#thanks for the request! still taking more

[highdramas]

ok but first or second year resident flirting with jack’s wife knowingly or unknowingly that she’s jack’s wife and jack is losing it over the whole thing and keeps giving the newbie death stares from across the room whenever the newbie is near is wife and dana sees this all go down from the nurses station and just prepares for jack to go ape if the newbie crosses a line

rookie mistake | dr. jack abbot

pairing: jack abbot x f!attending!wife!reader

warnings: language, age gap (unspecified, but reader is late 20s/early 30s and jack is mid/late 40s), jack defends you because you are his lovely wife <3

word count: 1.8k

notes: if you are under 18 do not interact with my work or this fic. ANON THANK YOUUUU FOR THIS REQUEST <3 i adored this one <3 this is a continuation of ring of fire set in the future, but it's not necessary to read to understand this fic. if you would like to, though, you can find that here <3 not proofread so apologies for any errors!

on monday, you resign yourself to cut the newbie some slack. i mean, alex doesn't know, and if he did, you're almost certain that he would knock that shit off immediately. but... there's a small part of you that finds it a little bit amusing. and maybe you should be good and hold your hand up and say the words that would make any wise man run far, far away: "sorry, kid. you know your attending? yeah, that's my husband."

but that would just be too easy.

tuesday, you're ultimately surprised by the gumption that he has to continue to flirt with you. he says your name like he's purring it, and you can't help but scrunch your nose up slightly, looking up at the board to see where your skills are most needed. the amusement has mostly dissipated, being followed by a certain brand of annoyance that only a twenty five year old boy can draw out of you.

you roll your head to look at your forty nine year old man, coming out of the trauma that had come in thirty minutes ago, only to find that his gaze is already on you. his cheeks are slightly red, hands on his hips, eyebrows screwed up in that way that indicate to you that he's weighing his options about what the best course of action is, here. you wave at him with your fingers, and the new resident, alex, follows your gaze. he gives a big toothy grin to your attending and it takes everything within you to keep your face as neutral as possible. "man, abbot's a cool fuckin' dude," he says under his breath with a truly earnest reverence, and it almost makes you feel bad. almost.

"he's the best of us," you say, and it's entirely truthful. you can tell that jack is still cued in on your conversation. you slide your glance back over to him and wink before you look back to alex.

"yeah." he doesn't take a beat to look back at you with that unbridled hunger that he had been throwing your way through both of the shifts you'd worked together. "so. what're you doing after all of this?"

with raised eyebrows, you shrug your shoulders. "i have an idea or two." he looks just a hair too excited, and your face drops. "not like that. you know, if you want to be a doctor, you do need to actually have an attention for detail." you raise your left hand, revealing the gold band that you wear when you're working. “less flirting. more charting. go.”

when you look over at abbot with a slight exasperation, he just raises one eyebrow at you, and offers a tentative thumbs up– almost a question.

you give him a thumbs up back.

–

the next day, alex was going around to every person that you both worked with, attempting to get intel on you, and your love life.

dana scoffs when she hears the words come out of his mouth. “i mean, he can’t be all that. there’s no way he’s better than me. i was a diver at duke! i had a full ride!” the words are said with such true arrogance that even dana has to laugh.

“oh, kid, if only you knew.” she claps him on the shoulder and points her finger at him. “i’m only gonna tell you this once, alright– after that, you’re on your own. and don’t say i didn’t warn you.” she looks at him down the bridge of his nose– a remarkable feat, considering alex is nearing 6’1. “you don’t want to try your luck. you feel me?”

“but–”

“ah– what did i just say? you don’t want to try your luck. believe me.” she claps that same shoulder again. “and if you do, i knew nothing, and had nothing to do with it.”

you lean against the counter, very obviously eavesdropping, not like you really care– when abbot slides up beside you. he looks over his shoulder at alex, who is, of course, already looking at you. when he meets abbot’s gaze, his eyes go wide and he turns right around, going back to north-11 to finish up with the norovirus patient that jack had put him on. following jack’s line of sight, you can’t help but smirk as you watch alex take in a big gulp of air, slap a mask on, and step into what you’re sure is a hell made entirely of shit and vomit.

“you know,” you say lowly, your elbow brushing jack’s. “that is just mean.”

“all interns get a noro case when they come in,” he says seamlessly, looking between the board and the patient notes that he’s trying to wrap up. “it’s textbook.”

“his first day was three days ago. you usually give it at least a couple of weeks before you start sticking them on noro or food poisoning.”

“not all interns flirt with my wife, relentlessly, in front of me.” jack puts his undivided attention on you.

“oh my god.” you’re smirking. you’re smirking, wide, at your computer. when you look over at jack, you say, “you’re not seriously jealous of the kid?”

“it’s about respect.”

“i don’t think he’s even picked up on us yet. which is hilarious, in and of itself.” you finish up with your chart and put a hand on your hip. “no one’s telling him.”

“he keeps this shit up, he’ll be hearing it from me.”

you hum and pat your hand on his chest. he catches it, his thumb rubbing at the ring you wear. “you’re sexy when you’re jealous,” you say under your breath, close enough to him that you can get away with a little workplace flirting.

“i’m not jealous.”

–

he is jealous.

he’s jealous when he watches this kid– yeah, you may only be five years older than him, but he doesn’t linger on that fact too long– blatantly flirt with you. he gets jealous when alex leans in slightly towards you during shift, just a little too close than is friendly while you review patient notes and ongoing care. but then, he watches you do your little semi-awkward shuffle to the left, and he can’t even help his smirk. and then you look over your shoulder, make this face that says, can you believe this guy? and suddenly, it’s not that he’s jealous. it’s just that he loves you.

but then, on that thursday, alex touches you.

at first, you don’t even notice what he’s done. a little piece of hair has fallen into your eyes out of the tortoiseshell clip that you love so much– the one that jack picked up for you at a cvs because he knows how much you love tortoiseshell. and it’s so faint that you barely even register it. but it doesn’t matter. because you may not have realize, but jack certainly has.

alex’s hand hasn’t even dropped from where he’s tucking that loose piece of hair behind your ear when jack surges up, dana hot on his heels. “woah, woah, woah, let’s all cool it–” dana starts, but it’s no use.

jack puts a firm hand on alex’s shoulder, squeezing tighter than necessary. certainly firm enough to drive home his point. “hey, buddy,” jack says lowly, just enough so that alex can hear him loud and clear, without causing a scene that draws the attention of the entire emergency department. he has that sort of simmering intensity that always makes something swirl in your belly. “look, i’ve tried to be cool, man. i really have. but i’m only going to tell you this one time before i pull in a favor with gloria so that you complete your residency somewhere else. keep those grubby fucking hands off of my wife.”

mortification is an understatement for what you assume alex must be feeling. his face is beet red, eyes darting between you and abbot so fast you’d want to get him in for a head CT if he kept it up any longer. “i– holy shit– i did not know.”

“i know you didn’t,” jack says with a resolute nod. “but now you do. so keep your hands to yourself and we won’t have a problem.” he pats alex’s back once, and you cover your mouth with one hand and peer over at dana with wide eyes. she, can only shrug, roll her eyes, put her readers back on, and turn back to the charge desk. “go get a sandwich from the bin and take ten minutes. go.” 

alex looks at you and you feel bad, almost. you smile at him and say, “next time, if a woman says she’s not interested… take it at face value, before jack abbot has to get involved.”

“yes, ma’am. it will not happen again.” alex gives one last nod to jack, like a nervous teenage boy, before he’s off running towards the staff lounge with his tail between his legs.

jack rubs a hand over his face. you bite down on your lip, look at him, and you start to chuckle. soon, jack’s laugh begins to mix with yours, coalescing until you’re leaning against the charge desk with tears clouding your vision, his dimples fully out and on display.

“man,” he says, shaking his head. “i feel a little bad.” he says, his laughter still holding him by the sleeve, begging to tug him back under.

“you should be. you’re scary,” you say while his thumb catches one of the stray tears on your cheek.

he snorts. “i’m about as scary as a kitten.”

“i dunno. i think our friend would beg to differ.” you lean into him and squeeze his arm before you force yourself to pull away– you like to exude some semblance of professionalism at work. even if the thing you want to do is drag your husband to the on-call room and ravage him for defending your honor.

“yeah, well. guess i reserve it for special circumstances.” he crosses his broad arms over his chest and looks you, up and down. they land on your face and soften. “i love you, kid.” the way he calls you kid, versus alex, makes your chest squeeze. an old habit from your residency, a reminder of where you were and how far you've come now.

the fondness that you feel for him never gets smaller. the longer you've been with him, from that time where you were his resident, smoking weed on his living room floor and wondering if there was a world where this could all work... the thing that always remained true and steady was how much you liked jack. right down to his bones, you liked him.

how can you capture that all in a sentence?

you don't know. but you settle on, "i love you," emphasis on the most important word there is.

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reacting to their s/o flashing them mid-argument to shut them up

Request: hey!!

first of all it is incredibly nice of you to not post any suggestive/smutty things during ramadan!! I still have a silly request in that direction and I know you won't do it until after this month but I fear I might forget it if I don't request now😭😭

how do you think would the svt members react if you (their gf) randomly flash them during an argument?? for e.g lets say they don't let you talk or smth and yoi just pull up your shirt to make them shut up😭

thank you so much and have a nice day!!💓

A/N: You are so sweet for what reason? 🥺 Here you go, I hope you like it !!!

A/N #2: I lost myself while writing Mingyu and Minghao's parts lmao, I hope you don't mind this reaction being long.

Content warning: MDNI! Established relationship. manhandling, kissing, teasing, body worship, missionary, flustered to focused, praise, overstimulation if you keep teasing him/let him, pussy eating, slow burn to deep heat, dirty talk, couch, kitchen counter and bed scenes , low-key subby energy in seungkwan for some reason, messy kisses, they're down bad for you, clothing kink, mirror play, possessiveness, oral ( bot m. and f. receiving), unprotected sex (don't be stupid), mild degradation, rough makeout, sadism, bondage, edging. lmk if I missed anything !

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

Seungcheol: You’re arguing—well, he’s arguing, raising his voice and not letting you get a word in. And then you suddenly lift your shirt. Now, thanks to you, all you can hear rn is, dead silence. His mouth stays open mid-sentence. “...What?” His anger deflates instantly and now he’s just blinking at you, jaw flexing as he tries not to smirk. “…You trying to distract me, baby?” Steps forward, corners you against a wall, smirking low. “It worked. Let’s talk after.” Seungcheol leans in, his face inches from yours as he traps you against the wall with his arms caging you in. His smirk turns into a playful grin as he presses his forehead against yours. "You know what? Forget the argument. You win." Hands slide down the wall to grip your hips, pulling you closer as he leans in, presses a soft kiss to your neck, biting gently before pulling back with a laugh.

Jeonghan: You’re mid-bickering over something really stupidly dumb when you’ve had enough of his smug comebacks. So you flash him without any warning. Jeonghan laughs like it’s the best thing he’s seen all week [probably (?)] “Oh? That’s your strategy now?” he says and walks over slowly, dragging a finger across your exposed skin. “Keep doing that and you’ll never win another argument again. I’ll make sure of it.” I KNOW IT'S SO HOT OF HIM Jeonghan leans in closer, his breath tickling your skin as he traces patterns on your stomach. Kisses trail lower as he hooks his fingers in your waistband, slowly tugging down the fabric to reveal more skin. "You know what happens now, right?" He looks up at you with a mischievous grin, "You lose the argument, remember?" He drops to his knees in front of you, kissing a trail from your stomach downwards as his hands grip your thighs firmly. "You used your body to shut me up... now I'm going to use my mouth to make you shut up." His tongue flickers out, teasing along your inner thigh.

Joshua: You try to explain your point but he’s lowkey ignoring you. One flash and— his eyes go wide. “Babe??” That fucking hottie, turns red. Literally flustered like he just saw his first boob. “I—are we seriously doing this right now?” He starts giggling laughing nervously, covers his face, then just sighs. “Okay… okay you win. Come here.” Clearly aroused, decides to take control in the most primal way. He steps closer, his hands wrapping around your waist as he lifts you effortlessly off the ground. “Starting fights and flashing me like that?” his voice husky as he murmurs, “you better be ready for what comes next.” He tosses you on the bed gently and follows after, pinning you beneath him with a hungry look. Slowly, he leans down, kissing along your collarbone. His hands slide under your shirt again, but this time with reverence. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, “and all mine.” And that night, he shows you exactly what happens when you tease a man like Joshua Hong.

Jun: You catch him off guard while he’s getting fired up about you ‘never listening.’ So you flash him. He freezes but his shameless ass stares. “...That’s not fair.” But he’s definitely grinning now. His voice lowers, “you’re gonna have to take responsibility, you know?” Jun doesn’t care about the argument anymore bc all he wants rn is you. His grin turns mischievous, mirroring his suddenly sadistic thoughts. He reaches over to grab something from the bedside drawer and pulls out a pair of handcuffs and a gag, his eyes gleaming. He quickly cuffs your wrists to the headboard, ensuring you're securely bound. "Let's see how well you argue now, without a voice or the ability to move," He shoves the gag into your mouth, effectively silencing you. He then takes your underwear off and spreads your legs wide, exposing you completely. "From now on, I make the rules. And right now, the rule is - you take whatever I give you, however I give it to you."

Hoshi: He’s pacing, being annoying as fuck, hands flying everywhere, so what you do? You lift your shirt. Yes and he yelps, “EXCUSE ME??” He's fully flustered and shuts the fuck up immediately and just STARES. Still walks over like a confused puppy, muttering under his breath, “Why are you like this…” as his hands fall to his sides uselessly as he pauses right in front of you. Unable to resist any longer, he leans in and crashes his lips onto yours, passionate and demanding. His hands find your hips, gripping them tightly as he pulls you against him. Suddenly, he breaks the kiss and spins you around, bending you over the nearest surface, and without hesitation, Hoshi lifts your skirt and pulls down your underwear. He starts spanking you hard, the sound of his palm hitting your flesh echoing through the room. Between spanks, he kisses you, "You're just showing off your arousal, even as you ignore me."

Wonwoo: You’re trying to explain something, but he’s giving you that cold, nonchalant stare. So, you shock him with a quick flash. Wonwoo blinks, and then he calmly removes his glasses. “...Okay.” Walks straight toward you. "You want my attention that bad?” Now it’s you who's speechless as he pins you to the couch and whispers, “Next time just ask.” A tell that you just gave him your undivided attention by basically sexually harassing him. He smirks slightly, and without any more back and forth, Wonwoo strips you both bare, his movements swift and decisive. He settles between your legs, his dark brown eyes burning with an intensity you've never seen before. He kisses you fiercely, his hands roaming your body possessively. One hand cupping your breast and teasing your nipple with his thumb. He rolls it between his fingers, making you gasp into his mouth. Simultaneously, his other hand slides down your stomach, finding your clit and rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles. As you arch into his touch, Wonwoo breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your neck and chest. He takes your other nipple into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around it. His fingers continue their relentless teasing of your clit, building a steady pressure that makes your hips squirm and cry.

Woozi: He’s on a full rant, not even letting you breathe. You lift your shirt: ERROR 404: LEE JIHOON HAS CRASHED. He fucking stares and then have the audacity to cover his face with both hands. “Are you INSANE?!” He’s mad, but also not mad, but also—mad that he can’t be mad anymore. Eventually just groans, hugs you tight. "You know what your problem is?" Woozi suddenly releases you, pushing his glasses up his nose. His eyes darken slightly, voice dropping an octave. He snaps his fingers suddenly. "You're sadistic. That's why you tease like that." He low-key, harshly, pushes you onto the bed behind you. His pretty hands trace your curves slowly, intentionally building anticipation. "Such pretty eyes... they'll look even better filled with tears." Jihoon leans down, his breath hot on your ear. "Let's see those tears, shall we?"

