝐧𝐨 - ˡᵉⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈʷᵉᵃʳ.

walking through the hot desert? strolling on the cold, windy streets? Cyno's headwear is perfect for both. it's kind of like it's infused with magic - cooling you down in the hot weather and providing warmth when it's cold. he never misses any sign of you being a bit too hot or cold. the moment he sees even a drop of sweat on you, or a shiver run down your spine, you'll feel a heavy but comfortable weight on top of your head.

𝐃𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 - ᵐⁱˣⁱⁿᵍ ᵖᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵖᵉᶜⁱᶠⁱᶜᵃˡˡʸ.

i know some might disagree but i think Zandik is gentle with his darling, wether that be out of manipulation, or because he knows how fragile you are. pulling his hand back when you hiss while he's treating you, secluding materials you seem to be allergic to in his lab, having you wear full protective attire when he's experimenting in the same room as you, even if you're not even in the 'danger zone' kind of distance. let's say one day he overhears you complaining to one of your friends about something. acne scars, dry or greasy hair, dark circles under your eyes... he's on it right away. in a few days, you're presented with a container with a mysterious substance in it. it glows slightly, the consistency is somewhere between a cream and liquid, and it has this soft pink colour you've never seen in Dottore's lab... ever. before you can question, he explains where he got the idea, and you can't hold back that fuzzy feeling when you realise he came up with the perfect product just for you! after all, he's very much familiar with your body, he knows exactly what it needs to get rid of the problems at hand.

𝐊𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚 - ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵖᵘˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ˢᵗʳᵃⁿᵍᵉʳˢ' ʷᵃʸ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗʳᵉᵉᵗ.

walks through Inazuma City with Kazuha aren't uncommon. there's so much to do and see, especially under the starry sky. that being said, the people living there also know this, often resulting in crowded streets. walking forward while looking back at Kazuha might not be the smartest idea - but don't worry. he's got you. he holds your hand and gently tugs on it to pull you to the side before you could bump into anyone. he also has this soft, loving smile on his face the whole time.

𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐚 - ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱᵐ.

being loved by Ajax means being loved by his family. his siblings - both younger and older absolutely adore you and see you as a member of their family before you even have a ring on your finger. his parents are also very affectionate towards you, and you can't deny how delicious the hearty, warm snezhnayan meals are that they welcome you with. snowball fights with the youngests and ice fishing are also a must!

𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫 - ʰᵘˢʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʸ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗ ʸᵒᵘ.

he's already at least slightly annoyed by everyone in the Akademiya. they all seem so full of themselves - and the moment you get interrupted mid-sentence just proves it to him. he doesn't hesitate to threaten ask anyone to shut up while you speak. he couldn't care less about how smart or important they are, his darling was speaking, so they will listen. it doesn't even matter what you're talking about, he simply can't let anyone make you swallow your words.

[slightlypossessed]

Synopsis — Spencer's favourite meal (aka dr reid eats pussy)

Who? — Dr. Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

18+ content — MDNI

small drabble post bcs pussy drunk Spencer is on the brain <3

"Spencer," you whine, "no more, please,"

"C'mon, baby," his voice is desperate and pained, as if he's the one who's been mercilessly toyed with this past hour or so. "One for more for me, sweetheart," he licks a long strip along your cunt, "one more."

But it was one more an orgasm ago. In fact, it was one more three, four, five orgasms ago.

Distantly, somewhere in the back of your frazzled and half-mush brain, you wonder if his jaw is sore – if he's really enjoying it as much as his humping and moaning seem to be giving away. Does he really get this much pleasure out of something as simple as eating you out?

But it's not that simple, no– not to Spencer.

For Spencer, it's the concept of your pleasure, the show you unawaredly put on: the hitches in your breath each time he puts his tongue on your clit again, the low moan when he sucks, the breathy please as you beg him to go faster. The way your hips circle and stutter beneath the hold his arms have on them, it's the way you sigh his name – low and dreamy as your back arches of the sheets when he makes you cum.

Spencer enjoys it all – craves it all, always. He's barely even lucid at this point. Your slick a most sweet elixir, throwing him deeper and deeper into a lust-filled haze till he's mindlessly rutting into the mattress and moaning into your core.

He wants to taste you again, taste your sweet liquor as you cum for him, again.

How can he not when your so pretty like this? taste as addictive as you do? make him feel half-insane as you moan out his name and grind your hips down onto his tongue – greedily asking for more, always wanting more, just as he so desperately does. You're the same as him, you want more, more, more – and he'll always so oh, so eagerly provide.

Your thighs are wet and sticky and Spencer seems to revel gleefully in the fact – he's made them like this, he's why your cunt is wet with slick, why your face is covered in tears and few smudges of mascara.

Spencer's mouth is hot on your pussy as he continues his work. He plunges two long and slender fingers inside of your, hooking them up as he moves them in-and-out, all the while sucking on your swollen clit.

"fuck," your back bows off the mattress. You're already so close – was close the moment he put his tongue on you again not even a second after your last orgasm.

