#types of depreciation

[saturfied]

kimhan theerapanyakul and regulus black give out the same vibes.

[cconfusedkat]

I kindaaaa wanted to make a ventish animatic by projecting my gender dysphoria onto a character but im not too sure about it still question mark

Its very fitting for hxm though, even if hx identifies as transneumasc ,, its mainly my dysphoria regarding being intersex and mental health so i think if i made it id be like. A bit relieved i could make a video out of it Rather than drawing (usually drawing isnt enough to talk abt my struggles so sometimes videos/longer projects are a lil better to do !!!!)

[caffeinatedopossum]

"Eat shit" what, do I look like a fucking cannibal to you??

[truegoist]

I want shido to turn out to be rllly insecure and shit

[ittybittybumblebee]

I feel like its very good to look at amazing artists or artists you enjoy very much's work and everything because its great to take notes and learn from other people but you really need to stop if it gets to the point when you start not feeling so great about your own art in comparison, dont do that, take a break from looking at other art, look at yours, ok? Now look at yours from months/years ago? Do you feel better?

[haus-of-grotesque]

Do you ever see women with similar bodies to you and you're like omg they are so hot??? but then you look in the mirror and can't say the same to yourself

[caruliaa]

girl u r so misery irony poisoned and playing further and further into tht mindset and spending time with people with tht mindset bc u blatantly hate being vulnerable and open to the point of pushing away someone whos told you time and time again tht its okay to be open and vulnerable with them and that theyd be with you as long as it took for you to be vunerable having lied to them by saying vulnerable things and acting vulnerable in ways u didnt even mean then taking them back after pushing them out of your life without ever having the courage to admit the obvious reason that its that you have issues with being vulnerable that you have to work on in order to have proper relationships with others its insane

[clippy]

[heartshapedhackjob]

My sister's boyfriend went to a "wellness retreat" back in January and they had to swim in a river in January and he almost drowned

[weakformingyu]

You are my favorite

Pairing: Lee Know x afab!reader

Part 2 of Can I be your favorite?(Recommended to read the first part for context)

Genre: smut, fluff, angst(the tiniest bit)

Summary: you let your insecurities come in between your new relationship with Minho, luckily for you though, he's not gonna let you run away so easily.

Words count: 3,076

THIS CONTENT IS +18, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: oral(f. receiving), unprotected piv(wrap it before you tap it ffs), creampie, marking, hickeys, dirty talk(barely), Minho is possessive asf(is it even my fic if he's not possessive?), reader is insecure

You were sore when you woke up the next morning — or should you say, afternoon? It was already 2pm when you opened your eyes, finding Minho's place empty by your side.

You look around the room, now there's enough light coming from the windows for you to be able to see the room. You don't know how to explain it but it fits Minho perfectly, the decoration is discreet but not basic and it shows a lot of his personality, more than you're aware of.

You get up, not really sure what you're supposed to do. So you collect your things and start getting dressed, tying your hair in a ponytail to try and conceal the mess.

When you open the door, you look around before getting out, not sure if you're going to find someone and a bit embarrassed to be going away at this hour. You get down the stairs, walking past the kitchen at a quick pace but before you can turn the knob, you hear a voice behind you.

“Minho, your girl is trying to escape”, he yells, making you spin on your heels quickly looking at the telltale just to find a boy, who you're sure is Jeongin, the youngest of the frat house.

“Never thought you would be the type to smash and dash”, your crush says, popping out of the kitchen.

“I'm not!” You defend yourself, crossing your arms.

“That's not what it looks like to me”, he shrugs.

“I was just looking for you”, you lie and he scoffs, walking towards you.

“You shouldn't lie, princess”, he leans closer to you, making you gulp. “I don't like liars”, he whispers. Smirking when he sees your breath quickening and the way you lick your lips nervously. “Anyways, you can go if you want. I'll pick you up at 8”

“F-for what?” You ask, trying to recompose yourself.

“I told you I was going to take you out for dinner, didn't I?”

"I can't believe you're really going on a date with Minho”, Jihyo says, clapping excitedly while she searches for something in your wardrobe.

“I don't why he wants to go on a date with me”

“‘cause you're hot?” Your best friend says, as if it's obvious.

“He has a hundred other hot girls to take on dates”, you scoff, making Jihyo throw a pillow at you.

“Stop with the self depreciation, he doesn't want the other girls, he wants you. So get your ass over here so I can help you with your makeup”

You were hopeful but didn't think Minho would actually do as he promised. At exactly 8pm, you heard a knock on the door and Jihyo squealed, giving you a thumbs up and sending you to your date.

Minho was looking exceptionally handsome in all black, hands tucked in the pockets of his pants. He stares at you up and down with a grin on his lips.

“You look good”, he tells you, enjoying seeing your cheeks turning a dark shade of red.

“Y-you look nice too”, you say, stepping outside and closing the door behind you.

You are seated in front of him, not really sure what to do next, you two ordered your food and some expensive wine that you never heard about. The ride to the restaurant was a bit awkward, you felt the need to say something but didn't know what to say so you talked about the weather not realizing that he liked seeing you trying, nervous like a bunny being hunted by a predator, him.

“So, what's your major?” He asks, taking you out of your thoughts. He's resting his face on his hand while watching you fidget on your seat.

“Engineering”, you answer, sipping on the glass of water the waiter poured to you.

“That's interesting”, he smiles. “I'm a dance major”, he tells you.

“I know”, you say without thinking, covering your mouth immediately. “I mean, everyone knows”, you smile sheepishly.

“Ah, yes. You like me, right?” He smirks, proudly, making your face turn as red as a tomato.

“Please, stop saying that, it's embarrassing”, you hide your face in your hands.

“It's embarrassing that you like me?” He chuckles, tilting his head.

“You were not supposed to know that”, you clarify, “it's pathetic that I have feelings for someone who didn't even know I existed until last night”, you sigh.

“I clearly knew you existed, since I knew that you like me”, he teases. “I don't think it's pathetic, the heart wants what it wants”

“Is that why you dated all those girls?” You ask, naively, making his eyes grow wide. He didn't think you'd be that straightforward.

“No, I'm not one to rejected a nice looking girl”, he shrugs, “they just didn't manage to be more than that to me, but I'm sure they can be something more for someone else”

“Ah”, you nod, feeling awkward.

“Do you want to date me?” He asks nonchalantly like he's asking how was your day, making you choke on the water you just drank.

“What?” You ask, shocked.

“I think I was very clear”, he answers, scowling.

“Why would you want to date me?”

“I guess you heard me well”, he teases, “you're my type”, Minho clarifies.

“I don't think I'm, though”, you oppose.

“I think I know better than you who is or is not my type”

“I mean, I'm not pretty like your other girlfriends”, you push.

“Firstly: why would I want someone just like the people I broke up with? Second: I think you're pretty”

You feel your whole face hot, covering your mouth instantly so he doesn't see the stupid smile you have on your lips.

“Also, I like fucking you”, he ruins the moment, smirking, “I wanna keep doing that”

“What a gentleman”, you roll your eyes, ignoring the heat growing on your lower stomach. He doesn't need to know that you'd give anything for him to fuck you right now on the restroom of the restaurant.

“I can be one”, he stretches his arm, grabbing your hand, caressing it. “Or I can be the opposite of that, it's your call”, he shrugs.

That's precisely how you ended up fucking on the restaurant’s restroom. He pulled you inside the confined space, bending you on the sink and before you could prepare yourself his cock was inside of you.

“Fuck, kitten”, he groans, covering your mouth, not slowing down his thrusts. “You have to be quiet if you don't wanna get caught”, you nod, crying out, seeing his smirk through the reflection of the mirror.

You ended up dating him. It's not like it's a sacrifice for you or anything but you couldn't wrap your head around the reason that the Lee Minho would want to date you of all people. People's reaction was different from the one you expected too, they didn't really care, thinking he was going to dump you in a week.