Dokyeom: You’re getting overwhelmed, so you hit him with a quick flash out of desperation. He gasps like you guys aren't dating already and doesn't see eachother's body minimum twice a day, “WHAT THE—” Fully scandalized, he looks away, then looks back, “babe. You… you distracted me!!” Argument’s over. He grouses, pulling you onto the bed while exclaiming about how ‘unfair’ that move was. Kyeom's hands are rough and impatient as he pulls you onto his lap, his fingers immediately finding their way to your pussy. "I'm going to edge you until you're begging for release," he mutters, "And do you know how I'll do thay? I'm going to make you come so many times that you'll be crying, but I won't let you have a real orgasm. You'll be reduced to a whimpering mess, all because of that damn flash." His fingers move faster, bringing you right to the edge before suddenly stopping. Dokyeom watches your face intently, a mix of amusement and dominance in his eyes. "See how close you are?" he whispers, his fingers hovering just above your clit without touching. "I can keep you right here on the edge all night." He leans down, his lips brushing against your lips.

Mingyu: He’s being annoyingly loud and trying to act like he’s right. You flash him and he, rightfully, chokes. Literally drops the mug he was holding. “HUH?!” Walk up to you like a hungry, horny man on a mission. “You better be ready to finish what you started, because I’m not letting this go.” Before you can even blink, he has you pinned against the counter, your legs boxed in by his. One hand fists the back of your shirt and tugs hard, pulling the fabric higher until you're bared to him again. He growls softly, lips brushing your collarbone. “Distracting me with these perfect tits?” He presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss just above your nipple and you gasp—loud, shaky, already arching into his touch. Your breath catches when he drops to his knees in front of you without a word, both hands now gripping your thighs. He mouths at the soft curve of your inner thigh, teeth dragging just enough to leave a mark. His tongue is teasing, but there’s nothing playful in the way he pushes your panties aside and buries his face between your legs like a man starving [which he is]. He groans into you like he’s the one being touched, hips grinding slightly into the floor as if he’s losing control just from the taste of you. “Turn around,” he says, standing up and tugging at your hips until your front is pressed against the kitchen counter, “now.” He’s already undoing his pants, groaning as he slides them down just enough, his cock hard and flushed and angry red at the tip.

Minghao: You’re in a tense back-and-forth. You flash him; dead serious. He raises one elegant brow. “Oh… so that’s how you handle conflict.” Stares you down until you’re the one blushing. "Interesting strategy," he mutters, stepping closer. “You better mean it.” He’s in front of you now, tall and intimidating, one hand sliding around your waist as the other tugs your shirt all the way off. His fingertips trace your bare skin, mapping out his next move. “You’re already blushing,” he says with a smirk. “What happened to all that attitude from five minutes ago?” You really don’t have any smartass answer 🤷🏻‍♀️ His lips ghost over your shoulder, hand slipping beneath your waistband and then, he leads you to the full-length mirror in the bedroom, pulling you to stand in front of him, chest to your back. He meets your eyes in the reflection. “Look at you. All flushed and trembling from one look, from one little comment.” His hand slides lower, fingers teasing over your wet heat. You bite your lip, struggling to hold still. “Watch what you started,” he whispers, kissing behind your ear. “No looking away.” His fingers move slowly, knowing, driving you insane while he watches your expression change in the mirror. One hand teasing your chest, the other curled against your core. You cry out as he sinks two fingers into you, curling them just right. He pulls his fingers out slowly and licks them clean right behind you—eyes meeting yours in the mirror. “Get on the bed. On your knees. I want that mouth next.” You move without a word, body shaking, heat pooling in your stomach. You’re already dizzy from the pace lmao. He lets you worship him first, praises falling from his lips between soft groans, hands gripping your hair with barely restrained control, and when he finally takes you—you feel owned, worshiped and ruined all at once. Hao holds you still, hips rolling into yours as his voice stays steady against your skin. “Next time we argue,” he murmurs, thrusts hitting deeper, “just strip. Saves us both the trouble.”

Seungkwan: “You’re not even listening to what I’m trying to—” Boob flash “AAAAAAAAAA—” Takes a fucking step back, “you did NOT just do that!” He's blushing so hard, flustered beyond help, pacing like an ajumma in crisis, but he caves instantly. “Okay, fine! You win!! Just stop flashing me when I’m trying to make a point!!” He storms toward you like a man on a mission, face red, eyes dark. “You’re evil,” he mutters, yanking your shirt off. “Evil, evil woman—” His mouth is already on you, hot and open, kissing the fuck out of everywhere he can reach. He pushes you down onto the couch nearby, tugging your shorts down halfway before dropping to his knees. “Now you don’t get to argue,” he says, kissing between your thighs. “You just stay quiet and take it.” And oh, you do [He makes sure of it.]

Vernon: “…What?” He deadpan stares at your boobs, then at your face, then back. “Are you serious right now?” Confused. Slightly aroused. Definitely distracted. “I don’t even remember what we were talking about.” [He never will, bc he’s too focused on you now.] He steps closer, hands slowly finding your waist, one thumb brushes the underside of your breast, reverent. “…You’re insane,” he whispers, grinning. He pulls you in a slow, heated kiss. Touches you like you're made of art. Lifts you up onto the counter or couch, whatever’s nearest, pushing your legs open as his mouth moves lower. “You win,” he murmurs against your skin. “Now let me worship you for it.” He presses a kiss to your inner thigh before licking a hot stripe over your center. “God, you taste like a sin,” he groans. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you still when you squirm. “You’re not going anywhere, baby. Not until you can’t remember your own name either,” and he keeps his promise :> Tongue deep, lips wrapped around your clit, humming every time you moan his name. When your thighs clamp around his head, he just groans into you like it fuels him.

Dino: You hit him with the flash mid-sentence and I kid you no, je literally shuts down. Eyes go wide. “Did… did you just—?” He walks away for a full 30 seconds before coming back. “That’s illegal. You can’t just do that.” Dino.exe has crashed. You raise an eyebrow, smug. “I just did.” He stares, then grabs your hand and pulls you toward the bedroom. “You better be ready to take responsibility.” Once you’re on the bed, he’s on his knees between your thighs in seconds, lips trailing fire up your skin, and then he devours you. Lips wrapped around your clit, tongue flicking just right. His focus is insane; he’s making a point with every swipe of his tongue. “Next time you flash me like that,” he murmurs against your soaked core, “just know I won’t stop until you’re begging.” p.s: you do beg.

[wendichester]

Hey!! I saw you also write smut?🤭

Could I request a one shot of Reader and Dean stuck in traffic or at a red light, reader gets bored and gets an idea to give Dean head?

Thank you!:)

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ green means go,

summary. you find an activity to keep you and dean entertained while in traffic.

pairing. dean winchester x reader genre. smut ( mdni )

wordcount. 573

notes / warnings. oral sex (m. receiving), swearing, just some fun times in the impala really

You're both stuck at a dead stop on I-70—bumper-to-bumper, no end in sight. The Impala’s engine hums low beneath your thighs, and the heat outside is nothing compared to the one pooling between your legs just watching Dean.

Left hand on the wheel. Right draped over your thigh like it belongs there. Ray-Bans on. Jaw clenched. That little smirk like he knows how good he looks.

And god, he really does.

You stretch, twist a little, trying to feign boredom, but your eyes are locked on him.

Then, innocently—too innocently—you say: “So. Wanna play a game?”

Dean raises a brow. “I spy with my little eye… what?”

You giggle. “Not exactly.”

Your hand slides to his thigh, fingers tracing lazy circles just below the seam of his jeans.

Dean freezes. “Sweetheart.”

You lean in. Real close. Lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Let me suck your cock.”

His knuckles go white on the steering wheel. “We’re in traffic.”

You purr, lips ghosting his neck. “Exactly.”

And before he can say no—or more likely, yes—you’re already undoing his jeans.

“Shit,” Dean hisses through gritted teeth. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You grin. “That’s the idea.”

His cock is already hard. Hot, heavy, twitching in your hand.

You wrap your fingers around him, give one slow stroke, and then lean down, tongue flicking the tip like it’s your favorite lollipop.

Dean bucks. Hard.

“Jesus fucking Christ—”

You hum against him. Then take him in.

Warm, wet, tight.

Dean’s head hits the seat. One hand flies from the wheel to tangle in your hair, gripping tight like you’re the only thing anchoring him to reality.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. “Just like that. You’re so good at this.”

You moan around him. Dean chokes on a curse.

The car behind you honks.

Dean startles—he actually flinches—and you pull off for a second to laugh.

“Oh my god, are you blushing?”

He glares, cheeks pink. “If I crash this car, it’s your damn fault.”

You wink. “Then you better keep it steady, Winchester.”

Then you go right back down.

His thighs tense under your hands. He’s cursing under his breath, mumbling about how fucking perfect you are, how filthy, how good your mouth feels.

And you? You're dripping.

The windows are fogging up. His fingers are flexing in your hair, tugging just enough to make you whimper.

He’s close. You know it.

Then—green light.

“Shit—shit—hold on,” he rasps, jerking the car forward with one hand, gripping the wheel for dear life while the other tightens in your hair.

“Don’t stop, baby. I swear to god—”

You don’t.

You take him deeper. Suck harder. Swirl your tongue. You’re relentless.

Dean’s hips twitch. He groans your name, low and wrecked, and then—

“Fuck, I’m gonna—”

You take it. Every last drop. Swallow it down like it’s the best damn thing you’ve tasted all day.

Dean’s moaning your name like a prayer, slumped in the driver’s seat, utterly ruined.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and sit back up, smug as hell.

Dean glances at you, breathing hard, eyes wide.

“Remind me to never piss you off in traffic,” he mutters.

You smirk, buckling your seatbelt like nothing just happened. “What? I was bored.”

Dean lets out a long breath, still red in the face. “Next time, I’m pulling over. Or better—you’re driving.”

You wink. “I’m better with my hands anyway.”

Dean groans. “Jesus.”

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[moonstruckme]

hello <333

could you please write something about Remus x fem!reader who walks in on him crying one day? I feel like being a werewolf must take some pretty hard emotional toll on him (and just having to be Remus seems hard in general) and maybe he doesn’t want to show how scared he is, but the reader comforts him anyway 💗

thank you 🙏

Thank you for requesting sweetheart <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 889 words

Remus is quiet about it. You think he must think you’re asleep. You wouldn’t know he was awake, either, if not for the change in his breathing, too controlled and then too fast. A subtle sniffle seals the deal. 

You reach for him. He’s facing away from you, but he must hear the whisper of your arm against the sheets, his body going still. You hesitate with your hand a few inches from his shoulder.

“Are you hurting?” you ask. 

Another sniffle. “No.” Remus’ voice is croaky. You go the rest of the distance, cupping your hand over his shoulder and moving closer to curl your other arm around his middle. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“You didn’t.” You kiss his back through the cotton of his t-shirt. It’s riddled with moth holes, a well-loved artifact from his school days. “What’s the matter, lovely?” 

“Nothing. Sorry.” 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you murmur. “What is it? Is it…are you nervous?” 

Nervous may not be the right word, but you’re hesitant to assign larger ones to the thing your boyfriend takes such pains not to discuss. There’s a full moon tomorrow night. Remus has dealt with full moons every month since he was four. Doesn’t make them any easier. 

“Sweetheart…” He sounds tired. He covers your hand on his stomach with his, thumb sweeping back and forth affectionately. “It’s alright.” 

You shake your head, nose pressing to his warm skin as your hold tightens on him. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But I’m happy to listen. And I don’t think it’s alright.” 

Remus’ shoulders bounce once, weakly. When he speaks, his voice has something in it, something that’s not quite a smile but trying to be. “You don’t think so?” 

“No. And I certainly wouldn’t if I were in your shoes. It seems…it must be so scary.” 

“I’ve been doing it a long time, love.” 

“So?” 

There’s a pause, and then Remus lets out a breath. 

“Yeah,” he capitulates. 

You draw your hand gently down his shoulder blade. To his ribs and back up again. 

“Sometimes it’s hard to sleep the night before,” he says quietly, the way people talk to God in the dark of their bedrooms at night. “I have more energy than usual, but also it…it makes it harder knowing that in less than twenty-four hours I won’t just be able to get in bed and go to sleep like I can now.” 

You kiss his shoulder next to your hand. 

“I know I ought to be taking advantage, but it’s like knowing the meal you’re about to have is your last one for a while. You want to try and savor it, but you just can’t savor it enough. It almost feels pointless trying.” 

“You’ll sleep again soon,” you promise him. “You don’t have to savor it, lovely, you just have to do what makes you happy for right now. So what do you want tonight? Do you want to try to sleep, or should we just stay up?” 

Remus makes a half-amused exhaling sound. “Are you trying to use reverse psychology on me?” 

“No.” 

“That’s exactly what they tell insomniacs; to try staying up so they fall asleep.” 

“Well, if you want to fall asleep, maybe that’ll work.” You turn your head so that your cheek rests against his shoulder. Remus’ hair is long enough that the tip of a strand tickles the end of your nose. “But we could also just stay up and actually stay up.” 

“I’m not making you stay awake all night for me.” 

“Remus…” There’s a plea in your voice. Remus knows your tones better than anyone; he obliges you, rolling over. 

Your arm uncoils from his waist in the process, and you lift both hands to his cheeks. Tears make his skin slippery, your thumbs skipping over the deep and shallow grooves of various scars. Evidence of your twenty-something boyfriend’s life sentence. 

“Don’t be silly,” you tell him, hearing the transparent adoration in your own voice. “I’d love to be awake with you.” 

Remus’ eyes are shiny dark in the moonlight. “Really?” 

You hum. Your eyelids are heavy, yes, but this is a man who went to four different corner stores to find the flavor of ice cream you requested on your period; when you only first started dating, you called Remus in the middle of the night because your car had broken down, and he drove forty minutes to come get you; he once spent an entire afternoon on the phone with your mother learning how to make your favorite dish just because you said you missed it.

“I’ll make tea,” you say, “and there should still be some chocolate in the cupboard, yeah? I’ll go out to replenish our supply in the morning.” 

“God,” Remus sighs, putting his forehead to yours. “I really love you. I’m sorry about all this.” 

You make a soft, disapproving sound. “About what, honey? You can’t help it.” 

“Well, I only hope I haven’t won your pity through tears.” 

“Oh, come off it.” You press your lips to his, smiling. Remus hugs you closer, and you roll into his lap, using your leverage to sit the both of you up. “Are you going to put the kettle on, or am I?”

[esote-rika]

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝟐 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Waldorf!Reader Category: fluff Summary: Interactions with the local police makes you realize that you’ve done too good a job at Spencer Reid’s makeover. Content: 1.3k words, Early s2 when Elle was on medical leave, glasses!Spencer, jealous reader, post-case clean up, part one here (not necessary to read). A/N: Anon, thank you for requesting more Waldorf!reader <3 I’m making this into a semi-connected series instead of just a bunch of unrelated one shots because I miss her and I have ideas for how she fits into the team as the seasons go on. Plus, I want to write a reader that’s in the BAU but isn’t always hooking up with Spencer lol.

Four confirmed deaths. Another woman had been missing, her bright eyed smile looking plastic and hollow as you stare at the picture attached to the case file. Alana Taylor, the most recent victim, the abduction that prompted JJ to uproot the team from a period of relative calm and travel to rural Ohio. 

The case had been particularly perplexing; an unsub that killed with sadism, but disposed of victims in a way that suggested remorse. Your arrival should have been cause for relief, but it only led to some strange struggle for power between Hotch and the local sheriff, who had only accepted help because the media had started to flock into their small town. 

Regardless of difficulties and differences, Alana Taylor had been saved. Found in an underground bunker beneath an unassuming farmhouse. A success, as far as cases go, although it’s difficult to count it as a success when you know there’s been four prior lives you couldn’t save. Still, it’s a moment of cautious optimism, a case ready to be wrapped up and typed into reports.

Around you, the precinct is abuzz with activity. The rest of the team has left for interviews with the victim’s family, last minute debriefings with the local police. You’re at one of the interrogation rooms, which the BAU had made into a temporary conference spot, tasked with the insignificant grunt work—reorganizing the case files and reports with Reid. Apparently, being a genius doesn’t save him from the regular people job. 

You wouldn’t mind being paired with him, normally. He’s diligent, rarely complains (something Morgan enjoys extensively, even in jest). Mostly, organizing papers with Spencer just means enduring an earful of scientific trivia and random statistics. The same thing is happening today, only that he’s not telling them to you.

Rather, the receiver of his tangential spiel is one of the local officers in the department, Officer Mitchell. Who happens to be young. And pretty. And hanging onto his every word. 