"Spencer, please–" you don't know what you plea for – don't know if it's for mercy or for damnation. You're not sure if you should pull his head closer by the hand in his hair, or move away to stave off your orgasm. You're not sure you can handle more, even if you want it, you can't guarantee that another orgasm won't break you. But it doesn't matter, Spencer's movements are relentless, and either way he'll get you there – he needs to make you cum. Your hand in his hair remains neutral.

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you can already feel the familiar sweet, honeyed sensation fill you up. Warmth moving through your nerves and seeping deep into your bones. Your eyes are already closed, eyes sightlessly moving around beneath your lids as if caught in a restless dream — and you almost feel like you are in one: some feverish, psychosomatic sex dream.

Spencer efforts double, almost like he can notice the proximity of your orgasm, telepathically able to predict when the sensation is about to flood you even before you've been made aware yourself. His hips grind down harder against the mattress as he, seemingly unaware, tries to make himself cum to the sweet sounds of your pleasure.

His fingers move deeper, motions precise. The pads of his fingers nudge that soft spot deep in your cervix, and your legs are clamping closed, only held open by his bobbing head.

"Spencer!" you moan, "too much, fuck– please, honey, please," soft words bubble from your lips, your brain too pleasure-frazzled to form any other, more coherent requests.

Spencer's fingers continue their movements, his tongue moves up and down your cunt, before he rips out his fingers to stuff his face right in the centre of you to get a good taste, his nose brushing against your clit as he does so. You reward him with a cry, and he gifts you back his own moans. His sounds pressed deep into your cunt, making vibrations reverberate from your core to your chest, wrecking your body tremors as they flow through you.

He sucks and sucks, drinking your juices like a man depraved and dying of thirst. Spencer's always been an eager lover.

The coil begs to snap, stretched far too taught. His tongue plunges deep inside you, tasting along the spongy walls of your cunt.

All it takes is one simple movement from Spencer. His thumb circles your clit once, twice, his nose nudges your clit closer to his thumb – and you're screaming.

"Spencer!" you cry out as your back arches off the mattress completely. Your hips still held down by Spencer's strong arms intertwined around them, holding you hostage to his pleasure.

Moan after moan releases from your throat, mindlessly spoken words mixing in the middle: some please, some Spencers, a few cuss words in the bundle.

Despite the intensity you feel, the electricity that increases second by second, your hips act on a mind of their own. As every alarm in your friend brain goes off, telling you to stop the stimulation before you go insane, your hips yet continue to move, jerky circles following Spencer's still ongoing torment.

And Spencer's doesn't deprive you of any pleasure – his tongue still rapidly laps at your juices. The movements of his thumb on your clit are gentle, however. Slow, deliberate and soft circles.

Spencer doesn't fully slow down though, and before you can consider pulling him away with your weakened grip on his hair, Spencer's movements stutter. His body wracks with tremors, the movements of his mouth on you spasmodic. His hips thrash against the sheets. Spencer's movements are sporadic and shaky as his own cum erupts through his aching, hard cock.

Spencer's eyes roll far back into his skull, and you lean your head down to watch as his back bows while he whimpers and mewls against your pussy as he ruins the fabric of his boxers.

His hips continue to jerk, and he lays some soft, open-mouthed kisses on you as he rides out the high of a most divine feeling.

When his hips still, and sounds come back into focus, Spencer's hands loosen on you as he begins his ascent up your body, too eager to share the sweet taste of you on your tongue.

"mhmm," he hums against your pubic mound, laying a wet kiss as his handa move up to caress your body.

"you made me cum, pretty girl," he whispers against your stomach, you feel the curve of his lips around every word. "fuck, your sweet cunt and pretty sounds made me cum," another kiss laid higher up, "made me feel so good,"

You hum back in reply, unable to fully form a sentence yet.

"Didn't even need to try," he murmurs, and it's true. Spencer can cum from just looking at you, from your soft sounds and breathy whimpers. It's happened before, and it almost happened tonight when you moaned out his name all dreamy and dainty as he made you cum that first time.

"You sounded so pretty, too," his words carry on as his kisses move higher. He lays a wet kiss on your sternum, quickly darting out his tongue to lick a drop of sweat of your skin.

His big hands move all over you, from your hip to around your waist, then up to caress your chest, thumbs running over your nipples, before Spencer decides to taste them instead.

His hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as he settles himself between your legs.

His takes one breast into his mouth, sucking at the plump skin, head bobbing as he kisses and licks at your chest. His tongue swipes over your nipple, once, twice, three, five times till your hoarse voice whimpers out your pleasure – much to his satisfaction. He moves to repeat the same movements on the other breast.

Once he's satisfied, he releases you with a pop, the sound obscene and loud, contrasting your soft pants.

"Did you feel good, baby?" he speaks the words now against the side of your neck. You nod in response, your jaw softly meeting the side of his face as you do. Spencer chuckles at the contact, and moves out of the cervix of your neck to properly look at you instead.