However, to their surprise and especially yours, he didn't. Minho never even brought up the idea of breaking up and when you realized, two months had already passed.

After two months you still couldn't believe you were dating him and how hot he is, you always thought he was the most handsome man you ever saw but dating him hits differently. Now you can see him after a shower, coming out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his hip, his muscular chest bare for you to drool over. He cooks for you, making your favorite foods or some you never ate before. He brings you snacks and makes side dishes for you to eat at home. Minho picks you up before class and takes you back home after or he invites you to sleep over at the frat. You're already acquainted with all his friends, they even come looking for you to show you things when you're in the house. It makes you wonder if they acted like that with all of his girlfriends. Two months of the sweetest romance and the best sex you've ever had.

At least it was. You're not going to deny it, you're insecure. Minho is someone you never thought you could reach, so to be his girlfriend? It's something you never imagined. As he told you before, he has a great number of options, so the possibility that he'll replace you anytime, scares you.

You try forgetting about that, try not to overthink, until you find him at the library with a girl all over him. She's beautiful, perfect skin and shiny hair, she's hanging too close to him, touching his arm and throwing her head back in an exaggerated laugh. She's actually touching him at any chance she gets and you're there paralyzed like an idiot, watching it.

You feel the tears brimming in your eyes and you turn around and walk to the opposite side. You are his girlfriend, you should definitely step in, but in all honesty, you are too scared. Scared he'll look at you like you are nothing, that he's finally going to look at you with cold eyes like you have been waiting for it to happen.

You don't talk to him for days, avoiding meeting with him and ignoring his calls. You know it's childish to just ignore someone like that but you just needed to prepare yourself for the dreadful conversation you were about to have. It's going to be for the best if you two break up, he can go back to the way he lived before and you can stop worrying about when he's going to get tired of you.

It's not a surprise when Minho shows up at your door, you expected that to happen but wasn't expecting his appearance. He has his hair disheveled, deep eye bags under his eyes and he looks furious.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He asks, angrily, not even greeting you and storming inside your apartment like a hurricane. “Why did you disappear?”

“I needed to think”, you murmur, closing the door behind you.

“Think about what? You should at least have answered my texts”, he huffs, taking his jacket off and throwing it on the couch.

“About us”, you answer him, making his face soften a bit.

“What about us?” He asks, tilting his head in confusion.

“I think it's best if we break up”, you tell him at once, not really capable of dragging this conversation for too long, it was already so hard to say that sentence, you are about to cry at any minute.

“What are you on about?” He frowns, taking a step closer to you, but you take a step back.

“I'm trying to make the right decision for the both of us”, you sigh, “it's not like this is going to last anyways, you should go find someone who's on your level”

He scoffs, breathing a laugh. You expected any other reaction of him, but that one was not included.

“So that is what this is about”, he starts walking towards you and you start stepping back, until you bump into the kitchen table with nowhere else to run. Minho gets closer to you, looking down on you as he cages you between the table and his body.

“My kitten is insecure, is that it?” He asks, making you blush with the pet name. Minho never gets tired of making you flustered.

“I'm not”, you lie, avoiding his gaze.

“You know I don't like liars”, he tells you, “but I guess it's on me, if I did a better job as your boyfriend you wouldn't be feeling like this’, he pouts.

“You are a great boyfriend”, you murmur, trying not to look into his eyes, he's too close.

“Hm? I am?” He teases. “Then what's it, kitten, did you find someone more interesting than me?” He smiles, it was supposed to be a joke but the way your eyes widened with that simple suggestion makes him a bit mad. “Is that it?” He asks, narrowing his eyes to stare at you.

“No, there's no one like that”, you tell him.

“Then why did you hesitate?”, he raises his brows in questioning. You were just too shocked to answer right away but he doesn't let you tell him that. “Nice way to make me angry”, he scoffs. “I told you I can be a fucking gentleman so why do you always make me be the opposite of that?” He asks, taking a step closer to you and pressing his body against yours. His hands slide around your waist, caging you even more in his hold.

“Minho, I-”, you try to speak but he tsks, interrupting you.

“You need to learn a lesson”, he tells you, leaning closer and brushing his lips on your cheek, trailing it down to your jaw and then your neck. “You are mine”, he whispers before attaching his mouth to your neck, biting on your skin so hard you whine with the pain.

His hands slide down to your ass, squeezing it and pulling you up, to sit on the table. You were on your pjs already ready to sleep and that makes his access to your body easier, the thin fabric of your clothes can barely block the warmth coming from his body to yours.

Minho pops open his dress shirt, letting it slide and fall on the floor, watching your reaction to him. You bite on your bottom lip, staring at his muscular chest. He always looks so good, you feel like moaning just by looking at him.

“Min…”, you murmur, spreading your legs wide for him. It's not like you can resist him anyways.

“There you are”, he smiles, unbuckling his pants and letting it fall down at his feet, “my needy girl”

You avoid his eyes, pulling your shirt off to reveal your bare chest to him.

“You look so hot, all spread for me like this”, he smiles, getting on his knees. Minho pulls the waistband of your shorts and panties down, watching your glistening cunt in excitement. “Is this because of me or are you thinking about someone else?” He pushes, finally seeing you look at him, shaking your head frantically.

“It's all you, the only one I think about is you”, you confess, feeling your cheeks hot.

Minho grins, putting your legs over his shoulders and kissing your inner thighs. He licks your pussy slightly, just teasing you, making you put your hands on his head to force him against your core.

You can feel him smile, licking a long strip between your folds, attaching his lips to your clit next. Minho slides his hand between your legs, inserting two fingers inside of you, going in and out while he sucks your aching core, grunting and groaning with you pulling on his hair and he watches as you become undone in his mouth.

You can feel your orgasm coming, your toes curl immediately and you buck your hips against his mouth desperately, chasing your high and when the knot on your lower stomach finally explodes, you moan loudly, trembling in his embrace.

Minho stands up, cleaning around his mouth with his fingers and then licking on them.

“Still my favorite taste”, he smirks. You look stunning with your soft lips parted and hair disheveled, your chest rises and falls in a fast rhythm.

“This is going to be the last time I'll let you have your way”, you try looking the least bit believable while stating that, but that only makes him chuckle, stroking his cock a few times before he comes closer to you.

“And that only proves that you still haven't understood the situation you're in”, he tells you, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock while he waits for you to stop him but you don't, you want to feel him inside you so fucking much that it seems like you're going crazy. He pushes in, feeling your cunt squeezing him deliciously. “Fuck”, Minho murmurs. Your arms wrap around his waist, burying your nails in his skin, the snap of his hips against yours making you breathless.

He kisses you, feeling your sweet lips against his only adds to the building up of his orgasm, you look so pretty, you're perfect for him, your pussy is perfect for him, he won't let you end things with him that easily.

He pulls away from you for a moment, your mouth is parted and your eyes are glossy, he wants to hold you forever.

“I'm in love with you”, he confesses, thrusts faltering a bit. Your eyes grow wide to his sudden revelation. “You won't get rid of me that easily, kitten”, he groans, pressing his lips against yours one more time.

That's enough for you to cum, squirming and trembling in his embrace, while you watch him breathlessly thrust inside of you, eyes locked with yours.

“Do it inside”, you cry out, overstimulated after your second orgasm. Minho groans, bending towards you and kissing you, spilling his hot cum inside you while he bites on your lips.

He rests his head on your shoulder, breathless, trying to recompose himself.

“Don't ever talk about breaking up, ever again”, he pulls away to look at you, finding your eyes brimming with tears.

“But I saw that girl hitting on you the other day at the library”, you pout, making him sigh, cupping your face with both of his hands.

“Yes, she was hitting on me but I told her I have a really smart, hot girlfriend and that I was not interested”, he tells you, making you feel like the greatest idiot in the world.