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what she’s doing. While the officers had been given explicit instructions to help the BAU, you know this one’s interest lies beyond providing assistance. No, the too loud laughs, the fluttering lashes, and deliberate hair tucking are all thinly veiled, rather clumsy attempts at flirting. 

It’d be amusing if it weren’t so pathetic.

Ironically, the genius in question doesn’t seem to understand what’s going on, rattling off statistics and differences in distance between abduction sites—which had ultimately led to the identification of the perpetrator—utterly oblivious to the flirtatious attention being thrown his way.

Truthfully, you can’t really blame her. Reid seems to have taken your fashion recommendations to heart, avoiding clashing prints in favor of a more flattering color palette. He’s in shades of blue today, a button down the color of cotton candy clouds on a summer morning, tucked neatly beneath a navy blue sweater vest. You’d taken him to a barbershop a few days ago too, instructing the man to cut into his hair in order to give it some dimension. He looks good, even with his glasses—especially with his glasses—which he’s wearing because he’d run out of solution for his contacts. You’re tempted to tell him to keep this bespectacled look, it’s working for him.

But not right now, because 1) you don’t want him to think you’ve been scrutinizing his appearance, 2) you can’t because his attention lies elsewhere and you’re not about to compete for that, thank you very much, and 3) that’s an inappropriate comment to make in the workplace and you are the pinnacle of professionalism. 

Unlike other people.

You glare at Officer Mitchell.

You don’t even realize another team member has returned until a hand rests on your shoulder. You flinch, the action extracting your attention from the scene before you. Looking up, JJ’s amused blue eyes meet yours. “You're almost done?”

“Yeah, almost.” you reply. Grumble, really, as your gaze inexplicably returns to Reid and Officer Mitchell. Still wrapped up in conversation, neither of them seem to notice JJ’s arrival, or particularly interested in helping you. “No thanks to these two.”

JJ chuckles, “Shouldn’t you go rescue her?” 

“Rescue her?” 

“Spence is rambling, you know how he gets.”

“Yeah, and she’s openly flirting on the job.” it comes out in a hiss paired with narrowed eyes. Perhaps too harsh for the conversation, but the idea that anyone needs to be saved from Reid’s rambling doesn’t sit right with you. Rescue is what you do to people in trouble, who need help. Officer Mitchell is not in trouble, and if she needed help, she’d be casting glances to the rest of the room, not looking at Spencer Reid like he holds the key to the universe. Matter of fact, it seems like she’s the complete opposite of in trouble.

Something crosses over JJ’s face, fleeting by so quickly you couldn’t really place it. 

“He’s talking her ear off,” There’s a placating tone to JJ’s voice that you don’t appreciate.

It makes you catch yourself though, so you attempt to soften your own voice, trying to match her calm one but yours still comes across sneering (Oh well, she’s the liaison for a reason), “Yeah, but she initiated the conversation. If she voluntarily subjects herself to Reid’s tangents, that’s not on me. Neither of them need rescue, they seem perfectly happy in each other’s company. ”

Try as you might, that last bit comes out snappy. 

JJ catches it too, shrewd as always. But she doesn’t comment on it, not directly at least. “Hm, I did notice a few people back in the office giving him more attention than usual.”

“Yeah, so he’d proofread their reports for them.” you stand with a huff, paperwork and evidence carefully balanced inside the police issued cardboard box. JJ follows you as you stride out of the room, leaving Reid and Officer Mitchell alone to do whatever they so wish. None of it is your business anyway, you just wish he’d been able to multitask and not leave the dumb task to you.

“Mhm, are you sure it has nothing to do with the little makeover you gave him?” JJ says, matching your quick steps. 

You don’t like the little smirk playing on the blonde woman’s lips. Her idea isn’t far off, Reid does look good. Still himself, with his crooked ties and the converse you couldn’t talk him into replacing, but now more elevated. Less nerdy kid and more rumpled academic. Which means you did exactly what you’d originally set out to do. Reflect who he is through clothes, communicate his intelligence and competency just with a few styling adjustments.

“Good job to me, then.” Why did that sentence leave through gritted teeth? 

JJ doesn’t dignify you with a response, and simply watches you with that same, infuriating smile, as though she knows something you don’t. 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

It doesn’t seem like nothing, but you let it go, walking outside to the SUV that will take you to the airport. Gathered around, you notice that the team is missing one specific member, who’s probably still busy inside, being flirted with.

“Hey, where’s Reid?” Morgan seems to have the same idea. He directs the question at you, though, seeing as you were the last one to be paired with him.

“I’m not his keeper,” you reply dismissively, brushing past the burly man to slide into the back of the car. Any more mention of Reid and that officer and you’re afraid you’ll snap and say something you’d regret.

Outside, Morgan shoots JJ a confused look, baffled by your abruptness. The blonde woman simply shrugs, wearing the same smile from earlier, keeping her thoughts to herself. It’s too soon for anything, anyway, and if she so much as mentions the faintest bit of her theory, JJ knows the entire team will know in an instant. Better to let it play out. Better you figure it for yourself.

waldorf!reader tags @lokisswiftie @lillaberry @libraprincessfairy @yasmin12312 @saintkittykat @brainisrotted @misspendragonsworld @fefa-la-printcessa

[bernardsbendystraws]

You Don’t Own Me

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: COPYRIGHT NOTICE. Kissing, making out, face sitting, munch!chris, fem!receiving, slight family angst, mentions of previous relationship age gap

A/N: I'm sorry but they have so much chemistry that the smut is irresistible to write sometimes...(I'm not sorry)

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

P22: Relax, Baby…

It’s warm. I feel the soft caress of one of his hands on my waist, the other massaging under my thigh. My head is nuzzled on his chest, my leg resting across his body as I try to keep my heavy eyes open, the slight rain against my window creating a peaceful aura that makes it hard to stay awake with the exhaustion pulling on my mind. 

“Morning,” he says, his voice still rough with hints of sleep. My crusted eyelashes pulling apart with each flutter of my eyes makes a sigh of frustration leave my lips. 

The light rain against my window is comforting and so is his touch, but it’s not enough to make the ache in my heart any less apparent. 

“How’d you sleep?” he asks, looking down at me with a sullen expression. I shake my head against his chest, my eyes squinting shut as I try to push the relentless anxieties aside. 

Sleeping with Chris has always been refreshing, but right now I feel awful—exhausted, even. I know I slept, but it doesn’t feel like my brain ever stopped looping around the memory of my ex in my house yesterday. 

Shrugging, I hear Chris part his lips, closing them with a subtle smack. 

He wants to ask, I can tell he’s dying to know more, but he’s trying to just comfort instead of pry for once. Thank god. I don’t think I could handle another thing going wrong. Especially not with him. He’s the one thing I’ve been looking forward to when I wake up, sometimes the only thought that makes it easier to take deep breaths throughout the day. 

“Do you—” His words are cut off by a knock at my door. 

Chris grips me tighter, his body tensing as my moms voice sounds, “I’m leaving for my trip. Baylen has your phone, he’ll give it back later today, just—he’s in charge.” 

Of course he’s in charge. 

Of course he has my phone. 

Of course she only said goodbye instead of even checking up on me. It would suck to be caught with a boy in my room, but maybe then I’d feel like she cared. 

I don’t respond. Chris relaxes beneath me as we hear her footsteps drift further away from my bedroom. Before I can truly let out the breath stuck in my chest, another knock occurs. 

“Hey, I’m, uh, going to the gym, be back later.” 

Baylen. He sounds annoyed to even have to be telling me through the door, but he walks off before I even have the chance to process his words. 

Chris pulls me in tighter, kissing the crown of my head as he rolls us over, both of us on our side facing towards each other. “Are you…you okay?” he asks, bringing a hand upwards to caress my messy hair behind my face. 

Giving him a blank look, I spare a small shrug. Chris wordlessly pulls me into his chest, cradling the back of my head as I bathe in the comfort of his arms. 

“My ex…he’s gonna be Baylen’s new roommate apparently.” 

The statement leads to silence. I feel the subtle tighten of his grip before it loosens, his chest heaving with a deep breath as his jaw clicks. 

“Isn’t Baylen in college?” he asks, his voice horse and rough. I nod against him. Chris clears his throat, his hands shifting to comb through my hair again. “I…I’m trying not to push, but…but, help me out here…what’s going on? what’s this, um, what’s this…mean?” 

I melt at his soft request. My nostrils flare as I take in a big inhale, letting my lungs fill before slowly letting the air fall through my lips. “We dated a while ago—almost two years ago, but—but, um, Baylen doesn’t know. I knew he’d freak if he found out I was dating a college guy–” 

My words halt as Chris lets out a huff of air. He relaxes, his body collapsing into the bed as his hand soothes through my hair, almost as if it’s more his comfort more than my own. 

“I hate him,” I breathe, my lips pursing together as I stare into his chest, “-I hate him so much and now he’s acting like he’s all buddy-buddy with my brother. It—fuck, it’s so stupid. I just wish…I wish he’d just…disappear.” I mumble, my words barely coherent. 

Chris pulls away from me, looking down and peering directly into my eyes with his own. I feel my face grow hot, the lump in my throat unbearable as I try to swallow. 

“If…if you need me, I’m here, alright?” he says, his voice firm and direct with a hint of sympathy laced in his features. 

As I nod, he pulls me into his chest tightly. I let my body melt against his, breathing in his scent as I take a large breath of air. 

This sucks—this is absolutely awful—but it doesn’t feel as horrible in his arms. 

And at least that’s something. 

___

I didn’t wait for Baylen to come home, Chris and I walked to his house, immediately greeted by a big hug from Jimmy as soon as we went inside the home. 

A couple pieces of bacon and some hash browns later, we were both sitting on his bed, his hands on my hips as I straddled his lap, his eyes peering up at me with a soft gleam as the light rain patters harder against his window. 

Jimmy had taken Trevor to some pet store. He asked if we wanted to come with, which I thought was really cute, but Chris said he wanted to ‘lay down and relax,’ which obviously required me. 

He’s such a dumbass, but in a good way. 

And Matt wasn’t even home, he was with Mia. The thought of them together made it impossible for me to let the smile fall off of my face, even more impossible when Chris kept showering me in affirmations. 

“You’re pretty.” 

His words make my pulse hammer against my chest, the repeated compliment resulting in my cheeks hurting from how red and tense they are. 

My skin is crawling with warmth under his delicate touch on either side of my hips. I’m currently dressed in his sweatshirt and some sweats, but his fingers are underneath the fabric of the hoodie, resting above the hem of the pants with no intent other than to feel my bare skin against his own. 

“Shut up, Chris,” I joke, pushing my hands through his hair playfully. 

He leans into the touch. I watch as his eyes squint with a smile, his face flushed as he mumbles under his breath, “It’s true…can’t help it, baby.” 

Oh. 

Baby?

I freeze, my hands falling limp on his shoulders as I stare down at him with wide eyes. Chris bites on his lower lip, an evident smirk growing on his face as his eyes twinkle with mischief. My stomach drops, a knot of heat piling as he teasingly runs his hands up my sides. 

“My bad, my bad,” he laughs, licking over his teeth as he squeezes lightly under my breasts with both hands. Chris lets his hands fall downward. The heat of his bare skin on mine dissipates as he rests his hands on the tops of my thighs. 

He’s such a tease. 

Greedily, I reach down, pulling his hands back underneath my clothes. Chris laughs, squeezing lightly onto my sides, tracing his fingers lightly. “Want me to touch you, huh?” he taunts. 

Something burns inside of me from his words. I lean down, his eyes widening from the lack of distance. His breath fans across my lips. I let myself close the gap, my lips curling as I feel him slot his lips between my own.

A puff of laughter falls from my mouth as he holds the back of my neck, straining to close the miniscule distance between our lips as he slides his tongue across my bottom lip. I immediately let him venture the muscle into my mouth, his movements feeling slow and passionate. 

“Hmmmm,” he hums, the vibration against the kiss making my chest tighten as I feel the pressure build between my legs. 

The way he’s kissing me is everything—it’s warm, romantic, and torturously slow. 

I feel his tongue slide against my own, my hands clutching onto his shoulder tighter as my balance wavers on top of him. Chris drops his hands back down to right below my breasts, gripping firmly to keep me steady as we pull away from each other, gasping for air. 

“You—you good?” he pants. 

I nod my head, dizzy with my ears ringing. Chris tugs at the hem of my sweats, his eyes plundering into mine with a pleading expression etched on his face. 

“Can…can these come off? Can I…can I touch you?” he asks. 

My eyes bulge from the question, my back arching slightly, an automatic reaction from his breathless request. 

Nodding, I lift my hips as he tugs the fabric down, kicking the pants off and letting them carelessly fall to the floor. Cold air rushes up my legs, the shocking temperature change most apparent against my core as he pushes my inner thighs further apart while I straddle myself over his lap again. 

“Fuck…” Chris mutters, his eyes entranced at the sight between my legs as both of his hands settle on my upper thighs, one of them inching upward as he looks up at me with yearning. 

Biting my lower lip, I nod. Chris lets out a shaky breath, his fingers lightly tracing just along the hem of my underwear. 

Oh god. 

The cool air of his room intensifies as I feel myself grow wetter. His teasing touch travels right beside the bridge of my panties, the pads of his fingers delicately pressing against my core through the fabric as my jaw drops open.

My eyes plunder into his. He’s staring directly at me, his lips slightly parted as he hesitantly rubs the pad of his thumb in circles around my entrance through the thin cloth. 

I let myself grind into the touch, a sharp breath erupting through my lips as he carefully drags his hand upwards, using three fingers to flatten and push against my heat, rubbing circles as I feel my clit ache beneath his touch. 

“Chris,” I pant, my brows furrowing as he presses his hand further against me. The added friction makes my thighs quiver, my legs tensing as I try to create more movement. 

Before anything intensifies, it stops. 

My hips roll desperately, my muscles burning as I hear Chris gulp.

“Please, I—” I look down at him, watching his lips smack open and shut as he stares up at me with desperate eyes, “-please. Sit on my face, I…please,” he whispers, completely breathless as his hands massage over the tops of my thighs.

My body freezes hearing his request. He gently pulls on my hips, but I plant my hands on his chest, staring down at him with thoughts sprinting through my head. 

“I’ve, um, I’ver never done that, I don’t wanna hurt you—”

“You won’t,” he rushes, his eyes softening as he places his grip on either side of my hips, “-you won’t.” 

Swallowing thickly, I feel my head get lighter. The thought of him between my legs like that makes my heart skip over a beat, but it also makes me nervous. 

Well, nervous and excited. I can’t differentiate the two when he stares at me like he needs me more than anything.

“Please, baby, I…I want it so bad,” he purrs, his voice strained with longing as the nickname rolls off his lips naturally. 

His words lure my thoughts to silence. Instincts radiate over my skin, consuming my racing heartbeat as I drag his hands to the side of my underwear, helping him as he drags the fabric down. 

“Fuck—thank you,” he whispers, a heavy gulp from his end making my body itch with desire as I awkwardly shift to let my panties fall to the ground. 

Chris directs me to straddle him again, this time pulling me upwards. I halt, my hands tangling in his hair as I hover over his face. Chris tugs on my hips, whining before staring up at me with pleading eyes. 

“Just…let me know if I’m hurting you—”

“I will, I will,” he interrupts, licking over his lips as he peppers light kisses on the inside of my thighs. 

Slightly lowering myself, I gasp as I feel him lick against my hooded clit. Chris moans from the taste, immediately pulling me harder onto him before starting to sloppily make out with the sensitive bud like he was with my own lips just minutes ago. 

“Oh…oh—my god,” I gasp, my hands latching onto his head board as I feel his mouth desperately devouring me. 

My hips buck against his face as he sucks onto my clit, my pulse thumping through every pore of my body as I feel his hands lock around my thighs, keeping me steady as he continues to eat me like he needs it to breathe. 

“I—fuck, just…” he pants, my dripping slick against his lips echoing with a sloppy noise as he kisses me between his words, “-so good, tastes so damn good,” he praises, not wasting another breath between burying his tongue between my legs.

My mouth drops open. I feel his wet muscle prod against my entrance, tracing around the rim of my hole as I clench around nothing. 