His brown eyes meet yours. This close, you can make each individual flick of gold in his eyes, each green strand the decorates the brown.

"Tell me," he requests, soft and gentle. He kisses you tenderly on the lips. "tell me how good it felt,"

"So good, Spence," you reply, voice rough with use, whilst you wrap your hands around his neck, one burrowing into his soft curls. His eyes flutter as your nails lightly scrape his skull, and he feels a low buzz at the contact.

"Good," he kisses you again, satiated and satisfied with your answer.

It seems to you like Spencer's gotten his fill, for now. He's only made you cum, what? 5 or 6 times?

He kisses you softly, and you hope that Spencer's settling to rest with you.

He kisses you slow and soft, humming gently against your lips. He lays one kiss on your temple, another on your forehead, and one on each of your closed eyelids as you begin to settle and relax against the pillows, your brain wandering off as you lose time between each kiss and the next; your brain dozes off for half-seconds as the atmosphere quiets.

so calm....so quiet

Your grip on Spencer loosens, the entrancing, post-euphoria haze thickens and stretches time as sounds around you mute and an exhausted smile settles across your face as you give into that weightless feeling and finally rest.

—

Spencer's hands wander downwards, yet again, his fingers settling on your clit as he aligs his once more hard cock with your entrance.

Liked reading this? >> Give this a go

A/N — some late night Spencer thoughts. Been wanting to right for dr. pretty boy for a while now.

+ experimenting with shorter fics now, hopefully I'll write more like this? also it's not properly edited if u can't tell ⊙⁠﹏⁠⊙

Feedback is always wanted & appreciated!

Requests are open!!

[quantum1mmortality]

hii idk if this wld be too vague but could u do househusband curly hcs? sfw or nsfw is ok🙂

Omg guys more husband curly x reader I REPEAT MORE HUSBAND CURLY X READER!!!!! You guys absolutely DEVOURED my other husband curly hcs so uh.. here's more. Because I seek validation or whatever

Tw/cw; submissive Curly, EXTREMELY submissive Curly, dominant reader, Afab!reader, Curly being a very good boy

Not proofread

Sfw

Honestly, Curly would be the best househusband ever. He literally has all of the traits that a housewife would have, but it's 10x better because it's Curly.

Tired after a long day of work? He made you your favorite meal, PLUS dessert. Your body is hurting after work? Curly may or may not be the best at massages..

I feel like he'd spend hours in the kitchen each day making sure every part of your dinner is PERFECT for when you get home. The flavor, texture, presentation, everything is to your liking, and it's all thanks to him.

Curly and Anya have a group chat where they just send each other Pinterest recipes and I won't elaborate on that

On the same note, the house is constantly clean. I think Curly would be a neat freak, so either way it would be clean, but he takes it to an entity new level. He's home all day, so every single surface is getting cleaned. Every. Single. One.

He can't have the house that his beloved wife so graciously provides him with be dirty, so he HAS to clean it. He HAS to make you know he appreciates you, and one of the ways he does that is by keeping everything clean. Every floor is getting mopped, every counter is getting wiped down, all of the shelves are getting dusted, everything that could be cleaned, will be cleaned. Daily.

Okay enough of the cleaning, I think Curly would wake up extra early every day so he could make you breakfast. Pancakes, waffles, eggs, oatmeal, anything you wanted that day, he'd make it. He'd go to the grocery store at 5 in the morning to get something for your breakfast if he needed to. This man is DEDICATED to serving you, and he isnt ashamed to admit it.

Nsfw

Might be a hot take but idc these are MY hcs, househusband Curly would be MUCH more submissive than normal Curly.

Normal Curly is.. just that, normal. He isn't particularly dominant, but he takes on the role of a dominant partner in bed. He likes having a sense of power over you while still letting you know through each step how much he cares about you. Your safety and comfort come before anything else to him, no matter how far gone in pleasure he is.

Househusband Curly is the opposite of dominant. Literally. Every other trait I went over he still has, except the dominant parts. You provide him with everything he's ever wanted, he is completely at your disposal, and he loves it.

This man literally wants you to use him. It doesn't matter what you do, if you're in the mood, he's in the mood. Push him to his limits, take out your frustration on him(sexually and consensually, don't hit him please), use him like a fucking toy, he doesn't care. To him, his only purpose is to please you, and he's dedicated to it.

Now, obviously this means you're going to be topping most of the time. It's what he prefers. But occasionally, he'll want to top. But it's the exact same as you topping, just in a different position.

A harsh grip on your hips, heavy breathing, loud whimper and moaning, shallow thrusts and a hard climax.. everything is the same, the only difference is you're underneath him this time.

Even still, the pleasure he gets from watching you ride him will never be topped. Literally. He just can't get enough of the view.. your face contorting in pleasure, your breasts bouncing up and down with each thrust, watching his cock go in and out of your pretty little pussy.. it's everything to him. And so, so much more.

A/N; I'm starting to think I should make a master list for all of my curly fics ngl