“I'm sorry, I should have checked with you first”, you say, “I just love you so much, I'm scared you're going to dump me”, you confess, making him chuckle. His heart beating like crazy, it's the first time you openly say you love him.

“Y/n, you're stuck with me for a long time”, he gives you a peck on the lips, “I won't ever do anything to hurt you, okay?”

You nod, feeling warmth spreading all over your chest.

“Now, you better prepare yourself, ‘cause you need to receive some punishment for disappearing and making me worry”, he tells you, showing you that devilish smirk of his and before you can run to save yourself, Minho is picking you up and dragging you to your room.

[stanswifeirl]

NERD GETS APPRECIATED AND WHIPS IT OUT!

notes: cross-posted on my ao3!

contains: stanford pines x gn!reader

warning: masturbation, some self depreciating talk, him feeling guilty about thinking about you while he jerks it

Glass Shard Beach was rarely kind to him, and there were few normal scenarios he could recall throughout his life.

But now? Here he was, reduced to a stuttering, nervous wreck at the simple words of praise that seemed to flow from your mouth with ease, just like the process of diffusion with non-polar molecules (which, for your information, is pretty damn easy).

This type of reaction is expected, he thinks. How often did a guy find someone as attractive as you in a Fifth Dimensional Calculus class? Of course you would attract his attention!

He didn't like to audibly put down the work done at Backupsmore University, but it wasn't often he'd find someone so... smart. Maybe well-read is a better word? Someone who viewed his work not only with interest, but from a new perspective.

It was dangerous. The way your voice filled the space with intelligent dialogue made him wish it was the only sound he ever heard. The way your scent made him lose focus on his work whenever you leaned in to assist him on a project was simply intoxicating.

He could think up plenty of flowery phrases to describe what he's feeling... Actually expressing them was where his expertise fell short.

To put it simply, the guy was head over heels, and he didn't know how to handle it.

Inviting you to conduct research for class was probably the worst possible decision he could've made. It was absolutely thrilling to spend an afternoon with you, but the growing tightness in his pants only proved to sully his mood. He was sure you noticed. There was no way you didn't, even if you decided to carry on like you didn't know what you were doing to him. Surely, he couldn't be the only one feeling the chemistry!

He didn't know how you worked up the courage to call him sweet names, or pat his shoulder politely at the end of the night when he dropped you off in front of your apartment complex.

More than thankful for the dim lighting, he was only able to mumble out a hurried "Goodbye!" before slamming his foot down on the gas pedal, ready to get the hell outta there.

Ford drives, things pressed tightly together in shame, into an empty parking lot. He parks.

"Sweet Moses." He whines into his hands, patting down drops of sweat with the cuff of his shirt. "Goodness. I'm horrible. You don't deserve this. God, I can't believe I'm..."

His hand shoots for his pocket, pulling out a 38 sided die. To freak, or not to freak? That was the question. He squirms uncomfortably in his seat, closes his eyes, and takes a breath.

Ford mentally cringes it when he rolls it onto his dashboard, realizing how lame he must look as he uses his game dice to decide on if he should masturbate or not.

Mind running a mile a minute, the poor guy was always a bit too self aware of his actions, he realizes how lame he looks allowing a dice roll to tell him whether he's allowed to jerk off or not.

His face scrunches up in disgust as he unzips his pants, hand hesitantly hovering over his painfully erect dick.

"This is so embarrassing." He groans, feeling the length of his dick as it twitches under his touch.

Ford’s face flushes as he slowly moves his hand up and down, humiliated. His back straightens as his thumb brushes over the head, already leaking in precum.

He grits his teeth, feeling his face burning hot with shame as he strokes himself to the thought of you. As much as he admires your fiercely intelligent mind, he can't help but be captivated by how fucking hot you are.

Leaning back in his seat, his eyes flutter closed as he imagines hands brushing against his skin, comforting eyes looking up at him in that way that made him feel so, so safe. His hand moves faster as his breathing grows ragged.

"God, I'm such a loser." He whispers to himself, face growing hot as he realizes how pathetic he sounds.

Would you still look at him like that if you knew what was happening right now? Would you enjoy it? Maybe you'd entertain him. He'd like that.

Oh. Oh. That idea really sticks with him.

Your presence always seemed so commanding. So sure of yourself. Maybe, he hopes, you'd like taking charge of him when he was at his most vulnerable.

His back arches as he bucks into his hand, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to imagine it was you touching him. He should be allowed to indulge a little, shouldn't he? He doesn't know anymore.

It's almost this primal instinct that keep his thoughts out of logic mode, and far more acutely aware on the shockwaves of pleasure coursing throughout his body.

His chest feels tight as he imagines your hand slowly running up and down the base, teasing the head. Tears prick up in the corners of his eyes as picture after picture of you enter his mind.

He curses, stuttering your name as he twists his hand, quickening his pace.

"Thank you." He chokes out, face burning in humiliation as he feels his orgasm building. He didn't mean to think if you this way— the least he could do was thank the image of you.

His head slams back into his seat as he reaches his climax, body trembling as his hand and car floor is stained with long ropes of cum. The mind fog quickly clears, and makes quick work of grabbing tissues from the glove compartment to clean his mess up.

Ew. He'd have to clean properly in the morning.

[etheraltides]

BENEATH THE NOISE ᯓᡣ𐭩

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x College!Reader

Summarize: It’s hard to deal with deception when you’ve given your best. Luckily, Rafe knows how to get to you.

Warning(s): self depreciation, a hint of anxiety.

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love in my works <3

The grade wasn’t supposed to define you. That’s what everyone says: “It’s just a number, not a measure of your worth.” But as you sit staring at the email on your screen, the words blur, letters and numbers melting together until you can only feel one thing: failure.

The exam’s grade - the one you poured sleepless nights, early mornings, and everything in between into – sits there in stark black and white, unchangeable, final. You can’t look away, even as the panic bubbles into shame and then into the familiar, relentless self-criticism. Even as the salty tears begin to blurry your vision.

“How could I have been so stupid?” you think, teeth pressing into your lower lip. “All those hours… wasted. What’s the point if this is the result?” The thoughts spiral faster, slipping away from you. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this. Maybe I’m just fooling myself. Everyone else makes it look so easy.”

With a shaky breath, you shut your laptop and curl up on your bed, tugging the blanket over yourself as if it could shield you from the whirlwind in your mind, from the world and those mocking numbers. You feel your phone buzz, but you ignore it. Then it buzzes again, and again. It’s Rafe, no doubt, checking in, but you can’t bring yourself to reply. You’re not in the mood for talking and pretending to be fine, or worse – the pity you know will be laced into his voice if he finds out how badly you did.

But Rafe isn’t one to be easily put off. He leaves message after message, each one laced with growing concern and slight irritation.

“Hey, baby. Just checking in. How’d the test go?”

A minute later, “Everything okay? Call me when you get this. You’re working me, baby.”

Another text, his humor slipping through: “I’m gonna assume you’re just taking a nap and ignoring the world like you usually do when you’re stressed.”

And then, finally, a call. You glance at the screen, seeing his name flash, but even though part of you aches to hear his voice, you can’t bring yourself to answer. Instead, you turn off the phone entirely, sinking further into the blanket cocoon, feeling more alone and defeated with every minute that ticks by.

Rafe spends the better part of an hour trying to reach you. First, it’s gentle check-ins, then some light teasing, then a note of worry threading through his texts. When all his messages stay stuck on “delivered” with no response, he throws on a jacket, grabs his car keys, and heads out the door. He’s had enough off of it.

The drive is a blur, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he runs through what he’ll say to you when he gets there. He’d scold you for being a brat and making him worry when all you had to do was type some goddamn words on your phone. It wasn’t so hard. He didn’t even want to think about the possibility of something actually happening to you.