He slowly slides in his tongue, the intrusion feeling utterly intimate. “God, Chris,” I moan, his nose wiggling against my clit as he shakes his head softly from side to side. 

One of his hands readjusts, his thumb writhing against my sensitive bud as I feel him crane his head to push his tongue even deeper inside of me. 

He hums into me. The vibration makes an elongated moan fall from my mouth, the sound seeming like encouragement for him to repeat the same action again.

And again. 

And again.

It’s so good. I can’t think of anything but him, the way he’s holding me—the way he’s making me feel. 

Every inch of my body burns with a warm electricity, my limbs starting to tighten as I feel the knots in my stomach build with pressure. 

I’m so close, but something is holding me back. 

Chris seems to notice, pulling back breathless as he kisses my inner thighs between words, “-c’mon, just—relax. Let—let go for me,” he says, diving in even hungrier than before. 

My body seems to comply with his words. I feel palpable to his touch, hot waves of bliss crashing over me relentlessly as he rubs on my clit, fucking his tongue into me with sloppy noises echoing in the room. 

“Chr—fuck, Chris!” I yelp, my voice cracking as he rubs me just right, the feelings so consuming that the knot in my stomach bursts before I can even give him a proper warning. 

My hips rock on his face. Chris slowly brings his actions to a stop, letting me ride out the high before helping me hover over his face as my legs shake on either side of his head. 

“You’re…you’re perfect for me, you know that?” he praises, his words making me let out a humors sigh. 

A breath halts in my chest as he lightly presses a kiss against my pulsating core again. I look down, watching as he gives me a sympathetic smile with devious eyes. 

“Hmmmmm…sorry, couldn’t help myself,” he whispers, slowly helping me climb off and lay on the bed. I rest on my back, the sound of his shuffling barely registering as I try to ground myself. 

The sensation of fabric gliding over my legs makes me look down. My eyes crinkle with amusement as he pulls my underwear over my hips, his eyes struggling to stay on my face as he licks over his lips while staring between my legs. 

“All good?” he asks. 

I nod, smiling as he spares me a soft grin, his eyes gleaming into mine as he slowly leans down, pressing a gentle kiss against the top of my underwear. “Good,” he murmurs. 

My chest slows rising and falling as I reach my hand down to comb through his hair. Chris gets comfortable, laying on his side with his cheek resting against my pelvis and his arms hugging one of my legs as he kisses my thigh mindlessly. 

“I thought you wanted to ‘lay down and relax,’ hm? What happened to that?” I tut, his words from earlier echoing through my head. 

Chirs hums, clutching my leg closer in his hold. “I’ve been laying down and relaxing, I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about...” he puffs, his voice silky and calm with a slight sarcasm that makes my nose scrunch from a lighthearted feeling washing over the energy in the room. 

I really like him. I like how he makes me feel, I like how he tries to compromise and always tries to be mindful of my needs. 

I like how he’s him—I like how he makes me feel like me. 

[russo-woso]

Pigtails || Alessia Russo x reader

Request Reader and less are parents to a little girl, reader is masc presenting and isnt very clued up on all the girly stuff and reader tries to surprise less with a little family date, so sends less out to get all dolled up with Ella, whilst at home, reader is watching YouTube tutorials on how to do braids in their little girls hair as well as FaceTiming one of the girls to help reader pick out the prettiest little dress for their daughter, basically a bunch of fluff around reader getting their daughter all ready for the family date

Summary In a fashion and hair crisis, you FaceTime Lia and Leah to help pick out your daughters outfit and hairstyle because you have no experience whatsoever

A/N First blurb/fic in celebration of 1.5k 🎉

“Okay sweetheart, you sit right here and I’ll do your hair. What do you want?”

Hair had never been your thing. As a more masculine woman, you’d never cared about your hair - often throwing it up in a bun or ponytail or when Alessia offered wanted to do your hair, a plait.

So sitting here, prepping to attempt your daughter’s hair was going to be an adventure.

You prayed the words pigtails came out off her mouth but your prayers clearly didn’t work and your world came tumbling down.

Okay… maybe that was a tad dramatic but it felt like your world was ending in the moment.

“French plaits please, mama.”

“Oh, Evie… I don’t know how to do Plaits, princess. How about pigtails instead?”

“I want French plaits. Can mummy not come home and do them?” Your five year old asked, turning round on the chair to look at you.

You’d banished your wife from the house for the afternoon, calling her best friend - Tooney of course - to take her shopping, giving Alessia enough money for a new outfit and money to get her nails done.

She’d asked why, but there was no way you were telling her the surprise you’d set up - it was simple really, just a nice meal at a new restaurant - but Alessia loved mini family dates.

“This is a surprise for mummy, remember? So she can’t come back home before we’re ready. Look, I’ll try and do your hair.”

You grabbed your phone, searching for a French plaits tutorial on YouTube.

Your tongue poked out as you concentrated, your fingers crossing the tiny strands of hair on Evie’s head.

You continued watching the video, trying your hardest to plait her hair.

“Too tight, mama.” Evie winced

“Sorry, sweetheart. Honestly, I don’t know how mummy does this. She super mummy isn’t she?” You said with a smile, still fiddling with her hair.

“Uh huh! Super mummy!”

“Hey… didn’t auntie Wally do plaits in your hair once?” You asked, a sudden memory appearing in your mind.

“Yes mama.”

You sighed in relief, knowing Lia would be able to give you a proper tutorial that you could actually understand - unlike the YouTube video.

“Hi Lia, I’m in a bit of a situation. I’m surprising less with a mini date and I’m trying to do Evie’s hair and she wants french plaits and I tried to watch a YouTube tutorial but it’s not working and now I don’t know what to do. Alessia’s going to be home soon and I don’t even—” You rambled as soon as she Lia picked up.

“—Y/N. Breathe.” Lia laughed, shaking her head.

“Okay.” You agreed, taking a deep breath. “I remembered you doing a French plait in Evie’s hair one time at training. I was wondering if you tell me how to do one.”

“Of course. Have you brushed her hair?” Lia asked and you hummed, showing the brush to the camera. “Okay, first off you’re going to…”

“…your going to wrap the hair tie at the bottom and you’re done!” Lia finished as you did the final instruction.

“Oh my god! I did it!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air as you looked at the plaits in Evie’s hair. “Thank you so much, wally. Honestly I owe you big time.”

“You can make it up to me on Monday by being my bodyguard.” Lia suggested whilst you sent her an odd look.

“Why?”

“I bought Leah a ham sandwich but it had mayonnaise in and she bit into it and she got so angry… I ran off but she’ll probably want revenge on Monday. And you’ve got muscles and they’ll come in handy by being my bodyguard.” Lia explained and you laughed, nodding your head.

“Deal. Now speaking of Leah, I’m going to FaceTime her now to get her fashion advice. Thanks again, wally.”

“Right. Show me what we’re dealing with.” Leah said, as you opened Evie’s wardrobe, showing Leah the dresses that were possible options.

“Now, Alessia likes Evie in this dress but this is more of a summer dress and with the weather today… I wouldn’t class it as summer weather.” You told her, looking out the window to see the clouds.

“The denim dress, let me look at that one.”

You pulled it out, showing it to Leah as she inspected it.

“Does it have a bow?”

“Yes it does. At the front.”

“I like it. That one. Can evie try it on?”

“Evie!” You shouted her, as a bundle of footsteps echoed the house.

“Hi auntie le!”

“Hi my girl. Look at your hair? Did your mummy do them?” Leah asked, Evie’s face lighting up as she did a 360 for Leah to see her plaits.

“No, mama did them. She called auntie wally to help her.” Evie explained

“Can’t do anything by herself can she?” Leah teased you as Evie laughed and agreed. “Now, I’ve chosen a dress for you to wear. Can you quickly change into it so I can see if it looks good?”

“Okay.” Evie smiled, grabbing the dress from you.

“You look so pretty, sweetheart.” You told Evie as she finished putting the dress on.

“That’s the one!” Leah exclaimed. “You look gorgeous, Evie.”

“Thanks, auntie le. Oh, mummy’s home!” Evie said, looking out the window as she heard a car door shut.

“Okay, thanks le. I owe you.”

“Actually, I have something you can do for me. Lia bought me a ham sandwich and said it was plain but I had mayo in and I need to get revenge. Can you help come up with an idea?” Leah asked and you rolled your eyes.

“Sure. Look, I need to go. Thanks again.”

“I’m home!” Alessia shouted as she shut the door behind her.

“Hi gorgeous.” You said, you and Evie walking down the stairs.

“Well, you two look dressed up. What’s going on?”

“We are going out for dinner. Tooney should have encouraged you to buy yourself an outfit? That outfits for tonight.” You smiled, Alessia pecking your lips as you finished talking.

“You are the best.” She whispered, squeezing your bicep where your shirt ended.

“Eww!” Evie shouted, covering her eyes as you chased Alessia’s lips one final time.

“Go get ready, love. We’ll be right here waiting.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Alessia pressed a kiss to your cheek, bending down to kiss Evie’s head as well before running up the stairs - stopping half way though.

“Hey, who did Evie’s hair? And who chose her outfit?”

“Me.” You said confidently

“Who did she call?” Alessia asked Evie

“Auntie Lia and auntie le.”

“Surprise surprise. You can’t do anything can you?” Alessia winded you up

“Hey!”

[cherie-doll]

I don’t know if u have gotten any requests like that but could you write about what would happen if the cod men got injured at work and they have to stay at home for a long time with us. Would they freak out like a workaholic or just chill?

Thank u Cherie for being really really awesome ✮

dawg i received this back in december and am just now answering it wth but thxx ^^

𓍊 Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

❥ Price always complains about pain bothering him, and he's heard the countless times you've told him to take a break; he needs it. He would always nod and say he would try to get some time off soon. Except this man can be a major procrastinator, and it wasn't until he got badly injured and told by the doctor to take some time off. It was made clear that it wasn't an option but mandatory. So now he's at home, on the recliner without allowed to get up unless to go to the bathroom or move to the bedroom. You bring him all his meals and at first he thinks it's silly how strict you are with him. He had even brought a pile of paperwork to do but you quickly got rid of that. It doesn't take long for him to get used to your coddling him.

❥ Simon didn’t know how much of a break he needed till he slept soundly without interruption, thanks to the pain numbing medication. He awoke the next morning feeling very well rested and for once he didn’t have a certain annoying Scottish waking him up in the middle of the night to tell him lame jokes. Before he couldn't imagine quitting the military, but now? After a period of having slow mornings, enjoying homecooked meals and spending more time with you; he could definitely get used to this. Goes back to work as grumpy as ever.

❥ Johnny is ecstatic to spend some time with you. Since he used up all of his days off and took every holiday, he's sort of glad for getting an injury. Except he doesn't know chill, rest and relaxation are not in his vocabulary. This man enjoys going out, doing things with you, so it is sort of difficult to get him to stay at home. Anytime you're going out to buy groceries, run an errand or even walk down to your mailbox, he's begging to go along with you. Doesn't even want to stay lying in bed if you've already woken up and are having breakfast in the kitchen, like he wants to be in the same room as you. Really tough when it's time for him to go back.

❥ Kyle at first was sort of annoyed for the injury, he's the only one who had gotten hurt out of his team. Everyone else got away with minor injuries, barely a scratch or two, while he got a leg broken. He's complaining at home while you're nodding along, massaging his shoulders and he starts talking slower, melting into your touch. Leans back fully in the recliner and is like "This ain't so bad". Realized he needed that extended break anyways and relaxes. When he goes back he's bragging about how he got the longest time to heal up while his partner took care of him.

❥ Roach was long due for a break. He needed one, and this injury couldn't have come at a better time. Doesn't even mind the pain if it means sleeping in late with you and being able to stay all day by your side. He doesn't understand those who are married and are somehow still workaholics. Like, what do you mean you wouldn't immediately ditch work at any opportunity you get in exchange to spend some time with your partner? Would prefer your caresses over his medication, which he forgets to take as the doctor prescribed. "You'll just take longer to heal if you don't remember to take your medicine." And he doesn't care, it means he might be able to extend his leave.

❥ Alejandro feels restless, wanting to move and do something. He was fine being able to lie around the house for the first couple of weeks. No longer was he groaning and complaining about how he never was able to get time off, he was resting well now. Except since he's spending so much time inside his house, he's starting to notice things that need to be fixed. You're catching him on a ladder changing a lightbulb, fixing a door that makes too much noise when it opens and closes. You tell him to go back to resting, but he feels like he's gotten all the rest he needed. He's also asking the doctor how much longer he has to stay home, truth is he's just missing his work boyfriend Rodolfo.

❥ Rudy would chill at home during the time he's given off. Loves you taking care of him and leaves work at work, like he's telling anyone who calls asking where he's at, he's resting at home like the doctor said. Doesn't wish for more time off nor is rushing either The doctor thanks his lucky stars he got a normal patient who isn't moving too much or slowing down his healing process. When time is up he's getting up and starting to get ready to head off again.

❥ Phillip was sort of stressed at first, because if he isn't there to take care of his Shadows then who else would? He's always been there for them, either in the front lines with them or behind the scenes making sure they're alright. But now he can't even be on base to see them? He's going to different doctors hoping one of them would tell him something different than the same thing the last five have said... how he needs to rest and not strain his body. He appreciates you being with him though, if there's one good thing out of this is that he can't deny his favorite thing in the world is being next to you.

❥ Makarov either takes it really well, knowing that he needs to lie low anyways or, he sees this injury as an interference to his plans. It really just depends on the timing of things. But either he's wayyy too laid back for your liking, for God's sake he nearly lost a limb! Or he's itching to go back out there, literally being held back by you and the doctor who prescribes him a ton of medication because he's slowing down the process of healing by getting up and doing stuff.

❥ Keegan isn't a workaholic by any means but he prefers to stay busy. For as long as he's been in this, he's taken on almost every mission and task that comes his way. He doesn't shy away from it and doesn't let no small injury get in his way. That sort of changed when you came along though. He no longer had to change his bandages alone while at home, no longer had to struggle to make a meal if his hand or arm was injured. He felt a sort of warmth from you that no comrade could provide him with. So, he would be content healing at home.

❥ König is a big guy. Big guys like him don't get knocked out by just any small wound. Which means that the fact that he got sent home to you means he must've been hurt pretty badly. You were worrying until the doctor told him it was a problem König had been ignoring for several years. Turns out all those muscle aches he frequently got weren't just from working out or going out on missions, it had been an underlying problem. He was too busy groaning in pain to even consider doing any strenuous activity, so he wasn't too anxious.

❥ Horangi probably didn't even get an injury bad enough to give him time off but decided he wanted a vacation and caused himself an even worse injury just so he'd have justification for going home. He isn't lazy by any means but when he's tired and wants rest... you better not be counting on him to do anything for you. Actually, he wouldn't even let you get anything done. He'd pull you away from doing the dishes, doing laundry or even trying to care for him. "I can take care of myself" and if you really insist then he'll tell you the only option you have is to stay cuddled up next to him because that's the only way he'll feel better. His corny ahh

❥ Nikto barely registers his injury after it has been treated by the nurse, so it likely confuses him when he's sent home to rest up. He feels fine? Doesn't know why you're fussing over him either, but he welcomes the extra hours to catch up on some much needed sleep and time with you. He's learned to not take it for granted and even leans into your leniency to eat in the living room while watching tv in his boxer shorts knowing you won't say anything about the mess he's making. You're more worried about him healing anyways.

[lotties-ashwagandha]

DON’T INDULGE

aunt’s best friend!lottie matthews x fem!reader. 4k words.

NSFW! minors dni. while your new house is being renovated, you’re staying with the sadecki family. they’re your relatives through your mother, who in the past was adopted as a shipman. you haven’t visited since you graduated from university years ago, and many of the changes the family has undergone are unexpected ��� it’s also unexpected when you find lottie matthews staying with them. based on a few anon requests I got!

“I’ve got that for you!” Jeff jogs over. He waves for you to step back from the trunk, hurrying to take your suitcase from your car.

You’re sentenced to staying with the Sadecki family for the next week. Your new house is being renovated, and while you were more than happy to have booked a hotel room for the necessary time, Shauna — your aunt — had insisted you save your money and stay as long as you needed. You hadn’t been able to decline her offer, especially with how long it’s been since you’d seen her despite living nearby. You now find yourself in her driveway, Jeff wrestling your belongings out of the car.

“There we go,” Jeff sets your suitcase down and holds out the handle for you to take, along with another tote bag you’d brought. “Not as fancy as a hotel, but you’ve still got a bellhop!”

“I hope you don’t expect a tip,” you tease. “Thank you for letting me stay.”

“Happy to help,” he nods. But despite his joyful demeanor, exhaustion lingers in his eyes. “It was Shauna’s idea, she thought it would be nice to have you.”

You offer him a smile, taking your luggage and starting up the driveway.

“Before you go inside,” Jeff stops you nervously, “you should know that Shauna has someone else staying with us. It’s just an old family friend, you’ll barely even see each other, but it’s good to be aware.”

“Who is it?”

Jeff hesitates. “Her name is Lottie. She’s going through a hard time, she just lost her home—”

“Charlotte Matthews?” You interrupt. “That woman from the plane crash that had the fucking cult and ended up on the news a few weeks ago?”

“Don’t call it a cult,” Jeff looks back toward the house. “She gets very angry when you use that word.”

You roll your eyes. Suddenly the prospect of stepping foot in the house seems very painful, and your future of staying under the same roof as an ex cult leader is quite unappealing.

“I understand if you’d like to go get a hotel, but Shauna was very adamant that you stay.”

It’s too late for that, you want to say, but you bite your tongue. Instead you take your belongings and go up the driveway wordlessly and step inside.

As soon as you step inside, you’re met with Callie. The first thing she does is groan at another visitor, the second thing she does is flip you off on her way to her room, and the third thing she does is turn so you can’t see the smile she’s disguising due to seeing you.

“Mom’s out with Misty,” Callie tells you, and before you can respond she steps into her room and slams the door behind her.

Jeff comes inside, shutting the front door. He clears his throat awkwardly, noticing the lack of warm reception you received, and once again designates it as his job to take your suitcases. “I’ll just get these off your hands… there’s a guest room down the hall there that you can stay in across from Lottie’s. We’re all going out to dinner tonight, so I’ll take these to your room, you can freshen up, and we’ll leave at six.”

“Thanks, Jeff…”

He nods curtly, walking off with your things. You watch him disappear into a guest room down the hall.

You look around the house for a moment before following. It’s been a while since you’ve visited, far too long. You take in the family pictures on the walls, some recognizable and others too new. You haven’t been in the house since around the time you graduated university a few years ago.

The sound of the blender being used in the kitchen makes you jump. You follow the sound, thinking it’s Shauna until you remember Callie’s warning — and by the time you turn the corner into the room, it’s too late.

You’re met with the sight of Lottie Matthews — feared cult leader, according to the news article you read — pouring a freshly-blended bright green smoothie into a glass. She looks up at you when she’s finished, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. She assesses you, and you feel compelled to explain yourself even though neither of you have spoken a word. You feel like an intruder, though in theory this is more home to you than to her.

“I’m Shauna’s niece,” you say quickly. She seems to relax slightly. “I’ll be staying here for the week.”

“You’re in for a long week, then. The recycling situation here is a nightmare,” she tells you, looking away as she hunts through the kitchen drawers. “No regard for sustainability. Paper plates, plastic straws, disposable bottles everywhere. It’s like living at the dump.”

You smile, looking around the house. It’s much nicer than the one you’re moving into, it’s a house anyone would envy.

Lottie finally comes across a metal straw in a cutlery drawer — further evidence of her dedication to sustainability. She pops it into her drink and turns back to you, assessing you once more. She gives you her name, and you give her yours, to which she nods like she already knows and like she has known you all her life.

You glance out into the hallway before turning back to her. “Are you coming to dinner with us tonight?”

“No,” she smiles. “I bet you’re not, either.”

“Jeff invited me.”

“Did Shauna?” Lottie asks. You shake your head and she hums knowingly. “Ask Shauna.”

You’re growing lost, but you don’t question it. You’re too engulfed in simply being around her, in the intensity of her gaze as she looks down at you and in the rich floral scent of her perfume wafting through the kitchen. She runs a hand through her hair and you can’t help but let your gaze linger on her hands, on the expensive rings adorning her fingers and her freshly manicured nails.

Jeff saunters into the kitchen. “You’re all set!”

You tear your gaze from Lottie. “Thank you, Jeff.”

“No problem,” he backs away. He looks more anxious around Lottie than when you were alone with him in the driveway. He walks away down the hall, addressing you as he goes. “I’ll let Shauna know you’re here.”

Lottie waits until Jeff is out of earshot. “He showed me his linen closet earlier. Not much to brag about.”

“I just need you to keep an eye on her,” Shauna says in the secluded hallway she has cornered you in. “She can’t come to dinner, and I don’t trust her here alone.”

‘Ask Shauna,’ you recall Lottie telling you.

“I know you’re probably exhausted anyway,” Shauna continues. “Home renovations are horrible, I can’t imagine asking you out to dinner after the stress of it…”

You know she’s trying to justify asking you to stay home and watch Lottie. You suspect it’s the whole reason she asked you to stay while your home was being renovated, so that she could have someone to stay by Lottie’s side for a week and make sure she didn’t do anything uncalled for.

While you’re not thrilled with being tricked, Shauna is right — you are tired. You don’t really want to leave the house, even if it means a night in with Wiskayok’s favorite former cult leader.

Lottie emerges from one of the two guest rooms at the end of the hall. Shauna releases a newly irritable sigh as Lottie approaches.

“I should get going,” Shauna announces. “Jeff and Callie are waiting in the car. You two have fun.”

As she walks away, you glance down at the dress you’d put on while still under the impression that you would be going with them to dinner. Now you feel silly, overdressed and fooled into someone else’s plans.

“You’re not going?” Lottie asks, but her tone tells you that she already knows. “It’s a shame, you look so beautiful.”

You want to thank her, but the words get stuck in your throat. It makes you nervous to be under her gaze, nervous in a way that hints that you’ll soon be addicted to it. You enjoy the thrill of being praised by her, every compliment seeping into you and crawling beneath your skin.

“Come on,” she leads the way into the kitchen. “I found this gorgeous bottle of wine earlier.”

Before you can protest — it's not your wine, it’s not her wine either, you really just want to give up on the day and go to bed and sneak into the kitchen later for a small dinner — Lottie has the bottle open and is reaching for two glasses.

She looks back at you. “Is red wine okay?”

“Red wine is perfect.”

She smiles, handing you one of the glasses. “If anyone asks, though, I’m telling them it was your idea. They will take it better if it’s family stealing their wine.”

“I’m sure Shauna considers you family, anyway.”

Lottie hums in acknowledgment but offers no real answer. She leads you into the living room, sitting down on the sofa and gesturing to the spot next to her.

You sit down after a moment of hesitation. It feels invasive to be sitting so close to her after just a day of knowing her, stolen wine split between you, yet the casualness Lottie regards you with is soothing. She examines you like she is unraveling some great secret, looking into your heart and soul and digging around until she decides she is done.

Your eyes shift to the healing bullet wound on her arm, uncovered by the dress she wears, which is supposed to be matched with the caftan that has been draped over the armrest of the sofa.

Lottie follows your line of sight. “Your cousin shot me.”

You pause. You recall everything Callie told you over the phone about that night. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t mind.”

“I would mind quite a lot if I got shot.”

“It was a mistake,” Lottie explains. “I didn’t die. It wouldn’t let me.”

“The wilderness?”

She looks surprised at your correctness. “I didn’t know Shauna was so open about what happened out there.”

“She’s not,” you say carefully. You try not to sound like a stalker when you speak again. “I read about you. What happened at your compound was all over the news.”

“You read about me,” Lottie repeats. She shifts a little closer to you and sets her wine glass down on the coffee table. “What did you read? What did the all-knowing sources say about me?”

You hesitate and take a sip of your wine.

“Go on,” she urges. “I want to know. Enlighten me.”

“They said you were dangerous,” you say quietly. “They said you had a history of unhinged behaviors.”

Again, Lottie smiles, though there is something different in the way she looks at you. Her gaze burns as it settles on you, and you meet her eyes when one of her hands comes to rest on your knee. “Do you believe them? Am I unhinged? Dangerous?”

Maybe. Yes, but you want it, you want her to drive you to unravel in the same way she has unraveled, just so you can feel alive in a way shared only between you. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do you want me to say yes?”

“I want you to be honest,” her hand slides up, you look down at it for too long and when you meet her eyes again you look away just as fast. “Are you being honest with me?”

Not really. “Yes, of course.”

She knows you are lying. She pulls her hand away. “Good.”

“They say you’re very wealthy, too,” you add after a moment.

“My family is wealthy.”

“If your family is wealthy, why are you staying here?”

“Why are you staying here?” Lottie throws your own question back at you. “No one wants to be alone.”

She has a point. You didn’t want to be alone in a hotel while your new house was being renovated. You didn’t want to sit and worry about if everything would go as planned, or about any unexpected costs in the bill.

“I’m glad I’m not alone tonight,” Lottie says softly, sweetly in a way that’s intoxicating.

“I am, too,” you reply.

She takes a deep breath and releases it steadily. She is grounded in a way you are not. “You know so much about me. The crash, the wellness center, the wilderness. Tell me who you are.”

You can’t think of anything to tell — you are Shauna Sadecki’s niece. You graduated from university at the top of your class. You work a good job, have a good house in progress, a good car. You find yourself stuttering out a response that makes you seem wildly unimpressive and so painfully average that it’s embarrassing. Lottie watches you intently though, and she seems to comprehend all that you can’t convey.

You don’t expect her follow-up question: “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“A girlfriend, then? Or someone else?”

She speaks to you like you’re younger than her, much less seasoned in life — then you remember that it’s true.

“No, I don’t,” you watch her closely to see her reaction, but she doesn’t give anything away. You decide to ask her the same question, like you’re both in high school getting ready to ask each other to the prom. It feels juvenile, but the only way to get an answer is through directness. “Do you?”

“I haven’t had time for anyone, with running the wellness center,” Lottie shakes her head contemplatively and picks up her wine glass again, taking a long sip. “I suppose I have lots of time now.”

You hear the grief in her voice, and maybe it’s the wine that has you so open, but you shift closer to her on the sofa. Lottie meets your eyes, offering you a grateful smile when you reach out for her free hand.

Something in her demeanor shifts — there is less contemplation in her tone, and a new suggestiveness has replaced it. “I need something to take for myself again. Something… to consume.”

With the wine clouding your head, you assume it’s okay to get a little esoteric. “I need a sense of direction.”

Lottie nods. “We’re a pair, then.”

She sets her glass down again and runs a hand over her face, a tired gesture that smudges the makeup around her eyes a little and makes a slight mess of her hair when her hand runs through it. The disheveledness only makes you want to be closer to her, to take away every bit of exhaustion and feeling of being lost and take it in yourself, to convert it into something more wholesome. You realize, with a bit of distress due to the forbidden nature of it, that you want to kiss her. You want to kiss one of your aunt’s best friends in the living room, and more if it comes to it.

“What are you thinking about?” Lottie asks.

You try to phrase it in a way less direct. “It’s like we’ve known each other much longer than a night.”

“A lifetime,” she agrees. Then she shakes her head, amused. “One of mine, two of yours.”

“One and a half of mine,” you correct.

“That does sound better. That doesn’t make me seem as horrible for…”

“For what?” You press. Lottie’s hand is still in yours. You run your thumb over her rings and both of you look down to see your fingers entwined.

She doesn't offer you an answer, but you discern it immediately when you look into her eyes. And once again you wonder if it’s the wine, but it’s a concern quickly dismissed, because you know she sees her desires reflected in you.

It is the wine that gives you the boldness to shift over to straddle her lap. Lottie’s hands find your hips instinctively, and there’s a distinct lack of hesitation from her when she looks up at you.

“What are you doing?” She asks. She already knows. “You know Shauna would be pissed. She could walk in through that door at any second. Are you willing to risk that?”

“Yes.”

She kisses you, a hand weaving into your hair and pulling slightly as she pulls you closer to her. It’s hard to process it as real, that earlier you were terrified of the cult leader sharing your aunt’s house and now you’re on her lap with one of her hands traveling up your shirt to grab at your chest while your hips move instinctively and have you grinding down onto her, hearing her moan muffled by how you kiss her.

Lottie pushes you to lay down on the couch, barely breaking contact for a moment before she’s on top of you, kissing you and pulling at your dress.

“So fucking beautiful,” she murmurs, a hand trailing down the low neckline of your dress. “Did you think about me when you were deciding what to wear? Did you hope I would notice how fucking desperate you are?”

“I’m not desperate,” you try, but you help her eagerly to get your dress off of you.

“No?” Lottie looks down at you. “No, you’re not desperate, you’re just lying here waiting for me to fuck you, but you’re not desperate?”

You’re done with the games, you need her. You pull her back down to you, capturing her in a kiss that saves you from humiliating yourself any further, until she reaches down and runs a finger through you and feels how wet you are already.

Suddenly, the lock on the front door down the hall begins to jiggle and you hear Shauna and Jeff’s voices beyond, and Callie talking on the phone with one of her friends.

“Fuck,” Lottie jumps off of you, tossing you a blanket to wrap yourself in. When you freeze, she gestures wildly toward where the bedrooms are. “Go!”

You make a run for it, scurrying down the hall until you’re met with the door to your guest room — and it’s right across from Lottie’s.

But when the front door opens, you don’t go into your room… you go into hers.

You hear the front door open and the family’s greetings to Lottie. You take a deep breath when Shauna asks where you are, and release it heavily when Lottie tells her you went to bed just a little while ago. You listen to their footsteps as they come closer, until everyone parts into their designated rooms.

You drop the blanket and toss it aside, along with your clothes that you had gathered from the couch. You step over to the bed and sit down.

Another set of footsteps comes down the hall and Lottie slips into the bedroom. Her eyes widen at seeing you — clearly she thought this was a failed attempt, and you see the conflict in her expression.

“We have to be quiet,” she warns and climbs onto the bed with you. She doesn’t give you a chance to answer, just pulls you into another hungry kiss and pushes you down to lay back against the pillows. “You can be a good girl for me, can’t you?”

You nod, and it’s satisfying enough for her to start rubbing circles into your clit. You suck in a gasp and again she urges you to be quiet. You arch your back in an attempt for more, but she hums in disapproval, pulling her hand back from between your thighs.

You look up at her. “What are you doing?”

“Be patient, darling.”

You suppress a whine as she sits between your legs, running her hands over your thighs reverently. She presses a soft kiss to one of your knees before moving down further, kissing her way down your thighs before hovering above where you need her — and you make eye contact with her in the moment before her tongue connects with your clit.

You wake up in Lottie’s arms. She’s spooning you from behind, with her head tucked into your neck and an arm curled around your waist to keep you pressed against her. She’s still asleep, even when you shift to lay on your back and she readjusts to rest her head on your chest instead.

You lay there for a while like that, with a hand on her bare back tracing random patterns as you think over the night before. A pleasant soreness has taken hold of your body, a heavy, exhausted weight that you don’t mind as long as she’s in your arms.

Lottie shifts awake. She pulls back a little, almost like she is embarrassed at how close she let herself get to you. She sits up next to you and checks the alarm clock on the bedside table for the time.

“It’s early,” she whispers. She looks down at you. “You should get some more sleep.”

Your gaze shifts to the bedroom door. “I should go back to my own room… I don’t want anyone to see me leaving yours.”

Lottie frowns. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I’ll come back tonight,” you promise. “We have all week.”

The hint of a smile passes over her lips and she straddles you, pressing gentle, even domestic, kisses to your neck. “I want more than a week.”

“Greedy,” you murmur. She hums in agreement. “Come on… I have to go.”

Lottie sighs, but she lets you up. You feel her eyes on your bare form as you get dressed in your clothes from last night, and she meets your gaze when you look back at her. “Find me later.”

“I will.”

You go over to the bedroom door and open it a crack, peering out into the hallway. When you don’t see anyone you step out tentatively. Your guest room is just across the hall, and if you step very quietly…

Callie’s bedroom door opens. She steps out, scoffing and crossing her arms when she sees you dressed in your clothes from last night. “Nice pajamas.”