By the time he arrives at your place, it’s late enough that the lights outside are dim, casting long shadows across the driveway. He knocks once, twice in your bedroom’s door once your mom lets him in.

“She’s been there for hours.” Your mom sighs, looking up at the stairs as she puts your untouched plate of dinner in the refrigerator. “The results of her exam came in and well… You know how hard she can be with herself.”

Rafe rubs hand on his neck, he had completely forgot that the result would be today and he knew how hard you’ve been studying.

He knocks on your door once and when there’s no answer, he gently turns the knob, letting himself in.

It’s quiet inside, save for the faint sound of your breathing as he steps into your room. He sees you there, huddled under the blankets, your back to the door, your shoulders slightly shaking. His heart clenches in pain and worry as you look so small hiding in the many blankets. Wordlessly, Rafe slips off his shoes, walking over to your bed. Without a word, he lifts the edge of the blanket and slides in beside you, his warmth immediately seeping through the layers of fabric that separate you.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, letting his presence speak for itself. Slowly, he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his chest. You stiffen at first, your pride fighting the comfort he’s offering, but then the dam breaks, and you lean into him, hiding your face in his shoulder.

He strokes your hair gently, his voice a soft murmur. “I’m here. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” He presses a light kiss to the top of your head, letting the silence settle for a few moments longer before he speaks again.

“Want me to talk to your professor?” he murmurs, a playful edge creeping into his tone. “Because I could pay a visit, you know… straighten him out, remind him that no one messes with my girl.” He squeezes you a little tighter. “Just say the word.”

You can’t help the small, broken laugh that escapes you, muffled by his shirt. You know he’s kidding – or at least, half-kidding – but there’s a part of you that believes he might actually show up at your professor’s office if you asked him to. That thought alone lightens the weight on your chest, even if just a little.

“You don’t need to go after my professor, Rafe,” you mumble, a hint of sarcasm breaking through the sadness. “Even though… I wouldn’t mind seeing the look on his face if you did, it wasn’t his fault.”

Rafe chuckles softly, squeezing your shoulder. “If you change your mind, I’ve got my car gassed up and ready.”

The laugh fades, and you fall silent again, the weight of the failure still pressing down on you. After a few moments, you pull back slightly, looking up at him. “Rafe… what if I’m just not good enough? What if I’ve been trying so hard for nothing?”

You wrap your arms around his torso, fingers absently tracing random shapes on his t-shirt as the words left your trembling lips. “Maybe I should just quit it. Spare myself all the deception.”

He keeps his hold on you, his voice staying low and gentle. “Baby, you’re one of the smartest people I know. This grade? It doesn’t change that. Not even a little.”

You start to protest, but he shushes you, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “No, I’m serious. You’re so hard on yourself, and I get it. But you need to remember that one test doesn’t undo everything you are, everything you’ve done. It’s just one small thing in a million great things about you.”

The words come out softly and so certain, almost like a confession, and you see the shift in his expression as he meets your gaze. He lifts a hand, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes soft and steady. “Then you try again, and again, if you have to. But you’re anything but ‘not good enough.’ You’re brilliant, and hard-working, and stubborn as hell. I’ve seen you tackle way harder stuff than this.”

You shake your head, unable to accept the kindness in his voice. “But I… I feel so dumb, Rafe. Like all this effort is just… wasted. Like I’m not cut out for this.”

Rafe’s expression softens even more, and he tilts your chin up, making sure you’re looking into his eyes. “Baby, listen to me. One test, one mistake – none of that changes who you are or what you’re capable of. You’re allowed to be human, to mess up sometimes. It doesn’t make you any less amazing, okay?”

His words linger, breaking down the wall you’ve built around your pride and pain. For the first time since you got the grade, you start to believe that maybe, just maybe, he’s right. You were being too harsh in yourself.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you place a kiss to his cheek.

“Always,” he replies, giving you a small, reassuring smile. “Now, let’s stay here as long as you need, but when you’re ready, we’ll go grab some terrible takeout, or watch that show you like. Whatever you want. But for now… just let me hold you.”

You nod, settling against him, the rise and fall of his chest calming the storm in your mind. And as you lie there, surrounded by his warmth and steady heartbeat, the self-criticism starts to soften, the harsh thoughts fading, leaving only the quiet reassurance that you’ll be okay.

As you lie curled up against him, letting his warmth seep into you, Rafe’s hand gently runs along your back in soothing circles. You can feel the steady beat of his heart, grounding you, pulling you away from the spiral of self-doubt. After a long silence, you finally lift your head, your face inches from his as you meet his gaze. There’s no judgment in his eyes, just quiet understanding, and something even softer.

Slowly, he reaches up, brushing a thumb across your cheek, and you feel yourself lean into his touch. His eyes flicker down to your lips, and after a beat, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s soft, gentle, like he’s pouring all his reassurance into you without a single word. His fingers slip to the back of your neck, his hold gentle but certain, as if anchoring you to the moment, grounding you in his presence and pulling you away from the loud thoughts in your mind.

He pulls back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, and you feel his breath, warm and steady. “I’m here,” he whispers, his voice barely more than a murmur. “No grade, no test can change that. You’re more than enough, and I’m not going anywhere.” His thumb grazes your cheek again, his eyes filled with warmth and conviction, and in that moment, the weight on your heart feels a little lighter, the storm in your mind a little quieter.

[synvil]

types of bad days // spencer reid

a/n : so I’ve been sick, and not feeling great.. just thinking about how understanding and wholesome our dorky genius would be.. ♡(。-ω-)

this is literally many different real-life scenarios I’ve had and how I imagine Spencer comforting you. or at least how my bf comforted me.

synopsis : you’ve been having a string of stressful days.. let’s see how spencer takes care of you.

warnings : stress, depression, vulgar usage of words, yelling, crying, sadness / angst, mentions of vomiting, insecurities, self-hate, self-depreciation, sickness, sick feeling, mentions of self-harm, mentions of emergency room n hospitals, etc.

little ooc! Spencer and reader is NON-BAU. kinda long!

HEARING you cough into the screen as you’re doing a meeting, Spencer frowns as you weakly murmur an apology and mute yourself in the call, your throat letting out rougher and drier coughs.

The man is quick on his feet and places a glass of water on the desk for you, much to your gratitude.

“I-I’m really sorry, one second-“

Almost immediately after, you had muted and shut off your camera, already hearing your supervisor dismiss you. “That’s alright. Take your time, or perhaps we can move on to another presenter.”

You can feel the embarrassment rise in your self-consciousness, continuing to cough as you try to unmute again. “No- it’s-“

Unable the finish the sentence, your throat unwillingly forced another cough out of you. “I’m sorry..-“

“It’s alright. We’ll come back to you another time. Miss Mera?”

Slumping your shoulders in defeat and major embarrassment, you keep the camera off for a majority of the time and let out a heavy sigh, a few tiny coughs escaping you as you do. Hiding your face in your hands, you shut your eyes tightly and try to control your breathing, hoping it would alleviate some of the coughing but it only pained you more.

Coughs drops were useless, your body practically immune to the flavorful cough candy, and many medicines didn’t quite help fully either.

“How.. embarrassing..”

Although you shouldn’t be ashamed to be sick, as many people go through this themselves, you couldn’t help but pity yourself.

Spencer watches your miserable expression and frowns gently, handing you a glass of water, along with some smaller pills.

“Hey, darling.. I saw what happened.. I’m sorry.” The tall genius crouches down beside your desk and whispers ever so softly, gently reaching for your hands that held your face. “How are you feeling?..”

“Embarrassed.” You laugh bitterly, turning away from his eyes as you turn to the water and grab the glass, bringing it to your lips.

Spencer’s eyes sadden at your words as he slides the pills closer to you. “Try these. I’ve been doing some research and hopefully these ones will be better. They’re newer in the medicine world but there’s already been some records of it’s improvement in reducing cough and itching of the throat and they actually include-“

“I’ll give it a try, honey..” you mutter, part of you feeling bad for interrupting but unable to apologize, being to distracted with your cough that’s coming out once again.

Sending an understanding smile, Spencer helps you open the pills and quickly goes to refill your water.

He sets the glass down, just as you pop the pills in your mouth. “I made sure to get the honey-lemon flavor for you, darling. That should also help you.” Spencer cups your cheek after you finish your glass of water and you look at him with a solemn but appreciative look. “..thank you..”

“Of course. I’m here for you.”

Spencer leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead before pulling away. “Alright. I’ll leave you to your meeting and I’ll get some warm tea for you. Just text or call for me if you need me, okay?”

“I will.. thank you.”

For the third day in a row, you sink yourself over the toilet and retch, feeling your eyes stinging and your throat burning with the acid inside of you.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you clutch your stomach, the immense pain filling every part of your body.

Just as you feel another force of explosive pressure waiting to be vomited, you hear the sound of a door and a familiar voice call out for you. “Honey? I’m home. You here?”

The salivating of your mouth sends you a signal as you gag and hurl into the toilet once again, a weak sob mixing in the noise.

At the sound, Spencer furrows his brows as he makes his way down the hall of your apartment and into the bathroom, seeing it ajar. You were home alone so you didn’t bother to close it. “Baby?”

Knocking gently, Spencer cautiously opens the door, before his eyes widen at your figure. “[Name]!”

You cry out in shame as you pant heavily, the smell enough to make you want to vomit once more but you swallow hard. “S-Spence—“

“Hold on one second, please-“ Spencer runs out into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water before making it back to your side in seconds, kneeling down and handing you the water. He pulls back your hair and immediately rubs your back soothingly. “Sweetie..”

You can’t help the choked sobs escaping you as you cry loudly, using your hands to wipe your eyes uselessly. “S-Spencer.. it hurts-“

Tears brim his eyes as he pulls you close, not caring for the smell. He’s smelled worse so it didn’t bother him. “I’m so sorry.. I’m sorry..”

He held you tightly, petting your hair and comforting you, guiding the bottle of water to your lips. “Drink some, baby.. it’ll help..” his whispers fill your ears through your cries as you weakly take a sip of the water, breathing heavily and wiping your lips.

“I-I’m sorry..”

“No,” he quickly interjects, cupping your cheeks ever so softly. “You don’t need to apologize at all, my love.. this isn’t your fault.. you can’t control this.. and I’m so sorry I haven’t been here to help but I will be; right now.” You look up at him with a sad smile and go up to hold his hand gently. “You promise..?” Your voice so hoarse, it barely was above a whisper.

He sends a small smile in return, nodding genuinely as he presses a kiss to your forehead. Spencer slowly pulls away and stands you up gently. “Come on, honey.”

“Get into bed, okay? I’ll make some nice honey tea for you, get some more water and I actually picked up some medicine for you before I got home.”

“Really?..”

“Of course baby. And I know you don’t like the grape flavored, so i grabbed strawberry. Sound good?”

You manage a weak smile as Spencer helps you under the covers and tucks you in. “Perfect..”

IT was the time of the month, where you and Spencer dedicate a day of the month to just yourselves, whether it’s at home together and away from work, or preparing a whole day of date ideas for you two, you both thought this was a great idea to just relieve from work and strengthen your relationship.

Unfortunately, as excited as you were that this was one of the days that you’d be going out, you wished you could stay indoors, in the comfort of your bed.

Your date was in an hour and you still couldn’t find anything at least decent enough to wear, eyes watering every time you held another piece of clothing to your body in front of your mirror.

“Pretty.. but it shows my arms..”

Tossing that blouse aside, you grab a pair of jeans to your legs but frown. “Too tight.. it’ll show the size of my thighs..”

You found a beautiful sundress and held it to your body and try to smile in the reflection. “Maybe this..?”

Not wanting to give up hope, you strip down to replace your former outfit with the dress and secured it nicely on your form.

But when you turn around, you almost feel yourself ready to burst into tears. The dress was beautiful.. but you just couldn’t feel beautiful in it.

You drop to your knees and sigh heavily, wiping your tears away as you look at yourself. No matter what, you just felt ugly inside and out.

“Darling?”

The familiar voice of Spencer’s rings out as he enters your shared home, a smile lacing his lips as he clutches a bouquet in his arms. “Honey, are you almost ready?— Hun?—“

Spencer pushes the door to your bedroom open and widens his eyes to see you kneeling, clutching the fabric of your sundress as tears stream down your cheeks. You couldn’t even look up at him, forcing your eyes downward as you silently wept.

“My love, what’s wrong, what’s going on?” He voices his concerns as he kneels in front of you, wrapping his arms around your form immediately.

“I-i’m so ugly-“ You choke back a sob as you force your eyes to look at the sundress again before tossing it aside and running a hand through your hair. “I can’t even look in the mirror without feeling disgusted..”

“Angel..” Spencer trails off as his hands run up and down your back in a comforting manner. “My love, i don’t think that at all.. you’re beautiful inside and out.. i think you look stunning in anything.” He says sweetly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I love every inch of you, exactly as you are, because to me, you are gorgeous, beautiful, a magnificent piece of art.” You can’t help but manage a small chuckle at Spencer’s words as you sniffle and wipe your tears with your palms. “I don’t know..”

Spencer just smiles when he notices your tiny curve of your lips and gently helps you up. “Here, why don’t we stay in tonight and we can watch your favorite show? I’ll order your favorite food and we can relax for tonight and i’ll remind you all the things i love about you; and it’s endless.” Spencer grins and you manage a bigger smile and hold his hand tightly.

“Okay..”

YOU weren’t sure how long you could take it anymore. Everyday it was always something new, yet something so small, almost insignificant. But enough to make you want to go into insanity.

Each minute that you try to collect yourself, taking deep breaths to relax, you could feel your head spinning and your migraines getting worse.

The voices in your head wouldn’t stop; screaming at you from inside.

Judging.

Insulting.

Mocking.

No matter how hard you clutch your hair, nearly ripping it out, the pain didn’t stop.

No matter how much it hurt to keep screaming, how dry your throat became and how swollen your eyes looked from crying, it never stopped.

Not even when the thoughts became violent.. the need to just do something, anything, just to make it stop for a second.

“I’m here.”

You gasp. As if time had stopped, you whirl your head up and make eye contact with Spencer, who himself has watery eyes.

However, all you felt was the warmth of his hold around you, embracing you in the tightest hug possible, afraid to let you go. what would happen if he did.

“Spence— I—“

“Don’t.. you don’t have to explain, [Name].” His voice is only just above a whisper, one hand on the back of your head and the other around your waist. “I’m here now.”

Your arms are between you two, pressed against his chest and his words and soft touch is enough to bring the tears falling again, as you shut your eyes tightly.

“Let it out.. i’m here.. if you want to explain.. i’ll listen.. if not, then just know..” His grip tightens on you as you cry. “I will always be here for you. always.”

“I love you, [Name].”

a/n : i definitely had a lot more in mind when i started but i might make a multiple parter just because it’s been a while and im still going through some stuff :’)

synvil™️ do not copy my work!

unedited. i literally went to drafts and just finished this last part and posted.

[n3xii]

What Are People's First Impression of You?

this post is aimed at giving you a insight at what other people's first impression of you are. To choose your pile, allow yourself to be drawn to the perfume that feels most prominent to you.