You freeze, turning to face her, your own heart beating so rapidly you can hear it thrumming. You say the first thing that comes to mind. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“What, that I saw you sneaking out of Lottie’s room at—”

“Don’t,” you plead. “Your mother would be—”

The door to Shauna and Jeff’s shared bedroom opens. Before it can swing open all the way, you rush over to your guest room and shut the door behind you. You don’t think you were quick enough to escape undetected, but relief rushes over you when Shauna speaks.

“Callie, who were you talking to? It’s early.”

“My friends. On my phone. I have a fucking social life, unlike some of the people living here.”

You lean back against your door, sighing. For now, you’re okay.

Breakfast is tense later, though primarily on your end. Lottie seems to have no issue with the fact that last night she fucked her best friend’s niece, nor is there any apprehension in the way she addresses Shauna pleasantly and welcomingly all morning. Lottie barely spares you a second glance as the three of you have coffee together, speaking enthusiastically with Shauna as you sit there in silence in the kitchen.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” Shauna suddenly turns to you. You nod, and she stands and leads you into the living room out of earshot. “Last night I asked you to keep an eye on Lottie and you went to bed at, like, nine.”

“I did keep an eye on her,” you try. “We were together all night.”

“Apparently not.”

Little does she know.

The two of you stand in a less than pleasant silence — until Lottie steps out into the hall with you. She has somehow acquired your keys and stands there waving them at you.

“Are you ready to go?” Lottie asks.

“Go where?”

“Oh, come on,” she comes over, gesturing to the front door. “The plans we made last night. Don’t tell me you were too drunk to remember.”

Shauna raises her eyebrows. “You two drank last night? Aren’t you medicated?”

“Come on,” Lottie waves you over, ignoring her. You hurry out the door behind her, letting her into the car when she tosses you your keys.

You start the car. “Where are we going?”

Lottie looks back at the house as you pull away. “Somewhere we can be alone.”

hello hello i hope you enjoyed :) let me know if you liked this fic, it’s longer than i usually post but i enjoyed writing a longer fic!!! pls drop a like or a reblog if you wanna and i will kiss you on the lips. also i proofread but im sleepy so i probably missed something or formatted something wrong. ignore it.

sexy yellowjackets taglist: @webism @ahauandthesun @chaithetics @szczurkanalowy @marleymarleymarleymarley @aphrodyk3 @ludasgf

see my masterlist, taglist, and ‘buy me a coffee’ links here.

[revelboo]

Hello, I just want to say thank you for feeding my obsession with your stories. If it's not a bother, may I request a new part/s for the series "mass displacement mayhem".

Sure!

Mass Displacement Mayhem Pt 4- MTMTE edition

Rodimus

• Venting, he kind of gets it now. Legs dangling as you struggle with his weight, carrying him with your arms wrapped around his middle. Yeah. This is undignified. “I could have walked to the bridge,” he mutters, trying to not sound like a sullen sparkling. Because as much as he’s enjoying the warmth of you and being fussed over, he’s the co-captain. He’s not supposed to be tiny and helpless.

• “I know,” you say, grinning. And he’s deceptively heavy still even toddler sized, but when else are you going to get the opportunity to carry him like this? To turn the tables on him. “Do you think this is permanent?” Laughing at the noise he makes, feeling his plating warm under your fingers, you keep walking. Know he’s not going to lose it and burn you, trust him not to. Even if he’s upset with the idea of being tiny forever.

Drift and Ratchet

• Well. At least one of them is happy. Glaring at where you’re sitting with Drift in your lap, your arms around him fussing over how “widdle and cute” he is, Ratchet vents. Because Drift’s optics are shuttered, apparently enjoying the attention. Servos flexing, he sits on the edge of his datapad and works to try and figure out whatever this latest idiocy is, because he’s pretty sure he can blame this on Brainstorm.

• “Ratchy-watchy,” you call and the tiny medic turns to shoot you a filthy look when you hold out your arms in invitation and Drift chuckles. Apparently Ratchet isn’t about to come cuddle though as he curls a lip and growls under his breath to not call him that. Poor little guy stressed out about being little and probably realizing how you feel around them all the time.

Minimus Ambus

• “Please stop.” Mentally exhausted as you just keep cackling, he tries to turn away and you grab him from behind. And he transforms without thinking to try and escape to the Magnus armor even though he’s too small now to operate it. Feels you drop him with a gasp. Flattening against the berth, ears back when you scream. Denta bared in warning as you seize him again .

• “Minnie! I didn’t know you became a puppy. Look at your widdle pawsies. Do you have beans? You do have beans!” And he’s just hanging limply in your arms as you fuss over him, but you hear him groan as you cuddle him, his back legs kicking fitfully. “Can I boop?”

Swerve

• This is fine. More than fine. Relaxed as soft hands cup his face, spin a wheel of his alt mode and you just excitedly babble over him, he soaks up the attention. It’s not like he’s not used to being small anyway. And you’re apparently delighted about it. Leaning into your warmth, he hooks an arm around you. He could definitely get used to this, someone taking care of him. Worrying about him.

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[gf2bellamy]

hi lovely!! i have a request that could be loosely tied to episode 10x15 where the unsub targets women with low self-esteem, if he doesn’t actually end up doing that im sorry, im literally 15 minutes into that episode and i got this idea (i do remember the unsub hinting that one of the victim’s husbands is abusive, which obviously spence wouldnt be so i guess that’s why it’s loosely tied)

i was thinking established relationship and r is not in the bau, she gets kidnapped by the unsub. spencer panics for ages but they save her and he kinda has a little talk with her to reassure her since he knows the reason what the unsub’s victimology is. (she has low self-esteem)

i know you have plenty of requests right now, so focus on taking care of yourself and don’t be afraid to take breaks!! we love you 💗

- 🐚/ele

self-esteem — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mentions of reading being hurt and having bruises , reader was kindapped ( but theres no details of it ) , mention of a hospital and weapons a/n: hii ele <3 thank you so much ilysm :( and funnily enough i actually rewatched that episode 2 weeks ago ?!?! i didnt dive too much into the kidnapping part but more so the part where spencer comforts reader ( hope thats okay <3 )

The key turned in the lock with a soft click, and Spencer shouldered open the door to his apartment, his arms weighed down by both his bag and yours, his fingers still laced tightly with yours.

He hadn’t let go—not in the car ride home, not when Hotch had dismissed the team, not even when you’d stopped for coffee and the barista had given him an amused glance at his refusal to release your hand. 

You didn’t mind. 

After the past two days, you understood. 

The bags hit the floor with a thud, and Spencer turned to you immediately, his gaze flickering over your face like he needed to reassure himself you were still there. His fingers twitched against yours, restless, as if even the idea of breaking contact was unbearable. 

It made sense. Forty-eight hours ago, an unsub had taken you. 

Forty-eight hours ago, Spencer had nearly lost his mind. 

It had only been a few hours —barely enough time for the team to figure out where you were, to pinpoint the abandoned warehouse, to storm in with weapons drawn. But for Spencer, those hours had stretched into an eternity. He could still see your state when he found you. Still see the way you had reached for him with tears streaming down your face. 

And now you were here. Safe. With him. 

You shifted slightly, detangling your hand from his to shrug off your jacket, and he moved before you could even lift your arms, his hands already at your shoulders, easing the fabric down with care. His breath hitched when you winced, his eyes zeroing in on the bruises circling your wrists—ugly, violent imprints left by rope. His jaw clenched. 

"Are you hungry?" he asked abruptly, his voice softer than usual. "I could make you something. A sandwich, or—or soup. If you’d prefer that." 

His hands lingered, brushing over the scarf at your neck, his touch feather-light as he unwound it. The pads of his fingers skimmed your skin, where there were light bruises.

His thumb stroked over them before he could stop himself, his chest tightening when you exhaled shakily. 

"Spence," you murmured, turning to face him fully. His name was barely more than a whisper, but it snapped his attention back to your eyes. 

He swallowed hard. "I’m sorry," he said, though he wasn’t entirely sure what for. For not protecting you sooner? For not being faster? For the way his hands trembled now, desperate to pull you close and terrified of causing you more pain? 

You reached up, cupping his face, and he leaned into your touch instinctively, his lashes fluttering shut for a brief, stolen second. 

"You don’t have to apologize," you said gently. 

His throat worked. "I know."  

His arms came around you, carefully , his nose burying in your hair as he held you. The scent of his shampoo mixed with the lingering traces of antiseptic from the hospital. 

"We can just go to bed if you want," he mumbled, his voice quiet and hesitant. 

You nodded against him, your fingers still loosely curled around the fabric of his cardigan. "I’d like that." 

He pulled back just enough to guide you towards his bedroom, his fingers ghosting over the small of your back.

When you slipped beneath the covers, Spencer was right there, his arms instinctively pulling you closer. Your head found its place against his chest, where his heartbeat thrummed steadily beneath your ear.

You let out a slow breath, your fingers tracing absent patterns over the fabric of his shirt. Since the moment they’d pulled you from that house, the only place you’d felt truly safe was here. With him. And right now, you couldn’t have felt any safer. 

Spencer shifted slightly, his fingers mirroring yours, tracing lazy, feather-light shapes against your back. His touch was delicate.

Then, softly, he spoke. 

"You know I love you, right?" His voice was barely more than a whisper.

Your lips curled into the faintest smile, still weak but genuine, and you patted his chest lightly. "Yeah, I do, Spencer." 

For a moment, there was only silence—comfortable, warm. Then he exhaled, his fingers stilling against your spine. 

"I know why he chose you," Spencer murmured, his voice quieter now, careful. "The unsub. I read his profile over and over again. He—he targeted women who didn’t see their own worth. Who doubted themselves. Who thought they weren’t enough." 

You swallowed, your throat suddenly tight.  

Spencer’s arms tightened around you, like he could shield you from the weight of his words. "He looked for kindness. For vulnerability. And he used it against them, made them feel small, made them believe they deserved what happened to them." He shook his head, his fingers pressing gently into your back. "But he was wrong. About all of it. About you." 

You stayed quiet, not because you didn’t want to argue—but because a part of you still wondered if the unsub had been right. Maybe you were weak. Maybe you were nothing special. Maybe— 

Spencer’s voice broke through the spiral of thoughts before they could consume you. "You are not weak," he said firmly, like he could hear everything you weren’t saying. "Do you know how strong you are? How incredible?" 

You let out a breath that was almost a laugh, except it wasn’t. "Spence—" 

"You are," he insisted, shifting so he could look at you. His eyes were serious, burning with something fierce. "Do you know how terrified I was? How the thought of losing you—" He exhaled sharply, pressing his forehead to yours for a moment before pulling back. "You survived something horrible. You fought. And you’re here. And I don’t ever want you to think that you’re anything less than extraordinary." 

You bit your lip, blinking rapidly. "But what if—what if he was right? What if I—" 

"He wasn’t," Spencer interrupted, his grip gentle but firm. "I see you. Every day, I see you. I see the way you care, the way you love. The way you make the world better just by being in it." His fingers traced along your jaw, tipping your chin up slightly. "You matter. Not because of what happened to you, not because of what someone else believed—but because of who you are. And who you are is someone I love. More than anything." 

Your breath hitched, something breaking open inside you—not in a painful way, but in a way that let the light in. 

Spencer pulled you closer again, his lips brushing your temple. "And if you ever forget that, I’ll remind you. As many times as it takes." 

A small, wobbly smile formed on your lips. "That might be a lot of reminders." 

His own smile was soft, warm. "Then I guess I’ll be talking for a very long time." 

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

Basic prompt but the pc saving Kalim life some how or helping him just because it's the right thing to do. Kalim struggles to process the pc saved him but also turns down a reward. They tell him they did it because their friends. Que a heart to heart where it sinks in to Kalim the pc is that genuine.

HELLO?! THIS IS SUCH AN INTERESTING AND FUN REQUEST?!?!?!

Note: . . .what does pc mean? I got a request with it and thought it was a typo at first but then I got more, and I have a feeling y'all aren't talking about a computer. Y'all really got me feeling old (/it's funny to me tho to feel like a 19yo grandma)

(Note Note: I came back to this after a few weeks (I'm busy, okay?!). . .does pc mean playable character?)

Summary: You save Kalim from getting nailed by a spelldrive disk and have to explain to him that acts of kindness from friends don't need monetary compensation. (Kalim x Reader)

It wasn't anything big, or it wasn't to you at least. A spelldrive disc had been hurtling at Kalim's head and you simply pushed him out of the way (you knew how bad those things hurt (once you woke up from them knocking your lights out that is)). It was a simple gesture: just a nice thing to do.

But, to Kalim? You were a saint that needed to be rewarded immediately. He insists that you take a cash reward as compensation for saving his life, but you refuse (and sevens know you could use the money).

Kalim initially thinks you're joking or being polite when you refuse, but he soon realizes that isn't the case. "What?" he gapes, his eyes the size of saucers.

"No, thank you. I was just being nice. I don't need a reward for that." as you repeat your words, you notice Kalim shaking his head.

"Still! A lot of things people get rewards for are from being nice! Like finding and returning a lost cat!"

Your brow quirks and an amused smile creeps onto your face, "Yeah, but in that situation the two parties aren't usually friends." It was clear from the look on Kalim's face that something about what you were saying wasn't clicking.

The smile slowly fades from your face as you speak, "You know that you don't have to pay friends for just being nice right? For just helping you out?"

He's quiet for a moment, his face scrunched up in contemplation, "Cater and Lilia have said stuff like that after they help me with something, but it's usually just something like explaining homework."

It's then that it clicks for you that Kalim has probably never actually had a friend other than Jamil help him out with something significant before, and Jamil is on his family's payroll. Kalim grew up sheltered in an environment where everyone who was kind to him was paid by his father to do so.

Your hands reach to gently cup his. This time, you speak in a softer, more definite tone: like you're explaining a homework problem, "Friends help each other out because they're friends and because they care for each other. They don't do it because you pay them to."

A mix between distress and disbelief cross Kalim's face.

"Jamil doesn't count" you add: assuming that's what he was upset over. "You can be friends with someone who works for you."

He remains silent for a moment, his face keeping that same, odd expression. "Oh." is all he says when he finally does speak. Despite what many believe, Kalim isn't stupid. He's naive in certain situations, but that's only because he's much too experienced in the harsher realities of life. This is to say, he's competent enough to realize that your words are not too subtly insinuating that most of the people who have done acts like the one you just did for him weren't being genuine. They weren't his friends.

Unable to think so something to say that would ease his pain, you do all you know to and offer him a hug. You open your arms with a soft, inquisitive look, and Kalim collapses into you like a runner exhausted after a marathon.

No tears leave his eyes, nor sobs his mouth, but you can tell by the way his body lays limp against yours that he's not okay. There's nothing you can say to him. His worldview just got shattered. That takes time no amount of words can compensate for to heal.

So you hold him. You keep the pieces of him that chip off and crack away held firmly together in your embrace.

And you keep holding him. You will continue to hold him until he's ready to pick his pieces back up on his own again.

When he is, he'll have you, one of his first real friends there by his side.

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Request Information

[c4tluver02]

Can I request a fluffy Steve Harrington x fem! reader long oneshot where reader is pregnant and they are sitting in the living room watching a movie and all of a sudden, reader feels the baby kick for the first time and reader tells Steve and guides his hand to her stomach and Steve talks to the baby and they are just in awe over feeling the baby kick and they talk about how they can’t wait for their daughter to get here?

baby bump

summary: After finding out the gender of your baby things start to feel real. First time kicks and cravings are the new normal!

warnings: mention of pregnancy, r has long hair, mentions of morning sickness (for like a second), mentions of eating more

wc: 1.3k

a/n: i don't know anything abt being pregnant so if this is wrong lets pretend it isn't!!!! thank u for the request <3

It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon, neither you or Steve have anything going on allowing for you both to relax on the couch. A movie is playing on the TV and your head is laying on Steve's lap. His fingers thread through your hair and the feeling makes your eyes flutter shut. The movie long forgotten, simply too relaxed in Steve's presence. He’s been working a lot ever since the news of a baby coming so you are soaking up any moments with him. Last week you both found out the gender, a beautiful healthy baby girl. You couldn’t be more ecstatic and Steve was already thinking of the shade of pink to paint the nursery. 