I am selling personal readings at the moment, I offer customized questions, aura readings and a few other interesting topics! to book a reading, look here

PERFUME ONE

other peoples impression of you: nine of pentacles, three of wands, three of cups

First of all, the nine of pentacles corresponds to venus in Taurus. This is the card of self sufficiency, pampering and rewarding yourself for hardwork. this card also signifies a person who has a keen sense of fashion. This tells me that people's first impression of you is that youre very well dressed, attractive and polished. you give poeple the impression that you care about how you look but not because you want to impress others, but because you enjoy pampering yourself and feeling beautiful. People get the sense that you are very self sufficent, that you work hard for your own success and that you're willing to treat yourself to a new bag, some new wardrobe or some new makeup when you have achieved something. The three of wands expands on this by saying that you give the impression that you are someone who has a vision for their future, you give people the sense that you are on a mission and that you are out to achieve something. the three of wands is someone who has a clear path ahead of them, they're taking action and setting their own goals into action. I feel like people get the impression that you're very "self made" that you havent had to rely on anyones help or support to set your own goals into action. you're someone who is very motivated and willing to take the lead even if there is no one there to validate your actions. The three of cups tells me that people get the impression that you are very social and lively, perhaps you give people the sense that you have lots of friends and that you like to go out alot. The three of cups is a lovely card, and honestly im hearing "a girls girl" which tells me that you give people the impression of sisterhood and safety.

PERFUME TWO

cards: three of swords reversed, two of swords, and ace of cups

the three of swords reversed tells me that peoples first impression of you is that you have healed and recovered from something truamtic and emotionally overwhelming. the three of swords reversed is a card of healing and rebuilding yourself, I feel like people get the sense that you are trying to repair yourself at the moment and that you are recovering from a loss or extreme diaspointment. The two of swords tells me that people may receive this impression that you're at a cross roads, that you're trying to make a decision from a place of trusting yourself and not relying on other people's input, people get the sense that you're trying to internally find clairty about your situation in life at the moment. Additionally, the ace of cups is a beautiful card to get about other people's first impressions of you. This is of a blessing or a miracle, I feel like some people get the impression that you have come into their lifes at the right time and at the perfect moment, that you bring people a renewed sense of hope. I feel like people get the sense that you're someone who brings a fresh, loving and bright energy into peoples lifes.

PERFUME THREE

cards: three of pentacles, five of cups, and page of cups

Ok, the three of pentacles is a card of skills, teamwork and communication. I feel like you're the type of person eveyrone wants to have on their team, a person other people look forward to working with because you bring alot of knowledge to the table, additionally, you bring a dynamic and flexible attitude that makes you very easy to talk to and ask questions to. however the five of cups makes me think that people get the impression that you're very self depreciating, I think other people see how valuable and helpful you are but you only see what makes you imperfect. I dont know why but I just strongly get the impression that people feel that you are way too hard on yourself. The page of cups here tells me that people perhaps also get the impression that you're younger than you are, or that you are extremely open minded. Your bring a "childlike" perspectives to certain things, and I feel like you make people laugh with how you react or interact with others.

[hiraeth-sonder]

Wrong Answer

Dr. Ratio x Reader - University AU

short drabble because eww studying for finance

//

"This doesn't make sense, where did they even get $10,050,000 from?"

"You're asking me as if I would know?"

Veritas squints over his glasses, the bright screen of his device reflecting in his eyes as he scowls at the accursed question. Who would've thought a simple straight-line depreciation question would have caused so much woe?

"Why didn't they just add the $60,000 to the $12 million? And if you look here, the answer and the incorrect combined total is $12,060,000."

"I knooow. Can't we just move on to the next question? The application is the same isn't it?"

Hunched over your desk in the cramped little dorm room you call a temporary home, he doesn't even spare you a glance at your urge.

"That isn't the point, they can't simply just leave what is clearly an incorrect answer that carries on even to the next question."

It is at this point that you wished that you were either smarter than your current intellect that would deem you requiring your boyfriend's help in what is supposedly an 'introductory' unit, or that you had asked someone else to accompany you in your suffering.

As you internally bemoan the ridiculousness of the situation and externally only sigh, your eyes lazily drift to Veritas, who is now very seriously typing up something on his device. And upon a closer look, you recognise exactly who he's directing what appears to be a very strongly worded email to.

"Are you emailing the website admins?"

"Yes, as I've said, leaving incorrect solutions to such questions only confuses people like you."

"Oh my god, you don't even take this unit!"

[monzabee]

sunday blues – ms47 (+18)

masterlist || part 1 || part 2 ||

Summary: The one where Mick helps you the best way he knows when you’re feeling insecure.

Pairing: mick schumacher x vettel!reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: angst, crying, cursing, fluff, insecurities and self-depreciating thoughts, smut, unprotected sex (wrap your willy, don’t be silly!), google translate german, praise words, minors dni!!

Request: “Hello! I am so obsessed with your recent fic with Mick and Seb's daughter, so I was wondering if you could write something where she is feeling very insecure and stressed and he just kind of helps her through her feelings, maybe something smutty to show her how much he lovers her body or something?👀”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! this request has been sitting in my inbox for longer than i’d like to admit, but i’m so happy i got it done! it’s been a while since i wrote smut so if it doesn’t make sense i sincerely apologise, but as always thank you to the anon for the request and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Mick didn’t expect to find you the way he did when he was leaving your flat to take Angie on her morning walk, he really didn’t – because when he was leaving this morning, after having kissed you goodbye while you were still asleep, everything seemed fine. And although he is not the one to stress in these type of situations, his mind automatically goes to the worst possible scenario when he comes home to you crying on your couch in your bathrobe. So he does the expected, he asks whether you hurt yourself – the answer is no. Did something happen to anyone from your family? Nu-uh. Is it social media related? Nope. Did someone physically did something to you? No Mick, you locked the door before you left the house.

Every possible question that comes to his mind being met with a negative answer from you has him perplexed to say the very least, so he takes a seat next to you and offers what he’s sure will put you in a better mood; cuddles. With you in his arms and Angie on your lap, you do feel better, but he makes sure to ask any other possible option that comes to his mind.

“Did you try to bake cookies again?” His voice wanders off, his fingers running through the ends of your braid.

You lightly punch his arm, and then return your attention back to petting Angie as you pout and mumble out, “My cookies were not burnt, they were lightly toasted.”

He lets out a sigh, and after pressing numerous kisses to your hair to coax you, he gently raises your chin up for you to meet his eyes. “I give up, please just tell me what’s bothering you, hase.”

There’s a fresh wave of tears accumulating in your eyes, threatening to fall down your cheeks, and it absolutely makes his heart clench. You lightly push yourself out of his arms, careful not to disturb the dog sprawled on both of you guys’ lap, “Nothing, you’ll think it’s stupid.”

“No I won’t,” he promises, fighting you in order to gather you back into his arms, but you’re not above fighting dirty – meaning using your nails to keep him away. “Are–” He takes a moment to pause and clear his throat, “Are you on your period?”

Mick watches as your lips part and a sound of indignation break free from the back of your throat. Without bothering Angie too much, you turn in your place to swat at his chest as you hiss, “You are an ass, Mick.”

“Bu– I didn’t mean –” He scrambles to get out, but you’re already walking towards your bathroom, and all he can do is watch you walk away from him. This time, his eyes meet Angie’s, and he can swear his dog is giving him the biggest side-eye known to mankind, but he can only breath out a, “I messed that one up big time, didn’t I?”

Angie gets up from his lap to walk towards the bedroom. Mick soon follows closely behind towards the bathroom.

You can hear his knocks and a faint Can I come in?, through the closed bathroom door, but as you try to tame the mess that is your hair, you call out to him, “No!” And because Mick is a gentleman, and arguably the best boyfriend in the universe, he actually waits outside the bathroom. Eventually, though, you feel bad making him wait outside by the door and with a final glance in the mirror, you stomp a few steps and push the bathroom door open, revealing Mick's concerned face.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, but before he can continue with the rest of his sentence, you cut him off with yet another swat of your hand to his chest and another fresh wave of tears.

“I am not, and I repeat – not, on my period.” With a final hit to his chest, you walk back to your previous spot in front of the sink and try to brush the knots in your hair.

Wincing at the way you’re aggressively dragging the brush through your hair, Mick walks towards you to stand behind you at the sink and gently takes the brush out of your hand. “Here, let me do it.” And though you don’t want to admit, he’s gentle yet successful as he brushes your hair out for you. With his eyes occasionally drifting to watch you over the bathroom mirror, he dutifully manages to finish brushing your hair, and soon after you are back in his arms as he wraps them around your middle. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s been bothering you?”

You shake your head with another sniffle, “It’s not important.”

“Hase, please,” he practically begs as his attention is drawn to your puffy eyes, “it is important if you’re still crying over it.”

With a guilty look on your face and an apprehensive voice that absolutely breaks his heart, you mumble, “You really want to know?” This time it is you who is meeting his eyes through the mirror to see him nod sheepishly, and as you occupy yourself with his fingers you find yourself mumbling again, “My, uh, my boobs are too small.”

“Your what, is what?” Mick stammers in surprise, blinking at the unexpected confession. His expression shifts from confusion to realization, and his fingers tangle themselves with yours. “Hase, are you serious?”

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, embarrassed by your own admission. “Yes, and don’t call me that.”

“What?” With more confusion he stammers out, “I– I thought you liked it, it’s cute.”

He watches you let out a soft whimper, and then throw your head back against his chest in frustration. After sniffling and, yet, another fresh wave of tears, which Mick quickly wipes away as he keeps his gaze locked to yours, “I’m not supposed to be cute.”

“Oh?” he asks, “And what are you supposed to be, then?”

“I don’t know!” The sudden sob breaking out from the back of your throat has his eyes widening in surprise, and also concern – but for the first time that morning, you seem to be talking about what’s been wrong, so he has no intention to interrupt you. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be anymore! I can’t be too perfect or too flawed, too confident or too uncertain; people have opinions and they are not afraid to voice them, so I end up feeling not enough for the majority of time.” Mick’s hold tightens around as you let out a particularly violent sob, “And my boyfriend has bigger boobs than me!”

Mick's eyes widen in both surprise and disbelief as your last sentence tumbles out, and for a moment, there's a pause in the air as he processes your words. “So you’re sad, because you think your boobs are not big enough?”

“Well yeah,” you mumble, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious under his gaze. “I told you you’d think it’s stupid.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Mick announces, “everybody gets insecure sometimes; what I don’t understand is why on earth you would compare yourself like that.” Mick's fingers gently wipe away a tear from your cheek, and he turns you towards himself to lift your chin up, “You’re perfect the way you are, hase.”

You let out a shaky breath, his words slowly starting to sink in. “I just don’t want to feel like this all the time.”

“I know, darling,” he coos and then offers you a gentle smile, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your cheek. “You’re perfect, you hear me? My perfect girl, hm?” He ignores a whiny objection in the form of you dragging out his name. “The kindest,” he leans in towards you, “and the smartest,” then presses his lips against your forehead, “the most beautiful girl inside and out.”

“Micki,” his names comes off from your lips in a whispery sigh, your head turning sideways as his nose nudges your jaw. His warm breath tickles your skin as he continues to nuzzle against your jaw, his lips brushing over your skin in gentle, feather-light kisses. His lips stretch when you let out a soft giggle, “It tickles.”

Mick's lips curve into a playful smile against your jaw, and he continues to pepper your skin with those feather-light kisses, this time intentionally causing a cascade of giggles from you. His touch is tender, his affection evident in each sweet gesture.

“It does, doesn't it?” he murmurs, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine as he moves his kisses to your cheek.

You squirm slightly in his embrace, the ticklish sensation mixed with delight. “Baby, stop,” you manage to say between giggles, even as your fingers find their way to his sides, retaliating with a gentle poke.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” With a final loving peck to your cheek, Mick relents and holds you closer to himself as your giggles slowly subside. As your giggles subside, Mick tilts his head slightly to meet your gaze. His eyes, still filled with tenderness, lock onto yours, and he brushes a few strands of hair away from your face. “Feeling better?” he asks softly.

After taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself, you give him a tight lipped smile. “I’ll be fine, Micki, I promise.” Ignoring the look he gives you, which tells you that he doesn’t believe a word you say, you reach up to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for being here, you know?”

“Of course, hase,” he mumbles in thought, the material of your robe feeling soft under his touch as he lets the cogs turn in his head. With his eyebrows furrowing, he grabs you by the waist and raises you up to sit you on the bathroom counter. “On the second hand, I think I need to show you just how much I appreciate you, hm?” Ignoring yet another objecting sound from your lips, he places a kiss on the juncture of where your jaw meets your neck, and moves his kisses down until he’s met with your robe again. With a playful glint in his eyes, he lets his fingers work the knot of your robe’s belt.

His eyes widen as his brain registers the fact that you are not wearing anything underneath the robe, and you reply to his flabbergasted look with an innocent shrug of your shoulders as you give him the excuse, “I was about to take a shower before I… well, had a moment.”

You watch as a string of expletives leave his lips, and he needs to take a moment to recover as he mumbles, “Guter Gott.” Though, as your breathy giggles bring him back to the present, he pushes your robe off your shoulders in a quick move, and you realise there is a much darker look in his eyes when your eyes meet again, “And you think my girls are not enough.”

Before you can answer, his hands are quick to grab your breasts as he gives them a firm squeeze, causing you to forget whatever clever comeback you had and instead let out a shallow exhale. “They’re small,” you complain, but he is quick to shut you down by pinching your left nipple between his two fingers – not enough to make it actually hurt, but enough to shock you into shutting up and letting out a small yelp instead.

“Stop talking,” the sharper undertone of his voice has you biting the corner of your bottom lip in anticipation, but his eyes soften as he looks at the bewildered look on your face. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he fixes you with his stare as his hands go back to gently handling your breasts, “I’m going to fuck you in front of this mirror so that you can see just how beautiful you are, and you’re not going to say a word unless it’s a moan or telling me to stop.”

With a slacked jaw you stare at your boyfriend, your sweet Mick who is soft and treats you as if you’re a china doll most of the time. But now, he looks at you with a stern look in his eyes, and the fact that they are a few shades darker than their normally baby-blue colour tells you that he means business. “Can you kiss me first?” Your voice is breathy, because everything about Mick makes it harder to breath harder, and the corner of his mouth rise in a small smirk as his brain registers the desperation in your voice. “Please.”

“How can I not when my pretty girl is being so well-mannered?” He watches as you straighten up in your place, which causes you to come closer to his face and he lets out a low chuckle. “Patience, baby,” he moves his hands to cup your face and his thumbs gently caress the tops your cheeks. He teases you by dipping his head until his lips are touching yours, and he lets out another chuckle when you chase his lips when he slightly pulls away. But deciding to alleviate you from your pain, he finally presses his lips against yours – though his kiss is nothing like his soft touch from mere moments ago.

His tongue explores your mouth as if he hasn’t kissed you a million times before, but his kiss is as bruising as they come. He draws all kinds of noises from you, with a single kiss, and it would be concerning how much you lose yourself in him if it wasn’t too good. You manage to nip at his lower lip just as he is starting to pull away.

“Gut sein,” he mumbles, the small (but accomplished) smile on your lips bringing a smile to his own. “Now, what do you say to me for the kiss, hm?”

Be good, he says – you can totally do that. His lips move down to your jaw to then your neck, and your lips form a perfect ‘O’ when he starts nipping and sucking on your skin. “Thank you for the kiss, Micki,” you mumble breathily, your hands grabbing his forearms to move his hands from your face back onto your breasts. He lets an appreciative hum as his hands go back to fondling the skin under his hands, which elicits a louder moan from your lips, “Oh, that feels good.”