-

 “Do you think she would want more of a rustic pink or like a Barbie pink?” Steve asks on the drive home from your appointment. You two have red eyes from crying tears of joy. Hearing the baby's gender makes everything feel even more real. 

“I think rustic definitely.” You say nodding. The small picture of your ultrasound in your hand. 

“I think so too, I’ll have to start looking for a crib. Think the guys would help?” Steve asks, thinking about Jonathan and Eddie. The idea of making a whole new room in just a few months now makes him a little stressed. 

“Oh totally and Eddie owes me a favor for eating my cheeseburger the other day.” It was a simple mix up, he ate your sandwich instead of his own. But in the moment tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

“I know Rob will help with the paint and picking out furniture. I still have to call her to tell her the news.” He says giving your thigh a squeeze from excitement. When he found out you were pregnant he told Robin right away. She came over the next day with gifts and candy for you. 

You looked at him with a large grin. Filled with excitement and happiness that you are having a baby and that Steve is Steve. A perfect partner and soon to be dad. 

-

You knew no matter what Steve would be a great dad, but knowing he will be a girl dad just clicks in the most perfect way. Already infatuated with you, he won't be able to say no to your new baby girl. 

Steve was already so great with you. Quick to be by your side when you have any sickness– despite you trying to shoo him away the first time it happened. Too scared he would find you gross you made him plug his ears which made him then yell out for you to ask if you were ok. But the more it happened the more he was there and wouldn't take no for an answer. If Steves gonna do one thing it's take care of you. Any late night cravings you had he would get with no complaints. He truly was perfect. Obsessed with your bump always talking to her, like when she was pushing on your ribs and he asked her so sweetly to move. 

Now you're all laid out on the couch half asleep and you feel a weird pain in your stomach. A little jab that was so quick if you were moving you might not have even felt it. The feeling made you shoot up in shock, a hand on your stomach. Steve looked at you with his thick brows raised, concerned. 

“What? What's wrong? Is she okay?” Steve asks quickly as he grabs onto your wrist. Like he needed to know the answer right away.

He finally took a breath when he saw a big smile appear on your face. You grab his hand and gently place it on your bump in a certain location. “She just kicked me.” You say it almost in a whisper like if you said it too loud she'd stop. 

Steve pressed his hand a little firmer to your belly trying to feel the sensation. His eyes are wide and you look at him as you wait for her to do it again.   

As if on cue she kicks again and Steve gasps. “Holy shit she's kicking!” It comes out in a half yell half laugh and he leans in to give you a quick kiss. Too excited, needing to put his energy into something. 

You're both fully sat up now only locked in on the baby's next move. She gives another kick and this time Steve sees your stomach move and stretch from the action. He scrunches his nose up a little. 

“Does that hurt baby? I can tell she’s using all her force.” The way he says it with a concerned but interested tone makes you giggle. 

“Nope.” You say popping the P at the end. “It feels weird but it doesn't hurt.” Your hand is over his holding it to your stomach and Steve can't help but swoon. 

“Maybe she'll be a soccer player? She seems like she has strong legs.” Steve says.

“Hmm, maybe a gymnast? They have really strong legs.” Steve nods at your response and you both lay back on the couch. 

Steve leans down a bit to rest his chin on your stomach. His hand is still on your belly but now he's rubbing it gently. 

“I can’t wait to see what type of personality she'll have.” He says.

Steve looks so pretty right now. Carefully giving your tummy little kisses and his long lashes flutter. You can't help but run your fingers through his hair and he groans at the action. 

“I hope she has your hair.” You say with a giggle but you really do mean it. 

“I hope she has your eyes, and your nose, and your lips, and your giggle of course.” 

You roll your eyes at his comment in a playful manner. “You're obsessed with me.” 

“I am.” He gives your belly one last kiss before sitting up again. “I am obsessed with you and our baby and I can't wait to have more.”

“More? Stevie, we haven't even finished having one!” You let out a giggle that's so warm Steve thinks it could truly melt his heart. 

“I know but I can imagine us with like 6 little Harringtons running around.” The look in his eyes tells you he's 100% serious and that he's given this thought. 

“Hm and who will be pushing out these 6 Harringtons?” You ask, looking at him with a huge smile on your face. So happy in this moment, thinking about the future you and Steve will have. 

“Sweetheart, if I could do all the hard work, trust me I would. Then I could give you all the babies you want.” Steve slides his hands on your waist which is a little on your stomach due to how far out it is, rubbing his thumb up and down. 

“Let's focus on this one and then we can talk about more, deal?” You ask, putting your hands around his neck. The movement makes you two get closer but the bump creates a bit of distance. 

“Deal.” He responds, kissing your temple. The movie you guys were watching is now rolling the credits, neither of you saw the end but that's okay because in a few months you'll have a daughter.

“Stevie?” You ask but Steve knows the tone in your voice. 

“Yes angel?” The smirk he has on could be one related to the Cheshire cat. All knowing and ready for what you're about to ask. 

“Do you think you could make me some eggs and toast?” The puppy dog eyes you give aren't needed but accepted. It doesn't matter that it's 10pm or that you had dinner a few hours ago. 

“You are a hungry little bug aren't you?” Steve says into your stomach as he kisses it. Getting up to go to the kitchen but not before grabbing your hands to help you up.

“She is, isn't she? I must be growing an athlete in there.” You say, referring to your earlier statements. 

Steve laughs and rubs your back as you walk in front of him. He knows tonight you'll wake him up for more food but right now he couldn't be happier. 

[captain-huggy-bear]

Congrats on 1k! It is so well deserved, I absolutely adore your writing <3

I’d love to request "What I'm trying to say is... I like you." + Quinn Hughes

Thank you <3

Ahh, thank you, lovely! I hope enjoy this one too <3 xx 1000 Followers Celly Currently ongoing 🥳🎉 Big requests/full fic/big idea requests are closed at the moment but drabble and prompt requests are still open. Writing Masterlist

Quinn has walked you to your front door after spending the day with you. A rare occurrence for Quinn mid-season, to have time to go out and about around Vancouver with you. You'd missed your friend as the season had gotten more and more intense. You understood of course, but it was nice to spend an entire day with him, not just passing minutes or an hour here or there.

"This was nice..." Quinn has his hands pressed into his pockets, beanie pulled over his curls that had started to grow out a little long. He's lingering, he knows he is, but he can't help it as he tries to say what he's thinking...without saying it.

"Yeah, it was nice." The smile you give him is oblivious, happy to have seen your friend as you unlock your front door and stand in the doorway.

"We should...we should do this again sometime?" God, he sucks at this, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck like he's a school kid asking you to the school dance. Except it's not as obvious is it? Who says 'we should do this again sometime?'? Who says that?

"Yeah, I'd like that. You know I like spending time with you, Quinn...you're just really busy, y'know?" You sigh a little and he knows he's kind of dropped off the radar. Sure, he phones and he texts and he tries to make time for coffee, but it's not the same when he has to run out of every meet up within 40 minutes and every phone call is cut short.

But he also knows he makes more of an effort for you than most people. He tries to still see you, talk to you because he can't imagine not. "Yeah, but for you I can make time." The smile he sends your way is sweet, it sets your stomach fluttering but you remind yourself this is Quinn. He's not interested in you, never has been...you're just friends. As much as you wish you were more.

"Awww, that's sweet, but you don't have to."

"You're not...you're not getting it, huh?" Quinn rubs his brow, sighing because fuck, is he being vague or are you just oblivious? He thinks he's been pretty obvious over the years about how he feels, you're the only constant woman in his life that isn't a colleague or family.

"Getting what?"

"What I'm trying to say is... I like you." There, he's said it, he thinks. It's off his chest. He likes you and if you don't like him back that's fine...he can handle that, but he's done it.

"I like you too." Except the way you smile at him is still oblivious, sweet and it's obvious that you don't get what he's putting down, not picking it up in the slightest.

Quinn lets out the loudest sigh yet, head dropping back as he wills himself to just rip the band aid off, to just be clear with you and stop this painful miscommunication that's actually going to kill him.

"No, fuck. Sweetheart...I'm in love with you."

The way you freeze does not fill him with joy, if anything he feels sick to the stomach. Your smile drops, not into a frown, just drops. The shock evident on your face as you blink at him like that'll help you process what he's just said to you.

"...What?" You take a step forward and that alone gives him some hope, some confidence to keep going.

"I'm in love with you and when I say we should spend time together, I mean I want to take you on a date. When I say I can make time for you, I mean I want to make time for you because I want you to be mine. You understand what I'm trying to say?" By the end he's red in the face, breathless because he barely took a breath the entire spiel...and you're looking at him in a new light, a little smile starting, glowing almost.

"Oh...yeah. I get what you're saying." Your smile becomes a grin and it's enough, it's enough to keep that little flame of hope alive, enough for him to put all his cards on the table and hope for the best.

"So, can I take you on a date?"

Quinn licks his bottom lip, an old nervous habit, as he waits. It's seconds but it feels like minutes until you respond.

"Yeah, you can take me on a date."

Neither of you know how to act. Just stood there grinning at each other like idiots, like two friends who like each other a whole lot more, who just admitted it but have no idea how you're supposed to behave in that scenario.

"Cool...cool, see you later?" His wave is awkward, ridiculous because usually he'd hug you goodbye, but you wave back just as awkward and that somehow makes him feel a little better. That he's not the only one unsure how to navigate this.

"See you later."

He waits until you're in your house, door closed, before he walks off. You immediately rush to your window to watch him as he leaves. You catch the way he fist pumps the air, how he jumps with a new sort of skip in his step that has you giggling, even more so when he turns to look back at your house and catches your eye, flushing bright red at being caught.

Yeah...neither of you know how to act and maybe it's weird right now, but you think maybe it'll be alright in the long run. Afterall, Quinn Hughes loves you.

[ellewritesx]

sugar, baby

Summary: He pays in cash. You pay in obedience. a sugardaddy!harry styles x reader au series

Warnings: sugardaddy arrangement, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, kind of a corruption kink, power play, a little bit of dom!Harry

A/N: i'm planning on making this a series, so excited for you guys to read it! btw i usually write in the present tense, but this more of a prologue to the series, so that's why this first part is in the past tense. if you've got any requests for the series, feel free to drop them in the ask box on my profile ;) have fun x

Word Count: 2,984

...

You weren't supposed to be here.

The bar was tucked into the corner of a luxury hotel, the kind where the floors didn't creak and the waiters never made eye contact. Everything shimmered. Gold fixtures, iridescent chandeliers, crystal glasses. In the air was an unsettling sort of quiet that felt expensive. You smoothed your hands over your thighs, trying to hide the fact that your dress was thrifted and your heels pinched at the sides. You didn't belong, and you knew it, but still, you were here.

You'd told yourself you were just curious. Just meeting with him. Just... hearing him out.

But then he walked in.

Harry.

He didn't look like someone who needed to pay for anything. Not sex, not attention, not anything at all. But he wasn't here for any of that, not really. He was here for control.

He looked like the kind of man you'd trust with your secrets, and the worst kind to actually give them to.

He found you immediately, his steps smooth and slow, like he had nowhere to be except in front of you. He wore a dark navy suit, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, tattoos peeking through his chest. His curls were slightly damp, like he'd come straight from the shower, and he smelled expensive: clean, musky, sharp. His eyes dragged over you in a way that wasn't quite polite, but wasn't necessarily crude either. It was... calculating. A man who liked knowing what was his, and it looked like you were going to be his next victim.

He slid into the booth across from you, leaning one arm on the table, and didn't speak for a long moment, just taking you in.

Then, finally, he spoke. ''You're prettier than in your photo.'' His voice was deep, heavy with power and influence.

Your cheeks heated, the words surprisingly genuine from his lips, but there was no warmth. Like he was stating a mere fact rather than actually complimenting you. You swallowed. ''Thank you.''

''You nervous?'' he asked.

You nodded. There was no point in lying. You knew he could read your body language well.

''Good,'' he said. ''You should be.''

He ordered you a drink without asking what you wanted. You didn't argue. When it arrived, you took a sip. Burnt sugar and something bitter settled hot in your throat.

''So,'' he said, eyes flicking over you like he was taking inventory. ''You know why you're here.''

You nodded again. ''I do.''

''You've read the terms?''

''I have.''

''No kissing in public. No relationships. You're mine while you're with me. No one else. And I own everything I give you. You leave? You give it all back.''

You licked your lips. ''I understand.''

He leaned in slightly. ''Understand what?'' he prompted.

You blinked. ''I understand I'm yours when I'm with you.''

He smiled.

It wasn't a sweet smile.

The contract was tucked into a leather folder. It wasn't long. Two pages, most of it simple language, with a few bolded phrases that made your stomach twist. Sexual availability. Physical submission. Discretion required. At the bottom of the last page was a little blank box, awaiting your signature.

Before you could pick up the pen, his hand landed on your wrist. Gentle, but firm.

''Let's talk about your limits first,'' he said. ''Your rules. Tell me what you won't do.''

Your breath caught. You'd read stories like this. You'd watched the porn. But sitting here, across from a man who had all the power, it felt different. It felt real. You didn't know how to handle it, how to respond to a question that intimate.

''I, um... No blood. No sharing. Nothing… painful.''

He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth curling upwards just slightly. ''Define painful.''

''I don't know, like… hitting. Or degrading. I don't want to be called names. I take offense to that.''

He chuckled softly at your fieriness, his fingers trailing lightly down your forearm, just a touch, but it made your skin break out in chills.

''But you'll take orders?''

You nodded.

''You'll let me use toys on you?''

''Yes.''

''Let me tie you up?''

''…yes.''

His voice lowered. ''You'll beg?''

You hesitated, breath catching. ''…yes.''

''Good girl.''

Your thighs pressed together under the table, the praise hitting you deep in your belly. Shame curled around the heat there, but you didn't pull away.

''You'll have a safe word,'' he said, like it was the most casual topic to be discussed over a bar table. ''You say it once, I stop everything. You say it twice, I take you home. That clear?''

You nodded again, too fast. ''Yes.''

''Pick your word.''

Your brain scrambled. ''Um… red?''

He quirked a brow. It told him all he needed to know; you were very, very new at this. He almost smiled at that. He couldn't wait to teach you, to take you apart and put you back together to ruin your for every other man you'd ever meet.

He handed you the pen. Your fingers trembled as you signed. He flipped the folder closed without looking at it again. Like it was done now. You belonged to him.

...

The ride to his penthouse was quiet. He didn't touch you. He didn't even speak. He just scrolled through his phone, legs wide in the backseat of the sleek car, occasionally glancing at you like he was already imagining what he'd do to you when you got to his place.

You kept your hands in your lap, your thighs clenched, trying to act like you weren't already soaked.

You hadn't gone looking for this kind of job, it found you. A friend of a friend, a girl who had worked one discreet night and came back with rent paid six months in advance and a vacant stare that spoke of something darker than just money.

She'd never given you a name, only a phone number and a whispered ''a friend of my guy is looking''. Looking. That's all she told you. And maybe that should've been enough to walk away. But curiosity has sharp teeth. And money, even sharper.

You'd stared at the number for three days before finally texting it.

You'd gotten a second notice for your overdue rent that month. You were broke. Tuition was bleeding you dry, your electricity and gas bills were stacking up, and your job at the cafe barely covered groceries. So after a long, wine-heavy night and one unpaid phone bill too many, you'd sent a message: Hi. I was given your number by a friend. I was told you're looking?

The reply had come within the hour. Polite, direct, and unsettlingly composed. Yes. I offer a paid sexual arrangement. Exclusive. Intimate. You'll be compensated generously for your time, discretion, and obedience. If that interests you, we'll continue.

You'd have sworn you could almost hear his calm, grounded voice through the words on your screen. Like he had already you pegged as the type to give in.

You'd texted for a few days. He'd asked questions, not the ones you'd expected, like your measurements or your preferences, but things like, How do you respond to authority? Are you good at keeping secrets? What are you looking to get out of this arrangement? It had felt very formal, almost like a job interview.

You'd asked him questions too, though far fewer. Mostly, you'd tried to figure out if this man who texted like a lawyer and spoke like a therapist was actually offering what he claimed, if he wasn't just wasting your time for fun.