Mick’s reply comes in the form of another hum as he keeps on sucking hickeys, which will undoubtedly make you complain to him tomorrow, but the way he handles you is enough to convince you not to care. After he’s satisfied with handiwork; he pulls back from your neck to only dip his head more to take one of your nipples to his mouth while his hand is busy groping the other breast, causing you to weave your fingers through his hair to press him closer to your chest. His ministrations, combined with his intention of marking up your chest as he did your neck has you ending up as a whimpering mess on the bathroom counter, calling out Mick’s name to do something more in hopes of him keeping his promise. His voice is husky as he asks, “Now do you believe me?”

Your hands are on him the second he pulls away and his breathing is a mess while you scramble to get off his shirt; your hands gliding across his chest down to the start of his running shorts he has from his morning run, and he has to restrain himself from letting out a groan as you sit in front of him with wide eyes and lips that are pink from all the biting. You voice is also husky as you answer his question with one of your own, “Are you going to fuck me now, liebste?”

He smiles sweetly at your attempt of trying to take back the reigns, and he tries to appear in though as he slowly pulls you off the counter. “In a second, I have to check something first.” He quickly turns you around to face the mirror, where you watch his hand’s movements as it slides from your waist down to the front of your sleeping shorts. The gasp that leaves from between your lips causes his sweet smile to morph into something more mischievous, and you catch his smirk on the mirror in front of you as he lets his fingers feel the wetness between your legs. “You’re soaked, hase, I think you’re more than ready.”

“Yes, please,” your voice comes off in a whimper as you slip your hand behind you to palm the bulge that presses onto your back through the material of his shorts that hang lower on his hips. You let out another moan when his fingers make their way towards your clit, which is his way of reminding you of who’s in charge – and it’s most definitely not you given the fact that you almost topple over the counter when he presses his fingers with slightly more pressure. You hear him let out a low groan when you move your hand slightly, but his fingers continue their movements which causes you to let out small mews of pleasure.

After he pulls his fingers out of your short, and consequently makes a show of licking them clean that leaves you quite literally panting with need. Smirking at your reaction, he taps the outside of your upper thigh, “Spread your legs, baby, watch me on the mirror, hm?” He makes sure to place your hands on the countertop after he’s done taking of the remainder of your clothing and underwear. A part of you is sure he’s secretly enjoying the attention and how good you’re being as you silently watch him ges out of his own shorts and underwear. “You ready?”

“Mhm-hm,” you mumble as you nod quickly and gather your hair on one of your shoulders.

Mick presses his lips on your bare shoulder as he grabs your waist with one of his hands, grabs the base of his cock with his free hand and guides it between your legs – a gasp leaves your lips as the tip of his cock presses into you. He’s slow as he guides the rest of his cock into your pussy, and you drag out his name under your breath. “So good,” he murmurs as his hand joins his other one on your hip, and he tries to keep his hips still to give you an opportunity to get used to it, “always feel so good for me.”

Your hands grab the marble tighter as the stretch has you wanting to just press your hips backwards against his, “Move, Micki, please.”

He meets your eyes through the mirror and chuckles lowly, “Patience, baby,” he repeats his words from before – but he obliges you nonetheless, as he pushes in all the way in a move that knocks all the breath out of your lungs. He is slow as he starts moving his hips in a steady rhythm. But soon he picks up the rhythm, and every snap of his hips to yours has you becoming more and more of a whimpering mess. His eyes capture your blush that is painting your cheeks and he lets his eyes wander lower where it has started to move towards your chest, which he’s more than welcome to adore the view of your breasts moving with every move his hips makes.

The moans that rip from the back of your throat become louder, stronger and more demanding as Mick decides to thrust himself deeper into you – a sweet reminder that you’ll definitely be feeling him for the rest of the day and all of tomorrow. You can’t seem to form sentences with words other than more, please and various forms of his name, but he grants you what you want when one of your hands leave the counter to pull him in for a kiss. It’s messy and rushed, but it leaves you lightheaded as you find yourself begging for more when he pulls away. “No, no, I want more,” a high-pitched whine begs, and you drag out the next word, “please.”

Mick lowers his head enough for his lips to be level with your ear. “Look into the mirror, hase,” his breath hits your skin, and he rewards you with a sweet smile, “you see what I see?”

“I don’t see you giving me another kiss,” you grumble, but quickly stop rebutting when his hips deliver a rather sharp push, “fuck, that feels good.”  

“Look how beautiful you look,” he pants, his laboured breath hitting your ear, “the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” You’re sure your skin will be bruised from the way his fingers grabs onto your hips – not that it would look out of place with other parts of your body he’s already marked you on. “And you say you’re not enough, God, hase.”

Your hand snakes its way from his neck towards his hair as your fingers thread through his locks. “I need more, Micki, please.”

But unfortunately for you, Mick has every intention of  ignoring your pleas. “Do you know why I call you hase?” Between the haze of him fucking you into the counter and his breathy words, you manage to give him a weak shake of your head. “It’s because I love seeing your tits when you’re bouncing on my cock.” To accentuate his point, he holds your hips in place as he delivers sharper thrusts.

“I thought it was because of the way I scrunch my nose,” you gasp while pulling at his hair. Though it is not exactly the part he chooses to focus on – instead, he watches as your already blushed cheeks become a deeper shade. Another gasp, this time laced with a louder moan, is ripped from you when he continues the sharper movement of his hips, “I– Mick, right there!”

“Shh, I got you,” he soothes your moans as he stills the movement of his hips for a minute to hike your left leg to rest it on the counter and then grabs the hand you have raised up to do the same, “hang on for me, okay?” He watches as you give him a tentative look through the mirror as he wraps his arm across your middle to reach for your clit as he harshly pushes himself back into you.

Combined with his thumb applying pressure onto your clit and the way he’s filling you up once again causes you to moan his name louder than before. “I’m not going to last,” the whiny words leave your lips before you can stop them, and he gives you a smirk as his fingers quicken their pace, “fuck, Micki, just like that.”

Lost in the pleasure building up in your lower stomach, you don’t realise his free hand moving up to cup your breast until he’s pinching your nipple between his fingers to draw out another moan from your lips, which sounds more like a scream because of all the please you’re feeling. “Do you see how beautiful you are? Look at yourself, baby.”

“Please Mick,” you let out a moan meddled with a sob as you watch your reflection in the mirror – the way your body is shaking with every movement of his hips and the way his front is pressed into your back, the disheveled look of your sweaty hair, and the way your wide eyes accompany your blushed cheeks, “make me come, please, I’m so close.” Your words must’ve acted as a source of motivation, since he quickens the pace of his hips and presses his thumb more as he continues the steady movements, which has you chanting out nothing but praises and a string of yes, yes, yes, yes.

Regardless of the condom he’s wearing, Mick can tell when you’re close as you clench around him, and he urges you to let go by mumbling into your skin, “It’s okay, hase, let it go.” And who are you to not give your boyfriend what he asks of you? So he’s there to guide you through your release while you sink your nails into his biceps to still yourself. He’s not far as he reaches his own peak and spills into you, which pulls yet another moan from you as you also hear his loud groan – a sound you’ll never get sick of hearing. You gasp lightly when he eventually pulls out of you; though when he sees the tired smile you give through the mirror (and yes, maybe he does call you hase because you do scrunch your nose while smiling), he responds with one of his own as he presses small kisses to your hairline, “There’s my smile.”

“I love you,” your raspy voice whispers, and suddenly you’re lost once again in the way he’s looking at you – a habit you’ll gladly keep.

“I love you too,” he responds, his nose nuzzling your jaw before giving you a sweet kiss, and it makes him chuckle lightly when you’re chasing his lips once again when he pulls away. “Come on, now we both need a shower.” The sounds of your giggles when he picks you up to get both of you into the shower, and as you hid your face in the crook of his neck you hear him mumble, “Mein hübsches mädchen.” My pretty girl.