He'd sent a photo of himself per your request (you wanted to know if he was at least attractive, could anyone blame you?). It was a mirror selfie, shirtless, grey sweatpants riding low, tattoos on show and his deep V-line peeking out promisingly above his waistband. It wasn't sleazy. It was deliberate. Classy, even.

You'd stared at it for way too long.

You had sent one back. Nothing too revealing, just a casual, slightly provocative photo of you in your favorite little black dress. He hadn't commented on your body. Instead, he'd replied with, You'll do nicely. When can we meet to discuss terms?

That was the moment something had shifted in you. You'd been hesitant, cautious, ready to back out at any moment. But that text, cold, possessive, confident... it made something spark deep in you.

Your love life was a ghost town, your sex life practically non-existent. No one had made you feel desirable or wanted in months, let alone claimed. And there was something dangerously appealing about this beautiful stranger who didn't beg, didn't chase, just chose you. And suddenly, all you could think was: Fuck it.

...

His building had a private elevator. No doorman. No check-in. Just a sleek black keycard and the quiet hum of wealth.

The penthouse was stunning. Floor-to-ceiling windows, cold marble floors, warm lighting that made everything glow. You didn't get time to look around. As soon as the door shut behind you, his voice dropped into a calm command.

''Strip.''

You froze. ''Here? Now?''

He tilted his head. ''That's what you signed up for, isn't it?''

Your face burned as you just nodded, your hands reaching behind you to fumble with the zipper at the top of your spine. It was stubborn, just out of reach, and you twisted awkwardly, tugging, struggling in silence.

You could feel his eyes on you, the weight of them making your skin prickle and crawl. He huffed out a soft laugh, and then you heard his heavy, unhurried footsteps approach from behind until he was so close you could feel the heat radiating off his chest.

His ring-adorned fingers, slow and sure, brushed your hand away. ''Let me,'' he murmured, so soft it barely kissed your ear.

The zipper slid down with one slow, long tug, the sound slicing through the silence like a sigh. You shivered as cool air licked across the newly exposed skin of your back. His palm ghosted up your spine, not quite touching, hovering. Teasing. His breath was warm when he leaned in, and his mouth met your shoulder with a kiss that felt far too gentle for a man who'd promised to ruin you.

''Good girl,'' he whispered, lips grazing your skin, voice molten. ''Didn't think you'd need help getting naked for me. You're cute.''

Your lungs forgot how to take in air. The dress hangs loose now, your hand instinctively coming up to keep the fabric pressed to your chest before it slid further down.

He didn't touch it. Just waited. Lingered behind you like a storm on the edge of breaking, letting the anticipation sink into your bones.

''Go on, then,'' he murmured in your ear, standing tall again. ''Show me what I paid for.''

You hesitantly let your dress drop to the floor, standing there in just your bra and panties.

He stepped closer, his eyes dragging over your body like a slow stroke. He didn't touch. He didn't speak.

The first thing he did was unhook your bra. Slowly. Like he was unwrapping something fragile. It slid off your shoulders and pooled on the floor between you, his eyes tracking the motion with a hunger that made your knees weak. His hand came up, broad, warm, heavily ringed, and cupped one breast, thumb brushing over your nipple until it stiffened under his touch.

You gasped, already on edge, your cunt already throbbing.

''You're a sensitive little thing, aren't you?'' he said, voice calm. Observational. ''Might be fun to toy with you just a little.''

Then his hand dropped to your waist.

''Come on, sweetheart. Be good for me. On the bed.''

The bed was massive. All black linens, plush and soft, and you sank into it as you crawled across. You heard the rustle of his suit jacket being slipped off, the clink of a belt being undone. But you didn't dare look back at him. Not until he gave you permission.

You stayed there, on your hands and knees, waiting.

He spoke up from behind you, his voice thick with authority. ''On your back. Legs open.''

Your body obeyed before your brain caught up. You spread your thighs wide, baring yourself completely. You were already wet, embarrassingly so. The air hit your soaked folds and made you shiver, your nipples pebbling under the warm light.

He walked to the edge of the bed and just looked at you. Silent. Intense. Like he was committing this exact moment to memory.

''Beautiful,'' he said softly. ''So fuckin' beautiful like this. Spread out for me, already dripping.''

You whimpered as he knelt between your legs, rings cold against your thighs as he pushed them wider, thumbs parting your folds.

Then he spit.

Right on your pussy.

The slick warmth landed on your clit and made you jolt. He rubbed it in with two fingers, slow circles that had your toes curling instantly.

''Gotta loosen you up,'' he muttered. ''Gotta make you nice and dumb before I fuck you. Can't have my sugar baby thinking too much, can I?''

You didn't have time to answer before he slipped one thick finger inside. It made you clench instinctively, your hips arching up, a moan breaking from your throat.

''Fuck, you're tight,'' he groaned. ''All this for me?''

You nodded, helpless. ''Yes, all for you.''

His grin turned wicked. ''Good girl.''

He added a second finger without warning.

You gasped, hips twitching, overwhelmed by the stretch. He curled them deep, hitting a spot that made your back arch off the bed, your hands clutching at the sheets.

''There it is,'' he said, almost smug. ''There's that little spot. Gonna work it until you cry for me.''

And he did.

He kept those fingers buried deep, thrusting them slow but firm, curling just right. His thumb pressed to your clit, rubbing circles, just enough pressure to make you squirm, not enough to give you what you needed and craved so badly.

Your moans turned into whines. Pleading sounds.

He didn't stop.

''Say it,'' he murmured. ''Tell me whose pussy this is.''

''Yours,'' you gasped, barely able to speak. ''Yours, Harry, please—''

''Say it like you fuckin' mean it.''

''Yours! It's yours, Harry, please, fuck, please let me come—”

He leaned in, breath hot against your neck. ''You'll come when I say so. Not a second before.''

You sobbed, your body trembling with the need to let go. His fingers never stopped. They fucked up into you mercilessly, slick and loud and obscene. Your whole body was buzzing, flushed and twitching under him.

And then suddenly he pulled out.

You whined at the loss, blinking up at him in shock, but before you could protest, he grabbed your thighs and buried his face between them.

The first lick was broad and slow, his tongue flat, dragging from your entrance up to your clit. You cried out, thighs jerking, but he held you down. His arms hooked under your thighs, keeping you pinned open as he devoured you like a man starved.

He licked and sucked and groaned into your pussy, like the taste of you was everything he'd ever wanted.

''So fuckin' sweet,'' he murmured, lips brushing your clit. ''Y'taste sweet as fuckin' sugar, baby.''

The way he said that line is something that would stay with you later, something you'd hold onto for months to come. When you were alone in bed, when you were trying not to touch yourself, when you were trying to remember that this was just an arrangement. Just money. It wasn't supposed to feel like this.

But God, it felt like something already.

Your legs were shaking. Your body was soaked. He sucked on your clit just right, tongue flicking in quick patterns, your hips bucking helplessly against his face.

''Please, please, Harry, please, need to come—'' you babbled.

He pulled back just far enough to growl, ''Then fuckin’ come. Come for me, sugar.''

And you did.

Your orgasm hit you like a freight train. You screamed, legs locking around his head, your pussy clenching wildly. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think, mind numbed by the white-hot, pulsing pleasure ripping through you in waves.

But he didn't stop.

Even as your body convulsed, even as you sobbed from the intensity, he kept going. Licking you through it, into the next one, tongue relentless on your swollen clit until you were thrashing under him, hands pushing at his head weakly.

''Harry, please, it's too much—''

He lifted his head sharply. ''You'll come again. You'll come until I'm satisfied,'' he barked out, his intense gaze locked onto you.

And then he dove back in.

Your second orgasm was quicker, rougher, more painful in its sweetness. You sobbed through it, thighs twitching, whole body slick with sweat. Your vision blurred, pleasure blinding and brutal.

When you came again, you screamed.

Tears rolled down your cheeks, your pussy clenching hard around nothing as your whole body shook with overstimulation. Your clit throbbed, too sensitive, too much... but he didn't stop until you were begging.

''Red, Harry, please.”

That's what finally made him stop.

He pulled back, his lips wet with your slick, face flushed. He looked like a man who'd just eaten dessert and wanted another course.

He crawled up over your body, pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

''You did so good, baby,'' he whispered, peppering kisses to your shoulder. ''So obedient.''

You couldn't speak. Couldn't even think. The muscles in your thighs were still twitching, your chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow breaths.

''I'm gonna train you so well,'' he murmured against your mouth. ''You'll be begging to be used. Crying if I don't touch you.''

Your eyes fluttered closed, your brain melting into the sheets.

He kissed your temple. ''And this?'' he whispered lowly in your ear like it was a secret.

He smirked.

''This was nothing.''

...

thank you so much for reading! i appreciate any and all support so remember to like, comment and reblog. requests are open! 💕

[ssweetreveries]

wind down | l.mk

🎧 all mine . brent faiyaz

☆ mark x reader

⋆ 18+ mdni!

⋆ word count! 1.5k

⋆ request? ✓

oneshot, nonidol!mark, afab!reader, bf!mark, softdom!mark, sub! reader, unprotected sex, a bit of dirty talk, praise, brief cumplay, mark is so so good to reader :(, creampie, fluff, use of pet names (baby), porn no plot...

synopsis. both you and your boyfriend had a long day at work, so you decide to wind down together..

likes, reblogs, comments are appreciated!!

author note: i’ve been wanting to write for mark since foreverrrr!! finally here 🥹🙏 i tried to incorporate fluff and smut as per the request—im not sure how i feel about it but hopefully you like it anon, thank u for requesting<3

i apologize if there is any mistakes, this isn't proof read and english isn't my first language. enjoy!! ><

The door shut with a soft thud, the only sound indicating that Mark was back from work. It was already the late evening, his schedules having run a bit later than anticipated. He was tired, you were tired—both of you were tired after an exhausting work day.

You peaked up from the couch, watching him silently as he took off his shoes and dropped his work bag somewhere. You could see the tiredness etched on his face, the tension in his shoulders—and honestly, he looked as good as ever even like this.

He notices you staring and offers you a small smile, walking up to you and taking the space next to you on the couch. He sighs and pulls you in his lap without a word, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply.

You smile softly to yourself and play with his hair as he holds you close—basking in the quiet intimacy of the moment. Evenings like this were common between you and Mark—nights where both of you were too tired to do anything, just wanting the comfort of each other presence.

You stay like that for a while—at one point you even think he fell asleep, his breathing steady against your neck and his limbs unmoving if it wasn’t for his tightening grip around your waist. He mumbles something against your neck, his lips brushing your delicate skin though you can’t quite hear what he said.

“Hmm?” you pull back just slightly, gently cupping his face in your hands, “What was that, baby?” you ask him, voice just above a whisper.

He leans into your touch, a small tired smile on his lips as he mumbles again, “I missed you.”

You smile and brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead, “Mmm, I missed you too.”

He sighs and his hands start to wander up and down your sides soothingly, “You’re so pretty, (Y/N)..”

“I look horrible, Mark.” you laugh, knowing your appearance was a bit disheveled from the long day you just had.

He hums absentmindedly, hands coming to find your face and pulling you in for a sweet kiss. “Still pretty.”

You sigh, letting him have his way before pressing your lips against his once more.

Your lips move against each other, soft and lazy at first before slowly growing more passionate by the second.

His hands run through your hair before cupping your face and pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. He pushes his tongue in between your lips, a satisfied moan leaving him as your tongues meddle with each other.

As the kiss deepens, his hands start to wander as well, finding solace on your waist in a possessive grip—pulling you impossibly closer. He breaks the kiss to trail open-mouthed kisses down your neck, and you can feel his hardening erection pressing against you as the intensity of the moment escalates.

His hips buck a bit, grinding his hardening length against you, a low moan escaping his throat. His hands slide down to your ass, gripping you tightly.

His kisses become more heated, more desperate—all the pent up stress from his day coming out with his rushed movements and you bite your lip at his eagerness.

He bites down gently on your neck, sucking a bit to leave a hickey—his hands squeezing your ass. He's so hard now that it's uncomfortable, and he knows he needs to be inside you soon.

Without breaking the kiss, he stands up suddenly, ignoring the ache in his calves from the intense hours spent in rehearsal—carrying you with him.

Mark drops you onto the bed, careful not to hurt you. His eyes are dark with lust and frustration from his long day as he climbs over you. "I need you, baby, please." He whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

"You have me, Markie." you whisper back, hand caressing his cheek and that's all he needs—

He gently pushes your legs apart, and quickly makes work of his pants, freeing his thick, hard length.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he watches you removing your sleep shorts and panties, revealing your bare pussy. He groans a bit at the sight of you spread out before him, so ready and waiting for his cock.

"Fuck, baby, so wet already," he rasps, voice thick with need as he brings a hand to your core, running a finger down your folds and pushing his thumb in your aching hole—before pulling back and bringing his thumb to your lips, smearing your arousal on your bottom lip. "Open,"

You do—letting him push his digit in your mouth and swirling your tongue around it just like you know he wants. He groans, both satisfied and aroused at the sight.

He pulls his hand away and replaces his finger with his tongue. "I need you now, baby, I can't wait.." he whispers against your lips.

And you know you can't resist your boyfriend—not when he's whispering those filthy words so sweetly against your skin. Not that you'd deny him any way.

"I want you," you assure him, fingers playing with his hair.

Mark pulls back, gripping himself tightly, giving his cock a few hard strokes before positioning himself at your entrance.

"I love you" he whispers softly, barely audible before pushing inside you in one swift motion—his thick length filling you completely. He lets out a low moan, his head falling back as he savors the feeling of being inside you again.

He starts moving his hips immediately, thrusting into you with hard slow strokes. "Fuck, I missed this pussy,"

You whine a bit and clench involuntarily at his dirty words.

Mark starts slow at first, giving long, hard thrusts that hit deep inside you. But as his arousal grows, his patience runs thin. He picks up the pace slamming into you faster and harder. His balls slapping against your ass with each thrust—nasty sounds filling the room.

"Fuck, baby, so good," he rasps, "missed this, missed you." He leans down to capture your lips into a deep, searing kiss.

You moan against his mouth, doing your best to kiss him back as he continues his unrelentless thrusts. "M-missed you t-too— Fuck, Mark—!"

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he thrusts into you mercilessly. He buries his face in your chest, muffling his loud groans. He's so close already, the stress and tension from his day making him feel like he might explode any second.

Despite his own impending release, he manages to slow down his pace momentarily, focusing on hitting that spot inside you that drives you wild. His fingers dig into your hips as he grinds against you, desperately trying to make you cum before he loses control.

You let out a breathless moan, back arching as he hits your sweet spot just right.

He feels you clench around him as he hits that perfect spot inside you over and over again—one of his hand coming down to rub your clit in firm circles, knowing exactly how to touch you to get you there. His own cock twitches inside you as he feels your orgasm approaching.

After a few more thrusts and the extra attention to your clit you throw your head back and moan loudly as you reach your climax—your pussy tightening around him like a vice.

A low moan leaves his lips at the feel of your walls clamping around his length and starts fucking into you again, hips snapping to yours with no restraint, chasing his own orgasm.

His thrust become desperate and erratic—burying himself to the hilt inside you. "Fuck, gonna c-cum, baby—"

He buries his face in your neck as he finally reaches his peak with one hard, final thrust. His cock pulses inside you, shooting hot ropes of cum deep in your overstimulated pussy.

He keeps thrusting through his orgasm—your body shuttering, hands clenching the sheets tightly as he draws out every last drop. "Fuck.. fuck.." he pants heavily against your shoulder.

Then he pulls back to look at you, a lazy, satisfied smirk on his lips. He remains buried deep inside you, feeling his cock twitch with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, "Are you okay, baby?" he asks softly.

You offer him a hum and a small nod—a small, tired smile of your own playing on your lips.

He leans down to kiss your forehead softly, cock still buried inside you. He knows you must be exhausted, so he doesn't move too much, giving you time to recover.

After a moment, he pulls out slowly, feeling his cum leak out of you but he doesn't care—he lets his body weight slowly settle on top of yours, mindful not to crush you as he nuzzles his face in your neck and presses a soft kiss to your collarbone.

His voice is low and gentle as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, praising you and the way you make him feel. "So good, baby, so perfect, just for me." He mumbles against you. "Mmm, love you so much.."

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